Chapter 117.

Chapter 117. Meeting with Ms. Angel of Death. (1/3)

When I woke up in the morning today, I vividly recalled my dream of the past. It was a recollection of an event that happened on this exact day in my first life.

Some braindead woman jumped off a tall building and committed suicide. She landed on the bloody sidewalk right in front of me. What sort of dog shit luck did I have in my last life? Who did I piss off to encounter such a horrific scene?

I only found out much later on, that woman was a famous celebrity who’d been on tour. As it was something that happened to me directly and forcefully ingrained in my memory, I’d looked into her story. I knew what happened to her and the outcome.

It wasn’t a nice story. Honestly, it was pretty dumb.

Her reason for committing suicide, I mean.

What an idiot, I thought when I read it.

I didn’t want anything to do with it, but sadly, I couldn’t ignore it.

It was an event that caused quite a commotion in the city. Her fans from across the globe went crazy and ran amok because of her suicide. They were all trying to hunt someone down after the scandal that led her to suicide broke the news.

A lot of violence ensued.

For someone who wanted a peaceful quiet life, I couldn’t ignore it.

At the very least, she needed to remain alive to keep her mad dog fans on a leash. I didn’t care about anything else as long as the peaceful nature of this city was maintained.

She needed to stay alive to keep everything online, to mitigate her rampant out-of-control fan’s hatred. After her death, many people came to this city just to hunt down a certain individual. The culprit who made her want to commit suicide.

At the time, she wasn’t aware of how things would play out. If she knew, I think she wouldn’t have committed suicide on that day.

Which was why I decided to make a move.

I requested to get off work an hour early today and made my way to the rooftop of the building I knew she’d jump off from.

I wasn’t wearing my usual attire.

Since it was warm enough, I’d opted to wear a black baggy hoodie with the hood up so I wouldn’t give away my figure or any discernible facial features. I had black baggy jeans on as well. Black shoes, black gloves, black socks, black everything. I’d even bought a cheap dollar store clown mask and spray painted it all black.

There was more than one reason for spray painting it black. Blackface. I wanted to subconsciously make the association in her mind that I was some sort of racist by doing so. To give her the worst sort of impression of me. This way, she wouldn’t feel anything favorable toward me or feel like she owes me if I help resolve her problem. I’d just be seen as a devil, a horrible piece of garbage. 

This was also the only mask that only had holes for just the eyes. There was no hole for the mouth or nostrils to improve air circulation when breathing in and out.

It was seriously ugly though. It had a nasty, deep, sinister-looking smile with tears painted on it. I’d transformed it into a creepy crying clown mask spray painted all black. It was the only mask in that dollar store large enough to fully cover my face.

On this occasion, I didn’t put my blue colored contacts in. It could end up being something she could use to figure out my identity, if, for example, she somehow stumbled into the convenience store I worked at. I wouldn’t make such a mistake. Even though I only needed those contacts for another three months, there was no chance I’d let my guard down at all. Not after the entire Alicia ordeal.

Only eight to nine percent of the population had that eye color after all. With it being so dark, it was actually better to not have them on. This way she would only be able to discern my eye color as being a darker color, she wouldn’t know just how dark it really was due to the poor lighting. With all this, it should crush any idea of tracking down whoever it was she met on this roof today.

So no, I wasn’t dressed in black from head to toe just to be some edgy teen. I felt the urge to internally reassure myself of all my decisions in life. It’s not like I like dressing like this. It’s embarrassing.

The entire reason for my get-up was strictly to blend in and not stand out since it would be nighttime when we met on this dark rooftop. If it wasn’t made obvious enough by now, I didn’t want her to know who I was, or anything about me. I didn’t want to get involved with her at all. No now, nor in the future.

I was being extra careful this time. It would be no laughing matter if I became acquainted with a celebrity like her. Though it’d been so long I’d already forgotten her name, she was nevertheless a radiant star. The only detail I recalled about her was the fact she was some stupidly famous singer with a hardcore die-hard fanbase that followed her around religiously. Only god knows why she would be on a tour with this shitty godforsaken city as a stop. 

I didn’t even want to know her name. The less I knew about her, the better. I just wanted to get this over with and never encounter this braindead problem woman again once I dealt with her problem.

I took a deep breath in as I patiently awaited her arrival amidst the darkness. I peered down over the edge of the rooftop’s railing at the desolate streets below. It was exactly the same as my memories.

Nobody but me was around to witness her suicide on this silent night. There wasn’t a single car on the road. They were all in underground parking lots as it was a snow route. There were workers every night who made sure the snow on the streets was cleared. They wouldn’t be here until much later though. The individual in my first life who, on the record, came across her body, was a snow clearing tractor operator at 3:00 AM.

But that wouldn’t happen this time as I would not permit her to die. You should thank me for making your shift tonight a lot easier whoever you are.

With all my preparations in place, all I had left to do was wait for that idiotic singer to show up.

I took out my phone and plugged one of the earbuds into my left ear.

I found a song to play to pass the time and let it run on repeat. 

Time ticked by until the clock struck 9:15 PM.

I heard the sound of a door open up behind me followed by high heels as they clicked across the concrete toward my direction a bit on my right.

She was right in time. Just about the same time I came across her in my first life.

It seemed there wasn’t any deviation there.

Now the only question is whether the circumstances of her situation are the same. I’d have to verify things.

Despite her showing up, I didn’t say anything to her.

It seems she hadn’t noticed my presence yet. Thanks to me being in all black. I had the volume on my phone very low as well.

I patiently waited for the right moment as she headed my way. I peeked over my shoulder and confirmed her eyes were glued to the ground.

Things proceeded as expected.

I reset the song back to the beginning then paused it. I turned the volume up to the max.

She drew closer to the edge where I stood still unaware of my existence. I remained still and unmoving.

When she came to a stop directly to my left beside me, she raised her head and finally looked up. She placed her hand on the railing like she was just about ready to climb over it.

It was at that very moment I unpaused the song I’d been listening to.

Though it was still only through my earbuds, it was loud enough that someone sensitive to sound like her could hear it.

“Ah! Where did you come from?”

She was startled by the sudden music I played and her head darted toward me, flustered, in a panic.

I never responded. I pretended I neither heard nor saw her. I treated her like air; as though her existence was irrelevant and insignificant.

“Who are you?”

“...” No answer. The goal was to turn her attention to the unknown visitor in the night. To create an air of mystery and intrigue. For her to momentarily forget what she’d come here to do. Die.

To slowly real her in. To lure her even closer to me.

Who was the person who appeared before her? 

Why was he here at this exact time when she planned to kill herself?

Without providing her any answers, remaining still as a statue, and not acknowledging her presence.

“Hey.”

“...”

“Are you really here?”

“...”

“Are you something I’m just imagining? Nothing more than a figment of my imagination?”

“...”

“Do you even exist? Can you hear me? Can you see me?” She stuck out her hand and waved it in front of me.

“Are you blind and deaf or something?”

“No… you can’t be deaf… you’re listening to a song.”

“...”