After the second soul, I thought I would feel relieved. Two down, one to go.
But no.
I was shaken in a new way. The quiet kind. The kind that doesn't look like shaking until you realize your hands have been holding themselves too tight for too long.
Quiet.
Not my usual quiet. Not the "I ran out of questions" quiet. This was the kind of quiet where my mouth felt heavy, like if I opened it, something ugly would fall out.
I kept seeing the man's eyes. That one tear. The two words.
I'm tired.
And it hit somewhere deep, like it wasn't even about him anymore.
Because I knew that kind of tired.
Not sleepy. Not walk-too-much tired.
The kind of tired that made you disappear quietly.
Cael didn't talk while we walked. He went back into his usual mode—front of the line, straight ahead, tired shoulders, tired face, like the hallway was his job and his job was the hallway.
But then he suddenly stopped walking and turned to me. I expected him to say something bureaucratic. But he didn't.
He just stood there. Looking at me.
Then, quietly, like he was reading fine print, but softer—he said:
"One more thing."
I looked at him.
"Per the original agreement," he says, "successful completion of all three cases is required for the second-chance provision to activate."
I stared at him. "What?"
"If you fail to collect the third soul, the deal dissolves. You return to the regular queue."
He said it the way he'd said the weather. Matter-of-fact. Terms and conditions.
I didn't say anything. I just looked at him.
And he didn't look away.
But he didn't explain either.
The silence between us was different now. Not the room's silence. Ours.
I should have asked about the fine print earlier. I always forgot to read the fine print.
Back then I thought his quiet was just... quiet. I didn't know yet.
As we continued walking, I walked behind him. Not beside. Behind. Like before.
He didn't notice. Or if he did, he didn't say anything.
The hallway stretched on. Black and white lines swirling. No end. No beginning. Just this in-between place where time didn't exist and I have nothing to do but think.
Cael didn't say anything.
I didn't want to think. But my mind kept going back to the fine print.
He could have mentioned it earlier.
That was the thought that wouldn't leave me alone.
Before Soul One. Before I cried in front of a stranger. Before I held a man's hand while he wailed. Before I gave pieces of myself to people I didn't even know.
He could have said, By the way, if you mess up the last one, none of this counts.
But he didn't.
He waited until after. Until I was tired and raw and not thinking straight. Then he delivered it like fine print. Like it was my fault for not reading carefully enough.
Does he even care? Or am I just... a case?
That thought stung. Small. Sharp.
Tiny heartbreak, in the middle of a hallway that didn't even have time.
I should let it go. I should catch up. We have one soul left. One more collection and I get my life back. My grandson. My daughter. My stupid crying wallet and my free coffee and my midnight noodles.
One more soul.
He stopped without warning.
Of course.
I didn't bump into him this time. I was ready. I was always ready now.
He didn't turn. He just said, flat, "Proceed."
So I did what I do when I feel stupid for caring.
I pulled back.
I went quiet differently.
I made my voice cooler in my head before I even used it. Like I was putting on my own armor.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Ready for what? Another soul? Another piece of myself to give away? Another chance to fail and lose everything?
"No," I said. "But I didn't think that mattered."
He looked at me for a long moment. Longer than usual. Like he was trying to read something written in a language he didn't quite understand.
Then he said, "It matters."
Just that. Two words. It matters.
No Bureau language. No case number. No standard procedure.
Just... it matters.
I didn't know what to do with that. So I did what I always did when I didn't know what to do.
I looked away.
The door opened.
I stepped through before he could say anything else.