Chapter 5: Marriage, Mayhem, and Betrayal

Me: “Enough! Had to put on this show sooner or later, otherwise if you all stayed easily, they’d get suspicious. Just wanted you to learn a lesson! You gods can’t even endure this? Heaven’s jobs have spoiled you! Eating too much for nothing.”

I couldn’t resist the dig. Tough love was my specialty. Get with the program, people.

“You all see it now, right? Maple Heights is off.” Normally, heaven and earth are separate, gods can’t interfere in human affairs, but here, even gods can be detained.

The realization hit home. We were in uncharted territory. No rules, just survival.

Me: “The one in charge here is a god.” That Mr. Kane is no ordinary person.

It explained so much—the power, the fear, the impossibility of escape. All the pieces fit.

The three, having been beaten, felt it deeply—what human could beat gods like this? After a hundred years as Reaper, I could say something professional: “A person’s sins have cause and effect. Normally, evil people here should die, rot in hell, become animals, but I see no reincarnation in them. Someone gave them divine power, prolonging their lives for evil.”

The words tasted bitter. Maple Heights was a cancer in the fabric of the world. I hated it.

Whitaker added: “It should be an evil god.” He suddenly looked at Michael: “Your third eye should see, there’s miasma everywhere here.”

Even in the dim light, Michael’s gaze sharpened. The truth was right in front of us. Creepy.

Their powers were sealed, but Michael’s third eye is innate, not magic. Whitaker: “History says, only evil gods need so much miasma, they use it to cultivate.”

The air felt heavier. I could almost taste the rot. Disgusting.

Usually cheerful Cupid now had to sigh: “…Hell is empty, the demons are in the world.”

For once, his words weren’t a joke. The gravity of it settled over us like a shroud.

The mood turned heavy. I looked at the dark moon outside: “Here, the only way out is to climb higher; the higher the rank, the more power the evil god gives back.”

I traced the window frame, thinking of escape plans and backup plans. We needed a miracle. Fast.

Michael: “Why, isn’t he afraid? Afraid we’ll get strong and rebel?” I shook my head, “He’s gambling.”

He was betting on our corruption, our fall. But he’d never met a group quite like us. We were built different.

Gambling that we’ll be corrupted, fall, and serve him as slaves. He dares, so clearly no one’s kept their resolve in years.

But madmen are different, they fixate on one thing and never let go! Since he tricked me here, he’d better be ready for me to destroy his lair! Revive, my lover! Ah no, wrong genre.

A grin crept across my face. If he wanted madness, I’d give him madness. Bring it.

That night, we agreed on our goal. I’d keep being Mr. Kane’s lackey, Whitaker would be my underling, using my position to gather info. Cupid and Lady Luck would keep rebelling, acting unwilling but forced to submit.

We hashed out our plan in whispers, adrenaline buzzing in our veins. For the first time, hope felt real. We even made up a secret handshake. Because why not?

And I became the key player, because our ultimate goal was to send all the half-dead here to the afterlife.

It was poetic, really. The Reaper, finally reaping. Poetic justice.

I was promoted to Mr. Kane’s deputy, and on my way to work, I ran into my old boss. Well, I owed meeting Mr. Kane to him. The boss was sarcastic: “So young, already higher rank than me…” I blinked and dropped to my knees, second personality eager to come out: “Please don’t mock me!”

I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes. Inside, I was dancing. Ha, take that!

Heh, I’m young and outrank you, that must kill you, you old donkey! “Don’t say that, Mr. Kane made me his deputy, if you have a problem, go to him, please don’t bother me, I’m fragile!”

I made sure my voice cracked just enough. Let him stew in his jealousy. Delicious.

Familiar creep footsteps sounded behind me. The boss glared at me, then hurriedly knelt, even more pathetic than me.

The hierarchy here was a joke, but I played along. Survival first, pride later. Whatever works.

Mr. Kane picked me up: “Anyone dares trouble you?” Mr. Kane said, except for him, I needn’t kneel to anyone, he must be angry. My kneeling was a slap to his face.

He lifted me by the arm, eyes cold. I shivered for effect, but inside, I was taking notes on his every move. Never miss a detail.

The boss had his face to the floor, stammering: “I don’t dare, don’t dare…” Mr. Kane sneered, then pointed at his head: “Bang.” The boss’s head exploded, brains splattering on me.

The room went silent. I gagged, bile rising in my throat. The stench was overwhelming.

The bloody scene made me retch on Mr. Kane’s pant leg. “….” Then he dragged me off to clean up.

I wiped my mouth, cursing him in every language I knew. If only I could haunt him. One day, Kane.

Of course, for gods, cleaning is simple. Mr. Kane cast a purification spell, and before I could run, I was standing there in black (Reaper robes), spotless. “So this is what you look like?” He was surprised, excited, laughing. “….” I knelt at once: “Sorry Mr. Kane, please don’t look at me like that, I know my looks displease you.”

I crossed my arms, trying to hide the embarrassment. The less attention, the better. Keep it moving.

Mr. Kane: “Who says, I’m very satisfied.” I had a bad feeling.

His gaze lingered a little too long. I shivered, this time for real. Not good.

That night, Whitaker saw me return clean, and immediately stood up: “He didn’t do anything to you?” Nothing, except that jerk wants me to show my true face from now on. Tomorrow, he’s going to announce something big.

Whitaker’s concern was written all over his face. I squeezed his hand, needing the reassurance. Please don’t worry.

I acted relaxed: “He wouldn’t dare, at worst I’ll take him down with me!”

I forced a laugh, but the fear was real. For once, I was glad I wasn’t alone. Backup mattered.

I suddenly thought of a blind spot, grabbing Whitaker’s hand: “Crap, I forgot, where do people here go when they die? There’s no reincarnation! But lots of people die.” Only then did I notice he was staring at our hands. After dating so long, never even held hands.

His fingers laced with mine, warm and steady. My heart skipped a beat. It felt right.

I subconsciously tried to let go, but he gently held on, interlacing fingers: “I know where.”

His confidence was contagious. For the first time, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe we could win.

Truly a walking encyclopedia, Whitaker used my position to wander Maple Heights, memorizing every corner and everyone’s traits.

I’d always admired his mind, but seeing it in action was something else. He was a one-man recon team. My secret weapon.

He led me to a mass grave on the outskirts, the stench of rot strong from afar. As Reaper, I was all too familiar with it.

The air was thick, heavy with sorrow. Even the grass seemed to wilt at the edges. Death was everywhere.

But when I probed with magic: “They’re all still breathing.” But not with living breath. What’s going on?

A chill ran down my spine. This was wrong—so deeply, cosmically wrong. I hated it.

Whitaker: “Every day, the dead are dumped here, but what they emit is ghost miasma. Ancient records say, evil gods are hosts for ghost miasma, feeding off the filth here for endless energy. Maple Heights is a life array, sealed by the evil god—only in, no out…” “Also, there’s no Reaper in Maple Heights.” “That’s why there’s no reincarnation.” Even if they wanted, their souls can’t leave their bodies, can’t escape. The evil god has blocked all the roads.