There's an old saying in Lundenburg.
It is a pretty mundane thing, something you may have heard elsewhere before, for it concerns a phenomenon unbound by culture or time.
The saying goes like this: you can truly see how a man lived his life by coming to his burial ceremony. A saying easily verified.
Some people will bring countless tears to the eyes of others, a testament to how deeply they cared—or at least wanted to appear to care—about them.
Others are so hated that they might as well have had the power to turn people into llamas with how much spit their graves inspire. They might even get a full non-attendance if they are hated enough.
Then, there are the in-between—the normal people benefiting from mankind's respect for the dead without truly deserving any of the praise directed at them.
As for the boy? He was a bit of a special case.
He didn't know if people cried at his burial. He didn't know if they spit either. In fact, he didn't know if there was anyone there to begin with.
That was because the boy was actually late to his own burial.
"This too, huh…" the boy mumbled, brushing damp hair from his forehead.
On what was supposed to be his tombstone was marked another name: Pet.
The polished stone, slick with dew, reflected his puzzled expression. The dates matched. The grave was fresh, its loose soil darker than the surrounding earth, and the smell of churned dirt lingered. No matter how he examined it, this was undoubtedly his.
"Why does no one notice it?" he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
Somewhere behind him, the graveyard's ancient iron gate creaked, swaying in the faintest breeze. The sound sent a chill racing up his spine, though he refused to turn and look.
"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Tardy himself."
Her voice was cool, clipped, and unmistakable.
At the end of one of the graveyard's winding pathways stood a young woman dressed impeccably in dark, formal attire. The mist seemed reluctant to touch her, parting subtly as she stepped forward. Her black umbrella rested lightly on her shoulder, though no rain fell. Her cold, pale eyes examined him as if she were appraising a particularly troublesome clue.
"I see punctuality is still a foreign concept to you," she said as her sharp heels clicked against the stone.
"Good morning," the boy said, scrubbing a strand of his hair. His hunch had been confirmed–this truly was his grave.
"4 PM, Mister Pet. This is hardly morning anymore."
"Sorry. I am glad you are here though."
"And I didn't expect you to still come."
The woman took off her coat and put it on the boy's shoulders.
"So? Why are you so late today?" she asked. "Up until now you were always late but you were also very consistent in your tardiness which is why I forgave you. Yet, this time, you managed to arrive more than 3 hours after my worst prediction. Whatever happened, Mister Pet?"
The woman crossed her arms on her chest demanding a response and she clearly expected a good one. Thankfully for him, he already practiced what he would say in case
"... You might not believe me, Miss," said the boy, taking off the coat she put on him. "But I think something is trying to eat my name."
The woman stared at the boy a few seconds in silence before brushing a speck of dust off her shoulder.
"... Now that is unfortunate," she replied.
"... You don't believe me," said the boy, as his shoulders slumped.
The woman shrugged.
"It is not that I don't believe you, Mister Pet. I merely fail to see where this is my concern."
"Huh…"
"Aren't you a future investigator of the Lundenburg's Academy? Didn't you pass the test? Why should I still care about a former student who thought it would be a good idea to make me wait for hours on the day of his graduation? Do you perhaps think—"
"I understand that you might be angry but—"
"You understand? Oh my, first news of the day! If you truly understood then—"
"That thing is actually eating everyone's names."
"Excuse me?"
The woman raised an eyebrow while looking at the boy. "It would be best for you to NOT waste my time,' is what he could almost hear from her face. Again, he had to be very careful with how he would present the information.
"Miss, what is your name?"
The woman frowned but he signaled her to wait.
"Please, I have a good reason to ask that."
"... My name is Wil. This was the name I chose after becoming an investigator. What of it?"
"I will ask again. What is your name?"
"It didn't change much from earlier. It is Wil."
The boy looked at her in confusion.
"Hm? Did I…"
He pulled a worn silver pocket watch. On it the time marked was 4:42 PM.
"Ah…"
"I missed my timing," he thought as he nervously scrubbed a strand of his hair. He was five minutes in advance. Now his 'cool' and 'impactful' demonstration had to be delayed.
The boy sheepishly looked into the eyes of the woman before him. Her arms were crossed on her chest as she looked at him with a pressuring expectancy.
"Huh… Could you wait for… five… minutes? Actually four…"
Saying those words hurted organs he didn't even know he had in his stomach. This truly was the day of his burial—the burial of his dignity.
The woman's sigh was the final nail on his coffin. He wished she just stabbed him at this point to end his suffering.
"Well, well… I only need to say my name again in what? Two minutes," the woman said, pulling her own silver pocket watch.
"Miss…"
Pet(?) was overwhelmed with emotion. Again, he was reminded of the existence of unknown organs in his stomach but this time, he was glad to feel this pain.
"I don't think anything will happen though," added the woman. "I don't know about you, but if my name was being eaten, I would know about it. I am a full-fledged investigator of the Lundenburg's Academy unlike you. Wil is my name and Wi it shall stay."
The woman stopped, her eyes wide opened in horror.
"You. What was your name again?" she asked.
"Well…"
The boy turned to his tombstone.
"Judging from this… my name is Pe. Though I remember it being written as Pet a minute ago."
"And… what is… my name?" she asked again.
"I think you said Wil at first but then you said Wi."
"..."
The woman stayed silent, unmoving like a statue. Pe(?) on the other hand checked the time again on his clock. 4:44 PM.
"Ah… It happened three minutes earlier this time. It is accelerating," he mumbled, before turning to the woman again. "Huh, Miss, maybe you should—"
Before he could finish, the woman pulled him by the sleeve.
"What are you dawdling for, you idiot of a disciple! You are coming with me! Now!"
Appearing uncharacteristically agitated, the woman pulled the boy towards the graveyard's exit cutting the mist as she walked.
"Eh? W-Wait! I understand your concern but—"
"Less talking, more walking! Make those legs move or we are all dead!"
That last sentence cut short every complaint the boy could have. He perfectly understood the urgency of the situation—one only had to watch a few tombstones to realize it.
After all, they were totally blank.