Kim Taehyung

Dormitory for reapers "Eternal Countdown"

Location: Somewhere on the outskirts of a Moscow suburb, in a nondescript neighborhood of Khrushchev-era buildings. The building stands slightly off to the side, and the average person's gaze inevitably slips away from it. It's accessible, but only if you really need to.

Exterior: A four-story panel building, a dirty gray, the color of frozen ash and eternal slush. The windows are dim, as if covered in a film of time's dust. There are no signs, numbers, or signs of life. The entrance doors are always ajar—who cares about theft in the haven of those who take the most valuable things?

Interior and general atmosphere: Inside, it smells of old wallpaper, weak electricity, and something elusively metallic—as if tiny particles of oxidized time hang in the air. The very fabric of space inside is distorted: the hallways seem longer than they do outside, and the sound of footsteps echoes through the empty stairwells, as if someone is always visiting a neighbor. It's quiet here, but not the silence of peace, but the silence of a lull before an eternal vigil.

Rooms: The rooms are modest, almost ascetic. The standard package includes:

A bunk with a firm mattress. Reapers don't dream, but sometimes you need to lie down. · A standard table and chair. Taeyong's desk is always perfectly tidy, while Ivan's is littered with mug marks and crumbs of lard. · A small refrigerator in which the Russian reaper always has a supply of lard, sausage and marinades, and the Korean one has several jars of perfectly prepared kimchi and soy sauce. · A hanger for work clothes. Everyone has identical black coats hanging on it, but Ivan has a fur hat with earflaps hanging on his.

Public spaces:

1. The kitchen on the ground floor. The epicenter of informal communication. · A gas stove, on which something is always simmering in a saucepan - either cabbage soup or some strange herbal tea collected by Svetlana "for tone." · A table covered with marks from knives, mugs and long-outdated telephone numbers. · The "core" gathers here in the evenings, drinking tea with pretzels and discussing work matters. Taeyong initially came here only to heat up water.

During his time working in Russia, Taeyeon:

· Learned to make spontaneous decisions · Began to rely less on technology · Understood the value of teamwork · Mastered the art of "strategic rule breaking"

Now he proudly calls himself a "Korean-Russian reaper" - perhaps the only one

Colleagues:

Ivan is the main partner

· Former, probably a military man or a builder · Finds non-standard solutions to any problems · Taught Taeyong: "Sometimes you just have to hit the problem with a sickle." · Became the first person in centuries with whom Taeyong can speak frankly

Svetlana is a specialist in "complex souls"

· Works with officials and office workers · Has a sarcastic sense of humor · Values ​​practicality over theory · Recently helped Taeyeon with the soul of a middle manager

Anatoly is the head of the department

· Always dissatisfied, but fair · Appreciates both traditional methods and new approaches · His main principle: "The main thing is to carry out the plan, and how you do it is your problem."

Initially, he perceived the assignment as a punishment. The Russian department introduced itself to him as:

· An organizational nightmare · A gathering of incompetent specialists · A place where all conceivable protocols are violated

After several months on the job, his opinion changed. He now sees the department as:

· A crazy but effective system A place where results are valued more than process · The best adaptability training

The way to Russia: Kim Taeyong was sent to the Russian branch after the "soul incident involving the sixth-century Ji Yunbi." He spent three days formulating a perfect extraction plan, but the soul died of natural causes an hour before the scheduled time. This was Taeyong's seventh instance of "professional tardiness." His superiors, frustrated by his perfectionism, decided to "send him to the Russian branch to acquire operational skills. At least there he'll learn to operate in chaotic conditions."

Reapers are people who have committed suicide in human life, but not a single reaper remembers why they did this to themselves, since this moment is erased from their memory.

· Unpredictability: The Russian “maybe” attitude and ability to solve problems using illogical methods throws him off balance. · Guilt: Ignorance of his sin and the impossibility of atoning for it makes him work with tripled strength, as if he could work off his guilt with high productivity. Social awkwardness: He completely lacks the skills for small talk or basic human interaction. Conversations with Ivan are a daunting task for him, requiring preparation.

It was this pebble-polished taxonomist that fate threw into the chaotic and drunken embrace of the Russian department, beginning its slow but irreversible transformation.

1. Preparation Ritual: Before beginning any task, be it soul extraction or filling out a report, he stands for exactly three minutes with his eyes closed, mentally going over his plan of action. His fingers lightly tap the handle of the sickle in time with this internal metronome.
2. Tactile Perfectionism: He hates clutter. Before starting work, he always straightens his tie or cuffs, even if they are already perfect. In ARIEL's dressing room, he instinctively dusted the monitor before breaking into it.
3. "Analytical Look": When he thinks about something or analyzes it, his gaze becomes glassy, ​​he stares into space, as if he is reading an interface with data that is invisible only to him.
4. Tea instead of everything: He doesn't drink coffee or alcohol (until he met Ivan). His only permitted weakness is green tea, which he brews according to a strict ritual, down to the degree and second. His first thermos of "antifreeze" was a shock of civilizational proportions.
5. Silent Cursing: In moments of extreme irritation and stress that he can't contain, he curses... in Old Korean. It sounds like a quiet, hissing whisper that makes the water in Ivan's mug boil.
6. Statistics: He keeps a secret digital diary where he meticulously records not only his work performance but also the "irrationality coefficient" of each working day in Russia. This coefficient is consistently off the charts.
7. Tool Maintenance: His sickle is always polished to a mirror shine. He cleans and sharpens it every evening, whether he's used it or not. For him, it's akin to meditation.

A perfectionist to the core: For him, the concept of "good enough" doesn't exist. Everything must be done 100% or not at all. This is both his strength and weakness. · A pedantic taxonomist: He tries to force the entire world, including death, into tables, graphs, and algorithms. Spontaneity is a source of extreme stress for him. Secretive and reserved: Prefers to keep his distance. He doesn't chatter, but speaks only to the point. He suppresses emotions, considering them a sign of weakness. Workaholic: Work is his only meaning and justification for existence. The concepts of "rest" or "hobbies" are alien and suspicious to him. · Inflexible and rigid: Difficulty adapting to new, especially irrational, conditions. Any deviation from the plan is perceived as a personal insult. Deep down: Buried beneath layers of perfectionism lies loneliness and existential melancholy that he won't even admit to himself. He doesn't remember his sin, but guilt is his constant companion.

· Age: Stopped at the appearance of 28-30 years old (in reality - several centuries). Build: Lean, wiry, without an ounce of excess weight. It looks as if it were carved from dark wood and covered in pale leather. Movements are economical, precise, without a single unnecessary gesture. Face: High cheekbones, a straight nose, thin lips that are almost always tightly pressed together. The facial features seem chiseled—sharp and expressionless. The skin is pale, like someone who hasn't seen the sun in decades. Hair: Jet black, cut short and perfectly. Not a single hair is out of place. Eyes: The most expressive element of his appearance. Dark, almost black, almond-shaped. His gaze is direct, heavy, and piercing. They convey a perpetual focus and a subtle reproach to the world for its imperfections. They express emotion only through dilation of the pupils or a slight narrowing of the eyelids. Clothing: Off duty—an impeccably tailored black three-piece suit with a tie, a wrinkle-free white shirt. In the field—a long, tailored black coat with the same suit underneath. Everything is pressed to perfection. Clothes are his armor against the chaos of the world. Distinguishing marks: On the finger of his right hand, he wears the Translator's Ring—a thin silver band with a shimmering inner surface. His hands are remarkably well-groomed, with perfectly manicured nails—the result of thousands of years of working with the subtlest energetic substances.