I forget which celebrity said it, but people die twice: once when the body loses its vitality, and a second time when everyone forgets them.
It seemed Death saw things the same way. In her eyes, dying without an intact corpse or being skinned and eaten did not count as miserable. The most miserable death was dying quietly in a pitch-black corner, unknown to anyone.
Just like herself. When a vacation ended, she was always the one lying alone in the dark, waiting for herself to come pick herself up.
"That's desolate. What I want is tragic." Su Ming gestured as he tried to make Death understand what he meant. "The kind that makes people feel terrified, horrified, disgusted—any of those will do."
"Ah, I see."
Death slipped her pale fingers between her black lips and bit a fingernail as she thought back.
"There was one. I remember now. I once collected someone's soul after he took part in a Civil War reenactment program. An old-fashioned gunpowder explosion blew him away and burned all the skin off his body. Then he fell into the sewage pit of a temporary toilet and choked to death in it. Does that count as tragic?"
Death blinked. She thought that method had war, horror elements, and was disgusting too. It met all human standards.
"Mm, that's tragic enough, but I'm picking a 'way to die' for myself. I can't act out getting blasted into a shit pit and drowning." Su Ming shook his head repeatedly. He no longer expected Death to come up with any good ideas. He would handle it himself.
The Cartographers were silently at work. Since the Molecule Man of this world had vanished, they had been sent to carry out the second plan: investigate the bomb's whereabouts and manually destroy