After Evan died, his body was found two weeks later, when a mailman came close and smelled something foul inside the house. He called the police, and they found a badly decomposed body inside, sprawled on the ground, like he had been knocked out, but with no sign of an attack and no signs of a burglary.

An old forensic expert with a foul mood suggested that he died perhaps three weeks earlier, and it was confirmed when they found the butcher that Evan bought the chicken from. The man slandered Evan's name for whatever reason, saying that he was reeking of alcohol and was walking around with the local homeless, but Evan did not care.

He was too heartbroken with one thing. His parents' reactions. His mother's broken wails and his father's crushed expression, filled with guilt and regret. A silent tear streaming down from his eyes. It was his first time, seeing his father cry.

His mother's nightmares resumed after that, dreaming of the deaths of her children. She became more and more unstable, always lashing out at others for the smallest reasons. She would cry afterwards, overcome with grief and guilt. Evan cried alongside her, apologizing for burdening her even more with his own death atop his sisters.

Even more painful was watching his father slowly succumb to alcohol. His old man knew it was the wrong thing, but when those moments of weakness came, he couldn't help but reach out for the bottles with shaky hands and teary eyes.

Evan did not wish to be with them. He wanted to run away, but he felt he was obliged to at least witness the pain.

Thankfully, his parents' condition turned better eventually. Their expressions still held traces of sadness, but at least they could smile and laugh. On the contrary, Evan's situation was turning worse.

One feeling lodged itself firmly in Evan's heart during this time. The worthlessness of the dead.

It was inevitable he would have this feeling. He could only watch as his parents withered away, he could not help in any way, he could not even make his presence known to them. The only thing that changed was his increasingly grim and broken mood.

Believe it or not, Evan was at one point optimistic after he died. He was filled with the desire to live and he even fantasized about using his newfound ghostliness for greater purposes. That, of course, was gone.

He did everything he could think of to affect the world of the living, but his will was thoroughly smashed at the end of these attempts. To the living, Evan was worthless.

So, Evan decided that it was best to search for clues in the world of the dead. The only problem was that he was the only spirit around. He refused to believe that was true, so he started searching for them.

He started loitering around in morgues and cemeteries, hoping to see someone be reborn as a ghost or a spirit like himself. He encountered nothing of the sort, but he did find a rather interesting place.

It was the coroner who diagnosed his cause of death. An aged man, with a balding head and thick lines across his face. The old man was quite an eccentric. His primary way of talking was through yells and grunts, especially with police officers, but the law enforcement did not mind his character, since the man knew his job well.

They could allow a few eccentricities.

The old man also let no one inside his home, which he used as his autopsy office. Naturally, a constant stream of rumors flew around his house, where dead bodies were carried into on a weekly basis. The strictly no-outsiders policy did not help with the problem of gossip as well. But obviously, a closed door did nothing to stop Evan, who was now a ghost.

When Evan finally entered the house, what he found inside was a surprise. Amid the smell of death and decay, and a row of mummified bodies in glass top coffins assembled in one corner the house, a blonde-haired girl with pale skin, still with some baby fat on her face, diligently cutting a line on the stomach of a dead man appeared in front of Evan.

Her slender fingers tightly gripping a scalpel, drifting slowly, but deliberately. There was a certain mastery of her job that was apparent in the girl's actions. Sometimes, the old man would instruct the girl to do one thing or the other.

He acted stern and infallible with the girl, but when she wasn't looking, a beam expression full of satisfaction could be seen on the man's wrinkled face.

Evan, overcome by his curiosity, started spending more and more time in this house surrounded by rumors. He soon found out that the old forensic scientist was expecting his own death and had decided to train his future successor. His daughter was his first choice, since the girl had no fear of the dead and she was sufficiently talented.

The girl's name was Layla Lockhoover. Somehow, watching her work gave Evan a feeling of awe and pride. He joined in with the old man, feeling pride for the girl. It was helpful to his goal as well. A number of dead people came to this place anyway, so he could continue his search for spirits.

From the occasional conversations, Evan learned more and more about the girl and her circumstances. The mummified bodies inside the house were the members of the girl's bloodline. The coroner's ancestors were all distinguished in autopsy, who slowly perfected their craft over generations.

As for the girl herself, she was the serious and socially inept type. She hardly went out, spending most of her time with dead bodies. And when she did get out, the smell of rotten meat would permeate from her, giving no end to the rumors that surrounded her. Layla herself though, never gave a second thought to the stares and whispers. Her gait proud and steady, never wavering and never disturbed.

After the spirit spent three years with the family of coroners, Evan had hopelessly fallen in love with Layla. Although no spirit appeared in front of him from the dead bodies, Evan was too infatuated with the girl to care. After Layla became an adult, her stern gaze and sharp cheekbones finally lost their baby-fat, creating a young woman who looked like she was in her early thirties. Most would not consider her to be someone pretty, but to Evan, she was like an incarnation of Aphrodite.

During this time, Evan felt like he was living. He would sleep in the same room as Layla, silently looking at her, and sometimes covering her with an ethereal blanket. Eventually he began to stay as close to her as possible, but not quite enough to touch her. He knew that if he dared to touch her, his body would phase through and his perfect illusion would be destroyed.

He knew he was living in delusion, but it still felt nice to pretend at living.

'Isn't she Evan's ideal?' Evin thought, remembering the contents of the book he had written. 'Independent, self-sufficient, uncaring for the thoughts of others… No wonder Evan fell in love with her.'

Evin paused the surge of information, letting his mind rest.

Inevitably, his thoughts steered towards the memories. He could now understand how Endra and Evan could be so different. Evin didn't know how long Evan lived as a ghost, but even after a few decades, Evan would turn into someone completely different.

But he still wasn't at the level of Endra yet. And also, the world he was seeing wasn't remotely close to the technologically advanced world that Endra spoke of.

A bad feeling rose in Evin's head. How long was he going to be stuck with these memories?