Chapter 1996

The reason Morton Grant was known as the "old ghost" was simply because he had been wandering the mortal world long enough. More than a decade ago—right around the time Levi had just passed—he had been floating around aimlessly, weighed down by a gloomy sort of despair, when he stumbled upon a woman sitting on a bridge, clearly preparing to end her life. She was holding a single white lily in her hand, her whole demeanor steeped in numbness, like she had long given up on everything. Maybe it was because he had just seen the streets lined with white lilies at Levi's memorial, but the moment he caught sight of the flower in her hand, he instinctively rushed toward her. Just as the woman tossed the lily into the river and was about to follow it, a sudden gust of icy wind whipped up from the water. It was so strong it knocked her backward, sending her tumbling to the ground before she could jump. She looked around, dazed, but chalked it up to coincidence. Shakily, she got to her feet