Chapter 26 Zizi #2
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 the Elders 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, and it makes soul collection less awful.”
Zizi laughed. “I’ve always appreciated your candor.”
“In that case, I have to ask—are you really all right? You were unconscious for three days. What happened in Youdu?”
“I feel absolutely fine,” Zizi said, waving dismissively, ignoring his aching back. It was only stiff because he’d lain in
bed for so long. Or at least, he hoped it was so.
Looking unconvinced, Nikai uncovered the tray that was on the table. It was filled with breakfast delicacies. “I figured you
need human food.”
“You’re the best Reaper a King could have!” Zizi exclaimed. Gleefully, he reached for a cup.
“You should eat something before putting caffeine into your system, Your Majesty.”
The Reaper cast a look so disapproving it felt as if he’d slapped Zizi’s outstretched hand, but Zizi said cheerfully, “I forgot
how much of a nag you are.” He spooned some congee into his mouth instead, and the warm, savory mush settled his stomach.
“And I remember you being more respectful.”
“I remember you not looking like a teenage delinquent,” Nikai retorted. His face went beet red. “Sorry, Your Majesty. It’s
just—it’s very hard getting used to your new form.”
“Get used to it at once,” Zizi said, biting into an egg tart.
The mix of butter and sugar improved his mood immediately.
As he ate, Nikai brought him up to speed on everything that was happening in the Fourth Court.
Zizi was surprised and irritated to find little to complain about Ten’s management of his kingdom during his absence beyond a few minor changes.
“What’s my sly sibling up to these days?”
“He’s still confined to his throne room.” Nikai’s eyes widened. “There’s a rumor that it might be a permanent confinement.”
“I sense some sympathy for that scoundrel. Didn’t he lock you up?”
Nikai wrinkled his nose, looking awkward. “He did. But he also found you in the end, and I’m glad for that. For what it’s
worth, Ten did miss you, and he wanted you back desperately.”
“You’re too nice, Nikai,” Zizi scolded. But he didn’t feel like gloating over his sibling’s predicament either. A permanent
imprisonment would be devastating to any King, and like Zizi, Ten valued his freedom.
“There’s, uh, one more thing.” Nikai was looking down at his shiny buckled loafers.
“Spill it.”
“I’ve been keeping tabs on the mortal realm in case you wanted to know about the situation there.”
“What situation?” Zizi’s body had gone rigid, as if it expected bad news.
“The Hybrids possess a spell that can turn ordinary humans into half monsters like them. They’ve been using it, and I fear
a massive confrontation with the Exorcists is on the horizon.” Nikai added quickly, “But it’s the mortals’ fight. We can’t
interfere—the Elder Gods would never allow it.”
Zizi swore. That damned talisman that Ten had coerced him into creating. He’d been too distraught over his imminent parting
with Rui to make sure it was destroyed in the tunnels. A fatal error on his part, and now the mortal realm was paying for
it.
Worse, he’d created that spell with the remnants of One’s willow branch. It was a relic, which meant that the Hybrids’ talisman
was imbued with underworld magic. Every time they cast it, power from Hell leaked into the world of the living. Zizi’s current mortal form might be one reason why the Nothing hadn’t fully receded, but the Hybrids’ actions were disrupting the balance as well. Both worlds were still in peril.
He’d told the Elder Gods he would not raise a hand in matters outside his jurisdiction, but maybe there was some wiggle room
here. The situation involved Hybrid Revenants, and Revenants were linked to the souls that the underworld collected and housed.
Everything was connected in some way. If Zizi were to lift only a pinkie finger—
“I’ve also been checking on Rui.” Nikai’s voice seemed to reverberate in the room.
The sound of her name was a stab to Zizi’s gut. How is she? he wanted to ask. Is she happy? Does she think of me?
“Don’t worry, I’ve been discreet,” Nikai said. “She isn’t aware of my presence. She’s been—”
“Stop. I don’t need to know.”
Nikai pursed his lips. “Yes, my King.”
From his reaction, Zizi guessed that the Reaper had an idea of what had transpired between the two in the mortal world. “Go
back to your duties,” he said. “I’ll be fine here by myself. And please, call me Zizi when it’s just us.”
Nikai grinned like a kid who had just been given permission to swear out loud. “Okay, Zizi.”
After he left, Zizi stared at the plain white wall across his bed. On the surface, it looked like empty space. He snapped
his fingers. The paint melted away, revealing a portrait of a young woman dressed in a purple hanfu.
He sat on his bed in silence, staring at the portrait for a long, long time. Then, carding a hand through disheveled hair, he strode to the mirror. He looked like a mess. No wonder Nikai felt brave enough
to be rude earlier.
As Zizi scrutinized his reflection, the ominous black speck in his left iris stared back like a raven’s eye. A shiver skittered
across his skin as the speck grew and shrank, and grew and shrank again, as if it were a beating heart. His own mortal pulse
seemed to slow, and he couldn’t help but feel that the realms weren’t the only ones running out of time.
Haven’t we always interfered with the mortal realm in some way? He’d done it when he was Four, and even One’s request to save Rui’s mother was a violation of the tacit agreement between
the realms. He turned from the mirror abruptly, brow furrowed. Now that he thought about it, One’s request felt like too much
of a coincidence. Perhaps it was time to pay them a visit.
Zizi snapped his fingers, and his brightly patterned pajamas and dressing gown transformed into a veil of midnight. A black
floor-length cloak with inky feather-like embellishments draped from his shoulders, half obscuring the slim black trousers
underneath and the silky silvery-white shirt that matched the streaks in his hair. Jewels glittered on his long fingers, and
down his neck, leading the eye to the narrow curve of his waist where a sparkly chain hung.
Clothes fit for a King of Hell with an axe to grind.