Chapter 19 Rui
Rui
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said, shaking out his long silk sleeves like a peacock displaying its tail feathers.
“I am Ten, King of the Tenth Court of Hell.”
Rui gawked.
The Tenth King looked only a few years older than Ash. His hair was spun gold and tied in a low ponytail with a simple red
ribbon that matched his scarlet hanfu—traditional robes from a bygone era. The modern-looking black leather harness wrapped
around his waist and the pair of leather gloves covering his fingers and half of his palms stood out in contrast.
Ten raised his chin, looking down his nose at her. “Close your mouth, human. The correct response to my esteemed presence
is to grovel at my feet and address me as Your Majesty. I will also accept My King or My Lord, and if you wish to worship me by adulating the magnificence of my physical attributes, you may go ahead.”
Rui continued to stare. Convinced she was hallucinating, she pinched herself.
The skin on her arm hurt.
Ten was starting to sulk. “I was not expecting you to be so rude.”
“I’m sorry,” Rui managed, “it’s just that . . . you’re real?”
“As real as you are.”
She blinked. “Am I dead?”
“Alas, you are very much alive,” Ten said bitingly. “Humans.” He sighed, raising an elegant hand to his smooth forehead. “I
blame the despicable mortal who had the audacity to try to draw us. And now everyone thinks we look like grumpy old men wearing
ugly wing-tipped hats.”
Rui collected her wits. If the Kings of Hell were real, and one had come specifically to find her, it could only mean she’d screwed up royally, pun intended. She curtsied, painting on a fawning smile.
“You’re nothing like the portraits I’ve seen on hell money, Your Majesty. In fact, I don’t think any mortal could capture
the gloriousness of your beauty. There is no painting or photograph that could ever match your magnificence.” When Ten seemed
somewhat appeased by her flattery, she asked, “What brings you here, Your Majesty?”
“I wanted to have a word with you in private.” Ten waved a hand at the frozen cadets scattered around the campus. “All of
this must be strange, but do not worry, no human shall be harmed.”
Coming from him, assurance sounded like a threat. He moved closer to her, graceful as a dancer. But his spindly limbs reminded
Rui of a spider weaving its sticky web. She wondered if she was his prey.
“Tell me how you did it, Rui.” Her name felt grossly intimate in his mouth.
“Did what, Your Majesty?”
“Tell me how you were able to cast such a powerful spell.”
Was he talking about Zizi’s ill-fated spell? “How did you know about that?”
Ten opened his palms, shrugging. “I am a god. I know many things.”
Like any other spell, she had cast it from muscle memory, a reflex honed from years of training.
“I don’t know. I just said the incantation.”
“How did you create the spell?”
“I didn’t—a mage, Zizi—he made it.” His name spilled out of her mouth, and Rui’s face heated with shame. It felt like she’d
betrayed him somehow, but she had a feeling Ten was using his power to make her talk.
“Interesting.” Ten removed his leather gloves.
Rui half expected to see claws or something creepy, but Ten’s hands were normal. Lovely, really. Long pianist fingers and
nails ruby-stained like jewels. Or blood.
He cupped her chin.
Rui wanted to pull away, but fear and confusion kept her still like a moth, pinned down and scrutinized by a lepidopterist.
Seconds later, Ten released her. “Interesting,” he repeated, enunciating the word slower this time.
“What’s so interesting, Your Majesty?”
Ignoring her question, Ten placed his cold hands on her shoulders. “I need your help, Rui. The King of the Fourth Court is
missing, and I need you to find him.”
“Excuse me?”
“I need you to find my brother, Four. He is missing.”
“Four . . . your brother?”
“Yes. Four, my brother. He has been missing for eighteen years.” The Tenth King was looking at her as if he thought her dull.
How could a god go missing? It made no sense. And why would Ten come to her for help?
Ten continued to stare expectantly.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but I can’t help you. I don’t know how to,” Rui said, very carefully and very politely. He was obviously
someone who took offense easily. “I don’t know anything about finding missing people. The Academy doesn’t teach us that.”
Ten sniffed haughtily. “My brother isn’t people. He is a King.”
“If you haven’t found him for so long, I don’t see why you think I can,” she pointed out. “I’m just a human.”
“The search was headed in the wrong direction. But now, I believe we are getting somewhere.” Ten smiled. It felt like he had
too many teeth.
“But why me?”
“You are special.” Seeing her surprise, Ten clarified with a short laugh. “I am not complimenting you, not at all. I am merely
saying I think you may have what it takes to find my brother. You have been touched by death and escaped its embrace.”
“How . . . how did you know?” she stammered.
“Like I said, I know many things.” Ten threw a cursory glance at the still-frozen Yiran before turning back to her. “Let us make a deal.”
“A deal?”
“Yes, a mutually beneficial agreement. It is simple. You will help me find my brother, and you shall receive something in
return.”
Rui remembered a story her mother once told her, about a god who owed a human a favor for helping them. If she knew anything
about fairy tales, it was that they were all too real.
A favor from a god . . . She could ask for her magic back. For good grades, for money, for her father’s health, for him to
stop gambling. She could ask for the world, and Ten might give it to her.
He was watching her carefully. “Shall we proceed with this fair exchange between you and me?”
How could there ever be a fair exchange between a mortal and a god? Her mother’s bedtime story had ended with the human’s
downfall.
Rui shook her head. “No deals with devils.”
Ten howled with laughter. “But I am no devil.” He ran his tongue over his mouth in a way that made her linger on his cherry
lips for longer than she wished to.
Then, he cracked a knuckle.
Rui clutched her chest, legs buckling as she gasped for air.
Ten had unleashed something. An invisible force that felt like spiritual energy. Not bright and warm like yangqi, nor dark
and cold like the yinqi of Revenants. It was different, way more powerful, beyond worlds and all-consuming.
Rui fell to the ground.
Ten closed in, the light in his eyes greedy. “Would you like to make a deal, my dear?”
Rui did not want—no, she did. She wanted to say yes. She felt the word forcing its way up her throat. She stabbed her nails into her palms and clamped
her lips shut with all her might. But there were other ways to show acquiescence. The muscles at the back of her neck relaxed,
and she felt her head lowering into a nod.
Ten. He’s doing this. Fury sparked in her. A god or not, Rui wasn’t going to let him take away her choice. She dug in—and pushed back.
The invisible pressure lifted.
For a moment, the world spun. It felt like she’d eaten something foul, the taste making her retch. Slowly, she pulled herself
to her knees and hunched over the bench.
“Whatever you’re trying, it won’t work,” she said, breathing heavily. “You can’t force me to agree with you.”
Ten was looking at her like he’d discovered hidden treasure. “I cannot coerce someone to make a deal. It must be done voluntarily.
I was merely testing you for something else. That was less than a tenth of my spiritual power, but you managed to withstand
it even in your weakened state. Astonishing—I am impressed, and I am seldom so. You must help me, there can be no other way.”
Rui shook her head, more to clear her mind than to disagree.
Ten shifted to Yiran.
“Hmm,” he mused, caressing Yiran’s cheek. He pinched it. Left a red mark on smooth skin. “It would be a pity if this normie were to perish, would it not?”
“Are you going to kill him if I don’t help you?”
“Please. I would never be so uncouth,” Ten admonished. “Besides, he does not need my help. He is like a balloon filled with air, he will just keep expanding. Until one day—” Ten mimed an explosion. “It is only
a matter of time.”
Guilt roiled in Rui’s stomach. She had seen Yiran lose control in the Simulator. Seen how magic lit him up from the inside
and burned through him. His life was in peril, and it was her fault. Even if her spirit core healed, there was a chance Zizi
might not be able to transfer her spiritual energy and magic back. Rui trusted Zizi’s skill, but she’d never seen him so worried
before, like he wasn’t confident he could reverse the spell. And if Zizi couldn’t help, did it mean Yiran would eventually
die? Did it mean Rui would have to live without magic forever?
“The boy.” Ten’s voice cut through her thoughts. “He means something to you.”
“He means nothing to me,” Rui said. But it only made Ten smile.
“Shall we revisit the terms of my proposed deal? Humans are full of desires. Surely I can offer you something in return that
will pique your interest? Money tends to do the trick. But for you”—Ten’s eyes turned to slits—“vengeance, redemption, and
maybe a little true love?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her heart was beginning to pound again.
“You want your magic back, do you not? You want it back so badly it hurts. I see through you, mortal. You and your foolish altruism, you and your selfish desires. You think you can save the world,
but that is not the only thing your heart wants.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Rui spat. But there was a tremor in her voice they both heard.
Ten smiled.
Rui’s mind darkened. A hazy veil of memories flashed through her mind. Voices familiar and far away echoed in her ears . . .
a little girl throwing a tantrum of tears, whining, persuading . . . her mother, finally giving in. The dark alleyway . . .
screams . . .
A body lying on the street. Cold. Still.