The afternoon sun was beginning to dip low over the human realm, but inside the study, the darkness had already won. Karas still knelt by his mother's legs, breathing heavily, his forehead resting against her knees as the last of his violent sobs subsided into a dull, aching hollow.
Riosuka continued to stroke his hair, her own eyes red and swollen. She looked down at her son, seeing him stripped of all his fierce, protective pride. He was truly breaking apart. She knew that if she didn't give him a thread of hope to hold onto, the despair would consume him entirely.
She let out a long, shaky breath and leaned down, whispering close to his ear. "Karas... look at me."
Karas slowly lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot,the skin around them puffy and raw. "Mom?"
Riosuka cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs wiping away the fresh tracks of tears. "I shouldn't tell you this. It is dangerous, and it goes against everything we know about the balance of our world. But I cannot sit here and watch you die from the inside out."
A flicker of desperate, manic hope came to life in Karas's blue eyes. He gripped her wrists tightly. "What is it? Tell me. Please."
"Do you remember the waterfall?" Riosuka asked softly. "The one where I first found Zaliyah all those years ago?"
Karas nodded quickly. "Of course. I could never forget it."
"Deep behind that waterfall, hidden by the cliffs and the overgrowth, lies a decaying, ancient temple," Riosuka said, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. "Legend says it was built during the era when the veil between our world and the Underworld was thin. There is a man who lives there. A hermit who has forgotten his own name. They say he knows the 'Old Ways'-the rituals used by the ancestors to cross over without dying."
Karas didn't hesitate. He was already scrambling to his feet, a surge of adrenaline washing away his exhaustion. "I'm going there. Right now."
"Karas, wait!" Riosuka grabbed his arm, pulling him back. Her eyes were wide with fear. "Listen to me very carefully. The Old Ways are called that for a reason. They were forbidden because the price is always too high. Promising to cross over isn't a gift; it is a curse. Promise me you will be careful."
"I promise, Mom," Karas said, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Thank you. I'm going to bring him home."
The trek to the waterfall was so agonizing that his lungs began to burn and while his mind was clouded with racing thoughts. By the time Karas reached the thunderous falls, twilight had swallowed the forest. He pushed past the roaring curtain of water, slipping and sliding against the wet, mossy rocks until he emerged into a hidden, damp cavern behind the falls.
There, just as his mother had said, stood the ruins of a temple. The stone was black and slick with moisture. Cracks spider-webbed across the pillars, and ancient, unreadable glyphs were carved into the archway.
Sitting in the center of the mossy floor, hovering over a small, smokeless fire, was a man. He was draped in tattered grey rags, his long, matted white beard reaching down to his waist. His eyes were milky and clouded over, yet they seemed to pierce right through the dark.
"I don't receive visitors," the old man croaked without looking up. "Go back to the sun, boy. There is nothing for you here."
Karas stepped forward, his boots squelching on the damp moss. "I'm not looking for the sun. I was told you know the Old Ways. I need to get to the Underworld."
The hermit let out a harsh, mocking cackle that echoed off the cavern walls. "The Underworld? You've been reading too many fairy tales, child. I am just a dying old man rotting in a cave. I know nothing of demons or dark realms. Leave me to my peace."
"I am not joking!" Karas bellowed, his voice booming over the sound of the waterfall outside. He took another commanding step forward, the raw, agonizing desperation rolling off him in waves. He didn't care about politeness anymore. "I have lost the only person who makes my life worth living. He is trapped there, poisoned and alone, thinking I hate him! I will tear this entire mountain down with my bare hands if that's what it takes. Tell me how to cross!"
The hermit froze. He slowly turned his head, his milky, blind-looking eyes focusing on Karas's face. He looked at the absolute, agonizing determination etched into the young man's features, the raw pain vibrating in his voice. The mocking smile faded from the hermit's lips. He realized this boy wasn't a curious adventurer. He was a desperate man standing on the edge of the abyss.
"Sit down, boy," the hermit said, his voice losing its mocking edge and becoming strangely heavy.
Karas complied, dropping to his knees across the small fire.
"People think crossing into the demon realm is just a matter of finding a door," the hermit began, poking at the fire with a gnarled stick. "They think it's a physical barrier. It is not. The realms are separated by spiritual laws. To cross over while still possessing a living, breathing human body violates those laws. The barrier doesn't keep you out; it strips you of what makes you human as you pass through it."
Karas frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Crossing over will strip a human of their soul or their sanity," the hermit said, his voice dropping to a low, ominous tone. "The dark energies of that place will flood a mortal mind. Most humans who have attempted the crossing either arrive as mindless, screaming husks, or their souls are shredded and scattered across the void. You cannot survive it intact."
Karas swallowed hard, the weight of the words settling in his stomach. But he didn't blink. He didn't even hesitate. He looked directly into the old man's milky eyes.
"I don't care," Karas said, his voice steady and resolute. "Let it take my sanity. Let it tear my soul. If I can just hold him one last time and tell him I love him, it will be worth it. Tell me how to do it."
The hermit stared at him in stunned silence for a long moment. He shook his head slowly, a look of pity flashing across his ancient face. "Madness. True madness. But... very well. I can open a temporary gateway for you. I can anchor your soul so the void doesn't shred it entirely. But such a powerful spell requires a heavy bridge to be built."
"Name your price," Karas demanded. "Gold? Blood? Name it."
"I have no use for gold, boy," the hermit rasped. "The bridge requires a piece of your essence. To open the gate, I demand a heavy price. I will take either your memories of the person you're searching for-meaning you will arrive in the Underworld not knowing who you are looking for-or I will take a massive portion of your physical life force, shortening your lifespan to just a few years."
Karas froze. The words hit him like a physical blow. He sat there, utterly stunned. The air seemed to get sucked out of his lungs.
"Forget him?" Karas whispered, his voice cracking. "How can I rescue him if I don't even remember his name? If I don't remember his face?" The thought of losing the memories of Zaliyah's smile, his touch, and his laugh was a fate worse than death. "And my life force... if I give that up, I won't have the time to grow old with him."
Confusion and panic warred in his chest. "No... please," Karas pleaded, leaning forward over the fire. "Give me another option. There has to be something else I can give you! Take my eyes, take my limbs, but don't take my memories or my time with him!"
"There are no other options, boy," the hermit said coldly, standing up. The fire between them suddenly flared up, casting long, monstrous shadows against the cave walls. "The laws of equivalent exchange do not bend for broken hearts. You must make your choice."
"I need time," Karas stammered, shaking his head wildly. "I can't... I need to think."
"Then come back whenever your mind is made up," the hermit said.
As the last word left his mouth, a sudden, thick cloud of smoke billowed from the small fire, blinding Karas and making him cough violently. When the smoke cleared just a second later, the fire was dead.
And the hermit was gone.
"Wait!" Karas yelled, scrambling to his feet. "Come back! I wasn't finished!"
He spun around in the dark cavern, his heart hammering against his ribs. He ran to the corners of the decaying temple, feeling the cold, wet stone, searching behind the pillars. "Hey! Where did you go?! Come back!"
His shouts only bounced back to him, mocked by the thunderous roar of the waterfall outside. He searched the cave for what felt like hours, calling out, desperately hoping the old man was just playing a cruel joke.
Finally, the reality of the situation crashed down on him. He slumped against a cold, moss-covered pillar and slid to the floor. The hermit was truly gone. He was left alone in the dark with only two impossible, terrifying options to choose from.
While Karas was left grappling with an impossible choice in the dark waterfall cave, Zaliyah was finally forcing himself out of his bed. He could not stay paralyzed by grief forever. If he was going to survive this gilded cage, he needed to know the layout of the prison.
Guided by the twins, Iruna and Harun, Zaliyah stepped out of his chambers for a tour of the palace.
The moment they crossed the threshold into the wider halls, the sheer, oppressive atmosphere of the Demon Realm attacked Zaliyah's senses. Back in the human world, the air had been sweet with the scent of pine, flowers and rich earth. Here, the air was smelled strongly of dead, decaying flowers and the choking scent of burning sulfur.
The walls themselves seemed alive with misery. Every few minutes, a low, agonizing rumble would vibrate through the cold stone floors, distant, echoey screams of trapped monsters and damned souls locked deep in the lower pits of the palace. It was a constant, haunting soundtrack that never stopped.
Zaliyah looked up at the massive, arched windows lining the high corridors. The sky outside was a nightmare. There was no bright morning sun to look forward to, no gentle moon to guide the night, and absolutely no stars to wish upon. Instead, the sky ranged in agonizing shades of darkness. Sometimes it settled into a temporary, blood-red twilight that cast a sickly crimson hue over the landscape. Most of the time, the sky was completely noirish-a heavy, swallowing blackness that made even the mornings feel like a permanent, endless night.
Zaliyah shivered, pulling his white robes tighter around himself as they walked.
"I don't think I would ever get used to this place," Zaliyah admitted softly, his voice echoing slightly in the vast hallway.
"It takes time, your highness" Harun said gently, gesturing toward a massive set of double iron doors to their left. "This is the Hall of Records. It holds the lineage and dark contracts of every noble family in the Underworld. It signifies the absolute law of the council."
"And over here," Iruna added, pointing to a balcony overlooking a massive, glowing red chasm, "is the Bridge of Sins. This is where the King holds public executions. It signifies the King's absolute power over life and death. The citizens of the city below can see the glow from miles away."
As they continued walking, Zaliyah noticed that the palace staff were not just ignoring him. Every time they passed a group of lower-tier demons or maids, they would freeze. Their eyes would go wide with pure terror, and they would scramble against the walls to get out of Zaliyah's path. Once they thought they were out of earshot, the whispers would start, hissing in the dark.
Zaliyah frowned, hearing fragments of their panicked gossip. They were terrified of the pure, untamed power he had unleashed in his bedroom just hours before.
When the weight of the oppressive atmosphere finally became too heavy to bear, Zaliyah felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him. "I need to rest. Show me the gardens."
The twins led him to the outer courtyard, but stepping into the palace garden offered no relief. If anything, it only triggered a fresh wave of heartache.
Zaliyah stood at the edge of the stone path, looking out at the twisted, black-petaled flora. The garden was a grotesque mockery of nature. Thorns as sharp as daggers grew on twisted, weeping vines. The flowers didn't bloom; they opened up to reveal dark, fleshy centers that seemed to pulse with a blood
Zaliyah was instantly reminded of the stark difference between this living nightmare and the RuoHan residence back in the human realm. His garden back home was flourishing with vibrant life, buzzing with honeybees, and bursting with the colors of living, breathing flowers. Looking at this dead, demonic vegetation scared the life out of him. It served as a brutal, visual reminder that he was no longer in the world of the living. He was in the land of the dead.
"Let's go back," Zaliyah whispered, . "I've seen enough for today."
The twins bowed their heads understandingly and escorted him back through the cold, sulfur-scented halls to his private chambers.
Zaliyah stepped inside alone, letting out a long sigh as the heavy doors clicked shut behind him. He walked over to his massive bed, desperate to just close his eyes and pretend for a moment that he was back in the arms of the man who smelled of sandalwood.
He pulled back the heavy silk covers, and then he froze.
Sitting directly in the center of his silk pillow was a single, fresh white lotus.
It was a beautiful flower, identical to the ones that grew in the human realm, standing in stark contrast to the dark room. But it wasn't pure. Thick, fresh, blood was actively dripping from the white petals, soaking into the pristine pillowcase below it.
Zaliyah's breath hitched in his throat as a cold wave of pure terror washed over him. He hadn't been gone long. His doors were locked, and the twins had been guarding him.
Yet, Ailla had breached his private space without anyone noticing. She hadn't left a note. She didn't need to. The blood-dripping lotus sent a silent, crystal-clear message that echoed loudly in the
quiet room:
I can touch you whenever I want. You are never safe.