What was he doing here again?

Patrick was hunched over his knees in his bed, seeing the fading september sun dim his room in preparation for the evening to arrive. An empty jewellery chain flutters around his neck.

Was he just napping?

If he was, he must have had a hell of a dream. He could feel some adrenaline flowing through his system from his sweaty palms. His hands were shaking, and the border between his skin and air felt fuzzy.

This dream… it was on the tip of his metaphorical tongue.

He was with someone… and something was happening to them…

“Ben!”

If he woke up in his room from that nightmare, then surely he’s back. He had to check with John or someone else in the house.

He jumped out of bed. But, instead of hitting the floor running, he felt his foot fall into the floor. Not again.

In the sudden vertigo, he blinked.

Unexpectedly, a tall slender figure in a full black suit with white gloves and a hat, was standing over him. A smile attributed to retired salesmen stretched across his face. His presence alone pushed him into the red velvet sofa he found himself in.

He looked around, and blinked again. This time in disbelief.

The room he fell into was lavish as it was intricate. Contained within a room the size of a small hotel lobby, was red carpets, golden lashes, and mahogany wooden fixtures. Sweeping embroidered curtains framed artefacts, paintings. In the middle stood a polished wooden desk, the same one in the director’s office.

The only unusual thing about the room was the lack of windows behind those curtains.

“Patrick.”

“Huh?” His eyes returned to his interlocutor’s own. His perplexed perplexion earned a subtle scorn from their eyes. They hovered over the meep boy on their couch, shrinking into himself.

“Your name is Patrick, or am I mistaken? Apologies, but English isn’t my first language. I’m awfully bad with names, especially those of earthly origins.”

“Y-yeah. Your English is good.”

“Answer the question.” He snapped his tongue.

“Patrick. I’m Patrick… sir…” He swallowed and asked. “Who are you?”

“A servant of Death.”

“Death? Am I going to die?”

The figure snorted to himself. “No, unfortunately. A manager of a restaurant doesn’t cook every moment of their lives, don’t they?”

“...”

“Don’t they?”

“No, sir.”

“A servant of death isn’t assigned to kill people *every* moment of every day. At least ask instead of applying prejudice so haphazardly.”

“So… what are you doing here?”

He begins pacing around the sofa, hands stowed unmoving behind his back. Patrick unconsciously followed his movements until he was behind him, then returned his eyes facing into his lap.

“I was called by an old friend of mine, though she is getting quite old these years.”

“The director?”

“Yes, glad to know she is still making company.” He pauses behind Patrick’s back. “But that is only why I am here in this dimension, not why I am *here*.”

“Here?”

“Yes. Ask me why I am *here*.”

“Why are you here?”

“No, no.” From behind, Patrick feels his glove glide under his ear, lightly stroking his neck. “*Here*.”

“W-why are you… *here*?”

“Very good.” Patrick could hear his smile from his words, as his hand rescinded. “I am here because of a problem.”

He resumes pacing. “About this morning, a powerful demon attempted to invade this dimension. Simply travelling is trivial, but to affect something in this dimension, it had to be perceived. To do so, it had to establish its presence.”

“Was… something to do with the shadows I saw?”

“Smart, but no.” He paused at Patrick’s front. “The details may bore you, but the shadows were simply bottomfeeders capitalising on the rift to make their own little invasion. A fly who sees a carcass mauled by a lion pays no respect to pilfering the kill.”

“Are the shadows still there? Is it safe now?”

“Made safe by yours truly.” He made a little self-congratulatory pose. “The director noticed the invasion quite quickly for her age. Any later and the situation might have been dire.”

“Dire…” He thought back to the shadow attacking him. Imagine if it went for John instead. Without a crystal to save him.

“Dire… for a curious person.”

He gave himself a breath, then continued.

“As a loyal servant of Death themselves, I have done many unusual things throughout my time. However, all paled in their absurdity when I was assigned to babysit their child through an education. More than that, but on this specific planet! Could you even imagine such a thing?”

Honestly, Patrick thought back to when he was told about Death’s son studying at a university. Perhaps it was the dragons, but it was hard to tell what was supposed to be absurd or not.

“This brings me to the main topic of this informal meeting.”

“...”

He stared at Patrick.

“What was the main topic of this informal meeting?”

“You.”

“M-me?”

“Why were you selected to be his caretaker?”

“I… the… director told me I was selected at random…”

“I see. Unusual.” He pondered it for some time, before giving up and returning to his original plan.

“Perception is an unusual thing, don’t you think? In English, consciousness, time, the soul, memory, and identity are all rolled up into a simple little word. Even just perceiving oneself, there are plenty of moving parts involved, isn’t there?”

Patrick stayed silent, processing his words.

“It’s typical for languages of physical beings to label such a complex idea so trivially, but alas perception is so intuitive of an experience, it only ever needs one label. You are perceiving right now after all.”

“We make connections with people, big and small. A friendly clerk behind the coffee till. An annoying inlaw who badgers questions during gatherings. A lover, inseparable in spirit. These connections entangle our experiences, our lives inexplicably temporally bound.”

With Patrick staring into nothing, he puts both hands on his shoulder and massages them slightly. He is still staring into the distance.

“I don’t know what allowed you to become so close to Death’s son, but I’m not going to stand by a liability.”

“Wait, what is going on? Was what you said earlier important?”

He raises his right hand, and places it on Patrick’s head.

“Don’t worry. It should be as if nothing ever happened.”

Before Patrick could even blink, he felt a sudden coldness surge through his back like an ice cube slid down his shirt. His body involuntarily limped, and his eyesight defocused. He tried to ask what was going on, but his mouth was just flapping without intent.

In his blurred vision, he could see the room begin to glow as golden clouds emerged from his hand.

It suspended sparking glitter within.

It was like the milky way contained within this room.

But just as it peaked, the glow began to fade. The clouds began to return.

The instant the room returned to normal, he was shocked back to life. His lungs sharply inhaled, as if he was freshly drowned. Heavy panting, he turned around to see what the figure was doing.

He looked back down at him in genuine curiosity. “Who… *are* you?”

Patrick coughed a few times and kneeled up on the couch. “I’m Patrick.”

He looked down at him, laying meekly on the couch.

And laughs.

“Oh sorry! Is everything alright?”

“Oh, nothing is wrong! All the contrary, things are much more interesting that I could have personally imagined!”

Returning to Patrick’s front, he refitted his gloves and bows.

“My name is Angrifer, though Ang would more than suffice. If you are who you are, then there is no need for formalities.” He walks back to his desk, and sits cross-legged in a reclinable armchair.

“Didn’t I say I was Patrick?”

He chuckles. “Yes. Yes you are.”

“Look, Patrick. Things have been interesting for me recently. It had come only recently to my attention that my superior, the multiversal manager of souls and death, had a son. Even more surreal, was that this news wasn’t told to me by them, but by an old colleague of mine. Told not because ”

“The director? You know her?”

“A bit too much, I’d say. It was quite shocking that our overdue reunion was to be held over an emergency.”

Ang stares at Patrick’s wistless eyes.

“Just yesterday, a large

“Demons?”

He leans back in his chair. “Beings such as yourself have souls tied to your physical bodies. Your experience is shaped entirely by the body you experience within, like how water conforms to the shape of a glass. If I change your brain, your perception shall follow.”

He leans forwards. “Demon souls however, are like honey. Remove the vessel, and their shape can persist, albeit not indefinitely. This difference means as long as a demon can establish presence, no matter where it may be, it can go anywhere. When a demon crosses dimensions maliciously, it is described as an invasion.”

“Are the shadows demons invading dimensions then?”

“No, at least not exactly. To cross dimensions requires an absurd amount of power and perception that those bottom feeders have no chance of matching.” His face turned serious. “They simply followed someone much, much more powerful here.”

Patrick swallowed.

After waiting for the tension to hover a few seconds, Ang clapped his hands and went back to smiling.

“Don’t be so afraid. The director called me over for a reason. I hunt invaders like these for breakfast, and this one knows it. It hasn’t shown itself since, and if it’s lucky it will stay that way.”

He licks his lips.

Walking out from his desk, he falls backwards into the couch beside Patrick, sighing all relaxed. “Your job is simpler. Do you have the observation sheet on you?”

“Erm, it’s on my desk, but yes I have it. The… form with the poop tally right?”

“Their son may have a presence crystal, but there is no better substitute to keeping his existence than perception. The sheet is designed to observe him in a variety of manners, enough so that even if his presence gets erased, you would still couple him to reality and avoid him being fully erased.”

“...”

He places his hand on Patrick’s head. “Just fill the form out every day, okay?”

He nods.

“There is plenty more to teach you, but I am afraid I am quite busy this afternoon. I can simply summon you to my domain when I want to train you.”

“Oh. When?”

“Whenever I feel like it, of course.”

He pokes Patrick’s nose and giggles. Patrick laughs along nervously, still hesitant to join ina servant of Death.

“Oh, one final thing before you leave.”

He readjusts his gloves and hat, and talks plainly.

“I only knew the boy a little while he was still in limbo. He won’t admit it, but he’s on Earth because he wants to. He never wanted many things, that boy, so I was surprised myself. Why pick Earth, I will never be told. But, if it means so much to him, please make his time as comfortable and enjoyable as possible, alright?”

Patrick was still thinking about the Ben pooping form. But, recalling Ben saving him from the demon the day before, he nodded.

“Yeah… I will.”

“Right! Goodbye!” Ang waves his hand and the couch, floor and everything disappears.

Patrick starts falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

He hit the ground… of his bedroom floor.

Patrick looked around. His blankets were dragged down with his fall off the bed, with dust thrown up from the carpet scattering the LED light from above.

He walked up to the mirror. He felt… present. It had been a while since he had something to do. Helping the son of Death have a fun time in university, what was once nerve wracking, now sounded a little cool. He felt a little giddy at the future, bouncing on his heels just a little.

As long as he doesn’t think about the observation form, it would be cool.

He looks at the clock. It’s 22:40.

He leaves for the kitchen, wondering if John is there. Maybe there is a fun recipe he could try cooking for dinner.

Opening the door, there are 4 people in the kitchen… surrounded by an absolute mess.

The bin had tipped over, spilling bin juice across the floor, with banana peels, spent tissues, and cooking oil mixed in together.

One of the 4 was yelling. It was Chelsea.

“What the fuck is the state of this kitchen!?”