“I don’t,” Seokga snaps nastily, contemplating the ramifications of throwing a corn dog at Yeomra’s projection. “Mind your own business, cadaver.”

“Seokga!” Hwanung hisses, mouth full. His nephew fixes hateful eyes on him. “Remember your place.”

“You’re dribbling food down your chin,” he clips back coldly.

Hwanung’s cheeks redden, and he almost—almost—curls in on himself, shoulders slumping. Yet Seokga decides not to feel at all bad as his nephew rolls his eyes a moment later, apparently attempting to muster some bravado from what must be deep, deep, deep down in his shriveled little soul.

“Ignore him.” Hwanin tells his son, sending Seokga a chiding look. “Continue, Yeomra.”

Yeomra shifts in his seat, apparently feeling the weight of Seokga’s death glare all the way in the underworld. The leather creaks. “I’m sure you’ve heard of my masterpiece, SRC.” He pauses, as if waiting for praise and applause.

Seokga takes great pleasure in staring blankly at him, although he knows very well what Yeomra’s little pet project is. It’s been in Godly Gossip more times that he can count.

Not that he’s reading Godly Gossip. Dr. Jang’s waiting room is, unfortunately, plastered with them.

And they really know how to write a hook.

SRC. Seocheongang River Cruises. Cruise ships, sailing on the underworld’s Seocheongang River, offering one last festive hurrah to the dead guests before they step off for reincarnation. It’s a clever idea, Seokga supposes. And a lucrative one. With the way Jeoseung works, Yeomra has fashioned himself to be more of a CEO than an emperor. Having an entire realm at your disposal and nobody but the dead to share it with leads to boredom. While an emperor can be waited on hand and foot, a CEO must strive to expand. To make their company bigger and better. Thousands of years ago, Yeomra’s first act as “CEO” was to employ jeoseung saja—creatures who guide souls down to the land of the dead. Seokga’s stomach twists as he remembers Hani’s soul slipping into the hearse, leaving him behind as morning sunlight cracked and spilled over New Sinsi.

I swear on Hwanung, god of laws and kept promises, that the sun will shine on us both once again.

What a cruel joke.

Hwanin sighs, jerking Seokga out of his reverie as he looks at his poker face in exasperation. “You’re not being very mature,” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

“Anything to make his fragile little ego squirm,” Seokga replies in an icy, quiet undertone.

Yeomra looks like he’s clenching his teeth together as Seokga withholds recognition. “I’m offering you a spot on my best ship for the duration of its upcoming cruise,” he spits, as if it’s being forced out of him. Indeed, his eyes flick momentarily to Hwanin in unconcealed reluctance. “The SRC Flatliner.”