The portal disappeared.

In the blink of an eye, everything vanished: Ethan himself, the paved path, and the deck of cards lying on the asphalt under the light from the streetlamp. Only his vision of the scene burned into his memory remained.

Himself. Still. Face-down. Lone-standing on a deserted road in the middle of the night.

"That is you right now," the old man stated. There was nothing vicious about his voice, just facts as someone might state a weather forecast. "You are dead now."

The message sank into Ethan’s soul slowly and coldly, like a bucket of icy water poured into the room.

His face had paled like something that had never seen the sun; his lips were parted just a little bit; his eyes were wide and unfocused, staring blankly ahead of him, right where the portal used to be - right where the white space of emptiness had taken its place.

"No."

He tried to scream the word, but only a whisper escaped his lips.

"No."

A little louder this time.

"No -"

Something snapped behind his ribs.

Without making a decision, he found himself rushing to get closer to the old man. His hands grabbed the old man’s shoulders, both of them, pulling him close to him.

"No, I can’t die now."

He shook the old man forcefully. Just twice. Those white eyes of the old man stared at him intently, patiently waiting, as though he was just another thing that the old man had been observing for a long time.

The wooden staff tilted slightly, but the old man didn’t pull away from him.

"I can’t - I can’t abandon her now."

The words cracked somewhere in the middle.

It was impossible to escape the picture of Ethan’s sister that suddenly appeared in his head despite his unwillingness to think about her.

In that hospital bed, with the monitors attached to her body, and with the smell of antiseptics that had grown so familiar that he didn’t even pay attention to it anymore.

She was the only family member he had left. She suffered from a disease that was untreatable except for surgery.

He was that person. He always had been.

He had quit college for her. He had taken all jobs he could find simultaneously, working nights and days, skipping meals and ignoring the dark circles that had become a permanent part of his skin.

He had been convincing himself that it was okay, that he was just a little bit far from getting enough money. He had been so close to the goal.

But now he stood on the border of life and death, grabbing and shaking the old man who claimed to be god - and she lay there in the hospital bed, the money was insufficient, and no one would be able to help him.

No one.

He let go of the old man’s shoulders.

He sank to the ground, hands pressed flat against the white surface. His head dropped, and a sound of crying escaped his throat without his consent.

He had not cried during the funeral of his mother and father.

He had stood by the side of the coffin dry-eyed and hollow, assuring himself that he did not have enough strength to cry, that grief was something that would be dealt with at a later time. Later never came.

This came instead.

"Please," he whispered with a wrecked voice. "Please send me back. I can’t die now. I have to wait a little longer. I just need a few months. Then I will have enough money to pay for her surgery, and I will -" He stopped and swallowed. " - I will die after that. I don’t mind. Please."

The plea became quiet and exhausted.

"Please."

A pause grew deafening.

The old man stood where he was, looking down at Ethan lying prostrate on the white surface. He was unmoving and watching silently, as if he had seen many things in his lifetime.

He didn’t say anything.

The silence grew longer.

Slowly, he straightened himself and stepped off the stool. He turned and leaned on his wooden staff, moving slowly across the white space. Then he finally opened his mouth and spoke.

"It goes against the rules to interfere with the affairs of the worlds," he said in a low voice, deliberately, and without turning around. "However, I can make an exception for you."

The air became still inside Ethan’s chest. Hope was a slippery creature, and he knew it well from personal experience. He dared not allow himself to hope, so he didn’t change his posture.

The old man moved on.

"I will resurrect you," he continued to say, not stopping nor turning around. "Completely. Fully healthy. You will come back to the living world and stay alive to take care of your sister."

Ethan’s eyes followed him across the white void.

"But."

Silence held the pause.

Finally, the old man turned his head slightly, one of those white eyes looking at him sideways.

"You will have to do me a favour first."