The painting was still in the same place where Carmichael had left it.

It seemed as though destiny had chosen to hide it, leaving it there until the right person came to retrieve it. Frederick Carmichael was that person. This was his purpose. Despite how traumatic it was for him to be in the same cemetery where he left a trail of blood, seeing the statue of the grim reaper next to where he died and, fortunately, his body had been found, and seeing the abandoned tomb where he buried the Altamirano.

His head was spinning and his hands were trembling. This was terrifying to him. He feared that this was some sort of test and that Death wanted to force him to transcend, thanking him for his services but insisting that it was time to rest in peace. He was also afraid that when they finished this, the person who left the note would confess everything to Lady Death, his deception, his great sin. Until now, he had not realized how scared he was.

However, the idea of remedying an error that was a side effect of his crimes was more satisfying to him than his terrifying fears. At least, if he was going to hell or suffering an eternal punishment, he could say that his last action in a life of evil was a good one.

With a sigh, he finished digging the tomb. He removed his gloves, now filled with dirt, and with his bare hands, he took the canvas, still wrapped in that brown paper, but the latter was dirty and worn. He had no idea what the state of the painting would be after so much time underground.

"Here it is," he showed it to Nina and Andrew. Nina was stunned to see it, paralyzed and with tears in her eyes. There was the cause of everything, hidden and protected while others suffered.

"If you're going to blame anyone, don't blame the painting," Carmichael said. "Blame me."

Nina snapped out of her daze and hurriedly shook her head.

"No... I don't want to blame anyone. It's just that...," she approached cautiously and with the tips of her fingers, she brushed the wrapped canvas. "I never thought it could be this close."

"It's incredible," Andrew agreed, examining the canvas. "Despite the years, it's still here. Will the painting be okay?"

"That's the least of our worries," Carmichael asserted.

"We could check," Nina suggested, reaching out to snatch the Altamirano, but Carmichael didn't allow it.

He stepped back and hugged the canvas to his chest, confusing his comrades.

"Carmichael?" Andrew asked.

He shook his head urgently.

"We can't open it," he said. "The painting inside is...it's dangerous. It's the product of insane obsessions. Whatever is inside should not be seen by anyone. Its image was the trigger for all of this conflict."

"We're already dead, it won't affect us," Andrew pointed out.

"We don't know that," Nina sighed. "I hate to admit it, but I think Carmichael has a point. If it really has the ability to obsess others, I don't think it's wise for us to take the risk. It could make us go crazy and, in our state, I don't think it's a good idea."

Andrew pushed his glasses up his nose, weighing the pros and cons.

"Okay, we won't open it," he relented, though it was difficult for him. His curiosity often demanded more of him than his prudence, though he refused to admit it.

"I'll take it back," Carmichael said. "I'll leave it on the property and then flee. Easy peasy."

Andrew frowned.

"You can't be seen. They know you in that house," he pointed out.

"That was a long time ago. They won't remember me," he assured, looking at Nina with some discomfort. "Although if I ran into Leonardo Altamirano, that could be a problem."

"With my dad?" she asked, confused. "Did you meet him?"

"Something like that," he replied. He didn't think it was necessary for her to know that her father had shot him. What was done was done.

Nina lowered her head and clutched herself.

"I don't think he's home," she murmured. "I know him, and after my death, the last thing he would want to do is stay there. He must be drowning in work to avoid thinking."

"It's normal," Andrew added. "When a father loses a child, it's too painful. Especially considering the circumstances."

Nina began to cry silently, tears running down her cheeks and spilling over her chin. Carmichael felt sympathy for her and approached to affectionately ruffle her hair.

"Hey, don't cry," he said. "I'll return the painting, and everything will be resolved. They'll be okay, I promise."

Nina nodded and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse.

"Yes... Yes, they will," she muttered to herself and looked up. "Do you think you can leave something else with the painting?"

Carmichael tilted his head.

"Something else?"

Nina took out the old cell phone that Lady Death had given her and removed the grim reaper pendant.

"I want my sister to have it. Maybe it will never reach her hands, it's difficult, but..."

"I'll make sure she gets it," Carmichael interrupted, taking the pendant and flashing a confident smile. "It won't be a problem."

Nina returned the smile.

"Thank you."

Carmichael nodded and walked away from her, exhaling.

"Okay, then let the mission begin," he declared.

"Wait a second," Andrew stopped him. "We haven't talked about how you're going to do it, and we haven't stopped to think about the consequences."

"I'll just go in and leave it, that's all."

Andrew narrowed his eyes.

"You know what I mean."

"Andrew..."

"You could be risking Lady Death finding out everything as soon as we do this," he pointed out. "We still don't know who left that note. It could be an ultimatum."

"You thought that too, huh?" Carmichael joked. "I expected nothing less from my dear Andrew."

"I'm serious."

"Nothing will happen."

"Don't talk as if you know."

Carmichael laughed.

"I never thought you cared so much about me," he joked again, and at Andrew's tense expression, he instantly regretted it. "Oh..."

"If you disappear, I swear that..." Andrew's voice broke slightly, surprising Carmichael. "Just... just don't disappear, okay?"

Carmichael gave him a gentle smile and extended his hand towards him.

"I won't. I promise."

Andrew looked at his hand, but instead of shaking it, he grabbed it tightly and pulled Carmichael toward him, joining their lips in an unexpected and quick kiss.

"Oh, wow..." they heard Nina near them. "I didn't see that one coming."

Carmichael stiffened, too surprised by his always cold and distant partner's sudden display of affection.

"Andrew, that was..."

"Don't say anything. Don't you dare," he cut in. "If you want answers, you'll come back."

Carmichael couldn't contain the laughter that escaped his throat.

"After that, it's more than clear to me that disappearing isn't optional," he joked, giving Andrew's hand one last squeeze. "Wait for me, okay?" He looked at Nina. "Both of you."

They both nodded, wished him luck, and he left before he could change his mind. The risk of being punished by Lady Death and disappearing was high, not a possibility he liked to contemplate, but Andrew was right when he said it felt like the beginning of the end. The scam couldn't continue forever.

Carmichael infiltrated the Altamirano's house, taking advantage of the fact that, being dead, he couldn't be detected by anything other than the humans he chose or was permitted to. Had he possessed such abilities in the past, things would have definitely been very different.

He entered the house's grounds through the backyard, cursing as the small gate emitted a squeak. Luckily, there didn't seem to be anyone nearby. No sensor or camera would capture him either. It was as if he didn't exist, and technically, he didn't.

With the painting in hand, he crossed the garden, ready to enter the house and leave the canvas and the little grim reaper in a room where they would be seen and secure, but once again, an unexpected obstacle stood in his way.

"I know you're there."

Carmichael froze. He had never seen the owner of that voice face to face, but he recognized the latter by her particular hoarse and distant tone.

He turned on his heels and saw Mariale Altamirano, much older, dressed in black from head to toe, and making direct eye contact with him.

"How...?"

"I can't see you precisely, but I know you're there," she interrupted. "Don't worry, you don't have to hide from me."

Carmichael didn't understand what was happening or how Mariale Altamirano could "sense" him. Despite this, he trusted her words, didn't believe he had reasons to fear her, and vice versa.

He revealed himself to Mariale, and she smiled.

"Ah, the entity has a face!" she exclaimed.

Carmichael frowned.

"How could you feel me?"

"Sensations are never forgotten," she answered, then looked at the painting he was holding. "And neither do I forget my works of art."

"That's a relief," Carmichael said, imitating the calm smile on Mariale's face. "It means I can return it to the rightful owner."

Mariale sighed.

"If only you had arrived sooner," she lamented.

Carmichael shook his head.

"The timing of death is perfect," he said, extending the painting to her. "Always."

Mariale took the canvas carefully, with incredible delicacy despite the tremble of her wrinkled hands. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, and one of them spilled onto the paper wrapping the piece.

"I never thought I'd see it in life again," she admitted, "but I have to confess that I now regret its mere existence."

Carmichael was about to reply but was interrupted by the scream of a girl approaching.

"Grandma!" It was Mia Altamirano, Nina's younger sister. They were almost identical, except one was smaller and without the other's characteristic pink color.

Mariale wiped her tears and turned around to receive her granddaughter with a smile and open arms.

"Come here, we have a very special guest," she pointed out. Mia was also dressed in black. They were still mourning. The little girl clung to her grandmother's arm and looked at Carmichael nervously.

"Who is he?" She asked her grandmother.

Mariale turned to him, asking the same question with her eyes. Carmichael smiled at Mariale and then crouched down to Mia's level.

"My name is Carmichael, I'm a friend of your sister, Nina," he introduced himself.

Mia's eyes lit up with excitement and she let go of her grandmother to take a doubtful step towards him.

"Do you know where she is?" She asked innocently.

Carmichael looked at Mariale, she nodded, answering the silent question of whether she was already aware of her sister's death. She was still small and the concept of death was not entirely easy to understand.

"She is fine, she is very happy and misses you very much," he assured her. "In fact, she asked me to give you a small gift."

Mia looked at him curiously.

"What is it?"

Carmichael took out the small grim reaper pendant and handed it to her.

"She thinks you will like it."

The little girl smiled immediately, taking the gift with her fingers.

"It's very cute!" She exclaimed, excited.

Mariale ruffled her hair delicately.

"And what do we say?" She inquired.

"Thank you!" Mia said. "And thanks to Nina too."

Carmichael smiled.

"She will be happy to know that you liked it so much," he affirmed.

Mia nodded, jubilant. He envied the pure happiness that children possessed.

"Go play with it inside, okay?" The grandmother said. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Yes!" Mia replied and ran through the garden into the house.

Carmichael stood up and met Mariale's gaze again.

"So you do come on behalf of her," she said. "Of death."

"I'm just a loyal servant," he replied.

"Who knows my granddaughter."

"She asked me to help her," he explained. "That's why I brought that painting back for her."

Mariale sighed tremulously, seeming about to cry.

"My son will be glad to know his little girl is okay," she affirmed.

"She is."

Mariale saw the wrapped painting in her hands and then back to Carmichael.

"Would you like to see it?" she offered.

Carmichael slightly widened his eyes.

"Isn't it dangerous?"

"Not at all," she chuckled. "In fact, I think you're the ideal person to see it."

Carmichael remembered when he was still alive and his obsession with the Altamiranos, the fascination he felt for them, and how, upon dying, one of his many regrets was never seeing one in person again.

He smiled with satisfaction and nodded.

"I would love to see it."

Mariale carefully unwrapped the canvas and, once completely opened, stretched her arms and displayed the painting for both of them.

Carmichael was speechless.

The last painting, The Lady's Face, was exactly that. It was the face of the lady he most revered, the most loyal, the one who always waited for him... Death.

It was a beautiful image of Lady Death, a face of indescribable beauty, surrounded by flowers, light, and life. No one had ever seen the face of death, but he knew it was her, he felt it.

"How is it possible?" he asked, absolutely impressed, wanting to touch the canvas but unable to. Despite the years, despite the mistreatment, the painting remained intact and majestic, so beautiful.

"The Faceless Lady series of paintings always had one objective," Mariale explained. "To thank death."

Carmichael didn't understand.

"Thank her?"

"When I was about to give birth to my first child, I almost died, and my son with me," she recounted. "When that happened, I knew I shouldn't pray to God to save us, but to someone else, someone who I knew was watching and listening to me at that precise moment. I begged death to give me another chance, to let me live. That's when I saw her, it was so brief and indescribable, but I felt it, I knew it was her, it lasted so little, but after that, I had enough strength to give birth and survive too. I decided to thank her by painting her beauty, ten pieces until I reached this, this unique and special picture that manages to show her true charm."

"It's... It's beautiful," Carmichael affirmed.

"The face is different depending on who sees it," she pointed out. "It's made to enchant everyone. They will see the form of death that scares them the least, and that's why they become obsessive and reckless, they stop fearing her and do anything because they know that even if they die in the process, they will be with her."

Carmichael couldn't believe that something like this existed, something so perfect and yet so dangerous. He couldn't even describe what he saw, he just knew it was a face, no, many faces, many colors, many shapes, many people. It was the most beautiful thing he ever saw in his entire existence, alive and dead. Just to see it, he was grateful.

"It's fascinating, but..."

"It's dangerous," Mariale completed. "Don't worry, I'll burn it. Its existence, although beautiful, is not right."

Carmichael nodded.

"It's unnecessary. When you die, you'll see her again. I'm sure," he said.

Mariale smiled.

"You're absolutely right." She looked at him again. "And I thank you for that."

Carmichael left after that. He walked back to the cemetery where he knew Andrew and Nina were waiting for him. He felt so light, so liberated, so distant. Before, he didn't distinguish between being alive and dead, but now he was aware of his state. He wasn't here anymore, this wasn't his world, there was no place for him here.

He stopped in the middle of the road and, as he looked up and breathed in the fresh air and let it slowly escape through his mouth... He disappeared.