Being a reaper's not a bad gig. Go to the place of death, collect the soul, and help them to their Great Beyond. Sounds easy, right?
You'd think, but some people insist on being difficult even after their last breath.
My name's Wren, and that's how I spend my work hours. My mentor tells me to just go in, avoid conversation, collect the soul, and call it a day. He may be that slick, but I haven't quite gotten it down yet. I do generally manage not to get coerced into investigating a murder, though. At least until Old Man Schmidt strong-arms me into investigating his death even though it seems natural.
Let me tell you, folks, never underestimate an eighty-year-old man's ability to play dirty.
If I manage to scrape through without getting myself killed or losing my job, I swear I'll never talk to my assignments again.