Mirage

An eerie silence filled the air. After a long pause, Obsidian chuckled softly and ruffled Yan Nianqing’s hair. “It’s been a while, and you’ve certainly become more complex. Very well, I’ll go along with whatever you say, little Nian.”

Caught off guard, Obsidian’s gaze drifted to the chaos in the outer courtyard and the somewhat familiar young man before him. “Why are you all staring at me like that?”

If not for the clear sensation that something had just changed, everyone present would have assumed Obsidian was suffering from a split personality or had been possessed.

Yan Nianqing and Black Slave both let out a long sigh of relief.

Obsidian glanced around, puzzled, and only then noticed that Qi Guanyan was already awake, while Yan Ruo was still lying on the ground, unconscious. “What… what happened here?”

Yan Nianqing briefly recounted the events for him, omitting certain details.

Only then did Obsidian grasp the current situation. The same person had made entirely different choices, and after a moment, he addressed “Qi Guanyan”: “I can agree to your request—as far as our agency is concerned, we’ll treat it as accepting your commission. But you must release them now, or there’s nothing to discuss.”

“Qi Guanyan” let out a sinister, cackling laugh, covering half his face with his sleeve as he spoke through a muffled snicker, “How amusing! Very well, I agree.”

Qi Guanyan slowly collapsed to the ground, and a human-shaped shadow of black mist emerged from his body. It seemed as if insects circled around it, with only its eyes shining with light.

The shadow circled Obsidian a few times and said, “Now it’s your turn.”

Startled by the black mist, Obsidian forced himself to regain composure and replied, “Fine, then come with us.”

Yan Nianqing interjected, “Wait. Are you responsible for the cases here?”

The black mist circled a few more times before responding, as if just recalling, “Yes!” he answered readily.

“Then after the commission is complete, you must come to the Underworld to accept judgment. Do you agree?” Yan Nianqing asked.

The black mist sounded utterly indifferent. “As long as you can find him, I’ll accept whatever punishment—consider it my payment to you.”

Thus, the matter of the illusionary realm came to an end. Early the next morning, Obsidian set out for the Underworld headquarters.

He once again arrived at the riverside, but this time, there was no need to ring the bell—the old boatman was already waiting for him. When Obsidian inquired, he learned that it was the quarreling couple who had summoned the boatman.

Recalling what Yan Ruo had said as they were about to leave, Obsidian couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

At dawn, Qi Guanyan and Yan Ruo accompanied Obsidian to the gates of the official offices. Yan Ruo pulled Obsidian aside for a private conversation.

Looking awkward, Yan Ruo said, “Well, don’t mind what I said earlier. You’re actually a decent person. I apologize—sorry. I’m just the type to believe rumors too easily, but I promise, I’ll change.”

Obsidian rather liked Yan Ruo’s straightforwardness—so long as her pointed remarks weren’t aimed at him. So when she apologized, he accepted it graciously.

Delighted, Yan Ruo grabbed both his hands as if he were her closest confidante. She leaned in conspiratorially, “By the way, what exactly is your relationship with our King Yan? Are you really sharing a bed?”

Seeing Obsidian’s embarrassed expression, Yan Ruo’s suspicions were all but confirmed. She snickered, furtively handed him a small porcelain bottle, and said, “I don’t judge. Here, take this—it’ll make things a bit easier for you.”

She patted Obsidian’s shoulder encouragingly. “Hang in there—I’m rooting for you! When you have time, come visit us again. I’ll take you out for good food. And don’t forget to prepare a wedding gift.”

Obsidian ignored the parts he didn’t want to hear and simply replied with a smile, “Then I’ll take you up on that. I’ll definitely come for the food and bring a wedding gift—wait, a wedding gift?”

Yan Ruo gently stroked her belly. “Yes, I’m expecting.”

Obsidian scratched his head, relieved at his earlier decision. “Then let me reserve my spot now—I’ll definitely be there for your baby’s full-moon celebration.”

Feeling content, Obsidian took the handmade pastries Yan Ruo had given him and bid farewell to the group.

As he was about to board the boat, he felt something tugging at him. Turning around, he saw it was the black mist. “Hey, uh, I… I can’t get on.”

Obsidian looked puzzled, but Black Slave explained, “That’s not his true form—just his dream-projection. He can’t cross the Underworld’s river in this state. If he tries, the river will drag him down.”

Obsidian looked at the river in terror. Drag him down? Heavens! “So what should he do?”

Yan Nianqing, in his adolescent, slightly hoarse voice, replied, “Dad, let him ride on Black Slave’s back.”

Black Slave was about to object but fell silent and disembarked, signaling for the black mist to climb aboard.

For some reason, though it was the same river, the journey back felt much longer than the trip there.

Obsidian glanced at the ink-black river and suddenly thought he saw something even darker swimming in the water. Startled, he looked up at the old boatman. “Are there… other things living in this river?”

The old boatman pondered for a moment before replying, “Perhaps. There used to be. I don’t know if it’s still here now. Long ago, before the Underworld was founded, a primordial beast dwelled in these waters.”

On hearing this, Obsidian straightened up immediately and avoided looking at the river again.

Upon returning to the Underworld, Obsidian began arranging tasks related to the black mist. But since everyone at the agency was already occupied, he had no choice but to handle it himself and start by inquiring personally.

The black mist had claimed many lives, yet after spending time with it, Obsidian couldn’t quite believe it capable of such deeds.

Since arriving in the Underworld, the black mist had become even more withdrawn. It often gazed at the sky, lost in thought, sitting alone in silence—who knew what it was thinking?

Obsidian found the black mist in the courtyard, just as he’d expected.

Without preamble, Obsidian asked, “What’s your name?”

The black mist looked at him, perplexed.

Obsidian explained, “Since we’ve accepted your commission, I need to keep a file on you. Only by understanding your situation can I make a proper plan.”

The black mist replied readily, “Haishi. My name is Haishi.”

Obsidian noted the name and continued methodically, “So, who is it you want us to find? Any distinguishing features? And once we find them, is there anything else you need us to do?”

Haishi lowered his eyes, his voice heavy. “Mirage. All I need is for you to find Mirage.”

Haishi had survived this long through forbidden arts—just for a chance to see Mirage once more. Or perhaps, he thought greedily, to have Mirage by his side for the last stretch of his existence.

People always spoke of ‘illusory cities over the sea’—but without Mirage, what was Haishi but a lonely soul? A bitter smile crossed his face. Without Mirage, who was he, really?