"Are you sure that kid isn't just making things up? I mean, he's still in high school—he's even wearing his uniform! Why would I believe him?" Miya whispered, skeptically glancing at the teenager across from her. She had just gotten off work, still dressed in her office attire, and was accompanied by her best friend, Nanari.

The two sat on small folding chairs in front of a makeshift table hastily assembled from wood scraps. Across from them sat a 15-year-old boy dressed in a black high school uniform. His long, messy hair was side-parted, and he wore thick black glasses that made him look even more suspicious.

"Shhh! Just wait—you'll be shocked once you hear what he has to say. I was here last month, and trust me, everything he told me was spot on," Nanari whispered back, her gaze locked onto the so-called "mystic."

Before them, Ryo theatrically waved his hands over a crystal ball—one he had fished out of the trash and filled with smoke from a matchstick for extra effect.

"Ahem, I shall now begin!" Ryo declared, pretending to enter a deep trance. He closed his eyes, hunched forward, and moved his hands in slow, deliberate circles over the smoky crystal ball.

"Mugunghwa kkoci pieot seumnida..." he chanted repeatedly. He had no clue what the phrase actually meant—he was pretty sure he just picked it up from some Xflix series.

"With the help of my ghostly companions, I shall reveal the answers you seek," he added, shaking as if a spirit had just taken over his body.

Miya and Nanari swallowed hard, clutching each other as they anxiously awaited his next words. Their hearts pounded, their bodies frozen in place.

"It has been three days since you last came here, correct? And the burning question you seek an answer to is... does your boyfriend truly love you?" Ryo asked dramatically, still keeping his eyes shut as his hands hovered over the crystal ball.

Miya nodded frantically, over and over, her body trembling as a cold gust of wind brushed against her skin. Fear gripped her so tightly that she felt like she might just pee herself.

"Miya... your name is Miya, isn't it?"

Ryo suddenly slammed his hands on the table with a loud bang, making Miya shriek in shock. It wasn't just the sudden noise that startled her—it was the fact that he knew her name. Add to that the weird expression on his face, and she was on the verge of bolting.

"And your boyfriend's name is Kento. Am I right?!" Ryo continued, his voice laced with dramatic intensity. This time, his sharp gaze locked onto Miya, his long, messy hair partially covering one eye. He looked like a throwback emo kid straight out of 2014.

"Y-yes! Kento Yamazaki!" Miya squeaked, gripping her best friend's arm. She watched Ryo relax, adjust his posture, and casually cross his legs. He folded his arms over his chest and, for a moment, stared off behind them as if communing with the unseen.

The tiny tent where Ryo conducted his side hustle fell into complete silence. Thick tension filled the air as the two women anxiously awaited his next words.

Then, with the confidence of someone who had just unraveled the mysteries of the universe, Ryo delivered the final blow.

"Your boyfriend doesn't love you. In fact, yesterday, at exactly 7 PM, he was on a date. He didn't work overtime, and he sure as hell didn't go home to his apartment. Instead, he spent the night with Sami-san—his senior colleague at work."

Boom!

Miya felt her heart shatter into a million pieces.

"Waaah! I knew it! I knew he was cheating on me!" she wailed, grabbing at her hair in frustration.

"He told me Sami-san was just a coworker! But no! That hag is his side chick?! Seriously?! She's old! How could he dump me for her?!"

Her cries echoed through the small tent, shaking its flimsy walls. After a few more minutes of sobbing and shouting, Miya and Nanari stormed out, leaving Ryo alone inside.

A wide grin stretched across Ryo's face as he counted the crisp bills in his hands. Another successful day at his little scam—I mean, business. There was now enough money for tomorrow's meals, and his siblings wouldn't have to go to school without lunch. He tucked the cash into his pocket and started packing up his things.

But just as he slung his bag over his shoulder, a deep, gruff voice interrupted him.

"Oi, kid. Don't forget who helped you out. I need my sake, and I need it now."

The voice belonged to a man with a severed arm, his head and chest covered in blood. Only a few strands of hair clung to his balding scalp, and he wore the uniform of a trucking company. Sato-san, the restless spirit of a driver who had died in a road accident.

"Yeah, yeah, I got you, my guy," Ryo replied, rolling his eyes. "But next time, can you be faster with your ghost detective work? Three days just to figure out that her boyfriend was cheating? Come on, man, you're dead. You don't even need to sleep."

The reason Ryo knew so much about his clients was simple—he had a network of ghostly informants acting as his personal spies. In exchange for gathering intel, he helped them fulfill their last wishes, allowing them to ascend to the afterlife.

"You know I can only cover areas around Iwate. Kento travels out of the city a lot—I can't exactly follow him everywhere," Sato-san grumbled.

Ryo sighed as he folded up his yellow tent and slung it over his back. He stacked the chairs and makeshift table neatly against the bridge, making sure they were hidden enough so no one would steal them.

"Alright, alright. At least we made good money today. My only problem now is figuring out how to buy sake for you," Ryo muttered.

He climbed the stairs leading up from the riverbank, carrying his school bag and all his fortune-telling gear.

Every day after class, Ryo headed straight to his usual spot under the bridge to set up shop. People came to him for fortune readings, ghostly messages, or just to satisfy their curiosity about the supernatural. Some wanted to talk to lost loved ones, while others simply sought answers to life's mysteries.

With his third eye wide open, Ryo used his gift as a source of income and a stepping stone toward his ultimate dream—becoming a millionaire.

"I'll just get that homeless guy near the convenience store to buy your sake again," Ryo said casually.

"Make sure to give him some bread, too. He needs to eat," Sato-san reminded him.

"Tch. You don't have to tell me that. I always do it. I am a generous guy, after all," Ryo said with a smirk.

People on the street threw him odd looks as he spoke to seemingly no one. Of course, they couldn't see the bloodied, balding man walking beside him, his uniform still stained with the evidence of the accident that ended his life.

As usual, Ryo made his way to the convenience store—his regular Saturday routine. Outside, in the parking lot, a homeless man lay sprawled on the ground. Ryo handed him some cash, just like he always did.

"Here, use this to buy yourself something to eat. Thanks again. See you next time," Ryo said.

The man wasted no time, immediately dashing into the 7/12 store to grab some bread.

With that settled, Ryo and Sato-san continued walking down the long, quiet highway. The sun had begun to set, painting the sky in shades of warm orange and casting shadows over the empty road.

During golden hour, Ryo could see Sato-san's face clearly—not the bloodied, broken visage of his final moments, but the way he looked when he was still alive.

For the first time, the ghost seemed human. His smile was warm and relaxed as he chatted with Ryo, looking no different from any ordinary man enjoying a casual evening walk.

Lost in conversation, they barely noticed the time passing until they finally arrived at Sato-san's grave.

"We're here. Here's your sake," Ryo said, twisting the cap off the bottle. He slowly poured the liquor over the tombstone, letting the scent mix with the crisp evening air.

This marked the third anniversary of Sato-san's death—the moment he had waited for. The time to move on, to finally rest.

"Thanks, kid. Take care of yourself," Sato said with a grin.

Ryo turned to him one last time. The setting sun's light passed through the old man's fading form, scattering into a soft rainbow as the sake trickled over his grave.

And just like that, Sato-san was gone—vanishing like mist as the sun dipped behind the mountains, leaving nothing but the quiet embrace of night.

"Rest well, Sato-san. Try not to get too drunk in the afterlife."