Hi, I'm Simon. I'm 30 years old and just an ordinary slacker—one of many in this city. Well, at least I was, until I found out my father left me an inheritance. By the way, he walked out on me and my mom when I was just three years old. And imagine my surprise: 27 years later, he shows up and says, "I'm leaving you an inheritance."
If you think it was money or some kind of wealth—nope. Spoiler alert: he didn't die. This bastard left me his job because, apparently, he was tired.
Oh, right. Almost forgot to mention: my father, as it turned out, was Death. Yes, that Death—the hooded one with the scythe. And now, like it or not, I became the new Death. Of course, I didn't have a choice. So here I am, Simon Moore, 30 years old, now tasked with reaping souls.
Sure, I could have just ignored the whole thing, but, of course, there's a catch. If you don't take the soul on your list, you start losing body parts—first fingers, then hands, and so on until you become a living skeleton. Then even your bones start to crumble, and that's it—game over. You don't go to heaven or hell; you simply cease to exist. Screw that! So yeah, I'm Death now.