The morning sun began its ascent across the city of New York, casting a warm and golden glow over the busy streets. As the first light of day peeked through the towering skyscrapers, the city slowly came to life. However, the streets weren't as charming and lively as they usually were when the city was fully awake. Down a distant street, nestled next to a pipe store, stood a spotless, inviting bakery. The storefront oozed a sense of cleanliness, freshness, and brightness that stood out. This bakery was owned by a dedicated individual named Dislelo Percy Jope, who had taken over the business after the passing of his grandmother.

Mr. Jope, also known as Dislelo Percy Jope, is a 5'9" man with a dark complexion. His eyes are as captivating as rubies, and he often wears a lazy, sluggish smirk. His clothing consists of a black jean jacket and baggy boyfriend jeans, some people tend to look at Percy with widened eyes, his lazy appearance always shocked customers; as though he was meant to care about what he wears to work. Percy was one to never care, his droopy eye shape and his half-assed smiles always gave customers a sense of unsafety. Does it bother Percy, no. Should it? Percy could never get past that question, instead, he tends to wave people away dismissively.

Percy strode up to the storefront, his steps slow and deliberate. He reached for the door and pushed it open, glancing at the sign that read "Closed." A tired exhale escaped from his chest as he unlocked the door and stepped inside, ready to begin another day at the bakery. Not that he had a choice really, soon enough he felt a small bump against his back," Ugh~!", Turned his head to notice his 5'5 employee, her brown eyes looked shocked and pleading; did she believe she pissed Percy off, or maybe his resting bitch face stared at her in disgust," Excuse me, boss! So sorry! I was rushing!", Telling by her face, Percy might've scared her a bit. Calming down, Percy offered a smile and finally moved out of the way; " Don't worry about that, just make sure the tables are ready; I'm going to check on the premade donuts and cupcake batter, "Percy left the girl to arrange the tables and retreated to the back with a clipboard in hand, meticulously counting the products in stock.

After counting the products in stock, Percy let out a satisfied nod as he confirmed that everything was in order. With the clipboard in hand, he made his way to the back of the store, where the industrial ovens stood ready for the day's baking. He carefully arranged a few trays of premade dough, each one made the night before by his night shift crew, before sliding them into the preheated ovens. The comforting aroma of freshly baked pastries began to fill the air, a familiar and welcome scent that never failed to bring a sense of warmth to the bakery. Percy took a long inhale through his chest before exhaling with a smile.

As the dough started to transform into golden-brown delights, Percy swiftly made his way to the front of the store. He soon turned the sign from "Closed" to "Open," signaling to the city that his bakery was ready to welcome its patrons for another day. The morning light filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow toward the countertops and inviting displays of pies and treats. He soon began his way to the back office and on his way, he grabbed a premade cupcake off a tray.

Before long, the rest of Percy's dedicated employees began to arrive, each one tried to greet each other warmly, although some were not morning shift mindset ready.

" God damn, why is it so early...", One complained as they placed on a hair net.

" Hey don't complain! At least it'll be somewhat slow", Another commented.

" Whatever...I'm still sleepy",

As they clocked in, Percy made his way to the back office, a cozy space tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the bakery. Pulling out a pad of paper and a pen, he began to doodle. Upon hearing the first customers enter the store, Percy's head perked up and his eyes darted to the sound of chatter," I wonder whats next week special is going to be, maybe something Halloween-based," Percy muttered to himself.

New York is known to be one of those 'high volume' cities. Many people, many souls, and so much death every day. A bustling surface filled to the brim with souls that not one reaper could gather by themselves. It was to be expected with how everyone lived their lives around the area. The drugs, the murders, the sardine-eske compactness of it all. There was no room to stretch your metaphorical wings, and with that came those who were trampled out.

It was the reaper's job to keep the volume of souls low so they would not wander and become lost. They had a quota to meet; thus, some of them chose to live among the mortals to meet said quota.

It was not an easy transition, and many gave up within the first decade or so. It was too easy to fall into one of two categories: the killers or the saviours.

A reaper must not take a life not listed in their book and add to the list of souls they are to reap. And, a reaper must not save a life listed in their book, subtracting from the souls they are to reap. They are to observe, stay neutral, and not get attached to those who will only live less than 2 decades. It was not worth the heartache.

Those were the rules Erebus lived by, etched into his mind by his superior and Death himself. They had seen many a reapers fall because they stepped into either category. Whether they died protecting someone or lost themselves in their own immortality and bloodlust.

He did not wish to become another one Death would have to cut away, so he took the job in New York. The high volume would keep him busy and distract him from anything else. And it had worked, fifty years he had spent toiling over the roads in his area and neighbouring ones, keeping rogue demons at bay, collecting souls, and working with the angels.

It was only within the recent months that he had added a new thing to his routine. Each morning, once he had finished half or more of his list, he'd head to a small hole in the wall bakery he had found.

No one there asked him too many questions other than the simple 'how are you' and now 'your usual' which he would always reply simply. He didn't talk much and even when he did his voice was quiet and subdued from how tired he was.

He had a feeling the deep bags under his grey eyes paired with his pale skin made most people avoid him. Not only that, but he had been compared to a homeless person before, but that was on a day when he wasn't wearing his usual ripped black jeans and rib cage sweater. Though today he decided he didn't want to tackle his fluffed up mess of black hair and just shoved the majority under a beanie to hide it.

He could feel his eyes drooping more than usual after the long night he had, and the pain in his shoulder only seemed to dampen his already sour mood. But as he approached the counter, he did his best to mask the brunt of it, "My usual...please," he nearly forgot to add the last bit and dipped his head in a small apology before adding, "can I also add a double shot espresso with that?"

He had a feeling a simple ham and cheese croissant wasn't going to wake him enough; he needed a bit of an extra hit. Once his order was confirmed he paid in cash as usual, making sure to leave a tip, and then moved to his usual seat to wait. His eyes wandering over all the staff before slowly going out the window to watch the lazy streets start to wake up.