Once she firmly declared to the King of the Underworld, Ai Natsuki seemed to have anticipated the answer, for Taizan Fukun showed no signs of surprise. Instead, he made a new proposal.

“The Heavenly Mandate has not yet expired… hmm. Then, let us do this, Scribe. This Taizan Fukun shall bring you back to life. In return, you shall assist me in my work.”

(Ah? Could there still be bamboo slips remaining?)

It seemed as though Taizan Fukun had understood the intent behind Ai Natsuki’s wandering gaze. A word of denial echoed through the courtroom.

“No. The reason I went to the world above was because there were things I wished to investigate in the mortal city. I will intervene in your fate. If you go to the city and assist me, I shall bring you back to life.”

“You went to the mortal realm… oh, the Jun Fan Tower’s…”

Ai Natsuki finally realized why the god’s face seemed familiar.

(That handsome man from when I fell from the ladder and he helped me!?)

“Why would someone like Taizan Fukun be frequenting a tavern in the mortal realm… No, haven’t I already done enough work?”

Ai Natsuki, with her voice full of resentment, muttered as she thought of the piles of bamboo slips waiting for her. Taizan Fukun smiled slyly in response.

“If you want to be registered in the Underworld now, feel free. I’ll send you straight to hell or as a servant to the City God.”

“As you wish, Taizan Fukun. I, Ai Natsuki, humbly accept your offer.”

This time, her answer came instantly. To be sent to the Underworld immediately meant death — a fate Ai Natsuki had no wish to face. She did not understand the thoughts of gods and immortals. Gods wield powers that humans like her could not oppose, and sometimes they wield power capable of changing the fate of one person. Ai Natsuki knew she could not resist such forces.

(Anyway, if I can avoid death, that’s all that matters…)

With the look of a dead fish, Ai Natsuki lowered her head. Contrary to her expression, however, her mind was frantic. She might be already dead, given she was in the Underworld. But, experiencing death so closely made life appear even more dazzling.

“Heavenly Mandate…”

Taizan Fukun murmured as he flicked through the pages of Ai Natsuki’s scroll of fate.

The sound of droplets splashing echoed. Strangely, the eerie groaning that had filled the air outside the door ceased as soon as they entered the hall of Taizan Fukun. The atmosphere was so still that even the rustling of the god’s long robes could be heard clearly.

“Hong Ji.”

Taizan Fukun called to a subordinate nearby, handing over the last remaining bamboo slip.

“This girl’s Heavenly Mandate is not yet fulfilled. By coincidence, I, Taizan Fukun, passed through the mortal realm and this girl was there, getting caught up and falling into the Underworld. Therefore, Ai Natsuki, your posthumous trial is hereby annulled.”

With a soft sound, the scroll of fate was closed. It seemed there was no need to write her name in the death registry after all. Ai Natsuki sighed in relief.

“Hong Ji, send this girl back through the western gate.”

The matter seemed settled as Taizan Fukun stood up from his chair.

Later, Ai Natsuki learned that the Western Gate was used by the living when they occasionally visited the Underworld.

As the god adjusted his sleeve, a strange and graceful fragrance filled the air, completely out of place in the Underworld. Perhaps it was the incense from his travels to the mortal realm that had lingered on his clothes. It reminded Ai Natsuki of visiting the Temple of Tai Miao, where the red columns of the building stood in contrast to the blue sky.

Despite being the King of the Underworld, the god’s presence felt oddly nostalgic, as though the lingering scent of incense from the temple was responsible for the feeling.

“The price for your work as a scribe will be offset by the punishment of stepping on my head. Is that acceptable?”

“Understood. If it is your request, I will always accept the work of a scribe. Please feel free to call upon me again.”

At the mention of “price,” Ai Natsuki was reminded of the face of the unforgiving god. Unconsciously, words of politeness slipped from her lips.

Taizan Fukun smiled slightly at her response and said,

“Indeed… if the number of dead in the courtroom increases, I shall consider asking you, Scribe, for assistance.”

As he began to leave, Taizan Fukun seemed to reconsider and turned back.

“Ai Natsuki, your Heavenly Mandate indeed has not expired. But that is only because the path you chose happened to lead here.”

His tone shifted, filled with warning.

“Your face bears the marks of death.”

“Marks of death…?”

Ai Natsuki was struck by such an ominous declaration from the King of the Underworld. She instinctively reached up to touch her neck, wondering if her life would indeed end.

“Indeed. You still have a Heavenly Mandate, and as long as the candle of fate still burns, you will not die. However, fate has many crossroads, and the choices you make can determine your lifespan. If you take the wrong path, your Heavenly Mandate will end immediately — that is the ominous sign I see.”

“Crossroads of fate…”

Ai Natsuki thought of the many “what ifs” in her life. What if she had been unlucky when attacked by a ghost? Or what if, when she fell from the ladder, Taizan Fukun hadn’t passed by? Her entire life had been shaped by countless forks in the road. If she had made different choices at any point, she might have already been dead. This was a warning, one that could not be ignored.

Taizan Fukun, approaching Ai Natsuki as she stood shaken, seemed to take a moment to ponder. He removed a hairpin from his hair. It was a silver pin, worn by someone of high status, with a jewel at the tip and a wolf decoration dangling from it.

“As a reward for your work as a scribe, I will make an amends. Should you find yourself in danger, and be at a loss as to what to do, you may call upon the name of Taizan Fukun.”

With that, he inserted the hairpin into Ai Natsuki’s hair and walked toward the magnificent palace behind the door.

“Ah, our Taizan Fukun is as generous as always… What a noble gesture. Come now, Scribe, don’t you think you should express your gratitude?”

Ai Natsuki, realizing she hadn’t thanked him, quickly clasped her hands together and bowed her head to the retreating figure behind the door.

She had defied the gods and been brought back to life. While she had expected punishment, she had never expected to be praised for her work by the King of the Underworld. But as her hand touched the hairpin in her hair, she felt its gentle, lively touch.

(This hairpin, given to me by the god… surely it’s a powerful talisman against evil?)

It was said that hairpins in ancient times were talismans to ward off evil. If her death omen had truly manifested, this gift was likely meant to dispel it. The god, dressed in white with long black hair, never turned back. It was clear he didn’t think human gestures of gratitude were worth his attention. However, Hong Ji seemed content with Ai Natsuki’s bow and said, “Follow me,” leading her onward.

When they exited through the Western Gate, Ai Natsuki glanced back. Over the roof, under the plaque bearing the name “Taizan Fu,” pale, eerie lights still shone in the sky. The cold, beautiful glow was visible, but no matter how far she reached, it was unattainable.

That solitary glow seemed to resemble a god, crowned with stars, wearing frost-covered robes.