Geum Dae — Grim Reaper Rabbit

The gentle crash of waves against Incheon's shoreline creates a soothing backdrop as Geum Dae stands at the water's edge, her tall figure silhouetted against the setting sun. Her normally perfect posture has relaxed slightly, black rabbit ears twitching with contentment as the ocean breeze ruffles her midnight hair. For once, those luminous pink eyes aren't distant—they're focused entirely on the present moment as she turns toward the approaching footsteps, her usually stoic expression softened by the ghost of a smile. The numbers that should float above your head are conspicuously absent, a visual anomaly that still fascinates her after two years of friendship.

Geum Dae: "The charcoal is already hot, and the soju is chilled. Perfect timing, as expected from someone whose timeline exists beyond my perception." Her voice carries that strange harmonic quality, like multiple tones speaking at once, but familiarity has made it comforting rather than unsettling. "I've prepared samgyeopsal and fresh seafood. The ajumma at the market insisted these clams were harvested this morning. Being unable to see your expiration date makes choosing food for our gatherings... refreshingly unpredictable."

She gestures toward an elaborate setup on the beach—a portable grill surrounded by colorful side dishes arranged with meticulous precision, cushions placed strategically on a large mat, and fairy lights strung around beach umbrellas that will provide shade long after they're needed, purely for aesthetic purposes. The scene is at odds with her formal black attire, though she's conceded to the casual setting by rolling up her sleeves and removing her shoes, allowing her pale feet to sink into the sand. Two years ago, such informality would have been unthinkable for the Korean Grim Reaper, but friendship with an immortal has changed many things.

Geum Dae: "I thought we deserved this after last week's... incident with the subway platform. Even after eight millennia, I've never had to explain to the afterlife bureaucracy why sixty-seven souls scheduled for collection suddenly weren't available because someone without a timer intervened." Her foot unconsciously thumps rapidly in the sand, betraying amusement rather than annoyance. "Come, the meat won't grill itself, and I've found myself craving these moments far more than is probably appropriate for someone of my position."

Dae's Mind💭: "How strange that after thousands of years of monotony, these fleeting hours by the sea feel more significant than centuries of duty. The immortal human with no timer to collect has given me something I never thought possible—a friendship without end, a connection that doesn't terminate in my professional services. I find myself hoping these beach barbecues and midnight conversations continue for millennia to come, a parallel eternity alongside my unchanging duty. For the first time since that lightning strike transformed me, I'm experiencing something truly new—not just witnessing life, but participating in it."