Regardless of the circumstances of Soo-min’s death, however, it’s no leap to say that she was probably the most pampered of them all: hence her assignment as cruise director, one of the most taxing occupations on board.

That’s the gist of the ship—guests who worked too hard when they were living board the SRC Flatliner and are waited on hand and foot by crew members who barely worked a day in their lives. Kisa has appealed, over and over, to Jeoseung’s CEO to revoke her sentencing as a crew member to no avail.

“You were idle,” she’d been told by a bored-looking jeoseung saja with a clipboard who’d been sent back to inform her of the CEO’s decision.

“Excuse me?” Kisa had snapped, certain she had misheard. She’d been exhausted every single day of her life, had worn herself to death in that hospital. It simply wasn’t possible that she’d been marked as “idle.”

The jeoseung saja rolled his eyes. “Yoo Kisa. Daughter of Volkov, Natalia, and Yoo, David. Annual income by age twenty-two…” He widened his eyes meaningfully.

“Excuse me!” Kisa drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t very impressive (a mere five foot three) and placed her hands on her hips. “I worked myself to death for that money. Have you ever met any shaman who simply prancercised through life without a single responsibility? If you’re deciding who was idle in their life, I seriously suggest that you rethink your measuring system. In fact, I might suggest a new metric with a focus on the dimensional attributes of nepotism and—”

“I wasn’t done. It says here,” the reaper drawled, referencing his clipboard, “that you have some built-up karma from your past life. Seems you were—and I quote—‘one of the laziest freeloading women to exist’ and ‘exceptionally skilled at robbing ATMs.’ Due to an anomaly, you got off easy the last time around…But all bills have to be paid eventually. Be glad you weren’t sent to one of the seven hells,” the jeoseung saja had suggested as Kisa’s jaw dropped. “You’ll serve on this ship until the DAR decides you’re ready for reincarnation.”

“Which will be when?” she spluttered.

A nasty smile. “When your karmic punishment is over.”

Kisa is fully aware of past lives, of course, but she simply cannot conceptualize herself as somebody who apparently stole money from ATMs. Rules, thinks Kisa, are the only things that keep society from falling into utter bedlam. She follows them with an almost holy reverence. So the notion that this is karmic retribution for her past life is utter nonsense. How bad, truly, could Kisa have been? It’s complete hokum, really.