Chapter 17 Nikai
Nikai
The ding of the elevator was more baleful than usual, closer to a crow cawing than a musical note. As the car sank down, Nikai
whispered a word. The white box in his hand warmed up. Moments later, the aroma of fried chicken rose from it. The doors opened
at the bottom of the administrative tower. He exited and crossed the skybridge, taking care not to look down into the abyss.
“Archives, please,” Nikai said to the nondescript black door set into the rock wall. A bell chimed. He turned the doorknob
counterclockwise and stepped cautiously through.
The melancholic sounds of an erhu floated in the air.
Built like a wooden temple, the Archives were said to hold the birth and death stories of everyone who had ever lived. This
was the Librarian’s domain.
“Greetings, Nikai,” said the elderly sage, placing his string instrument down. His hair was white, eyes a timeless gray, face
disturbingly smooth like an egg.
“Have you eaten, qianbei?” Nikai inquired, knowing the Librarian would appreciate this traditional way of address. “I brought
you something delicious from the human realm.”
“Ah, I see you youngsters have not forgotten the gift of respect,” the Librarian commented, taking the box.
Nikai smiled politely. He might look nineteen, and in many ways he’d stayed that age in his mind, but technically he was centuries old.
The Librarian sniffed. “Five-spice popcorn chicken. What a delicacy.” It was hard to miss his sarcasm, but Nikai saw how eagerly
he slipped the box under his table. “How may I help you?”
“I was sent by the Tenth King to access the Darkroom.”
“The Darkroom? For what purpose?” The Librarian’s snow-white brows twitched.
It wasn’t uncommon to investigate stories in the Archives.
Knowing how souls lived as humans was helpful in managing them.
But this wasn’t part of a Reaper’s job, and moreover, the stories placed specifically in the Darkroom were unfinished.
They were lives still being written and sacred to the living.
“My visit concerns the search for the Fourth King.” Briefly, Nikai told him about the two teenagers involved in the anomaly.
“It’s not much to go on, but it’s a new lead,” he finished.
The Librarian peered at Nikai. “You were Four’s Head Reaper, were you not?”
“Yes.” I was also his friend and confidant. Or at least, I thought so. Nikai laid a neat stack of papers on the desk. “Here is all the paperwork.”
“The stories in the Darkroom are exceptionally fragile. It would be a catastrophe if they were damaged by a Reaper who should
not be handling them.”
“These documents bear the mark of the Tenth King,” Nikai said, keeping his smile respectful. “And you are more than welcome
to extract the stories for me.”
With a soft humph, the Librarian pulled out a pair of round spectacles from the pocket of his mandarin-collared tunic and put them on fussily.
Stroking his braided beard, he read through the documents, flipping the pages carefully, ready to find fault. But Nikai was
prepared. He had quadruple-checked his work before coming here.
He kept his conceit to himself when the Librarian finally said, “Everything checks out.”
“Great.”
“But where is the Tenth King? These documents permit him to enter. Not you.”
“Oh yes, the addendum.” Nikai pulled out his tablet and showed him another document. “Apologies. Unfortunately, the Tenth
King is tied up at the moment, and I have his permission to proceed.”
“I see. He must be busy. I heard an entire village in the Tenth was taken by the Nothing yesterday. Those poor souls, doomed for the rest of eternity and punished for crimes they did not commit in their mortal life.” The Librarian looked at Nikai. “You are familiar with the Nothing, correct?”
Nikai stiffened. “It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of the place,” he lied. “As you say, the Nothing has encroached
upon the Tenth Court, and if we do not stop it, the other Courts are next. Speed is of the essence, qianbei.”
The Librarian did not take the hint. Instead, he removed his glasses, slowly polishing the lenses with a cloth.
“Did you know Four was the Tenth King’s favorite? They were close once, always together and thick as thieves. Even in the
early days, Ten was not inclined to laughter, but Four could make him laugh—not in arrogance or spite, but with joy. I imagine
the Tenth King feels betrayed by what happened. He must be deeply hurt that Four left without a word.”
He isn’t the only one, Nikai thought. What was a Reaper without his King? Not much. Not much at all. Resentment fermented in his chest, unexpected
and sour. If Four hadn’t rescued him, if Four hadn’t pulled him out of the Nothing and offered him friendship and a second
chance, Nikai would’ve been—
You would’ve been left walking in darkness for eternity. You would’ve been consumed by despair and regret, never to know the
light again. Just like the lost souls from the Tenth Court.
Four had saved Nikai. It was the only truth. And now, it was Nikai’s turn to help.
The Librarian set his glasses down and fished out a tarnished brass key from his trouser pocket. It didn’t look particularly
special.
“All right then. Come with me.”
Nikai followed him deeper into the Archives, through corridors of bookcases, stretching to ceilings so high he could not see the top.
Scrolls upon scrolls lay on sighing shelves, translucent parchment patchy in the dim light of red candles floating in the air.
It seemed preposterous to rely on fire for light in a room full of paper.
But those papers would not burn, and Nikai felt no heat from the flames.
He licked his lips. An itch was spreading through his fingers.
Somewhere in this vast room, his own story rested on a shelf.
The Librarian spoke. “This place makes an impression on anyone who steps in. Ordinary souls cannot come in here because they
cannot bear it. Reapers are not immune to the effects either. The souls keep memories of their mortal lives, but you Reapers
remember nothing, do you? Your mortal memories and sins have been wiped away. In return, you stay and serve the underworld.
That is why this room tempts you so. You are curious about who you were, what you were. And curiosity is a treacherous thing.”
It was.
Whispers brushed against Nikai’s ears.
You have been wondering for so long . . . just one peek and you’ll find out why you were sent to the Nothing . . .
Don’t you want to know?
The whispers clung onto Nikai’s sleeves, tugging his hair, pressing down on his shoulders. He couldn’t help but flail his
arms, slapping at them.
Shutupshutupshut—
The voices stopped.
Nikai breathed out. “I am here to carry out a task, and I will fulfill it without distraction.”
The Librarian smiled thinly.
Soon they reached a wooden door with characters etched across the top:
You Must Enter As Yourself
The Librarian stuck the key into the middle of the door. It melded seamlessly into the wood, and a yawning cavern emerged.
“Welcome to the Darkroom.”
Nikai stepped in.
The door behind him vanished, and the abyss swallowed him in.
Memories of another time and place slithered into his mind.
A place where his eyes saw nothing but black, his ears heard nothing but silence, where his hands reached out and touched nothing.
He could almost feel the rough gravel on his bare feet, the tearing of skin as he was forced to keep walking in utter darkness
toward a tiny speck of light in the distance. He had gone on for eternity and would go on for another eternity. There had
been nothing in front of him and nothing behind him, only that speck of light that kept moving farther and farther away.
Hope.
The light was hope and the lack of it, understanding he would never reach it, but knowing it still existed.
Then suddenly, he’d found himself out of the dark, lying on the ground, choking on air, the rags on his body drenched through.
There was mist everywhere, but the gloom still blinded him, and it had hurt.
A young man was staring down at him. He was beautiful, with silvery-white hair and the saddest eyes.
“You are not who I am looking for,” the young man had said. “But whether by chance or fate, I have found you. If you come
with me, I will make sure you never have to suffer like this again.”
He had reached out feebly, and the young man grasped his hand firmly in his.
“I am Four. Do you remember your name?”
He’d tried to mouth something, but the shape of his real name was lost to him. “No,” he replied hoarsely.
The young man smiled. “Then I shall call you Nikai.”
Nikai’s knees struck the cold ground of the Darkroom.
Pain pierced his chest, tingling down his arms and legs, spreading to his toes. His heartbeat thumped in his ears, loud as
drums. Sweat pooled in his palms. The tingling sensation turned dull, numbing his hands and feet. All he could think of was
the Nothing. It was all he could feel and smell and see and taste.
But you’re safe now. You won’t ever have to go back there again, said a voice in his head. You’re safe now. Four said he would keep you safe.
But where is Four now? he shouted back at that voice. That’s right—he left.
Nikai loosened his tie. Tore at the buttons on his collar. Tried to breathe against the fear suffocating him. He couldn’t
go back to that place again. Couldn’t be in the ravenous dark.
He felt a sudden pressure on his arm.
“You are not alone, Reaper.”
The Librarian.
The pressure remained firm. Comforting.
Nikai stayed on the ground. Filled his lungs and belly with air, letting it trickle slowly out through his mouth. He repeated
this, focusing on the pressure on his arm. He didn’t know how much time had gone by, but gradually, his heartbeat slowed.
A subdued red glow had seeped into his surroundings. His eyes adjusted, and he saw pieces of parchment suspended in the air.
Words written in black ink appeared on each parchment, then disappeared and reappeared again.
The stories of living mortals.
“Will you help me, qianbei?” Nikai whispered to the dark.
“Of course, young Reaper,” the Librarian said gently. “Where do you wish to begin?”
Nikai struggled to his feet. “Eighteen years ago.”
Sometime later, Nikai stood in the empty throne room of the Fourth Court, staring at the mirror before him. He wasn’t sure
if he had recovered from his episode in the Darkroom, but Ten was waiting for his report.
Nikai palmed the glass. “I want to speak with the Tenth King.”
Moments later, the mirror flashed, transforming into a screen. Ten’s face appeared, filling the entire space and too close
for comfort.
“Reaper.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Did you discover anything in the Archives?”
“Another piece of the puzzle,” Nikai replied. “I didn’t find anything unusual about the boy, but the cadet’s birth story was
corrupted. At first the Librarian couldn’t retrieve it. He said nothing like this has happened before. What he did manage
to salvage was a different story—part of the original. It was a death story that got scrubbed, a fate that was changed. The girl wasn’t supposed to be born; her mother was in an accident when
she was pregnant, and she was supposed to die. Years later, the mother was killed by a strange Revenant, and the girl . . .” Nikai faltered.
“What about the girl?” Ten demanded, listening with rapt attention.
“I think there might be a connection between the girl and Four. I—I was there that night. I was there at the accident the
mother was in,” Nikai said, his throat tight. “Four saved the mother’s life so the girl could be born; the First King asked
him to.”
Ten flared his nostrils. “The girl who cast the impossible spell is the same child that One claimed fate had led them to?”
“It could be a coincidence.” But Nikai wasn’t so sure.
“Coincidence is merely the universe conspiring,” Ten said. “I must see the girl myself. I must speak with her.”
“Speak with her? But we’re not allowed to reveal ourselves.”
Ten stepped back abruptly.
Nikai could see the throne room now. The place was in disarray. Chairs overturned, silk drapes torn, and crumpled balls of
paper littering the ornate floor. A black substance smeared against the walls.
“Is everything okay, Your Majesty?”
“Yes, everything is fine and dandy.” Ten picked up an empty glass and hurled it onto the floor. It shattered, spraying pieces
everywhere. “Is it not obvious? Everything is not fine! My kingdom is falling apart, disintegrating before my very eyes. Here I am, trying to fix the problem my damned brother
caused, while my useless siblings sit around doing shit. They think the Nothing will not touch them, but they are wrong.”
He flung himself onto his throne. “I proposed your theory to the Council of Kings. Half of them were willing to deliberate on it while the other half refused to even consider the possibility of Four being in the human realm. We are at an impasse.”
Nikai’s heart sank. “So nothing will be done?”
“On the contrary, there is so much that can be done. The only question is how far one is willing to go.”
“I don’t understand, Your Majesty.”
Ten stared into space, thoughtful, twirling a finger. He got up and moved toward the mirror. Close. Closer. The red splash
on his fingernail went round and round, then pointed straight at Nikai.
Something sinister peeked out from Ten’s gold-speckled eyes.
Nikai took a step back. Even though they were separated by the mirror and a labyrinth of Courts and kingdoms between them,
he did not feel safe from Ten’s reach.
“The Second King thinks that if Four got rid of his power to escape and reside in the human realm, then our search comprises
two paths: finding the vessel that holds his power and finding the human who houses his soul.” Ten shrugged. “Either way,
it requires us to operate in the human realm unrestricted by anything.”
Unrestricted by anything? Nikai’s uneasiness grew. “But the rules—” One look at Ten’s expression, and Nikai shut his mouth.
“I have decided that this is my investigation now,” Ten declared. “I will no longer be hamstrung by rules and tenets, not while my kingdom and my very existence
are in danger. I will be working outside the lines, and you will be helping me. No one needs to know any of this. Understood?”
Nikai had reservations about the Tenth King’s methods, but if it meant getting Four back, surely it was worth it? He nodded.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Ten ran his tongue over his sharp teeth. “Excellent. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a date with a mortal.”
The screen flickered, transforming back into a mirror, and Nikai was left staring at himself, a haunted-looking young man
with fear swirling in his eyes.