March 16th, 2042
Dearill Morgue
NECROTIQUE
42 Elysium Avenue
98765 Archaia
Mythria
Dear Ill Morgue,
I've recently relocated to the enchanting city of Archaia, drawn by the guidance of my prophetic dreams.
The city has unfolded before me just as I had envisioned a place of wonder and serenity. Embarking on a fresh chapter of my life, I aspire to establish a humble enterprise with an attached residence. My heart is set on a flower shop, a lifelong aspiration of mine. Within its walls, I envision a sanctuary of nature's beauty and tranquility.
However, every great journey begins with a single step. To manifest my dream business, I recognize the need to start by securing a job and amassing the resources necessary for this endeavor.
Can you sense the gentle murmurs of the petals?
Yours in destiny,
Meirit Janus
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In the godforsaken land of Europe, smack dab in the middle, lies Archaia, the capital of Mythria. This place is a total trip, combining ancient history with modern tech in a way that'll make your head spin. They call it the "City of Lilies," probably because there are flowers everywhere, like Mother Nature's way of saying, "Hey, I'm still here, bitches!"
So, yours truly, Meirit, decided to make this crazy city my new home. I rolled in about a month ago, carrying the weight of my past like a big ol' sack of potatoes. You see, my grandma kicked the bucket, and to top it all off, my house went up in flames like a freaking inferno. All that was left were some charred memories and a whole lot of regret. And as if the universe had a sick sense of humor, I got canned from my boring office job.
I was ready to throw in the towel, drown my sorrows in cheap booze, and become a miserable mess of a human being. I mean, who wouldn't, right? Life had dealt me a shitty hand, and I was about to become the world's most pathetic card player.
But then, just when I thought my life was circling the drain, I had this amazing dream. It was like my brain decided to take acid and go on a psychedelic joyride.
I found myself standing on this massive hill of lilies, like seriously, there were more flowers than a hippie's garden. The city lights twinkled below, and the stars above were like shiny little dots, making me feel super small and insignificant.
And then, out of nowhere, this dude appeared next to me. He was all mysterious and shit, hidden in the shadows like some kind of secret agent. But, man, his voice was smooth as butter, like a warm hug for my troubled soul.
As he started talking, it was like he was sprinkling hope all over the damn place. He made me believe that maybe, just maybe, my life wasn't a total shitshow. Maybe all the crap I went through was just a test, you know? Like the universe was giving me a challenge to overcome, so I could finally say goodbye to my sad, lonely existence.
It was a crazy idea, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of hope deep down in my gut. Maybe, just maybe, there was a light at the end of this fucked up tunnel. And that, my friend, was the moment I decided to grab life by the balls and show it who's boss.
>>Poke Poke<<
And just when I thought things were about to get deep and profound, this fucking ray of sunshine burst into my thoughts. "Mei-Mei!" he chimed, poking my cheek like we were in some goddamn anime.
Let me introduce you to the one and only Dearill Morgue, my landlord and boss from hell. This dude is 25 going on 5, with enough energy to power a small country. He's the most annoying son of a bitch I've ever met, and believe me, I've fantasized about strangling him more times than I can count.
But hey, in this twisted universe of mine, he's also the key to my new beginning in Archaia. As much as I want to hate the guy, I'm determined to make the best of this fresh start. Who knows, maybe amidst the chaos and annoyance, I'll find my soulmate and finally get my happy ending. Or at least a momentary break from Dearill's relentless bullshit.
"What do you want now?" Meirit sighed, shooting an annoyed glance at the man standing beside her.
This dude was a freaking giant, towering at about 6'2" (or 188 cm for you metric folks), dressed like he just came out of a fancy-ass funeral fiesta. Classy suit, black fedora, and to top it all off, plague doctor mask straight out of the freaking 17th century. I mean, seriously, what the actual fuck?
Meirit had never seen this dude's face before, but she had thought about punching it more times than she could count. But hey, credit where credit's due, he did provide her with a place to crash when she arrived in the city with not a single penny to her name. So, she owed him that much.
"I'm bored," Dearill said in his usual annoyingly casual tone, a mischievous glint shining through his mask-covered eyes. "Wanna play hide and seek with the ghosts?"
Meirit rolled her eyes, barely looking up from the pile of goddamn paperwork that Dearill had dumped on her desk. "I'll turn you into an actual fucking ghost. I'm busy doing YOUR paperwork right now," she retorted, keeping her tone calm and matter-of- fact.
Dearill pouted like a spoiled brat, tapping his gloved fingers on that fancy mask of his. "That's because paperwork is boring as hell. I'd rather spend my days dressing up and styling corpses," he whined.
Meirit arched an eyebrow, her doubt seeping into her voice. "You make it sound like some twisted dollhouse. Are you sure you're really a priest?"
Dearill giggled like a deranged maniac, the sound muffled by that ridiculous mask of his. "Of course! Why else would I name this place NecroTique!? Pretty damn creative, don't you think?"
"Ah yes, your brain is just as necrotic as your business," Meirit sighed, finally looking up to meet his masked gaze. There was a hint of amusement in her eyes, because let's be real, as much as she wanted to strangle the guy, he did manage to bring some twisted entertainment into her life.
The sound of the shopkeeper's bell reverberated through the gloomy shop, catching the attention of both Meirit and Dearill. A new customer had arrived, a scrawny teenage boy adorned in oversized hoodies and sweatpants. The signs of sleep deprivation and malnourishment were etched onto his face, making him look like a walking corpse himself.
"Well, damn, looks like this one has seen some shit," Meirit silently pondered.
"Finally, another customer," she exclaimed, a genuine smile spreading across her face. The prospect of some business was a godsend in this dreary place.
But of course, Dearill couldn't resist being his usual twisted self. "Finally, another corpse," he muttered to himself, giggling like a deranged lunatic.
Meirit shot him a quick nudge with her elbow, a silent command for him to shut up and let her handle the customer service.
With her warm and inviting voice, Meirit greeted the boy, "Welcome to Necrotique, how may I help you?"
The boy shifted nervously, his eyes darting around the shop as if expecting the walls to come alive.
"Uhm...you guys do exorcisms, right?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear.
Meirit's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by the boy's sudden question. She instinctively shot a quick glance at Dearill, who had a grin plastered beneath his stupid mask that was impossible to hide. She could practically sense the sick amusement radiating off him from a mile away.
Dearill leaned in, placing an elbow on the desk and propping his head up with his hand. That goddamn grin was still present as he spoke, his voice dripping with amusement. "Oh? So you're here for some exorcism services, huh? Well, well, how may we help?" he drawled, clearly enjoying the unexpected turn of events.