acta deos numquam mortalia fallunt: mortal actions never deceive the gods.

once upon a dream, there lived a young boy, born by the name of xu minghao. this boy was regarded as an odd child, so still and silent during his birth that his parents were fearful he was sick. but as minghao grew, it became apparent that perhaps this child wasn't sick, no — maybe this child was simply cursed.

it was a silly thought, of course, one that his mother and father tried to shake off with a determined smile — and yet, there was something odd about minghao. even at a young age, he seemed far too detached and apathetic, seemingly only playing with his peers because his parents wished for him to do so. even the other children found the young boy quite strange, poking fun at his stiff mannerisms, ones that seemed well beyond a boy of his age. this curiosity turned into fear, and soon enough, it became apparent that minghao was odd. people began to avoid him, often taken aback by the child's pessimism, almost nihilistic in nature — and truthfully? that was just fine with him. he was a solitary creature by nature, and if others avoided him? that was just fine.

minghao couldn't shake the thought that people were beneath him, after all. not in the arrogant sort of way, no — it just seemed that the rumors and whispers that surrounded him were trivial in nature. what was the point of all their assumptions, when in the end, they were all flesh and blood inside? when in the end, death would come for them all?

perhaps this was one reason why others were often scared of minghao — his apathy, his indifference — it was simply unnerving. even when his mother passed due to cancer, minghao did not shed a single tear. he simply nodded, accepting that this was the way of the world — death would come for them all.

and so, his classmates came up with a nickname for the gloomy, emotionless boy in the back of the room, always dressed in black:

the grim reaper.

the nickname followed him well into university, where his attitude was met with less fear and more criticism — and yet, minghao brushed off all the words with an apathetic shrug of his shoulder. he cared not for this life of his, so small in the grand scheme of things — and minghao wondered, wasn't he meant for greater things? was he only meant to coast along this boring life of his, met with harsh stares of disapproval every which way he went?

in his dreams, he did greater things. in his dreams, he could strike down hundreds of mortals with a simple swing of a scythe. they were only dreams, but in those dreams? minghao felt at peace, where he was supposed to be. in those dreams, he felt as if he was fulfilling a greater purpose — one that he could never even comprehend in this life of his.

still, time ticked on. despite this feeling of emptiness that persisted in his wake, minghao persevered. after graduating university, he went through the necessary process to become a paramedic. why a paramedic? no particular reason — the opportunity arose, and minghao found himself taking it. he excelled in his lessons, as he always did, and soon enough, the young man became the first line of defense in any accidents that may have occurred.

his life as a paramedic was much like his earlier days — judgment from his peers. minghao was just odd, so much so that his coworkers couldn't help themselves from whispering and wondering about this strange man, and why he decided to become a paramedic, of all things. ridiculous rumors popped up, as well — suddenly, minghao was suspected of being neglectful with his patients, many of them dying under his care. but it wasn't his fault — it's just that where he went, death seemed to follow. and when minghao's father passed, that just confirmed his peers' suspicion:

this man is a grim reaper.

still, they were just suspicions — coincidences that seemed to build and build over time. but in one fatal case of wrong place at the wrong time, these suspicions couldn't go ignored.

a shootout between warring gangs, criminal syndicates that were notorious for their corruption and connections with the government and the police. dozens of civilians were killed, and among them, there was minghao, using his knowledge as a paramedic to give first aid to those that were wounded.

why, you ask? well, to this day, he still can't answer. minghao knew that life was short, and that these people would die anyway, sooner or later — and yet, he helped them, anyway. perhaps his years as a human had given him some sort of empathy.

but the empathy only served to make him suffer. when the police arrived at the scene of the crime, all they found was minghao, furiously giving first aid to those who were injured. the members of the gangs had fled, and minghao was promptly brought into the police station for questioning. it was then that these criminals decided to change the narrative, to shift the blame to make it look as if minghao had committed the crime, as if he had opened fire on harmless civilians. they used their connections to plant false evidence, and the people in minghao's life — coworkers, family, acquaintances — they all said one thing:

i wouldn't be surprised, knowing him— he's the grim reaper, after all. the overwhelming evidence against him led to a trial, one that was sensationalized in the news and the media. the cursed nickname was used to liven up the story, minghao being given the moniker of the grim reaper to scare the public into believing the lie that had been spun against him. he was arrested; thrown into jail among the worst of the worst — criminals that ended the lives of others. murderers, just like he was supposed to be.

the time minghao spent in prison is time that he never speaks of.

in the cramped walls of his jail cell, minghao's apathy quickly turned into anger. all his life, he'd been judged so wrongfully, to the point that not a single person had defended or believed in his morals when it mattered. and so, he made a vow: he would leave. he would fight back against the injustice against him, one way or another. he wouldn't stand for this — he wouldn't stay in a prison that held him against his will despite his innocence. one day, he would leave.

and leave, he did.

it was during a transfer to another prison that minghao quickly slipped away, stealing a nearby motorcycle (if they thought he was a murderer, then theft wouldn't be too big of a deal, right?) and driving off. he spent quite a while homeless, sleeping on park benches and begging for scraps of food.

eventually, he came across a city. the moment he stepped within the premises of moirai, he just knew — something was different here. it was after meeting an old lady who had kindly let him into her boarding house (one of the fates, unbeknownst to him) that he began to build a new life, starting anew. the old lady only told him this: here, you can become the person you were meant to be. here, you can let destiny lead you to discover the side of yourself you know has always existed inside you.

and so, minghao starts anew. he puts aside the hatred that's seeped within his heart, at the behest of atropos, and he looks forward, to a future where maybe, just maybe, he can be himself again.

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