Chapter 1

By night, I worked as a death cleaner, a specialist who cleaned up messes for the wealthy.

By day, I was the poor, bullied kid at school.

On this particular day, I got a new job.

When I arrived at the scene, the dead person turned out to be Rosalie Duncan, the very girl who'd shoved my head into the toilet stall that morning.

She lay motionless beside the swimming pool, her blood staining the entire pool water red.

Someone nearby was still yelling loudly, "Hurry up and clean this up! We're still waiting to throw a pool party here. What a bad luck."

*****

"Hello, I am the death cleaner. I'm here for the door-to-door cleaning service." I picked up my tools nimbly and started today's tidying-up.

First, I drained all the water from the swimming pool, then took the cleaning agent and mop to wipe away the bloodstains in the pool bit by bit.

I wore a big black mask, tucked all my hair into my hat, and my eyes were unusually cold, as if I'd been a butcher for decades.

I got down to cleaning with practiced ease. The bunch of inexperienced rich second generations were all dumbfounded.

"Not scared at all? Just looking at that body soaking in the pool gives me the creeps," said a rich kid.

Another chimed in, "Whoa, she's so quick with her hands. What's she muttering to herself?"

"Never seen this kind of door-to-door service before. If I'd known earlier, things wouldn't have been so much trouble back then," someone said.

The rich kids leaned closer, trying to catch what I was saying.

"Killed someone and made this much of a mess? I must take her way, letting her find another place to rest. This spot won't do," I murmured.

They were all stunned. "Take it if you want. It's really creepy having it here. By the way, after you're done cleaning, the police really won't find anything, will they?"

I curled the corner of my mouth at them. "Of course not. As long as you destroy the surveillance footage completely, I guarantee the forensics team won't detect a single trace."

After cleaning the pool, I finally took a good look at the body. It was actually an old acquaintance, my classmate, Rosalie Duncan.

She was wearing skimpy clothes, with large patches of pale skin exposed, and there were signs of beating on her body. She hadn't died in peace.

During the day at school, she was always swaggering around, bullying people. She hated nothing more than girls like me who had no family background, yet attended this aristocratic school. But now she was lying here, silent and stiff.

I sighed, then dragged her into my trash bin. She was light; I didn't even break a sweat stuffing her inside.

Once she was in the bin, she'd be hauled away like garbage, until she vanished from this world without a trace.

As I moved the body, I noticed the small needle marks on her arm. So she wasn't a rich young lady at all. She'd just been putting on an act at school. Turns out she'd only been fooling the naive boys there.

Now it was over. She'd been toyed with to death by the real rich second generations. And I was the one left to clean up her mess.

After cleaning the pool and disposing of the body, I moved on to the final touch-ups, scrubbing every last trace of blood from the sofa crevices. When everything was done, not even a hint of blood lingered in the air.

I turned around, looked at their ringleader, Ryan Chandler, and walked up to him. "Hello, all cleaning work is finished. The total fee for this service is about eighty thousand dollars. Would you like to pay in cash, by card, or via transfer?"

The market price was only twenty thousand dollars, but they'd called me here in the middle of the night, and these were the kind of rich kids who didn't care about money. So I immediately quadrupled the price.

Ryan didn't mind the markup at all. He pulled out a black card casually.

I took out my POS machine and processed the payment with practiced ease, then transferred twenty thousand dollars to my boss right after. That's how easy it is to make a middleman's profit.

Then I thoughtfully turned on the water pipes for their pool, refilling it with fresh water. The place was so clean it was as if nothing had ever happened, as if the body I'd just moved had been nothing more than an illusion.

The rich second generations were satisfied. "Finally cleaned up. It's Mr. Chandler's treat today. If we'd wrapped things up in the first half of the night, wouldn't that have been a buzzkill? Let's keep the party going."

A few more people jumped into the pool, bikini tops and champagne flutes flying everywhere.

My work was done, and theirs was just beginning. The beautiful women the rich kids had invited all broke into coquettish smiles. They'd do anything as long as the money was enough.

I picked up my tools and was about to leave. Halfway to the door, I heard them talking to their leader. "Ryan, do you think she'll blab? This is a human life we're talking about, after all."

"My family used this cleaning organization before. The police will never find out anything. Besides, Rosalie was just a poor nobody. No one will care if she's gone."

"Huh? You mean Rosalie is poor? She was carrying a Hermes bag. I thought she was some kind of rich girl," said his buddy.

Ryan said in disdain, "Rich girl my ass. She was just a gold digger. I only found out after sleeping with her."