The Elder Gods exchanged glances. They didn’t seem dissatisfied with his answer. Empress-Mother picked a tile from the diagonal stack across the table, running her thumb across the carved surface without looking at it. She smiled. Another solid pick. Hopefully it would keep her in a good mood.
Seeing that as his cue, Zizi began to take his leave. Without warning, tremors suddenly shook every inch of his body. His muscles spasmed erratically, and he doubled over, crumpling onto the floor like a ball of paper in a giant’s fist. He curled up, groaning in pain. It felt like he was back in the Obsidian Cavern again. And in his hazy, slurry mind, he pictured Rui’s face in infinite detail, the way he used to when he wanted to draw her. When he missed her. Her image sharpened, and the pain seemed to subside. It was a placebo, nothing more than delusion, but it was the only thing that kept the darkness away.
Voices murmured from above.
It is as you thought, my dear.
...clinging to his humanity... may not survive this...
Perhaps, just this once, we could intervene?
What are you talking about?Zizi tried to say. And as he lost consciousness, he heard another voice, one he didn’t recognize.
He may have descended from our realm for a reason, but we cannot interfere with things that fate has set in motion....He must fulfill the condition by himself.
It was the smell of freshly brewed coffee that woke him.
Zizi breathed in the life-giving scent, thinking he must’ve perished and gone to heaven. But that was impossible. For one, he didn’t think the celestial realm existed. Even if it did, he was a King of Hell, doomed to spend his eternal existence in the underworld, never leaving this dark and shadowy world, et cetera, et cetera.
He sighed pitifully, listening to the tranquil sound of distant waves crashing against the shore. He was in his old chambers in the Fourth Court. The Elder Gods must have sent him back here after he’d passed out at the palace. He remembered the stranger’s voice he’d heard.
Who was it? Had they been talking about Zizi? And what was theconditionthey’d mentioned? It was a borderless puzzle, and he wasn’t sure where the first piece could be found.
As he lay on his large, cozy bed under large, cozy blankets, he became aware that someone else was in the room. He rolled over and swept aside the silk drapes hanging over his canopy bed.
A young man with peacock-blue hair and haunted eyes was sitting in the corner of the room.
Zizi longed to go back to sleep. His bed was too enticing. It was King-of-Hell-sized, bigger than the beds that humans used, and way more comfortable. But the young man kept staring at him like a lost sheep, and Zizi finally gave in.
“What is it, Nikai? What do you want?” he said, his words muffled by a long yawn.
“Gods in all the realms, you remember me!”
His silly little Reaper friend started to cry.
Dammit.Zizi sat up. “I do remember you, Nikai,” he said gently. “I’m sorry I left you alone here for so long.”
I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise to save her all those years ago, he thought, recalling the circumstances under which Nikai’s soul had been sent to the Nothing.
After the wretched events at the Imperial Palace in the mortal realm, Nikai had been captured and put in solitary confinement in a dark cell for years to deter any rebellion from the rest of the cultivators, until one day, he ended his own life. His soul had been doomed to the Nothing until Four saved him by an impossible stroke of fate.
Zizi wondered now if telling Nikai what had happened in his mortal life would release the Reaper from any burden he carried. But perhaps the loss of his memories was a blessing in disguise. A form of peace that the truth would not give him.
Nikai blew his nose loudly into his handkerchief. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overreact. You were in that cavern for so long, and there was speculation you might die. I was so worried.” He gave Zizi a small smile. “But you really are back. You don’t sound or look like him, but I can’t deny that you’re Four.”
“I’m glad you recognize me too, old friend,” Zizi said, his brow knitting briefly before he returned Nikai’s smile.
Did everyone truly think he would meet his end in the cavern? Could a King die? Zizi realized he wasn’t sure. They were theoretically immortals, and yet the decay from the Nothing affected their Courts and the Kings themselves. As parts of the underworld crumbled away, the souls caught in the fray were sucked into that abyss. Would the same thing happen to a King if he succumbed to the Nothing?
Seven’s elfin face flashed in his mind, and his hands clenched. If theElders were right, all he had to do was to remain in Hell until his body adapted.
Deciding he wasn’t in the mood for any more morbid thoughts, Zizi dragged himself out of bed with a protracted groan and slid his feet into soft, fuzzy slippers. This place was so much bigger than his home in the mortal realm. It made him sad to think that he would never see his beloved shophouse and all its eccentricities again.
His sketchbooks. He wanted them here.
“There’s something I need from my shophouse,” he told Nikai. “Could you make a trip for me?”
“Of course, my King,” Nikai replied eagerly. “I love going to the mortal realm. The food’s great,andit makes soul collection less awful.”
