I'm Living My Afterlife

Prologue - Death of a Sinner

Finally, home at last. That last trip has worn me out. I need to plan my work better so I don’t make another mistake next time. But that’s for another day. It’s been a while since I was last here, but I’ve finally returned home to my quiet life with my wife...for now. The best part about getting home, other than seeing my wife, is usually the food she makes for my return. With that thought in mind, I lazily grab my keys and try to fit it through the keyhole.

“Honey, I’m home! Heather?”

No reply. The house is quiet and the scent that I’m used to upon my arrival is missing. I wonder if she's even home. 'Might as well make myself something to eat.' I drop my luggage and walk down the corridor towards the kitchen. I then see her at the end. Backed up against the wall, my wife was holding a kitchen knife.

Heather: “Stay away from me, I know where you were.”

???: “I was on another trip, why are y-“

Heather: “Trip my ass. I know the truth Choro, everything. How exactly you get all that money from all your little ‘trips’."

???: “What are you talking about?”

I attempt to approach her but, she threatens me with the knife, pointing it my way.

Heather: “Stay back, you murderer! What you do is wrong.”

???: “...You were better off not knowing. Does it really matter to you that much?”

“Yes, it does, and I can’t let you continue. This is what happens to murderers.”

I was expecting her to run at me with the knife, but instead, the next sound I hear is the cock of a gun. 'Crap, I didn’t see this coming.' I try to turn around but, everything had already turned to black. I was shot.

It seems that my cover was blown. I was betrayed by my own wife. No, she was right to do what she did. If you're wondering about the details of what happened, I'll explain.

In short, my name is Choro Loukoku. I was a 37-year-old man working as a travel writer, writing travel information for popular travel locations. Or so people thought. In truth, for the past 9 years, I've been working as a hitman with the alibi of a travel writer to explain my frequent departures. This secret life has been kept quiet from everyone who knew me, including my wife. Until now that is. As of today, June 24th at 18:00, I have been shot in the head after the discovery of my dark secrets.

That’s it I guess, I’m dead. End of the line for me. Not even a last meal before the execution. Not even a chance to barter for my life. I guess I had it coming though, I didn’t give my targets any time either. And so, that was the end for me, Choro Loukoku... At least that’s what it seems like.

Hm. I can’t feel anything, I can’t move and I can’t tell if I’m conscious or not. But I don’t feel dead, not yet at least. Just tired. Am I in...limbo?