The morning in the capital did not break with the usual serenity of spring. The scandal had transformed overnight into a nightmare.
At the market, the usual calls of fruit sellers and textile merchants were drowned out by the low, feverish buzzing of gossip. The RuoHan residence-once a symbol of scholarly prestige-was now a mark of infection.
"Have you heard?" one merchant asked, leaning over a crate of withered apples, his eyes laced with a practiced, hollow concern.
"Heard what?" his neighbor replied, wiping sweat from his brow.
"The boy. The taboo. Zaliyah," the first merchant whispered, looking over his shoulder as if the name itself might summon a storm. "They say he sold his soul to Malachi, the Messenger of the Dead. He's been a puppet of the underworld this entire time."
A flower girl nearby let out a sharp, mocking scoff. "Such lowly gossip! Who even is this Malachi? The Messenger of the Dead? Honestly, Old Man, are you drunk again? It's barely past sunrise."
The man bristled, his face reddening. "You can tell when I'm drunk, girl, but this time I'm stone-cold sober. The Young Lord Karas said it himself! It happened in the Ruo Han residence.
"The Young Lord?" A woman paused, her skepticism wavering. "Master Karas? He barely speaks ten words a day. Why would he shout such a thing to the heavens?"
A fourth merchant, a burly man selling ironware, joined the circle. "Women... never using their brains. Official Yan confirmed the whole thing. He went there with a warrant for the boy's arrest-something and the boy, that white-headed demon Zaliyah, practically disappeared into a vortex of black wind right in front of them. Official Yan never lies; he's a man of the law."
The flower girl gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Really? So he's not only a dirty homo, but a demon too? Our community has been cursed! We've been selling silks to people who haboured a demon!"
"Now you believe me?" Merchant 1 sneered. "Apparently, the Young Lord and the demon got into a terrible fight. They say the demon tried to force his foul advances on Master Karas, but the Young Lord-as pious and pure as he is-rejected him. That's when the truth came out. Zaliyah admitted he'd sold his soul to this Malachi for power."
A scoff followed from the iron merchant. "He had it coming. Such a fine upbringing in the RuoHan mansion, cherished like their own blood, and he decides to bite the hand that fed him. You can't turn a rubbish demon into a human, no matter how much gold you wrap him in."
While the market tore his reputation to shreds, Karas was drowning in a different kind of hell. He moved through the streets like a ghost, his eyes bloodshot and his clothes rumpled-a sight that would have scandalized his Teacher's.
In a fit of desperate denial, Karas had rushed back to the narrow, crooked bookshop where he and Zaliyah had first bought those strange books on Demonic Nature. He remembered the old man with the cloudy eyes who had sold them the book. He remembered the smell of dust and old books.
But as he turned the corner, he stopped dead.
The shop was gone.
Not just closed it was gone. Where the heavy wooden door and the stained-glass window had been, there was only a blank stone wall, weathered and mossy as if nothing had occupied the space for a hundred years. No footprints, no scent of ink, no sign that an old man had ever existed.
"No," Karas whispered, his voice cracking as he slammed his fist against the stone wall. "No, no, no! He was here! It was here! I-I bought the book here!"
He clawed at the stone until his fingernails bled, a pitiful, agonizing display of a man trying to reach through reality to grab a brother who was already in another world.
" I didn't tell him, Karas thought, his head thumping against the wall. I-I didn't tell him , I didn't let him know how much he means to me , I should have told I don't care about the mark. I don't care about the ritual. I-I was just angry" Kara's spoke clutching his chest .
He fell to his knees, his head in his hands "I -I just want him here with me . How do I fix this? How do I reach a place that doesn't exist on any map?"
Back at the estate, the silence was louder than any scream. Riosuka sat in the garden, her embroidery hoop forgotten in her lap.
She didn't cry anymore; she simply stared at the empty seat across from her. Beside her, Riru sat on the grass, clutching a small wooden doll Zaliyah had carved for her.
The little girl's face eyes swollen and red, her grief a , heavy weight that made her look years older. They were a family of shadows, waiting for a ghost that wasn't coming home.
In the Underworld, Zaliyah slowly drifted back to consciousness. He felt the weight of the Night Stalker poison retreating slightly, replaced by a strange, humming warmth in his chest.
He opened his eyes to see the twins, Harun and Iruna, standing at the foot of his bed. They looked like twin pillars , their eyes watchful and fierce. The moment Zaliyah stirred, Iruna rushed to his side, her hands trembling as she helped him sit up.
"Brother told me what you did for us," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She looked down at her own arms, tracing the smooth, unscarred skin where the Thousand Cuts had once been.
Zaliyah sighed, leaning back against the headboard. "Harun... you really didn't have to tell her anything."
"I barely told her anything," Harun muttered, though his eyes were shining with a rare softness. "She saw the blood on your robes, your Majesty. She isn't blind."
Iruna grabbed Zaliyah's hand, her gaze sincere and frightened. "The maids told me you lost consciousness for hours. Is it because you healed us? You haven't suppressed the poison in days, and you used so much energy... I fear the Night Stalker is spreading too quickly. You can't keep doing this."
"It's okay," Zaliyah said, trying to offer a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes. "Malachi gave me something to suppress it for now."
"The Emperor?" Harun asked, his voice full of disbelief.
"He really did that?" Iruna added, her jaw dropping.
"Um... yes? Why is that so shocking?" Zaliyah asked, rolling his eyes.
Harun took a step closer, his expression becoming grave. "May I ask something, your Highness? And please, forgive my insolence."
Zaliyah nodded for him to continue. "You are not human. We know this now. But you are not a demon, either. No demon has the power to knit flesh back together. No demon possesses Light Magic. It is... poison to our kind. So, what are you, exactly?"
Zaliyah looked at his pale hands, then back at them with a sad, crooked smirk. "A fish out of water."
Iruna let out a small, involuntary giggle, breaking the tension for a fleeting second.
"My apologies," Harun said, bowing his head. "I let my curiosity get the better of me".
"It's fine,"
Zaliyah turned, patting Iruna on the head like she was his younger sister. "But you're right to be worried. Iruna, you must be careful. Light Magic isn't common here. If the other demons suspect I harbor it, they'll see it as a threat-an infection. It could lead to my death."
"I am grateful that you healed us," Iruna spoke desperately, her eyes wide. "It hurts no more, and I don't feel like my life is draining away... but it would hurt me a thousand times more if you were in danger because of us. I want to grow stronger. I want to be well-versed with the sword, to become a shield for your highness!"
Zaliyah giggled softly. "Oh, silly girl. Protect yourself first."
Harun cleared his throat, looking awkward.
"Pardon Runa, she gets... melodramatic when she's emotional." He paused, his expression shifting to one of deep conflict. "But your highness... why did you come back? Why leave the world of sun and air for this tomb?"
"Yes!" Iruna added. "Was the world above not good anymore? Were the... po-statoes not good?"
"Runa, it's po-ta-toes," Harun corrected automatically.
The light moment died quickly as Zaliyah's face clouded over. The atmosphere in the room turned cold. He looked away, his gaze fixed on the flickering soul-lamp.
"I'm better off here," Zaliyah said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Rather than bringing peace to my family, I brought nothing but problems. I can only protect them if I stay out of their lives. I can only protect Karas if I'm far away, where my shadow can't touch him. It's unfair to him... it's unfair to Mom and Riru. But I can't drag them to hell with me."
A single, hot tear escaped his eye. He wiped it away so quickly it was almost as if it had never happened. "I just hope they can forgive me one day."
Harun and Iruna looked defeated, their hearts breaking for the boy who had chosen a golden cage to keep his loved ones free.
In the hyalopsite-walled sanctum of the King, the heavy doors were thrown open with a violent bang. Ailla barged in, her silks rustling like the wings of a scavaging bird.
"Malachi! This has gone far enough!" she shrieked, slamming her hands onto his desk. Malachi didn't even look up from the scroll he was reading. "The boy is making you look weak! He eloped with his human lover, he defied your laws, and when he crawls back, you embrace him with open arms? You give him the best quarters? You give him medicine?"
Malachi remained silent, the only sound in the room being the crackle of the fireplace.
"The court is laughing at you!" Ailla continued, her voice rising to a high pitch. "They say the Messenger of Death has been tamed by a half-breed pet! If you won't do what is necessary, I will. I'll kill him myself. I'll carve that mark right off his-"
Malachi moved so fast the air seemed to slow. In a heartbeat, he was standing directly in front of Ailla, his shadow looming over her until she was forced to take a trembling step back.
"You may say what you wish of me, Ailla," Malachi said, his voice a low, vibrating hum that made the floorboards shake. "You may hurl your insults and your tantrums. But the boy is off-limits."
He leaned in closer, his eyes glowing with an ancient, terrifying hunger. "Do not think I have forgotten the Night Stalker in his veins. I know who put it there. The fact that I have not yet stripped the skin from your bones for poisoning what belongs to me is the only mercy you will ever receive from this throne."
Ailla's face went deathly pale. She opened her mouth to argue, but the cold finality in Malachi's gaze choked the words in her throat.
"If you so much as breathe in his direction again," Malachi whispered, "I will ensure your death is a legend that terrifies demons for the next thousand years. Now, get out."
Ailla scrambled backward, her pride shattered, and fled the room. Malachi turned back to the window, his hand unconsciously touching his cheek where Zaliyah had struck him.
"A fish out of water," he murmured to himself. "Or perhaps... a star falling into the deep."