Kurou stood outside the bar, glancing back to find the patrons inside staring at him with disdainful expressions. "You're all ugly one way or another," Kurou mumbled to himself, his face filled with boredom.

At least now he knew where he was - Egypt. Not bad for someone who was supposed to be dead. "What should I do now?" he pondered aloud. Looking around, all he saw were modest houses, barefoot children playing football, and a few stands with junk for sale. Emaciated men lay motionless, more resembling the deceased than the living.

"Funny," Kurou thought, "I couldn't understand what one of those good-for-nothings said to me, but I understood every word Mahmoud was saying. And he wasn't speaking my language, I'm pretty sure. What the hell?"

It seemed that becoming a Post-Mortal had its perks. But what about the drawbacks?

Too bothered to think, Kurou strolled past the stands. Vases, jars, all that sort of crap. Who would buy any of that? The salespeople tried to catch his attention, but he was penniless and dressed like a bum, so they gave up on him quick.

As Kurou was about to depart the poor town, a man appeared before him. It was Mahmoud. Apparently, Kurou had taken his time wandering around, giving the old man time to catch up.

"You're not leaving without giving me an explanation, buddy," Mahmoud said, his tone serious.

"What do you want to know, old friend?" Kurou asked, a hint of irony in his smile.

"You endured over 20 punches to the face and yet here you are, not a tooth out of place, no broken nose, nothing. You're not normal."

"I guess you're right. I'm not", Kurou said, looking away.

"Alright then. Who are you, and what happened to you?"

"I was in an airplane accident, okay? But I survived. That's all I'm willing to say," Kurou replied, growing irritated.

"You survived an airplane crash...in the middle of the desert?" Mahmoud asked, astonished.

"YEAH, I DID! Anything else?" Kurou snapped, raising his voice.

"That's not how you treat a man who saved you from having your ass kicked by a dozen men," Mahmoud retorted, his voice grave.

"Tsk, alright. Thanks for that, I suppose," Kurou grumbled. "Now you know everything I can tell you. See ya."

"Hold on, Kurou. Haven't you realized it's not normal for an airplane to cross a desert during its flight? It's like crossing an ocean. Airlines always try to fly near populated areas with airports for emergency landings."

"I'm aware of that. What are you trying to say? That there's a reason why I'm here in Egypt?" Kurou asked skeptically.

"There might be. Why else would I be able to communicate with you when you don't even belong on this continent?" Mahmoud queried.

"You make a point. But frankly, I don't give a damn. I just want to leave this place," Kurou stated, walking away.

"You may leave now, Kurou, but Egypt won't leave you. There's a reason why you're here, and you'll discover it sooner or later," Mahmoud said solemnly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Amenhotep to you, buddy," Kurou retorted, attempting to be humorous and offensive simultaneously. Mahmoud wasn't pleased with his lack of respect, but he tolerated it nonetheless.

"The Post-Mortal..." Mahmoud murmured to himself. "The Post-Mortal truly exists."

***

Kurou wandered through the desert for god knows how long. Egypt was a very large country, as far as he was concerned, and he knew nothing except that the town he left was called Mehet and was near Abu Simbel.

"Abu Simbel, huh...isn't that the temple built by a pharaoh? What was his name again...Ramses?"

Kurou wasn't wrong, although the temple was built in honor of Ramses II, specifically.

Mahmoud's words lingered in his mind as he trudged across the scorching desert sand. Was there a reason for his presence in Egypt? He, a man who had always believed the universe to be chaotic and devoid of concepts like fate or karma?

In just one day, his life had undergone a dramatic change, he thought. From a regular worker in a crap company, he had become someone capable of enduring numerous punches to the face, surviving in an inhospitable environment like the desert, and remaining upright even after days without sustenance or water. Now that he had the freedom to choose what to do, he felt like doing nothing.

"Oh crap. How easy it is to turn into a depressive tramp. I guess I need to do something to alleviate this boredom. I've always wanted to see the pyramids. They must be close by, right?".

They were not.

After a long walk, his eyes and throat full of sand, Kurou smelled water. Not salt water, though.

"Is it the Nile? Can't be, right? Man, I wish I paid more attention in my geography classes. The teacher was a prick, though."

As Kurou drew nearer, he realized it wasn't a river but a lake - a reservoir, to be precise. It appeared somewhat deserted but held a certain beauty.

"I wonder what this water tastes like."

Kurou took a sip, only to be met with the repulsive taste of dampened sand. "This is awful! How can anyone drink something like this?"

Life in Africa wasn't easy, it seems.

Seeing no one in the vicinity, he took his clothes off and dove into the lake. "This is a good opportunity to test my immortality. Let's see how long I can stay submerged without needing to breathe."

Over ten minutes passed, and Kurou remained alive, his lungs filled with water.

"Good god! I guess I really can't die!"

Yet, his mortal instincts persisted. As he attempted to emerge from the lake, his foot slipped on a loose, smooth stone, threatening to plunge him back into the water's depths. Instinctively, he reached out for a palm tree branch, and for a moment, an image of his hand detached itself from his body before vanishing. Nevertheless, he plunged back underwater.

"What just happened?" he wondered. "It felt like my hand projected outward from my body and then disappeared."

Kurou straightened himself up and swam to the surface.

He attempted to reach for the branch several more times. After a dozen attempts, that peculiar sensation returned - his fingertips seemed to project outward.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS???"

It didn't feel strange, or painful. It was just weird that something was projecting from his body like some sort of aura, or appendage.

"Oh boy. Am I living a fantasy tale now? Because it sure isn't a fairy tale. First the undying shit. Now this?".

Putting on his rags, scorched under the relentless sun, Kurou went on his quest for... something.