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He nods. “Yes. Fate only exists in one instance—soul ties. By tying your soul, both people will be fated to be together for the rest of eternity. Therefore, their collective karma is weighed. Free will allows humans the power to shape their own lives. Even tying your soul is an act of free will. We aren’t allowed to intervene with humans, as it is against the rules and could lead to harsh punishments.”

“But you intervened in mine, when you decided to not send me to Hell permanently.”

“That was a special circumstance. I received permission to get an attorney to represent me. The only restriction I had was that they couldn’t have been someone that I knew. I preferred a non-reaper because of the office politics involved. I asked if you could receive an award for helping me, and they agreed that you could go to Heaven due to your karma. Your bad karma was not that weighty. A little less bad karma and you may have chosen to become a reaper.”

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” Damn, how cool would it have been to be a reaper? “Let’s continue. Who was your assignment?”

“It was Amanda Cole—she is a twin. I received her profile from the Soul Directory department. I inputted her information into the collection system, and her predicted death was the next day. I submitted the death time and date. The next day I went to collect her soul.”

“If you did it correctly and you confirmed it, why are there charges against you?”

He shakes his head and sighs deeply. “Because when I got back to my office, Director Taevian burst into my office. He told me I made a mistake and assigned the wrong death to the wrong sister. I told him I assigned the correct sister. But he showed me his phone. His screen showed Amanda with no death assigned, and her sister Alex was dead.”

I tilt my head and stand up. I think best when I pace around a little bit. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. As I said before, I made sure it was Amanda. I have never made a mistake before. Especially one as serious as this. I take my job extremely seriously.” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Did you drink that day?”

Aiden glares at me. “I just told you that I take my job seriously. I do not drink on the job, ever. Unlike you.” Clients always get touchy when you ask what they deem to be offensive questions. I am unbothered.

I roll my eyes and hold my hands up, “I must ask these types of questions, Mr. Kim. Also, a mimosa gets my brain juices going in the morning.” I tap my head as I smile at him, then ask, “Did you drink the night before?”

He glances at my mouth for a split second. “Uh, yes.” He clears his throat. “But, not a lot. I wasn’t hungover or anything. I had a drink or two with Joey, Taevian, and some other reapers.”

That is important, because prosecution is going to bring up every and any reason for why he failed in his duties. I need to talk to everyone he was drinking with that night.

Still walking around, I ask him another question, “Were you in a rush in any way, that day? Like, were you behind on work? Have any plans?”

“I was not in a rush. I was behind on work, but most reapers are. On average, one-hundred and twenty people die per minute. Which means that one-hundred and seventy-eight thousand people die each day. That means that I am very busy, every minute of every hour of every day.” He runs his hand through his hair. “…and no, I did not have any plans after work, except for meeting up with some friends for dinner.”

If he keeps running his hand through his hair, he will start balding. That is, of course, if reapers can even go bald.

“I’m not accusing you of anything. This just covers basic things the prosecuting attorney will consider.” I take some notes, then continue, “So, to summarize. You did your job and had confirmation at that moment that it was done correctly, but when you got back it showed that you assigned the wrong sister the death. What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. I tried to find proof that Amanda Cole was the one that was sent to me. But there is only proof that I was sent Alex. I don’t know if I imagined things or what.”

“Couldn’t the system just have glitched?” He shakes his head, “Never has the system glitched. Ever. The system has worked flawlessly. To be sure, I even investigated it myself. The IT department did not report any issues with the system. I just…made a mistake. I don’t know exactly how, but that’s the only explanation.”

“Hm.” I don’t believe in anything being so perfect that there is no room for error. That’s not me being pessimistic, it’s just the reality. I know everyone here is dead, but they were once human. There must be something missing here, and I am going to find out exactly what it is.

I place my pen down. “Okay. That’s all the questions I have for you. For now, at least.”

He nods then looks back to his computer. I grab my purse and head towards the door.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To talk to some reapers that aren’t you,” I reply as I walk out the door. Lawyers have to investigate and confirm what their client is saying. Why? Because every client lies. It’s another hard fact. Some do it intentionally, and others do it unconsciously. It’s human nature to fib the truth, and I am guessing reapers are no different.

After exiting the office, I head for the elevators and press the call button while I peruse the posted directory. Each department is located on its own floor, and as I run my finger down the numbers, I linger on the Soul Directory department. I am curious to see who works there and how it all works. Stepping into the elevator, I click the button for my destination.

Level Four.

When the elevator arrives, I step out into a waiting room with souls of all races sporting diverse kinds of outfits. I glance around until my eyes land on a soul. It is a man wearing cuffs with a teardrop tattoo on his face. He must feel me staring and makes eye contact.

“What are you looking at, bitch?” he spews. My eyebrows jump up. Not in shock, but in curiosity of whether he knows he’s probably going to Hell and cursing at me is not helping his case.

I point to the teardrop tattoo on his face and joke, “I guess I don’t have to wonder what they got you in here for.” He jumps towards me but cannot move out of his chair. It’s as if he is superglued to it. I smile at this realization and stick my tongue out at him. Enjoy Hell, loser.