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scattered-irises · 1 year

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Tale XV: Tấm Cám (▬▬▬)

ANNNNDDD I’m back! This is the longest and penultimate tale of my Happy☆Heroine☆Sniper fic! The epilogue has also been finished. I must say, I am very proud of my people for putting such a creative spin on the classical Cinderella story. I grew up with this story and now share it with you...but with a Zexal twist.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 25k (Rest in fucking pieces, just like some of the characters in this story)

Characters: Vector, Rei Shingetsu, Yuma Tsukumo, Ryoga Kamishiro

Relationships: Yuma/Vector

Warnings: Ahhh shit...here we go...Cannibalism, murder, death, Vietnamese and Chinese mythology, gore, animal death, abusive parents, reincarnation

Summary: A young peasant finds himself continuously reincarnating to return to the love of his life. With each reincarnation, his sanity wanes and his thirst for revenge grows.

Ngày xửa ngày xưa, có hai anh em sinh đôi. Anh tên là Tấm, em tên là Cám. Mẹ hai anh em mất lúc hai anh em mới sáu tuổi. Mấy năm sau, cha của Tấm và Cám cưới lại cho hai anh em có được mẹ hiền…

Allow me to translate that for you, if you don’t speak my story’s original language.

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there were two twins. The older brother’s name was Tấm. It means “fragrant rice.” The younger brother’s name was Cám, which can be translated to “animal feed.” Their mother died when the twins were only six. A few years later, their father remarried in order for the twins to have a loving mother in their lives…

I’m sure you know where this is going, from your previous adventures with me.

That’s right! I’ve known that you were with me this entire time. I don’t care what you think about the poor or not-so-poor heroes and heroines. I can’t hear you. That’s the curse of my existence. I can do nothing about the fact that I am a character from a story, nor the fact that I know that I serve to only entertain and educate beings beyond my sight and hearing.

Condemn me, hang me, praise me. I’ve seen it all.

But you don’t care about this, do you? You only want to be entertained. You want to be entertained until your eyes melt off and your skin turns to sandpaper and your teeth fall out of your mouth.

Very well.

Entertain I shall.

To all the beings who can run their eyes across these words, here is the story that you have all been waiting for.

Mine.

H☆H☆S

…

Ah, right. Before we begin, let me tell you something about names. There are the names that we choose for ourselves and the names that everyone else calls us. The twins, for example, were known as Hansel and Gretel in the first tale. I translated their names to Ryoga and Rio because that was the name of their souls. Although characters’ names may change throughout each incarnation, their souls’ names will remain unchanged. Sometimes I’ll translate them for you, sometimes I won’t. It depends on how generous I’m feeling.

Anyways, Cám is the fairytale name of my twin, Shingetsu. Tấm was my name. We’ll be going by the names of our souls, just for convenience’s sake.

Alright, no more delays. Here comes the story.

H☆H☆S

“Vector, you cretin! What did I send you out in the fields for?!” bellows his stepmother.

Vector stares in open-mouthed shock at his empty basket. Quickly, he glances at his brother, whose expression remains placid. Their stepmother, Madame Sương, stomps over to Shingetsu. She puts a hand on her hip, long nails stretching across her stomach.

“And you…,” she begins, picking up Shingetsu’s basket. Her painted lips break into a smile. “Goodness! You must have worked so hard!”

She looks into the basket filled to the brim with river shrimp and pats Shingetsu’s shoulder.

“Thank you, mother!” says Shingetsu, basking in her praise. “Oh, please be kinder to brother…He just wanted to take a bath!”

Heat fills Vector’s cheeks. He had spent all morning catching those damn shrimp, stomping through mud and silt while Shingetsu sang and danced. After he had caught the shrimp, Shingetsu had offered to carry their baskets home while Vector bathed in the nearby stream. He digs his nails into his trousers. Why was he so foolish? As he meets their stepmother’s glare, he takes a deep breath.

“Shingetsu switched our baskets after he told me to take a bath!” he protests. “Then he carried both of the baskets home because he—”

“Vector! You’re the older brother! How could you be so irresponsible, blaming your brother like that?!” snaps Madame Sương.

“It’s the truth!” protests Vector.

His stepmother glares at him. It was difficult to tell her age, from her long, dark hair to her plump lips. There were rumors that she had enchanted Vector’s father, her mismatched eyes never revealing her true motives. With each move she made, her strange earrings chimed in response. Despite her beautiful appearance, her heart was as ugly and cold as stone.

“Shingetsu, get me the cane,” growls their stepmother.

“Yes, mother,” says Shingetsu.

Vector looks at his brother for support, only to see the same placid expression. Why did he keep on falling for Shingetsu’s ploys? His sweet lies, his unfulfilled promises, his kindly exterior…It seemed like everyone, including him, was under Shingetsu’s thrall.

“Mother, you have to believe me,” begs Vector. “I spent all morning—”

“Silence! All you do is spout lies about your brother. I’ve half a mind to cut your tongue out,” hisses his stepmother.

Vector purses his lips, swallowing the lump in his throat. He watches as Shingetsu runs off, never looking back. In the silence of the humid afternoon, a gnat buzzes by Vector’s ear. He bats it away, gritting his teeth. His brother had no right. No right to be loved better than he was, no right to be spared his punishments. After all, it was Shingetsu who had neglected his filial duty, not Vector. When their father fell ill, only Vector had remained by his side.

After their father’s death, Vector served their stepmother without complaint. It was he who stoked the fires, he who caught the fish, he who cooked. Shingetsu only pretended to help while sucking up to their stepmother. Surely, their stepmother must have been simpleminded (although Vector would never say that aloud). Because of Shingetsu’s endless praises and wheedling, she had always made sure that Shingetsu got the best. New clothes, the best morsels of food and whatever else pleased him.

“Mother, here,” says Shingetsu, returning from outside.

A glint fills their stepmother’s eyes as she takes the rod from her stepson. Vector grits his teeth and bends down, fingers digging into the soft earth.

“How many do you think he deserves?” she breathes, her burgundy eyes running across Vector’s back.

“Oh, mother, please…just ten!” cries Shingetsu.

Madame Sương laughs, each laugh sounding like a piece of shattered glass.

“Such a kind child you are…Fifty lashes it will be.”

Vector closes his eyes and grits his teeth. Someday, he would have his deliverance.

FWACK! The first hit lands squarely on his shoulders. Vector bites down a cry. His back has been lacerated with the lashes of his previous canings, a tapestry of scars for all to see. In his past life he must have sinned greatly to have received such abuse. Yet what exactly did he do to deserve such a fiend for a mother?

FWACK!

“This is to teach you a lesson that liars aren’t accepted in this household!” snaps Madame Sương.

FWACK!

Vector looks up to see Shingetsu standing in the corner of the room, his face unreadable. For a moment, their expressions mirror each other’s.

H☆H☆S

“Silver fish, oh silver fish, come up to play. I have sweet rice for you, fragrant and fresh as day. Do not accept the others’ gruel, for it is mixed with clay,” whispers Vector.

He leans over the well, his muscles screaming in pain. Slowly, he sprinkles rice into the water, waiting for his friend to appear. When he sees his fish’s silvery head peek up from the surface, a small smile fills his face.

“I’m so sorry for being late,” he whispers. “Stepmother was beating me.”

The two dots on top of the fish’s eyes furrow. Its mouth closes and opens, as if sympathizing with Vector. He lowers the tips of his fingers into the water, closing his eyes as his fish gently kissed each one. Compared to the hotness of his pain, the fish’s lips felt cool and reassuring. He looks into the fish’s golden eyes, bursting with intelligence. If only he could understand what it was trying to say.

“Oh, just another one of Shingetsu’s ploys…,” murmurs Vector. “You know how he is.”

The fish kisses his fingers once again.

Sometimes, he believed that the fish was his real mother, reincarnated as a fish to watch over him. He runs his hands over her cool scales. She was always there for him whenever he needed to talk. Often, his tears would fall into the wall and onto his fish-mother’s scales. Because of this, she often wore a sad expression when seeing him.

“They’re having dinner right now,” continues Vector. “I had the shrimps’ shells and heads to eat with my rice.”

He was always left with the undesirable parts of their meals, as if he were a dog.

“I’m full, don’t worry.”

Tonight, maybe he could pick some fruit from the village roads. His stomach growls at the thought.

“Vector! Where’s my tea?!” calls Shingetsu. “Mother wants some too!”

Sighing, Vector looks down at his fish one last time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

The fish lets out another voiceless sentence.

H☆H☆S

“That’s quite a limp, Vector!” exclaims Mr. Vân, their neighbor.

Vector shrugs in a noncommittal manner and continues down the village road.

“Don’t test your mother’s patience too much, you hear?!” calls the man.

Usually he would respond to Mr. Vân’s comments but today he found no energy. Dragging his feet down the village road, he stops as a couple of children run past him.

“What are you waiting for?!” calls the child. “There’s an imperial proclamation!”

An imperial proclamation? Vector slightly straightens up. Since when did the king bother to send envoys down to simple villages? Despite his aching muscles, he quickens his pace and walks faster towards the heart of the village. Along the way, various neighbors wave to him, all remarking on his limp. Vector forces a grin and carries on.

He knew what they said behind his back.

If only Madame Sương could be kinder to him. If only Madame Sương treated both Shingetsu and Vector equally. But perhaps it was because Vector was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck that his life was so hard. Already one foot in the grave, Madame Sương would push the rest of his body in eventually. They were all waiting for that day.

Then they could make a show of mourning, just like at his father’s funeral.

His stepmother had obscenely wailed during the entire ceremony, lamenting on what was to become of her and her two children. In silence, Vector and Shingetsu had held hands throughout the entire day, mirror images of solemnity. The day after the funeral, she began to burn their father’s books.

As he passes Mrs. Lan’s copse of banana trees, Vector hears a eunuch’s high and plaintive voice. Despite his bruises, he quickens his pace. Never before had he heard such an imperious accent!

“Hear ye, hear ye inhabitants of Sunflower Seed village! Hear ye, hear ye!” calls the young eunuch, sweating profusely under the summer sun.

He was surrounded by a retinue of guards, their white armor almost blinding to look at. The villagers look at Vector with pity and surreptitiously part the way for him. Mumbling his thanks, Vector limps to the front.

Disdain fills the eunuch’s green eyes as he looks at his audience. All of them were plainly dressed, most sporting patches on their shirts. Their feet were covered in dirt and their faces were bronzed by the sun.

“From the palace of King Yuma of House Hope, eighteenth of his name, Protector of the Amber Kingdom and Hero of the Song Yến, we bring news of victory over the marauding forces of the Turtle King!”

The villagers cheer over the victory. For as long as Vector lived, he had heard only snippets of the war. To hear that it had finally come to an end brings a twinge of relief to his heart. His stepmother was constantly threatening to send him off to fight for the king.

“To celebrate the continued independence of our kingdom, our great king is proclaiming a feast of endless bounty in the spring! All in the great Amber Kingdom are invited!” continues the eunuch.

Excited murmurs fill the village square. Vector’s heart skips a beat. He had always wanted to leave the village and see what was beyond the forest.

“Come old, come young, come poor, come rich! The king wishes to bless his people with plenty!” cries the eunuch. “The feast will begin on the first full moon of spring and continue until its waning!”

“How far is it, from here to the capitol?” asks Vector.

A hint of irritation crosses the eunuch’s face at being addressed without permission. He flutters his feathered fan and gazes at Vector with disdain.

“Two days on the swiftest steeds!” he declares.

The excitement in the village intensifies. After Vector’s question, various villagers clamor for their own questions to be answered. Vector slowly sinks away from the crowd, carrying the news of the king’s proclamation deep in his heart. Perhaps at the capitol, he could find a job as an apprentice. Then he could send money back home while Shingetsu took his place. Or, he could become a sailor. He could travel to the faraway places in his father’s books, from the frigid mountains of the Rhoine to the glass palaces of the Trien people. The treasures of the world would be his to discover then, endless and bountiful.

He makes his way towards the marketplace, the news slightly alleviating the pain in his legs.

H☆H☆S

“Vector! There you are!” calls Shingetsu as Vector returns with offerings for their father’s altar. “I prepared a meal for us while you were gone! Mother says it’s delicious!”

Taking Vector’s hand, Shingetsu pulls Vector inside.

“Just a moment! I need to clean father’s altar!” calls Vector.

Shingetsu pouts. His eyes turn to the altar, where their father’s photograph lies behind a plate of bananas.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Don’t get upset if all the good parts are gone.”

Vector scoffs as he replaces the bananas with oranges. Since when did they ever save him anything good? After stacking the oranges on the plate, Vector lights an incense stick and bows to his father.

Please watch over Shingetsu and me as we make our way through this world. And please, watch over me as I make my way towards the capitol to find a new life for myself, prays Vector.

He bows four times and then places his incense in the holder. For a moment, he looks at his father’s photograph. Taken when he was young, he could see that he had inherited his father’s chin and sharp eyes. An avid reader and scholar, their father had always ensured that his sons received the best education. Vector swallows a lump in his throat as a memory fills his mind.

It was a lazy summer afternoon where his father returned home early from his post. They were all gathered in a hammock, gently swinging in the humid breeze. Shingetsu had fallen asleep on their father’s chest while Vector leaned on his shoulder. As their father chewed on some betel nuts, he told them a tale about children flying to a world filled with pirates and mermaids.

Oh, why was fate so cruel?

Bringing the bananas into the dining room, Vector pauses upon seeing the meal that Shingetsu had prepared. A large fish was splayed in the middle of the table, its silvery scales dimly shining in the light. His stepmother greets him with a cold smile.

“Come, child, sit. We haven’t had a family dinner in such a long time,” she calls.

Slowly, Vector lowers himself to the floor, placing the bananas by the fish. His hands shake as he takes a bowl of rice from the table.

“What’s the matter?” asks Shingetsu, his expression innocent.

“Where did that fish come from?” utters Vector.

Shingetsu grins, showing his sharp canines.

“I caught it with my bare hands in the stream today!” he chirps.

Their stepmother chuckles and puts a hand on Shingetsu’s shoulder.

“Your brother is quite the fisherman, isn’t he?”

The fish has no head to tell if it was actually his own fish. Vector picks up his chopsticks and puts a few slices of cucumber onto his rice.

“Oh, come on! You should try some before it gets cold!” urges Shingetsu.

“I…don’t have the appetite,” murmurs Vector. “One of the king’s eunuchs came to make an announcement today.”

Immediately, Shingetsu and their stepmother’s brows raise. Vector holds their expression with a brief flicker of satisfaction.

“The war against the Turtle King ended and to celebrate, the king is hosting a spring festival where all are invited,” relays Vector.

“When?!” demands his mother, nearly knocking the table over.

“The first full moon of spring. It’ll last until the moon wanes,” replies Vector.

Shingetsu and their stepmother exchange excited glances.

“Goodness! There’ll be so many eligible maidens there!” gasps Madame Sương.

“Oh, mother, do we have enough to tailor me new clothes?” wheedles Shingetsu.

“Of course, of course! Nothing but the best for my son!”

“I want something dark blue with bamboo patterns! And shoes! Yes, new shoes from Mr. Duyên as well!” adds Shingetsu.

“Of course! Of course!” agrees Madame Sương, cackling.

Vector quickly finishes his meal and slinks out to the backyard. The sounds of Shingetsu and Madame Sương laughing brings a wave of nausea up his chest. Panickedly, he runs to the well and taps on its walls.

“Silver fish, oh silver fish, come up to play. I have sweet rice for you, fragrant and fresh as day. Do not accept the others’ gruel, for it is mixed with clay,” hurriedly recites Vector.

Nothing. Vector wets his lips. He peers deeper into the well.

“Silver fish, oh silver fish, come up to play. I have sweet rice for you, fragrant and fresh as day. Do not accept the others’ gruel, for it is mixed with clay,” repeats Vector, his eyes filling with tears.

The well’s clear depths reveal nothing. His heart begins to race. Running to the refuse pile, he digs through the cucumber skins until he finds the fish’s head. Empty golden eyes with black dots for eyebrows. Dull silver scales. Despite the shaking in his limbs, he stumbles back into the dining room.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” he cries, brandishing the fish’s head.

His stepmother briefly looks at him in shock. Then, she resumes her typical cool expression, arched brows slanted and lips slightly curved into a smile.

“You’ve raised it so well. It would be a pity for it to grow past its prime,” she replies.

Vector briefly turns to Shingetsu, who was avoiding his gaze. Surreptitiously, his brother slips a piece of fish into his mouth.

The world spins. Before he could scream again, Vector runs to his room. In the silence of his dark, dirt-floor room, he sobs. He muffles his cries into the hem of shirt, his eyes burning with rage and sorrow. He had raised that fish since she was a small guppy. One day it had merely appeared from the depths of the well, offering consolation to his grieving self. Each morning and night he had faithfully fed her rice from his own bowl, watching in awe as she grew.

When he was younger, he had dreamed that one day, the fish would grow big enough for him to ride. Then, it would take him across the ocean and to far away lands.

She was privy to all of his sorrows, all of his secrets and joys. He was certain that she had understood every word he said yet was powerless to reply.

His throat seizes up as he chokes down a sob, the fish’s head still clutched in his hand.

Like his mother, she had the same golden eyes. Her scales were the same colors as his mother’s hair. Even her expressions, aided by the two dots at the top of her eyes, resembled his mother’s. But perhaps he was just being too hopeful. The last photograph of their mother had been burned alongside their father’s books years ago.

“Child, why do you cry?” asks a young man’s voice.

Vector starts. Looking up, he gasps upon seeing a young man in white robes sitting on his bed. His hair is long and purple, curled at the ends. In the dim light, he slightly glows.

“Wh-who are you?” asks Vector.

He hurriedly looks for a weapon. The young man takes out a curled piece of wood and taps it against Vector’s bed.

“Can’t you see? I’m a sage!” he says indignantly.

Vector stiffens.

“Sages are supposed to be old, with white hair and beards!” protests Vector. “Just where did you come from?!”

He’s answered by a huff and crossed arms.

“Alright, I’m a sage-in-training,” mutters the young man. “I’ll earn my beard in a thousand years.”

A snort escapes from Vector, deepening the sage’s frown.

“I’ve never heard of that. Where did you come from?” he asks.

Surely he wasn’t from the village. His robes were far too fine and his skin far too clean. The young man’s nostrils flare and he crosses his arms. He glares at Vector with his unnaturally blue eyes. In the darkness of the room, they slightly glow. Despite this, Vector can’t help but think of a petulant child. He bites his tongue, trying to keep himself from smiling.

“I told you! I come from the court of the Jade Emperor! Before I can earn my beard, I have to help a million souls!” snaps the sage.

“You definitely don’t act like one,” retorts Vector. “Sages are supposed to be calm and possess otherworldly knowledge. You’re just a brat.”

The sage’s face turns an alarming shade of red. He digs his nails into his wooden staff and lets out a long suffering growl. Throwing his head up in the air, he exhales.

“If I told you to bury your fish-mother’s bones beneath your bed, would you listen to me?” he asks in a slow and controlled tone.

Vector raises a brow.

“Why? It would stink to high heaven.”

For a moment, the sage’s lips twitch in the facsimile of a smile.

“As you’ve noticed, that fish isn’t just any fish. It’s a magic fish, imbued with your mother’s love. She won’t rot and will come back to help you in your time of need,” explains the sage.

“And all I need to do is bury her bones?”

“That’s right.”

Vector looks down at the fish head and scoffs.

“For a sage, you’re very human,” he remarks.

When he looks back up at his bed, the youth is no longer there. In the darkness, he stares at the empty space. Perhaps he had become so angry that he ended up hallucinating the entire ordeal. Despite that, the young sage’s advice gives him a hint of hope. With his bare hands, he begins to dig a small hole beneath his bed.

H☆H☆S

Buoyed by the thought of the festival and the appearance of the young sage, Vector worked tirelessly from dusk to dawn. As the days grew closer, he could feel the heaviness lifting from his shoulders. Soon he could be free. He could serve his family in a different way, by sailing the seas or by learning a valuable craft. Free from the cruelties of his stepmother, no task would be too hard.

One morning, Vector approaches the table with bowls of congee and freshly picked cilantro.

“There’s something I’d like to ask you, mother,” begins Vector.

Madame Sương raises a finely plucked brow.

“Speak,” she commands.

“May I go to the king’s spring festival with you?” asks Vector.

Slowly, their stepmother’s eyes turn to Shingetsu, who was sipping from his congee.

“What do you think, Shingetsu?” she drawls.

His twin brother breaks into a vibrant smile, similar to when they were young. Each tooth shines like a pearl.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes! Please, mother! Vector’s been working so hard!” wheedles Shingetsu.

Their stepmother chuckles and sips her morning tea.

“Very well. You may go,” she says, setting down her teacup.

Her voice hardens and her eyes narrow.

“But only if you finish your chores,” she warns.

Vector lets out a sigh and his shoulders lower. He smiles a genuine smile and bows.

“Thank you, mother. Of course I will,” he says.

Soon, soon, he would be free.

“Now hurry along. I want the best fabrics for our clothes,” she says.

“May I choose some fabrics for myself?” asks Vector.

Their mother’s red lips tighten into a thin line.

“I’m afraid there isn’t enough money from our tenant farmers for that. You’ll have to find something of your father’s to wear.”

Vector’s smile remains pasted on his face.

“Of course. Apologies.”

Him, wear the clothes of his father? He would be the talk of the village!

Vector walks out of the house and briefly looks up at the sun’s position in the sky. He still had time before Miss Nhi’s shop opened. Opening the hatch to the house’s cellar, he climbs down. The mud walls are lined with shelves of preserves. Wine caskets line the floor, some empty, some filled. In the corner of the cellar is an old cedar trunk, a gift from Vector’s grandfather.

He pulls it into the center of the cellar and undoes the latch. Perhaps he could rework some of his father’s clothes into more modern styles. The clothes of an office clerk were far from flattering. Upon opening the chest, he is briefly brought back to the past by the smell of foreign cologne intermixed with cedar wood. Vector closes his eyes, remembering his father’s laughter.

Taking out the first outfit, he’s dismayed to find that the watered silk has been eaten through by moths. From its faded blue dye, this must have been his father’s wedding outfit. Lamenting its loss, Vector sets the outfit aside and takes out another one. The linen shirt in his hands has been spotted with mold. Sighing, Vector digs through the chest of clothes to no avail, each article of clothing ravaged by time and neglect.

“Vector!” snaps his mother. “Why haven’t you gone yet?!”

Vector drops a pair of torn trousers and looks up at the cellar’s exit.

“I’m coming!” he replies.

Hurriedly, he throws his father’s ruined clothes back into the chest. Surely, he would find something before the festival arrived…

H☆H☆S

I’m skipping some of the details here because the festival isn’t actually where the story ends. In fact, it’s where the true story begins. You probably don’t mind, since the beginning is pretty much like any other Cinderella story. Poor kitchen wretch gets tortured day in and day out until a magical being appears and saves them.

How many times have you heard this same story, over and over again?

Anyways, they worked me so hard afterwards that I didn’t have time to find any clothes for the celebration. I was up at dawn cleaning the house and then preparing breakfast for those two. In the afternoons I had to go to the market. Usually my stepmother would have sent me back afterwards, because I was always missing something. Then came the midday meal. Afternoons were spent tending to the garden, mending clothes or catching fish. Most of the time I had to cook dinner as well. Nights were usually spent washing clothes or sewing my stepmother and brother’s clothes.

You get the idea.

Before I knew it, the night where the entire village would ride off towards the capitol had arrived and I had nothing to wear.

H☆H☆S

“You’re positive that you’ve done everything?” drawls Madame Sương.

“Yes, mother,” replies Vector.

Madame Sương narrows her eyes.

“Ah, I almost forgot. Just one last favor, if you will,” she begins, eyeing Vector’s dirty clothes with disdain.

Compared to her and Shingetsu’s vibrant silks and flowers, Vector was nothing but a drab crow. How shameful it would be, to bring her raggedy child to the capitol for all to see! Madame Sương sneers at the thought.

“Fetch me baskets of red, green and black beans. I’ve half a mind to make the king’s favorite dessert drink for our journey,” says his mother.

Quickly, Vector calculates the amount of time it would take to brew the drink. Relief fills his chest. He would make it. Barely. If he ran fast enough after the caravan, he could hitch a ride with one of the stragglers.

“Yes, mother!” he says, running off.

He runs into the kitchen, placing the basket of green beans on his head and carrying the two other baskets. Upon returning, his stepmother beams.

“Excellent,” she says, taking the baskets from Vector. “Such a hardworking child…”

Upon taking the baskets, she immediately upends them onto the floor. Vector’s heart leaps into his throat. Looking up at his stepmother, he is met by her cold expression.

“Goodness, how clumsy I am. Once you can re-sort all of these beans according to their color, I see no problem with you joining us…,” drawls his mother.

Vector briefly looks up at Shingetsu, a lump in his throat. His brother helplessly shrugs.

“In these silks? Mother would scold me for ruining them!” protests his brother.

Madame Sương wraps her arm around Shingetsu’s, pulling him away.

“Oh no, don’t even think about it! Your brother is a fast worker. He’ll eventually reunite with us,” reassures their stepmother.

They leave in the light of the setting sun, their steps silent on the ground. Vector looks after them, his chest clenching in pain. Distantly, he could hear the bells and laughter of the festival caravan. Once again, his eyes burn.

He picks up a red bean and places it into the nearest basket. Then a black bean. Another red bean. Green. Black. Red. Black. Clenching his teeth, Vector sweeps the beans aside, cursing his fate.

Turning to his father’s altar, he yells,

“I was never unfaithful towards you or mother! What did I do to deserve this?!”

His father’s portrait remains silent. Vector clenches his fists and storms over to the altar. A dying ray of light illuminates the bowl of betel nuts.

“Why? Why was I given this fate? Why not Shingetsu?” he whispers.

The lump in his throat becomes harder to swallow. Tears brim in his eyes.

“We share the same face but not the same fate…”

From the beginning, he had been taught to honor his parents and their memory. This would sow good karma for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, Shingetsu did nothing but play. When their father fell ill, he drifted further and further apart from their father’s sickbed. Vector grits his teeth.

“Those of unfaithful and ungrateful hearts will have their punishment due, whether in this life or the next,” remarks the voice of the young sage.

Vector whirls around, his heart skipping a beat. Sitting on the windowsill, the Sage looks at Vector with a resigned expression. His white robes are dyed orange by the setting sun, his shadow stretching across the floor.

“And what about me?” utters Vector.

The sage lazily blinks, a small smile on his lips. He slides off of the window sill and lets out a low and long whistle. Raising his staff, he chants,

“Feathered beasts, far and wide, sort these beans to the side. Green with gree, red with red and black with black. If you dare to eat even one of these beans, I won’t spare you flack.”

From his father’s altar, Vector watches as a flock of birds gather in the house’s entrance. They ranged from plain little sparrows to large herons. Gently, the sage strokes a heron’s beak as the birds flew into action.

“There. Now go to your bed and dig up your fish-mother’s bones,” instructs the sage.

Shaking himself out of his surprise, Vector hurries to his room. Quickly, he digs beneath his bed. When his fingers touch the tip of a clay urn, he pauses. Where had the bones gone? He continues digging until he unearths six small urns. Taking out the first one, he takes off his lid and spills its contents onto the floor. A miniature carving of a horse tumbles out. Made from fine ivory, it appeared as if it was a decoration from a foreign land.

Setting it aside, Vector takes out the second urn. Triangular packets wrapped in banana leaves fell out, one after the other. From the smell of it, Vector immediately knew that they were his mother’s bánh giò, a sticky rice cake stuffed with pork and a quail egg. He unwraps the first package. His stomach growls in hunger and his mouth waters at its tantalizing appearance. Taking his first bite, he briefly melts at its warm and familiar taste.

For a moment, he smells his mother’s perfume. He closes his eyes and chews, the warmth of the bánh giò lingering in his mouth. As the sun sets, he finishes his bánh giò. Although he had just one, it felt as if he had partaken in an entire feast. Looking down at the remaining packets, he found that there were three left. Putting them back in the urn, he moves onto the third one.

A series of bracelets and necklaces fit for a king spills out of the third urn. Even in the darkness of the room, the jewelry shimmers like the sun. Running the gold through his hands, Vector can only imagine what wealthy nobles could afford these.

The fourth urn contains robes of red and golden silk filled with intricate patterns of bamboo leaves. He runs the silk through his hands, its coolness similar to an evening breeze. The matching pair of trousers was made of the same material. Reaching into the fifth urn produces a headdress of gold dotted with flecks of rubies.

The final urn contains a pair of golden slippers embroidered with silver rabbits.

Vector briefly seizes up, his eyes filled with tears.

“Take that miniature horse to the front yard and then change,” instructs the sage from behind.

Turning around, Vector gives him a smile.

“Thank you,” he utters. “Thank you.”

The sage gives him a brief nod and then smiles, fading into the long shadows of the house.

Cupping the horse in his hands, Vector walks to the front of the house to find that the birds had made quick work of the beans. Then he walks out and places the horse by the door and returns to dress.

When he finished dressing, he walked into his stepmother’s bedroom on silent feet. Taking her prized bronze mirror from his stand, he walks into the final rays of day and looks at his reflection. In robes the color of beaten gold and red, he looked like a prince. Placing the mirror back on his stand, Vector picks up the urn of bánh giò from the floor and walks into the front yard.

A white horse whinnies at him, its body decorated by golden jewelry and leather satchels. Carefully, Vector places the urn in a satchel and approaches the horse. He offers the horse his hand. The animal nuzzles its head against his hand, its body cold like the ivory it was carved from.

“Hello there,” greets Vector. “Are you ready?”

The horse snorts in response. With a grin, Vector hops onto the horse and slowly trots towards the village procession.

Upon seeing him, Mr. Vân’s eyes widen.

“Vector!” he exclaims. “Where did you get those clothes and that fine horse?”

Vector smiles at his neighbor, eyes running down the portly man’s cerulean robes.

“My parents continue to provide for me, long after their death,” he replies.

Urging his horse into a gallop, Vector soon finds himself at the head of the procession and then ahead of it, blazing across the land in a streak of red and gold. No one except for Mr. Vân had recognized him.

H☆H☆S

“Who is he?”

“He must be an official!”

“Such stunning craftsmanship…”

“Could he be an envoy from the Turtle Sea?”

Vector slowly trots through the capitol, drinking in everyone’s awed stares and whispers. What would they have said, had they known that he was merely a peasant boy? He holds his head up, admiring the bright red lanterns and flowers that adorned the streets. In the capitol, everyone appeared to be wealthy, dressed in bright robes and shiny shoes.

The cobblestoned streets shone beneath the sun and soon, Vector could hear festive music. In the long convoy that followed behind him, there was a rich array of peasants and nobles. The peasants walked while the nobles rode on palanquins and horses. A small thrill filled Vector’s chest at being taken for a noble.

Unlike the quietness of the village, the capitol was in a constant buzz of excitement. Hawkers declared their wares. Shoppers constantly bargained. The restaurants and stores were always filled with curious customers. Never before had Vector seen so much food, the varieties and amounts almost endless.

He reaches into his horse’s satchel to find a bag of coins, which he then spends on some grilled meat. As he bites into the hot and fragrant meat, he closes his eyes in contentment. It was a perfect blend of paprika, pepper, salt and lemongrass.

“This is amazing!” he exclaims.

The cook bows at receiving such high praise. Vector grins, riding towards the center of the capitol. In the background, the royal palace loomed.

The closer he got to the center of the festivities, the slower the pace of the convoy. His heart beat with anticipation, wondering what he would witness at the festival. If the capitol was already this abundant, what would the festival hold?

When he finally arrived, he was greeted by an explosion of color. Flowers from all parts of the world adorned the streets. Troupes of singers, dancers and acrobats filled the streets. There was music in every corner. The streets were filled with people, all gathered together in harmony. Tables filled with food were constantly restocked. There were ten roast pigs, laid across the red tables in a row.

Dismounting, Vector startles upon seeing his horse vanish. A weight fills his pocket and he reaches in to find that the ivory carving of the horse laid there.

Now free, Vector runs towards the tables laden with food. It seemed that everywhere he went, the festival goers cleared the way for him.

Grabbing a meat bun from a table, Vector takes a small bite. Its warmth brings a smile to his face. With his other hand, he takes a pastry wrapped in banana leaves.

“How now, young noble!” calls a scholar across from him.

Vector lowers his head in greeting.

“And from what province do you come from?”

“Moonshadow Province!” replies Vector.

The old scholar’s bushy eyebrows raise in surprise.

“What’s a handsome young scholar like you doing in such a rural place?”

“I was born there,” responds Vector.

The old man splutters in surprise while Vector happily eats his food.

Throughout the day, Vector is met by similar responses. Never before had he felt so full, the tables constantly replenished with food. Never before had he felt so happy, surrounded by opportunities galore. Everywhere he went, people cleared the way for him.

When the sun was low in the sky, a hush fell over the festival as people gathered together to dance. Rumors filled the capitol as the sun set. Girls giggled while men puffed up their chests. The king was said to participate in the sunset dance.

As they gathered in the square, Vector clasped hands with a young man with tanned skin and bright eyes. Women looked at him in envy while Vector exchanged smiles with the young man.

“What’s your name?” asks Vector.

The young man’s grin brightens, revealing a row of pearly white teeth.

“It’s Hy Vọng,” he replies. “You?”

Vector raises a brow.

“That’s an unusual name,” he remarks. “I’m Tấm.”

Hy Vọng closes his eyes, a wistful smile over his face.

“‘Fragrant rice,’ huh? That’s my favorite! Drizzled over with some green onions in fat and that’s a perfect meal!”

Vector looks at the young man’s finely tailored clothes and his simple tastes in surprise. Hy Vọng chuckles.

“You don’t believe me, do you? I should make you some!”

“O-oh, no, I’ve had some! Every morning, actually,” confesses Vector as the music begins.

Now it was Hy Vọng’s turn to be surprised.

“You? I thought nobles liked you loved your three-course breakfasts!”

Heat fills Vector’s cheeks. He’s thankful that the sun was setting.

“I’m not a noble!” he confesses.

His companion looks at Vector’s jewels and fine robes doubtfully. He slightly frowns, tapping his chin with a finger.

“Not a noble? Only a noble or a god could afford such clothes,” he remarks. “What kind of god are you?”

“I’m a simple village boy whose parents continued to provide for him, long after their deaths,” replies Vector, pulling Hy Vọng into the dance.

“Parents, huh?” murmurs Hy Vọng. His eyes grow distant.

Vector’s smile fades upon seeing Hy Vọng’s melancholy expression. He squeezes Hy Vọng’s hands.

“They died when I was very young,” adds Vector.

A moment of silence passes by as Hy Vọng’s expression falls. His eyes briefly pull away from Vector’s and into the past.

“Mine too,” he murmurs.

“Really?” breathes Vector.

Hy Vọng nods.

Over the joyful music, the two are lost in a quiet dance of their own. For a moment, Vector felt as if he knew everything about this stranger. He could see the loneliness in Hy Vọng’s eyes and the sadness that tinged the edges of his mouth. Awkwardly, Vector reaches into his pocket and produces a tamarind candy he had purchased from a nearby stand.

“When I was sad, my father used to give these to me. Would you like one?” he asks.

A small smile fills Hy Vọng’s face. He takes the candy from Vector’s hand, his fingers lingering on Vector’s for longer than was necessary.

“Thank you. These are one of my favorites.”

For such a young noble, he was less carefree than Vector had expected. When the dance began, every step of Hy Vọng’s was practiced. To Vector, it seemed as if dancing was a second instinct to the young noble. The dying rays of the sun kisses his skin and sparkles in his ruby-colored eyes.

“Who takes care of you now?” asks Vector.

Hy Vọng responds with a wry smile and a shrug.

“Everyone, here and there,” he answers vaguely.

“Really? I’m alone,” breathes Vector.

Briefly, their hands part. When they come back, Vector realizes that Hy Vọng’s hands are exceptionally warm, just like the sun.

“Is that why you came to the capitol?” asks Hy Vọng.

“Yup. To start anew.”

After the festival, he’ll go to the harbor and look for a ship. Hopefully, he won’t encounter his stepmother and brother before he leaves.

Hy Vọng briefly looks around at the spirited square. The dazzling colors of the city brings a small smile to his lips. Despite that, his eyes are sad.

“Be careful,” murmurs Hy Vọng. “The capitol is full of danger.”

“This is how I’m welcomed to this city for the first time?” teases Vector.

A hint of color fills Hy Vọng’s cheeks. He forces a grin and scratches the back of his head.

“Sorry! I promise that I’m usually not melancholic! If there’s time, I’ll show you the koi ponds and the best restaurants here!” promises his companion.

Vector sticks his tongue out.

“Nothing’s better than the food from my hometown!” he boasts.

Hy Vọng lifts his brow.

“I’ll take you up on that challenge! In one sitting, I ate 26 of the Lotus Restaurant’s meat buns!”

“26? That must mean that the owner’s skimping on the portions!” calls Vector above the din of the fireworks. “Miss Lê makes pork buns that can feed a grown man and his entire family!”

His companion beams as the fireworks explode overhead.

“Oh, really? Then she hasn’t met a man with an appetite like mine!”

The sound of a lively folk dance starts up. Hy Vọng perks up and he pulls Vector into the throng of dancers.

“I heard this song from a distant mountain village during one of my travels!” exclaims Hy Vọng. “It’s a dance that involves everyone in the village, young and old!”

Vector can feel everyone’s eyes upon him and Hy Vọng as they gather into a circle. Even among the brightly colored silks of the festival-goers, him and his companion’s outfits shine the most. Women stare at Vector and giggle. Well-dressed men look at the handsome couple with approval. Vector’s heart soars as the circle begins to spin, a rainbow of fabrics dazzling his eyes.

“It’s a dance to celebrate the rain!” explains Hy Vọng. “The circles grow and then divide, representing the ripples and changes of water!”

Vector holds onto his companion’s hand tightly as the circle grows. He searches the crowd for the faces of his stepmother and brother, yet can’t find them. Relief lowers his shoulders. The circle continues to spin and grow, Vector trying to hang onto his companion as desperately as possible. For once, he had found someone who was willing to listen to him. Someone who had experienced the same pain as he had.

As the music crescendos, their hands briefly release and Vector lets out a gasp at the absence of Hy Vọng’s hand. The world briefly stops as Hy Vọng grins at him. With his face lit up by the fireworks, he looks even more lively than before. Then his companion turns away, joining a smaller circle. Vector’s cry is lost in the throng, his hand grabbed by a pair of strangers and his body pulled into another circle.

As Hy Vọng’s head disappears into the colorful array of dancing bodies, Vector can only watch as his companion draws farther and farther away. Twirling, stepping and weaving through the steps of the folk dance, Vector tries to look for the young man’s red bangs and bright eyes to no avail. At the end of the dance, he finds himself in an entirely different part of the city.

Looking down at his feet, he curses under his breath as he finds that one of his shoes is missing. Stumbling back into the center of the festivities, he attempts to look for his shoe. With the amount of people that continued to pour in, finding a single golden shoe was an impossible task. Sighing, Vector wanders away from the crowd hoping to find a cobbler.

At night, the lanterns in the capitol dyed the city in shades of red. Shadows seemed to dance on their own in the alleyways. Festival goers filled the streets. Distantly, the sound of fireworks filled the air. Looking around, it seemed that the restaurants were even busier than in the morning. Hobbling about, Vector curses under his breath.

“Young prince!” calls a voice.

Vector stops.

“Young prince!” repeats the voice.

Vector turns around to see a young hostess standing in the doorway of a bustling restaurant.

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

Looking down at his bare foot, Vector reluctantly nods. He walks into the restaurant. Immediately, the smell of congee and fragrant jasmine rice fills his senses.

“What can I get for you?” asks the hostess, eager to serve such a richly dressed customer.

“Tea…a bowl of rice…and a meatbun,” requests Vector, remembering Hy Vọng’s boast.

A hint of a frown fills the hostess’ face.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asks, brows slightly furrowed.

“Do you know any cobblers that are still open? I lost my shoe during the festivities,” says Vector, motioning to his bare foot.

The hostess looks down at Vector’s dirt-covered foot and bites her lip. Perhaps this wasn’t a prince. Perhaps this was a thief. Despite that, she pastes a smile on her face.

“Mr. Nguyễn should still be open, although he’s quite busy. He’s three streets away,” replies the hostess.

Vector smiles and places three gold coins into the hostess’ hand.

“Thank you.”

The hostess hurries off, her heart leaping at the amount of gold in her hand. Meanwhile, Vector looks around at the establishment. There were festival goers from distant lands, their clothes a clear marker of their foreignness. Some wore long capes that ill-suited the humid weather of the Amber Kingdom. Others wore elaborate headdresses. He even spotted a few members of the neighboring mountain tribes, their headscarves colorful and well-tailored.

A mixture of languages fills the room, from the almost-understandable languages of the mountain tribes to the foreign tongues of the westerners. Vector looked on in fascination as a young man with long white hair fumbled with chopsticks while his blond companion stifled a laugh. The man gave his friend a few words of advice in a language that sounded nasal and lilting to Vector’s ear.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” calls a voice from beside him.

Vector jumps upon seeing the young man beside him. Turning to him, the young sage smiles. Dressed in civilian clothing, with his hair tied in a ponytail, he appeared just like any common laborer. With his chin resting on his hand, the sage looks at Vector with half-closed eyes. A woven basket was strapped behind his back, his staff sticking out.

“You…!”

“Here you are,” says the hostess, serving Vector a meatbun, a bowl of rice and tea.

“Ah! Please get my friend a cup of tea and some vegetarian canh chua!” calls Vector.

“Excellent!”

The hostess grins and hurries off.

“How did you know what I wanted?” asks the sage.

“Frankly, I don’t even know what’s on the menu,” retorts Vector.

The sage looks around.

“Well, there’s dumplings…crab soup…buns…more dumplings…egg noodles…”

“Enough…,” mumbles Vector. “I stuffed myself silly at the festival.”

He’s answered by a chuckle from the sage. Vector frowns.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off meditating or something?”

The sage places a finger on his lips and makes a shushing sound.

“Sage-in-training, remember? I don’t have to give up all worldly pleasures all at once,” he drawls.

A moment of silence passes by as Vector sips his tea. In the humidity of the restaurant, it was almost too much to bear. He takes a bite from his bun. Honestly, it was quite average compared to his neighbor’s buns.

“I lost my shoe,” mutters Vector.

“You’ll find it again,” replies the sage, resting his head against his folded arms.

“How?!” sputters Vector. “It’s lost in this city of a million people! It’s probably already gone for good!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that…”

“Stop speaking in riddles!”

With a chuckle, the sage shrugs and holds up his hands.

“Sorry. Sage in training.”

“I could strangle you!” growls Vector.

“I’d like to see you try,” drawls the sage.

Vector downs his tea and glares at the young man.

“Why are you helping me? I don’t even know your name,” mutters Vector.

“First off, my name is Phạm Huyền Dương but my fellow sages call me Cá Mập.”

Dương is interrupted by a snort. Briefly, he frowns.

“From ‘dark ocean’ to ‘shark…,’” muses Vector. “Looks like you didn’t go far.”

Dương rolls his eyes.

“I was born by the ocean. Of course I’ll never stray from it,” he retorts. “And secondly, the karma you’ve accrued from your loyalty to your parents have resulted in Heaven’s admiration. I was assigned to you to carry out Heaven’s decree.”

Vector’s heart skips a beat. So his prayers had been heard. He grins, just as the hostess arrived with a bowl of canh chua, rice and tea. The smell of the soup’s spices earns a smile from Dương as he grabs his chopsticks.

“That looks absolutely delicious!” he says. “Thank you!”

The hostess blushes.

“Anything for our best patrons!”

Paying the hostess another gold coin, Vector watches as Dương eagerly partakes in the meal.

“Why don’t you come to the festivities with me? There’s lots of food there,” offers Vector.

Dương shakes his head.

“‘Can’t. Worldly pleasure,” he replies with a full mouth.

Vector watches as the young man quickly downs the soup and then the rice.

“Haven’t had anything this delicious in ages!” exclaims Dương. “On the mountains, all we have are peaches and the rice offerings our followers give us.”

“I’m planning to stay in the city so you could definitely stop by,” offers Vector.

Dương briefly pauses, something unreadable flashing by his eyes. For a moment, Vector could see the expression of the wise sage that Dương was training to become. The young man smiles, although his eyes remain unreadable.

“Yes, I’ll take you up on that offer,” says Dương as he finishes his bowl of rice. He looks at Vector’s bowl. “Are you finishing that?”

Vector shakes his head and pushes the bowl towards Dương. His companion grins and dumps its contents into the remainder of the soup.

“Oh, I need to come down here more often…,” he mumbles to himself as he digs into the soup.

Over the sounds of the sage happily eating, Vector rests his hand on his chin. Hy Vọng…such a strange young man. Despite his carefree exterior, he had experienced so much sadness. He had always thought that nobles lived luxurious and happy lives. He begins to tap out the rhythm of the folk dance on the table, closing his eyes and trying to relive the moment. Warmth…oh, he was so warm when he held Hy Vọng’s hand. His heart felt as if it could burst out of his chest from the warmth.

“Any chance I could bother you for some vegetarian buns?” asks Dương.

Vector wryly smiles at the young man.

“Remind me never to become an immortal. It looks like they don’t feed you well up in the mountains,” chuckles Vector as he looks around for the hostess.

“Did you hear? The king is looking for the owner of a shoe!” shouts a young and heavily powdered woman into the restaurant.

Vector jumps.

“What does the shoe look like?!” shouts Vector above the din of the restaurant.

“Golden and embroidered with rabbits!” cries the woman.

Vector’s heart nearly jumps out his chest. He stands straight up, preparing to leave.

“Well, there’s my cue to go,” says Dương.

When Vector turns around, the sage has vanished, leaving behind a stack of empty bowls. As the murmurs arise throughout the restaurant, Vector shoves the rest of the bun into his mouth and then slips his remaining shoe into his pocket. He hurries into the streets of the capitol, the cobbled stone paths smooth beneath his callused feet.

“Where is the king?!” exclaims Vector, looking around.

“There’s a line stretching into the palace courtyard!” replies a running woman.

Vector hurries after her, clutching his robes in his hands.

“How long?!”

The woman doesn’t look back, running along with the rest of the crowd.

“All the way to the gates!”

Vector’s heart falls. He runs into an alleyway and takes the horse carving out of his pocket and places it on the floor beneath him. Before his eyes, the horse grows. Once it was at its full size, Vector leaps onto the horse and rushes towards the city gates.

H☆H☆S

You know, I’m a very patient man, having served my stepmother and brother for most of my life. For two days, I waited in that line, surrounded by girls from all walks of life. The wealthy ones demanded to be carried by their retainers. The poor ones had to endure hunger and the burgeoning heat of the spring. There were those who were turned away by the guards at the palace gates because they had cut the line. I saw a few pretenders as well.

As long as I had the second shoe in my pocket, I knew that I would be chosen. But then what?

That question followed me the entire time, even once I arrived at the palace courtyard.

Sitting on his throne, shaded and fanned by a retinue of attendees was Hy Vọng, radiant as the day we had met. Upon seeing him on his dais, my heart almost stopped.

He motioned for the next person to try the golden shoe. A frail girl with a dirt-covered face approached the head eunuch, who held my golden shoe in his hand. Despite the hundreds of feet that had tried on the shoe, it remained pristine.

When my turn arrived, our eyes met and King Yuma smiled. It was a smile that still warms my heart today, when he has long moved on in his various reincarnations.

H☆H☆S

“A perfect fit,” declares the head eunuch.

Vector reaches into his pocket and pulls out the matching pair to a chorus of gasps.

“As you can see, I’m the true owner of these shoes,” he declares. “They were gifted to me by my parents.”

The eunuch’s shoulders lower in relief upon seeing Vector’s stately robes.

“And you are?”

“Vector.”

“Family name?”

Vector smiles, his heartbeat racing.

“Of the Sunflower Seed village in Moonshadow province,” he replies.

The eunuch’s face slackens and the palace court erupts into a series of gasps and hysterical screams.

“A peasant?!” chokes the eunuch.

He turns to the king with a face paler than the clouds.

With a single nod, King Yuma steps from his throne and approaches Vector.

“As a king and the father of my subjects, I must remember the heartbeat of our kingdom lies in the peasantry. What could be a better match?” declares the young king, clasping Vector’s hand in his.

Behind Vector, a few maidens faint. Meanwhile, his heart beats with a mixture of fear and joy. True, he had wanted to escape his family and start a life on his own terms. However, he had never expected to marry the king for his new beginning. Looking around at the astonished courtyard, he sees a purple-haired noble stifling his laughter.

H☆H☆S

This was where the story was supposed to end. I didn’t question the rapidity of the marriage, given the nature of fairytales. Miracles happen everyday in these worlds. All this meant was that I could have a happy ending. See, happy endings in fairytales almost always end with a wedding. Love is what makes the world go round, after all! Ha ha…

I would have forgiven my stepmother and brother at the wedding and lived happily ever after with the king. The karmic balances would have equaled out because of my suffering and my subsequent forgiveness of my tormentors. I wasn’t selfish or resentful, unlike my cousin.

I was pure.

And yet, time ticked on.

I had to survive the gossip and rivalries of court. The treacherous games of the eunuchs and nobles were similar to Shingetsu’s games, but deadlier. Despite the commoners’ love for me, they were kept away from the palace. Yuma was my sole comfort.

On the day of my father’s death anniversary, I was almost excited to return home and pay my respects.

H☆H☆S

“Your majesty!” greets Madame Sương, kowtowing.

“It’s alright, mother,” reassures Vector, stepping out of the palanquin. He turns to the eunuchs. “Thank you for your services.”

Upon seeing his childhood home again, tears fill Vector’s eyes. It was shabbier than he remembered, the thatched roof unchanged since he had left. The trees around the home had grown since the wedding, more shade covering their yard. Looking down at his stepmother and stepbrother, a small smile fills Vector’s lips. Their clothes were still elegant and crisply tailored, thanks to the allowance Vector sent home monthly.

“Rise,” says Vector, approaching his stepmother.

Unexpectedly, his stepmother embraces him, sobbing loudly.

“It’s been so lonely since you’ve left for the palace, my son,” she cries. “Shingetsu and I have dreamed of this day!”

Joining his mother, Shingetsu embraces Vector as well, tears dripping down his rosy cheeks.

“It feels like part of me was missing when you vanished!” adds Shingetsu.

Awkwardly, Vector returns the embrace. He only had until sunset before he had to turn back.

“Oh, I was so cruel to you!” cries his stepmother, running her hands through Vector’s hair. “Gods strike me down!” Vector pulls away from both his stepmother and twin, a serene smile on his face. Compared to the bloodthirsty courtiers, their antics were amusing.

“It’s alright,” breathes Vector through his tears. “I forgive you.”

An apology and love. That was all he had ever wanted from his stepmother. Madame Sương’s sobs increase as she kneels onto the floor and touches her forehead to Vector’s feet.

“To have a son who forgave his cruel stepmother for her past sins…Only so few could be lucky!” she cries.

“Come in, please! I cooked yours and father’s favorite meal!” invites Shingetsu, tugging Vector’s hand.

“Wait! I need to pay my respects first!” says Vector, pulling away from Shingetsu’s grip.

Taking his shoes off, Vector steps into the threshold of the house. His father and mother’s altar remains where it has always been. Lighting a stick of incense, Vector clasps it between his hands and bows.

“Although I’ve risen to lofty ranks, I will always remember my origins,” begins Vector. “Please continue watching over me as I navigate the dangers of the Amber Court.”

After bowing, Vector sticks his incense into the pot and moves into the dining room. A plate of bánh bèo awaits him and Vector’s stomach growls.

“Do you like it?” asks his stepmother from behind.

Vector turns around and gives her a smile.

“It’s wonderful, being able to have a home cooked meal after all these months of rich palace food,” he replies. “Mother, please have a seat.”

“But you’re the king’s consort…”

Vector shakes his head.

“And you’re my mother. Please sit and eat.”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, his stepmother takes a seat and picks up her chopsticks. Vector then settles down beside Shingetsu.

“It smells delicious,” notes Vector. “You’ve really improved your cooking skills.”

Shingetsu brightens up at Vector’s praise.

“Really?!”

“Really.”

Together, the family begins to eat, the table quickly emptying.

“Apologies for coming empty handed. My carriage of presents should be coming soon,” notes Vector.

“Nonsense!” laughs his stepmother. “You’ve already done so much for us! I’m planning on sending Shingetsu to the capitol next year to become a scholar thanks to your support!”

Shingetsu blushes.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he admits.

Vector smiles and pats his brother’s hand.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I could do.”

Once everyone had finished their meal, Madame Sương wiped her mouth and stood up. Clearing her throat, she turns to Vector.

“Forgive my impertinence, but would you be willing to do your mother a favor?” asks Madame Sương.

Looking up from his tea, Vector nods.

“What do you need?”

“Ah…as you know, your mother is no longer young and Shingetsu is no use at climbing trees. Would you be able to climb the areca tree out in the back and bring your father his favorite areca nuts?”

“Oh, please?” wheedles Shingetsu. “You were always climbing the trees like a monkey when we were younger!”

“Of course!” agrees Vector. “Let me do that now.”

Taking off his outer robe and placing it in Shingetsu’s arms, Vector rolls up his sleeves and walks into the backyard. Wistfully, he gazes at the empty well. Remembering his stepmother’s past cruelties, he shakes his head. No, no, she and Shingetsu had changed. Loneliness and time had taught them the error of their ways.

He approaches the areca tree and begins to climb, his stepmother and brother following close behind.

“Be careful up there!” calls Shingetsu as their stepmother disappears into the cellar.

“I will!” says Vector, slowly inching up the tree.

The thin trunk of the tree slightly sways with each movement Vector makes. He swallows hard as he gets higher and higher. When he was young, the tree was already tall, planted in the time of his great grandfather. Their father liked to sit beneath the tree while Vector climbed and tossed his beloved nuts down to him. The memory warms Vector’s heart.

Once the first bunch of nuts comes within reach, Vector takes a deep breath and reaches out his hand. Plucking a few nuts, he brings them to his pocket. Looking down, he sees that his stepmother has returned, an ax in her hand.

“Don’t mind me!” calls his stepmother. “There’s a whole family of fire ants down here! I couldn’t stand to have my dear child be stung by such beasts!”

She swings the ax at the tree while Vector holds on for dear life. He closes his eyes, praying that the thunk thunking would stop.

“Mother, please!” cries Vector amidst the hackings of the ax. “If you keep on cutting the tree, I’ll fall to my death!”

Deaf to his cries, Madame Sương continues to chop at the base of the tree. Vector winces and clings on for dear life, wrapping his limbs around the thin trunk. For a moment, the world completely stills. The birdsong stops. The hacking of the ax stills. The world holds its breath. Blood stops flowing in his veins.

And then the world spins again, in loud, righteous fury. He feels himself falling, the world rushing towards him. The areca tree cries with a voice centuries old, raining its nuts onto the ground. Briefly, Vector catches a glimpse of his father reading in the shade of the trees, his hammock swinging in the breeze. He looks up and smiles before the world seems to tear itself in two. Stars dance in Vector’s eyes and his head screams in pain. It feels as if he’s been struck by lightning. Warmth fills his face and as his vision leaves, he sees Shingetsu and Madame Sương looking down at him with matching expressions.

“Quick. Strip him before the blood gets on the robes.”

The world fades away as if it were a painting made of sand. Vector closes his eyes and feels himself being carried away by the winds.

H☆H☆S

It sucks, being dead.

Did you know what they did to my corpse?

After stripping me naked, they cut my body to pieces and fed me to the neighbor’s pigs.

What had filled these people with such evil and ungrateful malice?

They greeted the gift wagon with their usual theatrics, this time with Shingetsu parading as me. In their bloodied hands they clasped gold and fine robes, donning them as the pigs feasted on my corpse.

No one would notice this deception, for we were twins.

No one except Yuma and Heaven.

H☆H☆S

He awakens in a cold cavern standing in a long line of people. Vector scratches his head and winces at the sore. Looking around at the gaunt men and women, he frowns. The last thing he remembered was that he was in his childhood home. It was the beginning of the rainy season, but it never became this cold.

“Where am I?” he asks.

An old man turns around and looks at him. Pity fills his face.

“You’re in the underworld, child,” he murmurs.

The underworld? The word makes Vector chuckle. He was only twenty springs old, young and healthy. How could he be dead?

“That’s impossible,” he replies. “I have a kingdom to return to!”

The old man shakes his head and shuffles ahead. Looking around, Vector notices the gloomy pig-headed sentries walking throughout the caverns. With their beady eyes and twitching snouts, Vector shakes his head in disbelief. It was like the paintings at the temple.

“Excuse me…,” he calls to a guard.

The pig oinks in response and clutches its glaive tighter.

“I think there’s been a mistake.”

Another pig walks up to Vector. Its companion snorts in its ear. Together, they begin to laugh in a series of high-pitched squeals and snorts. Without replying to Vector, they walk away.

Sighing, Vector awaits his turn at the front of the line, reminded of when he waited to try on his slipper.

When he arrives at the front of the line, he stiffens upon seeing the imposing figure before him. Surrounded by animal-headed attendants was Diêm Vương, a man dressed in dark robes and a large crown. Vector bows, his limbs shaking. It couldn’t be.

“Rise,” booms the King of the Underworld.

Vector stands and gazes at Diêm Vương’s endless records.

“Prince Tấm of the Amber Kingdom,” reads the immortal, stroking his long beard. “Death from a fall.”

Memories of his stepmother cutting down the areca tree fills Vector’s mind. Pain shoots up Vector’s skull as he remembers falling to the ground.

“Th…there has to be a mistake,” chokes Vector. “I still have so much to live for.”

“Indeed,” says Diêm Vương, eliciting a series of gasps from his attendants. “Your life was not meant to end this way. I grant you expedited reincarnation in the form of an oriole to return to your love.”

“B…but my body…”

The immortal narrows his eyes, an eerie flame igniting in their black depths.

“Is no longer on this earth.”

“What?”

An imperious looking mynah-headed official lets out a squawk and unfurls a scroll.

“Before unassuming swine you were sacrificed, white flesh and bone ground beneath indifferent teeth. Come the morning, you will be resting in bits within the bellies of beasts,” reads the mynah.

A chill runs down Vector’s spine. He looks up at the king of the underworld and slowly bows, his head touching the cold stone floor.

“Forgive my impertinence, but, will my stepmother and brother atone for their sins?”

Diêm Vương sighs and strokes his beard.

“Cross the Bridge of Reincarnation, child. That is a secret I cannot divulge,” he says. “Make haste, for the universe must have its stories…”

Standing, Vector crosses his arms. What did Diêm Vương mean in that last bit? Judging from his irritated expression, he had no time to elaborate.

“Thank you,” Vector says as a pig-headed sentry ushers him away.

“NEXT!” squawks the mynah official.

The sentry leads him through a series of tunnels lit by dim crystals. Distantly, Vector could hear sobbing and screaming. When they arrive at a massive cavern, Vector stops to look around. Bridges that seemed to lead to nowhere crisscrossed the area. Wandering souls wandered back and forth through the bridges. Trees seemed to grow from the walls and the ceiling, obeying no natural order. Beneath him, a boiling river flowed backwards.

Behind him, the sentry nudges him with his glaive, snorting.

Vector shakes his head and moves across a stone bridge.

“Are my parents still here?” asks Vector, looking around.

He’s answered by silence.

They ascend a series of steps and enter a garden. An old lady sits by a weathered tree. Upon seeing Vector, she smiles.

“Have a seat, child. Come and drink my soup,” she invites.

The pig-headed sentry reaches into his pocket and shows the elderly woman a tag. For a moment, the elderly woman’s smile wavers. She takes the bowl of soup and pours it back into the spring.

“I see. Best of luck to you, child,” she calls as Vector is hurried along.

Leaving the cave, they enter a dark cavern that seemed to stretch into eternity. A red bridge yawned before Vector. The sentry oinks and motions to the bridge. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Vector takes a step forward. His footsteps fall silent on the well-worn stone. Looking behind him, he finds that the sentry remained where he was.

“This is it, then? The bridge of reincarnation?” asks Vector.

His response was a single nod.

Vector takes a deep breath and gives the beady-eyed sentry a smile.

“Thank you.”

As he walks across the bridge, he can feel the sentry’s eyes on his back. It’s cold, although there’s no breeze in the underworld. In the darkness he blindly walks ahead, praying that he would see his king again. Sometimes he thinks he hears his stepmother’s laughter. Other times he thinks he hears Shingetsu teasing him. Distantly, he hears Yuma’s laughter.

Vector quickens his pace.

“Vector, what’s the rush?” calls a voice from his memory.

Briefly, Vector pauses. He puts a hand on the stone railing and looks back.

Nothing.

He takes another step.

“Son, please. Turn back and come read with me,” continues his father.

Vector bites his lip. Perhaps his father was still here and not reincarnated. Perhaps he had overlooked his father, who was waiting on one of the hundreds of thousands of bridges in that massive cavern.

“We have so much to discuss.”

Yet Vector remembers Shingetsu’s cold expression as he leaned over him, watching as life drained from his skull. Lips pressed into a thin line. Eyes devoid of expression. Unblinking as Vector had let out a final choked cry.

“Strip him before the blood gets on the robes,” commands his stepmother.

Vector grits his teeth and continues on. No. His stepmother couldn’t take this final piece of happiness away from him. Not if he still had a say in this.

“Oh, Vector…,” sighs a wistful voice from behind. “What’s the use of revenge?”

Vector digs his nails into the stone.

Mother. His real mother, who had gifted him those wonderful bánh giò. He forces himself to take a step forward.

“Vector, please. Your father and I are both waiting for you,” says his mother.

Vector grits his teeth. So this was why people drank Mạnh Bà’s soup of oblivion.

“Mother, I’m sorry. I want to have happiness,” says Vector as he forces himself to go on.

“You can be happy here!” protests his mother. “Please!”

His mother would never scream at him like that. She would have wanted him to be happy. Memories of his gentle fish-mother fills Vector’s mind. Vector shakes his head and begins to run down the bridge, the voices of his mother and father distorting into hellish screams.

Soon, he begins to see a hint of light in the darkness. He quickens his pace, feeling his limbs grow lighter. Stretching out his arms, he feels his feet leave the ground and feathers sprout from his skin. He closes his eyes, casting aside the white robes of the underworld. When he opens his eyes, he is freely flying into the beautiful blue skies of the Amber Kingdom.

H☆H☆S

In his garden, the young king plays his moon lute, looking wistfully up at the heavens. As of late, his beloved was behaving strangely. His eyes were colder and his smile never reached his eyes. Despite that, he professed his undying love and admiration for his king in endless droves. It was almost as if his love had been absorbed by the court’s obsequious mannerisms. Yuma sighs as he plucks a wrong note, the melody falling apart at the discordant sound.

Yuma had thought his husband was different, hailing from a small village in the rural countryside. At the festival, he had seemed removed from the worldly luxuries around him, eyeing the common folk and nobles with the same set of eyes. He wore his robes as if they were simple peasant’s garb, easily weaving his way through the dancers as if he were walking across a meadow. Vector seemed unconcerned about his robes dragging on the dusty streets, instead more focused on the world around him.

Now all Vector does is wheedle Yuma for more gold and jewels, earning the ire of the finance ministers.

Yuma leans his head back against his chair and plays another song.

Oh beautiful moon so high above,

What secrets have you heard tonight?

Tell me of the peasant girl’s new love,

The soldier’s greatest fears

And the father’s secret worries

Why carry such secrets alone, paling your beautiful features?

An oriole begins to chirp in tune and Yuma continues to play.

I see that you and I are the same,

King and Moon

Our burden is ours alone to bear

When the oriole continues to sing along, note for note, Yuma stops. He looks around, searching for the bird. When he sees the yellow bird perched on a nearby branch, he smiles.

“How about this one?” he asks.

Tonight, tonight, I am going off to the festival

Across the hills and through the clouds I fly

Towards the fairyland of Mount Bồng Lai

Where I will feast from the flower fairies’ table

And dance with the fair immortal maidens of legend

Come, come, in your cups you will see

Slightly tipsy on the rice wine of heaven

The true meaning of life

The oriole sings along with heartrending passion, similar to when he and Vector used to sing together. Whenever he had time they would go out to the garden and sit in the pavilion, Yuma with his lute in hand and Vector with his voice. Yuma holds the oriole’s gaze and holds out his sleeve.

“Sometimes, I think that my husband has been taken away and replaced by a wizard. If he was truly my Vector, he wouldn’t speak to me with such cold smiles and blatant lies,” muses Yuma. “If you are my true husband and have been transformed, fly into my sleeve.”

Immediately, the oriole lands in his sleeve. Yuma lets out an incredulous squawk. Such things only happened in fairytales. He gazes down at the oriole and its unusual amethyst eyes. Nervously, he looks down at the bird.

“H-hey, I was just joking! Y-you couldn’t be my husband!” protests Yuma.

The oriole continues to stare at him with its eyes, the same color as Vector’s.

“But if you truly are him, then how would you be able to prove it?”

Bending its head into its wing, the oriole pulls out a silver hairpin decorated with an amethyst. Yuma stiffens.

“But…Vector said he lost that!”

The oriole drops the pin and lets out an indignant squawk. How could he have lost such a thing, especially when it was Yuma’s first present to him?

Yuma purses his lips. Perhaps it was all a strange coincidence.

“Well, would you happen to know our favorite song?”

The oriole closes its eyes and then begins to sing a folk lullaby. Yuma’s brows furrow as the oriole hops onto his hand. Lifting the bird to his face, he frowns.

“Then who’s—”

“Your majesty!” calls Shingetsu, running into the garden.

Head to toe he is dressed in gold, shining brighter than the sun itself. Yuma shields his eyes.

“Vector,” he mumbles as Shingetsu embraces him.

Looking up at him with wide eyes, Shingetsu says,

“Today, the chief minister of finances reprimanded me! Punish him for me, please?”

Looking down at his husband in bewilderment, Yuma slowly extricates himself from Shingetsu’s embrace.

“You have to understand,” he begins. “Our kingdom is just recovering from its war with the Turtle King! The people are exhausted!”

Shingetsu pouts and then looks down at his jade bracelets.

“I thought you said that I deserved the best. What’s a few more bracelets?” he mumbles.

“I…”

Just then, the oriole swoops towards Shingetsu’s face, eliciting a shriek of terror from the young man.

“Get it away!” yelps Shingetsu.

“Don’t touch him!” exclaims Yuma, pushing Shingetsu away.

A flash of anger fills Shingetsu’s expression.

“A bird over your own husband? Just what—”

The oriole dives for Shingetsu’s face again, only to be blocked by Yuma’s body.

“Please!” says Yuma. “Not now!”

For a moment, the oriole glares at Shingetsu. Then it flies back into the trees. Dusting himself off, Shingetsu looks at the bird in disgust.

“Have that bird killed!” he bellows. “It attacked a royal personage!”

“I’ll have none of that,” snaps Yuma, cheeks red with anger. “As long as you parade yourself around shining with gold, birds and dogs alike will rush to you.”

Shingetsu splutters in indignation. When he’s unable to find a proper response, he storms away in disgust. Left in the silence of the garden, Yuma sighs. The oriole lands on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek.

“I have to go back to work,” he murmurs. “But I’ll return whenever I have the time.”

The oriole lets out a mournful trill.

Vector had always hated parting with Yuma. The young king turns to the oriole and caresses its feathers.

“How did you become like this?” he asks the bird.

Mournful eyes look at him and Yuma’s heart wrenches. After a few moments, the oriole responds with a folk song.

From the same vine two gourds grew

Both slender and green

Yet when farmer Hùng cut them open

Only one was white

Yuma shakes his head, unable to understand.

“I’m sorry. I need to get going,” he says.

The oriole flutters into a branch, looking at him with mournful eyes.

H☆H☆S

Over the weeks, Yuma strayed further away from his husband and closer to the oriole. Shingetsu could only watch in jealousy as the king sang and played with the bird. His wheedling and begging now fell on deaf ears. The courtiers he spent time with slowly pulled away from him as his debts stacked and his pockets remained empty.

All because of that bloody bird.

On a particularly busy afternoon, Shingetsu slinks into the empty garden and looks around for the oriole. From his observations, the oriole always seemed to perch on the king’s favorite seat. Standing in the shaded pavilion, he lets out a series of low whistles.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…,” he calls. “He knows, doesn’t he? That I’m not his husband?”

Shingetsu looks down at his hands, bedecked with jewels.

“It doesn’t matter, though. He’d still have to marry me anyways once my twin died.”

A flash of yellow flutters by Shingetsu. The oriole lands on a nearby table, glaring at him. Shingetsu chuckles upon seeing the oriole’s purple eyes.

“Well, well…If it isn’t my dear husband’s pet,” drawls Shingetsu, reaching out his hand. “Come. I have sweets in my pocket for you.”

The oriole remains where it is, glaring at the treacherous twin. Shingetsu reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of areca nuts, a smile slowly filling his lips.

“What do you think about these? I picked them myself,” says Shingetsu.

He remembers cutting up Vector’s body beneath the moonlight, his flesh at first refusing to split. Only after Shingetsu had soaked his brother’s body in lime did the flesh give way. In the end, it hadn’t even appeared like human flesh anymore. Just lumps of misshapen, grayish meat that could have belonged to any animal.

Upon seeing the nuts, the bird flaps its wings and dives towards Shingetsu’s face. With a laugh, Shingetsu snatches the bird from thin air and grins at its helpless squawks.

“Don’t try to ruin this for me,” murmurs Shingetsu, tightening his grip around the bird. “I’ve gotten this far and no damn bird is going to get in my way.”

Shingetsu grins as the bird’s squawks slowly decrease in volume. He continues squeezing the bird, digging his golden claws into its soft feathers. Warmth trickles down his hand as the bird’s blood flows from the punctures in its flesh. The bird frantically struggles in Shingetsu’s grip, its muscles and bones brushing against Shingetsu’s hand.

As a young child, Shingetsu had always been fascinated by the work of the town’s butcher. He delighted in seeing the muscles and bones exposed in the sun, writhing in the summer heat. The death-knells of the animals as it was bludgeoned to death stirred something in Shingetsu’s stomach. Nothing brought him more delight than watching as life drained from an animal’s eyes.

It was a pity that he was forbidden from pursuing the trade.

When the bird has completely stilled, Shingetsu places the bird in his pocket and wipes his hands with a handkerchief. He licks his lips and makes his way towards the kitchen.

“Your majesty!” calls the chef, bowing.

Shingetsu grins and tosses the bird’s carcass at the chef’s feet.

“Pluck its feathers and cook it for me,” he commands. “Season it with your best spices and serve it with my favorite herbs.”

The chef balks upon seeing the bloodied bird and Shingetsu’s wicked smile. After a few moments, he bows again.

“I-it will be done,” he stammers.

“Hurry. I’m ravenous,” says Shingetsu as he walks away.

H☆H☆S

Vector wakes up in the underworld with a pained gasp. Returned to his human body, he touches his hands to his face and runs his hands down his limbs. Unlike the first time, he is alone. Looking up, he sees a nervous horse-headed attendant whispering to Diêm Vương. The King of the Underworld strokes his beard as he looks down at his scrolls. On his other side, an ox-headed attendant sharpens his blade.

“I see…,” Diêm Vương muses.

The attendant pulls away, looking at Vector with wary eyes.

“Approach,” calls Diêm Vương.

Slowly, Vector walks forward. The god stares down at him with furrowed brows.

“Unusual indeed…,” he murmurs.

“Please let me return again,” begs Vector, falling to his knees.

He’s answered by a sharp glare, sending a bolt of ice through his chest.

“Don’t interrupt his Highness,” snaps the ox-head.

“Are you aware that it is rare, exceedingly rare to have three reincarnations in chronological proximity of one another?” booms Diêm Vương, eyes blazing.

Vector looks down at the stone floor, his hands shaking. He had to get back, no matter what. His Yuma was waiting for him. There was still so much time to be had together. All of the sunny afternoons they hadn’t spent. The delicious meals and festivals they would celebrate together. A kingdom, waiting for their beloved consort.

The ox-head snorts, the ring around his nose tinkling.

“Yet…,” begins Diêm Vương, running a long nail across his records. “Your happy fate has been intercepted twice now.”

With a start, Vector looks up.

“Happy fate…?” he echoes.

He’s known nothing but pain.

“Your story was meant to end once you arrived in court and married the king,” reads Diêm Vương. “Yet it continued until your untimely death.”

“Why?” utters Vector.

Diêm Vương turns his eyes to the horse-headed attendant, who whickers nervously.

“The circumstances are currently unclear, but we had a similar case a few moons ago as well. We didn’t bring them back and instead had them reincarnated into an entirely different fate,” recounts the horse.

“Clearly, that isn’t a permanent solution,” snorts the ox.

The King of the Underworld lets out a sigh, the entire walls of the cavern shaking in response. He looks down at Vector, his eyes burning with flames.

“Another reincarnation then,” he proposes. “As a tree.”

“A tree?!” exclaims Vector.

“The karmic points you obtained as a bird were insufficient for a higher plane,” says Diêm Vương. “Or would you rather have an entirely different fate?”

And wait for the underworld to deal with his brother and stepmother? Long after they’ve lived a life of luxury and cruelty?

Vector bows his head.

“Apologies. I will take the life of a tree.”

Diêm Vương nods and takes his seal. He stamps over Vector’s name for the third time, his brows furrowed.

“Take him to the lower bridge of reincarnation.”

Vector stands and walks past the attendants. In turn, the ox-head hurries after him.

H☆H☆S

“Where is my bird?” asks Yuma.

Shingetsu leans on a chair, stretching.

“I’ve already told you. I don’t know. It probably flew away because it got bored of you,” yawns Shingetsu.

His husband balls his hands into fists. Over the past few days, the dark circles under his eyes had increased. Without his precious oriole, he had grown easily irritable and colder than he usually was. Yuma begins to pace, much to Shingetsu’s annoyance.

“He couldn’t have disappeared like that!”

“‘He?’” asks Shingetsu, raising a brow. “How are you so sure?”

“I just do!” snaps Yuma.

“Your majesty!” calls a retinue of attendants.

Yuma whirls around, glaring at the head maid. She looks at him with red cheeks, her chest heaving.

“Speak,” commands Yuma.

“Your majesty…! It’s…it’s a miracle,” breathes the maid.

The young king raises his brow.

“What?”

“The tr…tree,” wheezes the maid. “In your garden.”

Shingetsu snorts and looks down at his rings. What could be so special about a tree?

“It just appeared this morning! W-with orange leaves and pale bark. L-like a tree in the North’s autumn!”

Everyone knew that the trees in the capitol stayed green all year round. As the sun shone throughout the entire year, there was no need for the trees to hibernate. Yuma’s agitated pacing stops.

“Show me,” he breathes.

“W-wait!” calls Shingetsu. “Let me see too!”

Hurrying after the attendants and his husband, Shingetsu stumbles into the garden and falls onto his knees upon seeing the massive tree. Its canopy covered half of the garden, looming over the other trees like a sentry. Slowly, Yuma approaches the tree and places a hand on the smooth bark. He rests his head against it. For the first time in weeks, he smiles.

“Rest assured I will take care of you,” he promises the tree with its orange leaves.

He turns to his staff, his smile bringing sighs of relief to the garden.

“From here on out, this tree will be named ‘Autumnal Joy,’” declares Yuma. “May it watch over me and my successors.”

For the next few months, subjects far and wide came to visit the miracle tree. Children played beneath its branches. Scholars sat beside it and composed poems. The young king took joy in sharing his tree with his people, often joining them in their festivities. On late nights he would climb its branches and play his moon lute. Sometimes, he would catch a whiff of Vector’s familiar, earthy scent.

Shingetsu watched in envy as the tree became more popular than he. One night, he walked out and attempted to climb the tree. The bark was slippery beneath his oiled limbs. While children had climbed it with ease, it took Shingetsu the entire night to climb it. Upon reaching a large bough, Shingetsu sits down and pulls down a nearby branch. Running his hand through a leaf, he looks down at its orange color. He grimaces at its color, far too similar to his brother’s hair.

With difficulty, he tries to yank off the leaf. After a few moments, it comes free and Shingetsu exclaims in triumph. Warmth drips down his wrist. When he looks at his skin, he pauses upon seeing the dark liquid dripping from the leaf. Looking up at the branch, he sees the same liquid dripping from the place where the leaf had been torn. Lifting his wrist to his nose, he sniffs it. A metallic scent fills his senses.

Blood.

Only animals were supposed to bleed.

Shingetsu’s heart leaps to his throat. His hands shake upon remembering Vector’s lifeless eyes staring up at him in betrayal. Tossing the leaf aside, Shingetsu quickly scurries out of the bough. The bark has now turned painfully rough, refusing to let Shingetsu climb down. Biting his lips, Shingetsu wraps his long sleeves around his hands and feet.

With each inch he crawls down, he feels his traction slipping. His limbs shake as the blood continues to drip from the tree.

“Well that’s uncharacteristic of you,” whispers the wind.

Letting out a shriek, Shingetsu leaps off of the tree and falls to the ground. His wails awaken the night watchman, who rushes over to him.

“IT BLEEDS!” screams Shingetsu, desperately crawling away from the tree.

His wails awaken the entire court, weary maids running into the halls to meet him.

“IT BLEEDS!” continues Shingetsu, crawling down the hall, his foot twisted.

He pounds on the gardener’s door, a crowd of concerned attendants following him.

“CUT IT!” screams Shingetsu, his bloody hand leaving marks on the walls. “CUT IT! IT BLEEDS!”

Because the king had gone to the mountains to make peace with the mountain tribes, the court had to heed Shingetsu’s orders. The following morning, five of the burliest gardeners approached the majestic tree with axes in hand. Shingetsu watches by the court physician's side, his ankle bandaged. As the gardeners cut into the tree, the wind whistled violently.

The tree groaned as it began to be marred by blows. Despite that, no blood flowed. There was only a clear and watery liquid, akin to tears.

“It’s an evil tree!” cries Shingetsu to disgusted glares. “Turn it into a loom for me! I will put it to good use!”

The carpenters grimaced at the command. They had enjoyed their meals beneath the tree, its cool shade incomparable to any other tree’s. Upon looking at their surly faces, Shingetsu’s expression twists into a hideous snarl.

“You dare disobey me?” he growls over the tree’s screams. “I’ll have your heads!”

A child began to sob, who was quickly hushed by his mother.

When the massive tree finally fell, it crushed various patches of flowers. The ground shook from its impact and the garden echoed with the tree’s final scream. After the dust settles, Shingetsu lets out a chuckle.

“There. Now the light has returned,” he says, clapping his hands.

He looks at the courtiers, attendants and advisors. Everyone stared at him with barely-disguised disgust. Another laugh bubbles up Shingetsu’s throat.

“Surely, you must understand. As the prince’s consort, I only want what’s best for you.”

Yet his victory was shortlived. The loom made from the tree’s pale branches was reluctant to obey Shingetsu’s orders, the thread often tangling in his fingers. One morning, as he was struggling to finish a shawl for Yuma’s return, the loom let out a low creak.

“Wicked reflection of mine, how dare you take what little I had? Must I always be miserable? This cruelty will not go unpunished,” hisses the wood.

Shingetsu rubs his eyes and then picks at his ears. Hearing nothing, he shrugs and continues weaving. His finger catches on a particularly rough part of the wood and begins to bleed. A droplet splashes onto the wood. Gritting his teeth, Shingetsu resolves to have all of the carpenters executed.

“Delicious, delicious…come give me more of your traitor’s blood, ” calls his brother’s distant voice.

Shingetsu gazes at his finger, the cut long and shallow. It begins to shake, like a leaf in the wind.

“All cruelties shall be repaid tenfold, one way or another,” whispers the wind. “ What say you to being a goby? ”

Surely, he was still dreaming. Shingetsu quickly crawls back to bed and buries himself beneath the sheets. The loom lets out a creak. Thump. Thump. For a moment, it sounded as if the loom was moving on its own. Squeezing his eyes shut, Shingetsu prays for it to go away.

“Come. The underworld awaits, ” continues his brother’s distant voice. “ And there you will stay for eternity, you wicked wretch. ”

“You’re dead,” chokes Shingetsu.

The thumping continues, now more like bare human feet. He could feel his brother’s cold gaze on him. A bead of sweat drips down Shingetsu’s nose. For a second, he cracks open his eyes. In the bright afternoon sun, he could make out his brother’s silhouette moving over him. He reaches out over Shingetsu.

“I’ll pluck your eyes out and shove them down your throat,” hisses Vector.

Just as the hand lands on Shingetsu’s sheets, he tosses them off, screaming.

“Your Majesty, what’s the matter?!” cries his guards.

With a pale face, Shingetsu turns towards the loom, right where he had left it.

“It’s evil,” he chokes. “Burn it! It was threatening to pluck my eyes out!”

The guards exchange confused glances. Shingetsu grits his teeth and glares at them.

“What are you waiting for?! Burn it!” he commands.

Rushing into action, the guards quickly carry the loom away. As they pass by him, he briefly sees his brother’s shadow walking beside the guards’.

“Scatter its ashes in the mountains, where it can never return,” blurts out Shingetsu. “I want the same done to the remains of that demon tree!”

As the days passed, Shingetsu plunged deeper into madness. Every shadow soon turned into his brother’s shade. The wind constantly whispered in his ear, wanting to pluck his eyes out. Not even in sleep could he achieve peace, Vector’s face constantly haunting him. He began to despise the darkness, demanding that a retinue of lantern holders remain by his bedside and wherever he went. He refused to bathe, claiming to see his brother’s shade in the water, ready to drown him. His nails and hair grew long for he feared sharp objects.

No matter what tincture the court physician prescribed, he continued to wake up screaming out his brother’s name.

To the rest of the court, it appeared as if the king’s consort was growing mad from his absence. With each day that passed, their yearning for their king’s return increased tenfold.

H☆H☆S

Rule of threes, y’know? Since they hadn’t figured out why I couldn’t have my happy ending yet, they tossed me in the loop for another reincarnation.

‘This was the last one though,’ they warned.

That’s also when I got the fairytale character speech they hate to give. Frankly, I didn’t know what to think of it at first.

Me? Just another character from one of my father’s storybooks? Diêm Vương and his attendants’ side comments finally made sense.

Because of the karmic imbalances, I ended up going beyond ‘happily ever after.’

I like to think that in my own way, I’m just as alive as you.

Anyways, from the ashes of the loom, a decandra tree grew. I was reborn inside one of the decandra fruits, spending my days swinging in the wind.

They’re really good and smell nice. I considered sticking them in the mouths or butts of my targets but realized that’s just a perfectly good waste of food.

One of the perks of working for the underworld is that you can get your hands on pretty much every food item that isn’t meat. I always make sure to have my fridge stocked with decandra fruits. If you need someone to be taken care of and come to my office, just ask for one.

It’s always good to share.

H☆H☆S

Up in the mountains, there was an old woman known as Bà Xuân, or Lady Spring. She had her hair tied in a pink cloth with embroidered flowers, the detailed embroidery the only hint of her previous life. Her face was worn from years spent in the sun and the rain. Despite the hardships of her life, she was always smiling.

Living in a small hut at the edge of the mountain village, she tended to the orphans of the village by sewing their clothes and cooking their meals. Many of the orphans were the unfortunate fruits of the war against the Turtle King, their fathers and mothers never returning from the battlefields. This sadness Lady Spring knew well, for her own son had been taken from her by the war.

One summer morning, Lady Spring was walking throughout the mountainside when she spied a beautiful decandra tree. It bore no fruit save for one, hanging at the top of its luxurious branches. Even from below she could smell its sweet scent. Amongst the green leaves, the singular fruit shone like a jewel, swaying languidly in the breeze. The elderly woman held up her hand and said,

“Little golden decandra, oh little golden decandra, fall to me. I will only enjoy thy sweet scent and deign to eat thee.”

A strong breeze blew and the decandra fruit neatly fell into her hand. Smiling to herself, Lady Spring tucked the decandra in her basket and made her way home. Upon entering her humble abode, she placed the decandra on the window by her kitchen. A beam of sunshine shone on the fruit, its golden skin shimmering like a chest of coins.

“How strong and healthy!” remarks Lady Spring as she gathers a few herbs from her shelves. “Please don’t wither while I’m gone. I must check on Little Thi’s cold.”

With that, Lady Spring shuffled away. After a few moments, the decandra shivered and peeled open. Its pulpy flesh formed into the shape of a human, slowly growing until it reached the size of a grown man. Pieces of the fruit paled, separating into fingers and toes. Parts of the flesh separated into hair and turned orange. Standing in the middle of the empty kitchen in golden robes, Vector looks around at Lady Spring’s humble living conditions.

The floors and walls were made of thickly packed dirt. Herbs hung from the ceiling. Lady Spring’s bed was a mattress propped on a worn bamboo frame in the corner of the room. A beaten mahogany chest rested beneath the bed. Opposite to the bed was a pile of clothes in the process of being mended. It was surrounded by a collection of jars that spread into the confines of the small kitchen.

Peeking out the window, Vector could see Lady Spring laughing as the village’s orphans flocked around her.

“Settle down, my dears!There are plenty of mountain berries for everyone!” gently chides the old woman.

She delivers a handful of the red berries into the children’s hands.

“Careful! Don’t eat too much or it’ll heat your body up!” she warns.

A young boy sticks his hand into her basket and she swats his hand away.

“Nho! Wait your turn!” she says as she gives a girl some berries.

Vector watches the peaceful scene with a small smile, reminded of his own village’s children. From their raggedy clothes and dirty faces, he could tell that these children were seldom cared for. He looks at the pile of clothes in the corner, each one featuring an array of patches. Walking over to the pile, he proceeds to finish Lady Spring’s work.

So there were still some good souls in this world. After his stepmother’s cruelties and the treachery of the court, it had become difficult to remember the kindness that he had been shown by the citizens of the Amber Kingdom.

Lady Spring’s gentle voice and ever present smile was what made Vector fall into her hands. He could tell from her worn face that life had never treated her well. They were kindred souls, tossed about by the winds of fate.

After mending the orphans’ clothes, Vector proceeds to cook lunch for Lady Spring. He looks at her meager supplies and sighs. There was only a bag of rice and a few vegetables. For someone so kind and generous, she had little to eat. The injustice of the situation twists Vector’s stomach into a knot. While his selfish brother was parading around in silks and gorging himself on the palace food, this woman had barely anything for herself and the orphans she tended to.

He balls his hands into fists, remembering the countless nights spent eating his brother and stepmother’s leftovers.

“Need a hand?” asks a familiar voice.

Vector looks up at the kitchen window and jumps.

“Dương!” he exclaims.

Dương places his finger on his lips and makes a shushing noise.

“Don’t call me by my mortal name!” he hisses.

“Where in the seven hells have you been?!” whisper-shouts Vector.

“Up in the mountains, meditating!” retorts the young sage.

Vector glares at him. After a few moments, Dương sighs.

“Alright, fine, I was also in Long Vương’s kingdom. His daughter was hosting a pearl picking festival,” he admits.

After his adventures in the afterlife, Vector isn’t surprised that the dragon king of the ocean was also real. He looks at the young sage and his easy smile, as if nothing had happened since the last time they met.

“Why weren’t you there for me?” utters Vector.

Dương raises a plucked brow.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Falling to his death. Being crushed to death. Then being burned to death. Vector grits his teeth. Unplanned death after unplanned death. If Dương was in charge of protecting his happiness, he was doing an awful job.

“Don’t play stupid. You’re a sage, you should have known!” snaps Vector.

Dương’s blank stare continues.

“As a sage-in-training, I don’t have access to heaven’s record books,” he replies. He looks around at the mud hut in bewilderment. “So what happened? Why are you here instead of at the palace?”

Vector holds Dương’s guileless stare with anger burning in his chest.

“I met the King of the Underworld thrice!” growls Vector, jabbing his finger in Dương’s face. “This is my third reincarnation!”

Immediately, the young sage’s eyebrows fly up to his forehead. His dark blue eyes widen and a cold breeze stirs his hair into a flurry. For a moment, he teeters from the windowsill. The clouds around them darken.

“Your what…?” Dương whispers.

“That’s right! My third chance! First a bird, then a tree and now a fruit!” yells Vector. “Where were you when I was killed all those times?!”

Around them, the trees quiver.

“I don’t have the right to interfere with fate,” begins Dương, his eyes narrowing. “Nor do you.”

“Being happy was supposed to be my destiny!” screams Vector.

He crushes a handful of herbs into his hands, their heady scent briefly calming him.

“I begged and I begged Diêm Vương to bring me back because I was wrongly murdered,” continues Vector, his throat burning with pain. “And yet…”

“No wonder,” murmurs Dương. “The Court of the Jade Emperor was in a panic when I came and visited.”

The sage takes a deep breath and exhales.

“The truth is, I’m on probation. I was told that one of the thousand souls I was supposed to help was unable to achieve happiness despite fulfilling his destiny. It must be you,” says Dương. “But how?”

Vector bites his lips. The tears spring into his eyes. This was just a story. He was supposed to be one of the triumphant heroes in his father’s storybooks. How did it come to a screaming match in a decrepit mountain village?

“I don’t know. They don’t know,” utters Vector. “But this is my final chance before they erase my memories and send me to another story.”

Dương wets his lips and sighs.

“Well, if you’ve been allowed to reincarnate in the same place this many times then I suppose I can tell you what’s been going on in the Jade Emperor’s court.”

He takes out his staff and waves it over the kitchen. Immediately, the smell of warm food fills the room. Vector starts upon seeing a feast laid out on the table. There were a variety of fruits and a large pot of rice with smoked fish.

“Before I forget what I came to do,” explains Dương.

Vector inspects the rice and fish. Every grain was pure white and fragrant. The fish was cooked to perfection. He raises a brow.

“I thought you couldn’t kill…”

“No, those are the discarded bodies of dragons,” says Dương quickly. “Anyways…”

Vector cuts a small piece of fish for Lady Spring and places it by her bowl of rice. Then he proceeds to peel an orange for her. Despite all of the food he was surrounded by, he lacked the appetite to partake in the feast.

“From the snippets I heard from the emperor’s advisors, it has something to do with karma,” begins Dương. “An imbalance tangentially related to us.”

“How did that even happen?”

Instead of answering, Dương ducks beneath the window.

“Lady Spring is coming back. It’s best if you hide,” whispers the breeze.

Standing up, Vector gathers his robes in his hands and hops back into the decandra. After a few moments, Lady Spring steps into her home. Upon seeing the feast, her eyes widen. She hurries towards the table laden with food, picking up her bowl of rice and scrutinizing it.

“Hello?” she calls, looking around.

Only the shadows answer her. The old woman frowns and tries a bit of the rice and fish. After tasting it, she smiles and places the bowl on the table. She quickly runs out of the house.

“My darlings! Come over to granny’s for a meal!” she says.

A chorus of excited young voices follow her. Watching from his decandra, Vector’s chest is filled with warmth. Soon, the entire house is filled with happily feasting orphans. Surrounded by her smiling charges, Lady Spring’s smile widens. She looks around every nook and cranny of her house for her mysterious benefactor. Upon seeing the mended pile of clothes, she puts a hand on her hips.

“Now isn’t that just odd!” she exclaims.

She chuckles and starts to pass out the mended clothes to the children, humming as she did so.

“Where did you get all of this food, granny?” asks a young girl.

Lady Spring ruffles her muddy hair.

“The gifts of heaven never cease to amaze,” she murmurs.

She doesn’t eat until the rest of the children have eaten and left. Sitting down to a bowl of rice, a few slices of fish and an orange, the old woman clasps her hands together and prays.

“Thank you, for everything. This old woman is not deserving of such a gift,” utters Lady Spring.

But you do, thinks Vector as Lady Spring begins to partake in her lonely meal. If anyone, it’s you.

H☆H☆S

The days passed by in this manner. Lady Spring tended to the children while Vector tended to her household. The young sage had mysteriously disappeared. Each time she came home, Lady Spring was greeted by a warm meal. After the feast from a few moons ago, Vector prepared food with what the old woman had. As she was gone for most of the day, Vector could wander deep into the mountains and forage.

No matter how hard he worked, he never tired or hungered.

One day, Lady Spring rose early and prepared to leave. Looking at the decandra, the old woman smiled. It was a long-lived fruit, as fresh and fragrant as the day she had found it.

“I’ll be going now,” she declares.

After a few moments, Vector emerges from the fruit and proceeds to mend the orphans’ clothes. Then he stokes the fire for the vegetable soup.

“You…!” gasps Lady Spring, standing in the doorway.

Vector jumps and holds the old woman’s astonished gaze.

“Who are you? What is your name?” asks Lady Spring as she approaches Vector.

“I…”

Lady Spring clasps her warm hands in Vector’s. Immediately, his shoulders lower as he meets the woman’s sparkling eyes. Up close, she seemed even kinder than before.

“My dear! Have you been the one mending my clothes, tidying my home and cooking for me?” asks Lady Spring.

Heat fills Vector’s cheeks.

“Yes,” he confesses. “It looked like you needed the help.”

Lady Spring lets out an exclamation of joy and pulls him into an embrace. Vector squeaks. After a few moments, he returns the embrace.

“Thank you, thank you. Oh…! To have someone like you look after someone like me…”

She pulls away from Vector and squeezes his hands. Her eyes glisten with tears.

“Oh, please stay and be my son,” she breathes. “I will give you everything I have and a mother’s love.”

Vector looks into Lady Spring’s chartreuse eyes. For someone so small, she had such a large and giving heart. He had seen the way the children ran after her. Her laughter always seemed to be infectious. When the villagers would ignore the orphans, Lady Spring would always be there to hold them. It had been so long since someone he loved had held him.

Vector’s lips tremble and he pulls Lady Spring into an embrace, wetting her shoulder with his tears. How could she hold him with such love when they had barely met?

“There, there,” soothes Lady Spring. “Oh, please…this is meant to be a joyous occasion!”

Despite that, the old woman’s voice warbled.

“F-for once, allow me to cook you a meal. I want to learn all about you,” murmurs Lady Spring.

She dabs at Vector’s tears with her handkerchief. Looking at the window, she notes that the decandra fruit’s skin had peeled into a flower, revealing an empty center. Returning to Vector’s face, she places a hand on his cheek.

“I knew something was special about that fruit,” she says. “But I didn’t know how special.”

Another wave of tears wells up in Vector’s eyes and he wipes them away. He blushes at the idea of anyone seeing him cry, seldom comforted whenever he does so.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begs. “Please.”

“Of course not,” chuckles Lady Spring. “Where would I go?”

She leads him to the small table and sits him down. From her basket, she takes out an onion and begins to chop it. Under her breath she hums a folk song, similar to the one he and Yuma had danced to, all those seasons ago. Vector closes his eyes, trying to recall the emotions he felt that night. He had been so eager to start anew. In that capitol, he could have sailed away from all of his troubles. And yet…

Yet there would be new problems. Even as the king’s consort there had been the gossip and the drama of the court to contend with. Perhaps sailing to a foreign land would give him only more foes to contend with.

Opening his eyes, Vector sighs.

“Oh, please let me help,” he says as he stands up.

“You’ve been working so hard for me though!” protests Lady Spring.

“I insist,” says Vector as he takes the knife from Lady Spring’s hand.

Taken aback as Vector expertly chops up the onion, Lady Spring puts her hands on her hips.

“I’ve never seen a young man so deft with a kitchen knife!” she exclaims.

A small smile fills Vector’s lips.

“I’ve been doing this since I was young, many, many years ago.”

Lady Spring gives him a smile and then moves to cook the rice.

“Why did you choose me?” she asks.

Vector pushes the onions aside and begins chopping up green onion stalks.

“I sensed that you had a good heart,” he replies.

After a few moments, Lady Spring chuckles.

“I see.”

Once the stew and rice were cooked, the two settled down to eat. Despite his lack of appetite, Vector scooped himself a bowl of rice alongside some stew.

“Oh, how shocked I was when I came home to that feast!” exclaims Lady Spring. “How did you find all that food?”

Vector grins.

“I had a friend help me.”

“A friend, huh?” mused Lady Spring. “I must truly be blessed…”

Taking his first bite of food, Vector stiffens. It was warm and comforting despite its simplicity. The spices of the anise enriched the taste of the stew and melded with the fragrant flavor of the rice. He quickened his pace, hungrily devouring his meal. It felt like Lady Spring had poured her love into each piece.

“Goodness! When was the last time you’ve eaten, child? What did you eat while you were in that fruit?” asks Lady Spring.

Vector wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

“I haven’t been eating,” he confesses.

Dismay fills Lady Spring’s expression. She hurriedly scoops Vector another bowl of rice and stew.

“You can’t possibly expect to take care of another person when you haven’t taken care of yourself!” she scolds.

Her cheeks flush with pink, similar to when an orphan boy had stuck her hairpin up his nose. Despite Lady Spring’s furrowed brows, Vector laughs.

“I suppose I got bored of my own cooking,” he confesses.

Lady Spring lightly pinches his cheek.

“Silly boy! From here on out, we’re cooking together!” she resolves.

“I’d love to,” says Vector with his pinched cheek.

Lady Spring’s expression softens and she lets go. Vector’s earnest smile filled her mind with memories of her son. How foolish she had been, allowing her son to fight for his father!

H☆H☆S

My time with Haru, or, Lady Spring as you know her, was one of the happiest times in my life. Finally, I had a mother. A genuine mother who loved me. Despite the hardships of mountain life, I never spent an unhappy day in that village. The villagers quickly got to know me as Lady Spring’s adopted son. They were simple and honest people, working from dawn to dusk in the mountain fields.

Being with her healed me in a way the court never could. I learned to love the simple things in life again. The sweetness of mountain fruits. The laughter of young children. The songs of the mountain folk.

I rose with the dawn and slept beneath the moonlight. Although I despised taking care of my ungrateful stepmother and brother, it was different with Lady Spring. She made me feel wanted, like I wasn’t a burden to her. When she noticed that I had aches, she would help me rub them out before bed. When I drifted off to the past, she would bring me back with a gentle shake.

Looking at her eyes, I couldn’t help but think of Yuma. There was the same sadness in those eyes. Because of that, we understood the importance of burying our past and living in the present. She never asked about who I was before I arrived at her home. I never asked who she was either. Judging from the faded silk of her head cloth, I’m sure it was somewhere far.

And so, we lived peacefully in that mountain village. Every day was the same, but I didn’t find a problem with that. It was lovely, not spending every moment of my life looking over my shoulder. Surely, this was my happy ending. Although my thoughts constantly went back to my Yuma, I doubted that we would ever meet again. I couldn’t bring myself to leave my mother, not after all she had done for me.

Then why didn’t time stop and leave me there, like a butterfly beneath glass?

H☆H☆S

“Brother Vector! Brother Vector! Tell us the story of the boy who never grows up again!” calls a young child.

“Again?!” exclaims Vector, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

“Yes! Yes!” cheer the chorus of orphan children.

“Alright…alright…,” sighs Vector. He takes a deep breath. “Once upon a time, there were two—I mean three—brothers named Wendell, John and Michael.”

A little boy blows a raspberry and Vector gently cuffs him on the head.

“No spoilers or else I won’t tell you any more stories!” he warns the child.

The children began to settle down, seating themselves in a circle around Vector. In the kitchen, Lady Spring was preparing lunch. She watches the peaceful scene, warmth filling her heart. Over the past few moons, Vector had truly proven himself to be invaluable. He reminded her so much of the son that she had lost that often tears would fill her eyes. Her own son had always been running about in the gardens, avoiding his lessons like the plague. It felt like overnight he had grown into a young man. Then, it felt like in the blink of an eye that she had lost him.

She hums to herself as she mends the orphans’ clothes. Thanks to Vector, the children were spending less time roughhousing and more time learning. Every other day, Vector would gather the children for a lesson, told in the form of a story or a rhyme. Sometimes she would listen in, Vector’s spirited voice lightening the heaviness in her heart. From the variety of Vector’s stories, it seemed that her son had come from well-learned parents.

From outside, the children cheer. Lady Spring chuckles. Vector must have been telling them that story with the pirates again.

“Lady Spring?” calls a gentle voice.

The old woman turns around to see a young eunuch in amber robes. She stiffens as the young man bows and drops her needle.

“At last, our king has found you,” gasps the eunuch upon seeing Lady Spring’s headcloth.

A young man walks in through the door. He is dressed in simple traveling robes, yet the way he carried himself spoke of good breeding. He holds his head high, his eyes constantly observing the land around him. Upon seeing Lady Spring, his crimson eyes fill with joy.

“Grandmother!” calls Yuma, running towards her.

Lady Spring holds still as her grandson embraces her. He was the mirror image of his father, with the same bright smile and unkempt hair. The last time she had seen him, he was merely an infant.

“How…?!” utters Lady Spring.

Yuma’s eyes fill with tears.

“I looked all over for you! Didn’t you hear? The war is over!” he declares.

Lady Spring’s legs shake. Yuma supports her in his strong arms. Up close, she could see that a beard was beginning to form at the ends of his chin. Yes, she had remembered the eunuch’s announcement. Yet she could not bring herself to partake in the festivities. There were far too many ghosts in the capitol, reminding her of the past.

“Gods…how grown you are,” utters Lady Spring.

Yuma grins and swipes his nose.

“I’m twenty years old now!”

“You look just like your father,” murmurs Lady Spring, her eyes filling with tears.

At the mention of his father, Yuma’s expression clouds. He touches his forehead to his grandmother’s.

“May he and my mother rest in peace,” murmurs Yuma.

Lady Spring dabs at her eyes and pulls away. Decades of living in the court forces her to straighten her back. Her back aches in response, the long-repressed memories making their way through. She clears her throat and blinks away the remainder of her tears. Grandson or not, he was still the king.

“Of course…! Where are my manners? Please, sit outside! I’ll have some food prepared for us!” says Lady Spring as she ushers Yuma outside.

Running to the backyard, she motions to Vector.

“We have a guest!” she declares. “Could you help me prepare some tea and heat up the bánh giò?”

Detangling himself from the orphan children, Vector nods.

“Who wants to help me?” he calls.

Various children run into the kitchen in response. Vector turns to Lady Spring and smiles.

“We’ll have it done before your seats are warm,” he promises.

Walking to the front of her house, Lady Spring clasps her grandson’s hands in hers.

“I should have been stronger,” she says. “Your grandfather was such a cruel man, sending his son off to war.”

Yuma shakes his head.

“Don’t worry. The kingdom is at peace now.” he reassures his grandmother.

Lady Spring sighs.

“But the orphans of this war are not. I will care for them until my final breath.”

The young king furrows his brows.

“I see. So you won’t be returning to court?”

His grandmother scoffs and crosses her arms.

“No. Never again. I plan to die in this mountain village. The air is good and the people are honest.”

She’s answered by a chuckle reminiscent of her own deceased son’s. A pang fills Lady Spring’s chest.

“You have a point there,” agrees Yuma.

They spend a moment in silence, admiring the trees and warm weather. Distantly, a bird calls. A cool breeze stirs up some dust. Tonight, there will be a full moon. Lady Spring leans back against the wall of her home, watching as the clouds swam by.

“Hello, here is your tea!” says a young child, placing a teapot on the table.

Followed by two other children with cups in their hands, the orphans look at Yuma with wide eyes. The young king thanks the children and ruffles their hair. He fishes in his pockets and gives them pieces of candy. After thanking him, they scurry off into the darkness of Lady Spring’s home.

“Orphans?” asks Yuma.

Lady Spring inclines her head.

“Poor things. Some never even knew their mother’s faces.”

Yuma sighs. It seemed like every part of the country had been affected by the war. Children had grown up knowing nothing but loss and hardship for almost three generations.

“My rule will be a peaceful one,” he promises.

Lady Spring looks at him with her sharp eyes.

“Do you swear to the gods?”

“I swear.”

He takes a sip of his cool tea, closing his eyes and savoring its earthy aroma. There was nothing better than the food of the common folk.

“How did you find me?” asks Lady Spring.

Yuma places his hands behind his head and leans back.

“A young farmer. He had purple hair and blue eyes,” he replies.

Lady Spring raises a brow.

“We don’t have anyone that looks like that in our village,” she muses.

Her grandson shrugs in response. Taking another sip of his tea, he sighs in contentment. He had spent moons wandering the mountains. Across the various villages and tribes he had visited, he noticed that almost all of them had orphans. The nights were long and sometimes rainy. Sometimes he was reluctantly welcomed, the villagers suspicious of a stranger. To them, he was just another mouth to feed.

Although the cities of his kingdom prospered from the war, the villages continued to suffer.

“Bánh giò! Bánh giò! Bánh giò!” calls a group of orphans, scurrying out with a plate heaped with food.

Yuma’s brows jump upon seeing the way the banana leaves were folded. They were perked up at the ends like rabbit ears. A pang fills his chest. Only one person folded banana leaves like that.

“Who folded these bánh giò?” he asks, picking one up with gentle hands.

Warmth fills his grandmother’s expression.

“Why, my adopted son did! He has the most unusual way of doing things you see…”

Lady Spring trails off as Yuma jumps up from his seat.

“Please, let me see him!” he says breathlessly.

Taken aback, Lady Spring briefly stiffens. She gazes at the rabbit-shaped bánh giò, wondering what could have excited her grandson so.

“O-of course,” she says, standing. “Vector! Could you come out for a moment? My guest wants to see you!”

Yuma remains standing, the excitement rippling off of him in waves. When Vector emerges from the darkness, Yuma lets out a choked gasp. Vector’s eyes widen in shock. The two lovers hold each other’s gaze, moons upon moons of separation doing little to diminish their love for one another.

“Is it truly you?” whispers Yuma.

“It is,” utters Vector.

Without another word, the two fall into a tearful embrace. Vector breathes in Yuma’s familiar scent, memories of the warmth they shared filling his mind.

“How? How? First the bird, then the tree…!” recounts Yuma.

“Then a decandra,” finishes Vector.

“Grandmother! This is my consort!” says Yuma, color filling his cheeks. “How did you find him?”

“Why, from a decandra tree!” responds the old woman.

As he wipes away Yuma’s tears, Vector leans his head against Yuma’s forehead.

“I went through the underworld thrice to see you again,” he whispers. “I had to beg and beg the king of the underworld to reincarnate beside you.”

“Gods…!” exclaims Yuma. “Gods…!”

He turns to his grandmother.

“Please, let me take my love home!” he begs her.

Lady Spring motions to Vector, despite the sadness in her eyes.

“From the beginning he had chosen me. The decision to stay or not is in his hands,” she replies.

Pulling away from Yuma’s arms, Vector embraces Lady Spring, lifting her from the ground. The old woman lets out a yelp of surprise.

“Thank you. Thank you for being a mother to me when I didn’t have one. I’ll never forget your kindness and will return. I promise on my ancestors’ graves,” vows Vector.

Lady Spring holds her son tight and kisses his cheeks.

“Go on, then. Return to your destiny,” she utters, her voice wavering at the end.

Vector gives his mother one last squeeze and then lowers her to the ground. Looking back at the mud hut, he beckons to the orphans.

“Come out, everyone! I have some important news to share!”

To the laughter of both the children and Lady Spring, Yuma and Vector kiss.

H☆H☆S

Upon leaving that village, I thought my heart would burst. I couldn’t tell if I was more sad or joyous. The orphans cried me a river, my mother joining them at the end. In turn I shed a few tears and then Yuma joined in.

It would be one of the last times I would cry.

Returning home was a joyous procession. Everyone was astonished to see that the king’s consort was once again in simple peasant garb. I clasped every hand that reached out to mine, relishing the ability to connect with others. As a bird and a tree, I couldn’t have done those things as well. There is nothing like clasping the hand of another human being, their pulse beating beneath your hand and their muscles moving beneath yours. In that moment we are united beneath the banner of the living.

Although I was overjoyed in the daytime, the night, with its enforced solitude, reminded me of my true purpose.

Revenge, simple and easy.

Oh, I had so many things planned.

After my return, Shingetsu was tossed into the dungeons. The guards were happy to do so, due to Shingetsu’s increasingly paranoid demands. I heard he fought like a hellcat.

What about evidence, you ask? Ha. There was no need to prove to the court that I was the real Vector. The king’s word was considered gold.

During my return banquet I revealed every single cruelty I had endured beneath Shingetsu’s hands to a horrified court.

I left our stepmother out of the story because I was planning something special for her.

Then came the reincarnations. My miraculous story, of continuous reincarnation and the favor of heaven made the courtiers fear me. I was like a hero from one of our country’s myths. Constantly, I regaled the court on my exploits in the underworld. The more I told of the fearsome animal-headed attendants and of Diêm Vương’s wrath, the more fear I instilled in the courtiers. I rarely ate, drank or slept, adding more evidence to the fact that I had transcended mortal boundaries.

Fear is good. Fear is power.

I nursed my plans for revenge for weeks, making sure that they were as fully developed as possible. When I was finally satisfied, I ordered for his release from the dungeons. How humble he was, in his maddened and starved state! A thrill filled my stomach upon seeing him.

He looked at me as if I were a ghost. His hair was unkempt and his teeth were filthy. The pristine skin around his nails were all peeled, the red flesh beneath them raw and painful. What once was shiny gold rings were now caked with his own blood, digging into his skin. He crawled to us and begged for forgiveness, his keening almost inhuman.

For a moment, I almost wanted to forgive him.

H☆H☆S

“Please…!” wails Shingetsu, digging what little nails he has left into Vector’s leg. “Please forgive me!”

Surrounded by the eyes of the astonished court, Vector slowly bends down and places his hand on his brother’s. The sun shone behind him, crowning him with a halo. He smiles, amethyst eyes sparkling with youth. Unlike Shingetsu, time had been kind to him. His skin was clear and his smile was filled with grace. There were no gray streaks in his hair while Shingetsu was beginning to have a few strands graying at his temples.

The silence of the court mounts, confusion, fear and hatred for the crawling figure before them swirling in the oppressive air.

“Of course,” says Vector, ignoring the gasps around him. “It was what our parents would have wanted.”

Shingetsu’s mouth hangs open, revealing a chipped tooth.

“R-really?” he utters.

“Really.”

Shingetsu’s chapped lips quaver. His head touches the ground with a loud thunk as he erupts into sobs.

“Oh please…! Tell me how to become as beautiful as you…!” he begs. “Please…!”

Shingetsu’s tears fall upon Vector’s shoes. Vector crouches and strokes his brother’s head. Leaning close to Shingetsu’s ears, Vector whispers,

“Dig a deep hole into the earth, enough for you to stand in. Fill it with boiling water from a freshwater stream and bathe in it beneath the summer sun.”

“W-will you help me?” whimpers Shingetsu.

Vector gives his brother another saintly smile.

“Of course.”

He pulls his brother into an embrace, his serene expression unchanging as Shingetsu wailed into his ear.

“Please! Please cleanse me now!” begs Shingetsu.

A small thrill fills the pit of Vector’s stomach. He turns to the astonished guards.

“Please go to the western courtyard and begin digging a pit the size of a man,” calls Vector.

Quickly, the guards shuffle away to the back of the palace. Murmurs begin to fill the courtyard. Vector scans the courtiers’ furrowed brows and feels a wave of excitement wash over his stomach.

Rising, he returns to Yuma and clasps his hands in his.

“My poor brother was merely doing his duty after I fell to my death,” begins Vector, meeting the eyes of the awed courtiers. “He did not wish for the Amber Kingdom to mourn my death.”

With his other hand, he reaches out to Shingetsu. His brother takes it with the desperation of a drowning man.

“Please, rest well. The underworld itself sympathized with the people of our kingdom and hastened for my reincarnation,” reassures Vector. “I only regret that I had taken so long to return in my proper form.”

No longer was he afraid of the courtiers and their petty gossip. The poisonings, the plots, the vying for attention…all seemed pointless after his various journeys through the underworld. He glides through them with his head held high, refusing to grace his former tormentors with a second glance. If they were to kill him, he would merely reincarnate.

Walking behind the palace, Vector walks towards the small pit that the guards were beginning to dig. He turns to his brother.

“You must help them as well,” he says.

“W-with what?” stammers Shingetsu.

“Why, with your fingers! The earth needs your blood,” explains Vector.

Crawling over to the pit, Shingetsu stares down at the hole. After a moment of hesitation, he begins to dig with his fingers. Vector turns to Yuma, staring at Shingetsu in disgust.

“Please, I wouldn’t want to hold you back from your duties. I’ll see you tonight,” says Vector.

Yuma gives Vector a brief nod and then scowls at Shingetsu. Placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder, Vector leans towards Yuma’s ear.

“After tonight, he won’t bother us again,” he promises.

“Very well,” murmurs Yuma. “Your benevolence never fails to impress me.”

The young king walks off while Vector takes a seat by the palace wall. Shingetsu digs until his fingers begin to bleed. Despite the tears brimming in his eyes, he continues until Vector stops him.

“It’s deep enough now,” says Vector, rising from his seat. He turns to the guards. “Go get the boiling water.”

He looks down at Shingetsu’s bloodied fingers, more blood than flesh after hours of digging. His twin brother turns to him with fearful eyes.

“N-now what?” he asks.

“Now we cleanse your spirit. Jump into that pit,” instructs Vector.

Shingetsu looks at his brother and then repeatedly bows, his forehead hitting the ground in rhythmic thunks .

“I’m sorry! For strangling you…for cutting you down…for burning you…! I’m sorry!”

Vector smiles and lifts Shingetsu’s head from the ground with his foot.

“Everything will be forgiven after you cleanse yourself with boiling water. The heavens will it so.”

Nodding, Shingetsu crawls towards the edge of the pit and lowers himself in. He looks up at Vector expectantly. A line of guards have lined up by the palace wall, each person bearing an urn of steaming water. Vector inclines his head and the first man approaches.

His brother screams as the boiling water hits his feet. Sitting by the edge of the pit, Vector looks down at his brother’s bulging eyes and desperately grasping hands. The water continues to be poured into the pit, Shingetsu’s screams ignored by all.

“This was what you wanted, no?!” calls Vector over Shingetsu’s screams. “You don’t have the right to whine about it if you asked for it!”

Over a deluge of steam, a reddened hand grasps the edge of the pit. The tips of the fingers have the bone exposed from the hours spent digging the hard earth. Vector chuckles and kicks the fingers back into the pit. A drowned scream answers Vector.

Once the entire pit is filled, Vector motions for the guards to stop.

“Now, fetch me an urn that can fit a body, a sack of sugar, salt and the sharpest knife in the kitchen,” instructs Vector.

He laughs to himself over Shingetsu’s fading cries. There wasn’t even any need for him to convince his idiot brother, so deteriorated was his brother’s mind. The steam smells of mud and human fluids. Vector wrinkles his nose. It was a rightful end to such a disgusting human, even more rightful when he had ended his life with his own vanity.

As the steam clears, Vector finds Shingetsu’s body floating in the water. He gives it a small kick.

“Well, you’re clean now, aren’t you?” drawls Vector.

His brother’s body is bright red, boiled through and through. All the dirt from the dungeon and the pit swirls around him. For a moment, he’s reminded of a pig wallowing in the mud. Vector looks at Shingetsu’s shriveled eyes, sunken into their sockets. They’re wide open, staring into the sun.

Turning to the remaining guards, Vector says, “Fish him out.”

Two burly men drag Shingetsu’s body from the pit and lay him on the ground. The knife and urn are presented to Vector along with the bags of salt and sugar. Taking the knife, Vector cuts away Shingetsu’s clothes. Beneath the white prisoner’s robes is even redder skin, marred by ugly scratches.

“It’s only fair, isn’t it?” drawls Vector as he begins sawing off Shingetsu’s fingers.

H☆H☆S

“Your majesty!” exclaims Madame Sương, bowing to the royal palanquin.

Vector steps out and looks down at his stepmother.

“Rise,” he calls.

Upon seeing Vector, Madame Sương’s smile briefly wavers. She looks at the guards with their solemn expressions.

“H-how?” she utters.

She had heard the rumors of her son reincarnating. She had laughed it off, thinking that it was nothing but an old wives’ tale. Yet, the person before her was not Shingetsu. Her favorite would never look at her with such contempt in his amethyst eyes, nor would he treat her with such indifference.

“Heaven wills it and thanks you for your service,” replies Vector, motioning to the guards. “It was very brave of you to send your remaining son to the palace.”

A large ornamental urn decorated with rabbits is presented to Madame Sương.

“For your efforts, I have prepared this fine selection of sweetmeats for you,” says Vector.

The guards lay the urn down with a thunk. Madame Sương’s fearful expression melts into a relieved smile.

“O-of course. And y-your brother?”

Vector places a hand on his mother’s bare arm. She shivers at his frigid hands.

“He has fulfilled his dreams of traveling afar,” he responds.

Without another word, he turns around and returns to his palanquin. The procession solemnly leaves the village, the clanging of the palanquin’s bells clearing the way. Left with the urn, Madame Sương opens it to a heavenly aroma. The meat is a pleasing color of red. She dips her hand into the urn and tries a piece of the meat. Expertly seasoned, she chuckles in delight. The meat was perfectly tender and soft, even more than lamb. Oh, such a kind fool was Vector! It seemed like no matter what she did, she would always be forgiven.

Above her, a crow caws.

Paying it no attention, the woman continues to greedily eat the meat. How sweet it was! How soft! It must have belonged to an animal that was raised in the lap of luxury! She trembles at the delicious taste, nothing she had eaten before able to be compared to its sublimity. The crow flies overhead, eyeing the urn.

Snarling at the animal, Madame Sương shoos it away.

“What have you done to earn such a delicious treat?!” she screeches. “Go away!”

Lugging the urn into the house, she proceeds to eat her lunch of rice, vegetables and the gifted meat. As a vain woman, Madame Sương often ate less than the average villager. Due to this, her hunger found no end. She ate and ate from the urn until she found it half empty.

Overhead, the crow cawed again.

Taking another piece of meat from the urn, she rips it in half and slowly chews on it. Surely, there had to be a way to rid herself of that nasty bird. She could chase it away with a broom, perhaps. She could hire the village hunter to kill it.

Coming out of the house, she finds the crow perched on her rooftop. The crow flutters to her feet and stares at her with its intelligent eyes. It’s an ugly creature, with pitch-black feathers and a short beak. After holding her gaze for a few moments, it cocks its head.

“How delicious, the flesh of your own! Please, can I have a bone?” asks the crow.

Madame Sương’s heart jumps out of her chest. She drops the morsel of meat to the crow and runs back into the house. Returning to the urn, she digs through its remains until she finds a tuft of orange hair. The tufts of hair soon reveal themselves to be attached to a head with empty sockets and wrinkled skin. Letting out a scream at seeing her beloved son’s face, Madame Sương collapses into the urn.

Days later, the villagers would find her body rotting in the heat, the skin sloughing off of her bones. The stench had alerted them to her body, so putrid and foul for such a meticulous woman. When they found her son’s head inside the decorative urn, they believed that the wicked woman had finally gone insane and killed her son.

The notorious duo was buried in the pauper’s field, where their bones would forever rest with the people that they had once eschewed.

H☆H☆S

Upon hearing the news that my mother had died, I was overjoyed. Surely, after all my tormentors were dead, I could finally have a happy ending.

Don’t believe the person that said there’s nothing at the end of revenge. There’s satisfaction. Sweet, sweet satisfaction. Like a cool mango on a hot summer day, its sweet juices dripping down your chin.

And yet, time went on.

My husband took no concubines, much to the chagrin of his advisors. Without an heir to the throne, the king’s bloodline would become extinct. Yet, our fates weren’t supposed to extend beyond our happily ever after, so how could he have known?

Still, if our days were going to be spent idyllically under a warm sun, then what was there to complain about? We would grow old together, our hands intertwined like vines. Watching as gray streaks dotted your beloved’s hair, knowing that you are doing the same is a comforting sensation. In old age, one’s smiling eyes seem more merry than when they were younger. At night, we could warm our weary bones by the fire and compare our ailments.

That was not the case for me.

On his way to make amends with the Turtle King, my husband’s boat sank in a summer storm. Soon, I found myself crowned the King of the Amber Kingdom. Despite my people’s love, I couldn’t accept my crown with a smile.

If I was so favored by the heavens, then why did I always lose the people I loved?

As the Decandra Monarch, I spent my days listening to my people’s woes with a heavy heart. Despite all of my pain, the words of Diêm Vương continued to serve as my guide.

If I held justice in my heart and kept myself pure, my happy ending would eventually come.

It was on my deathbed that I realized I had lived virtuously to no avail.

H☆H☆S

Stirring from his bed, Vector looks at the young physician entering the room. His brows slightly raise upon seeing Dương. He clears a path through the monks, mourners and advisors. Kneeling by Vector’s bed, he places a hand on Vector’s wrinkled and bony hand. Upon seeing Vector’s wizened face and white hair, Dương frowns.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” utters Dương, a hint of fear edging his voice. “None of this was.”

Vector pulls his hand away from the young sage and glares at him.

“As the sage in charge of your happiness, I failed,” continues Dương, holding Vector’s baleful glare. “Because of this, I’ll be forced to return to samsara until my debts are cleared.”

“Leave,” orders Vector.

Dương swallows the lump in his throat. He lowers his head.

“We’ll meet again, I promise,” he vows.

Vector closes his eyes and takes a shuddery breath. How innocent he had been, slaving beneath his cruel stepmother. She had never done anything genuinely kind to him. When he had the time, he should have smothered the bitch in her sleep. He should have played the games at court, gathering as many allies as he could while slowly eliminating his enemies. If he had denounced his stepmother and stepbrother for their cruelties before their father’s death anniversaries, he could have been spared the trips to the underworld.

If only, if only, if only…

When he opens his eyes again, he feels a weight lift off of his shoulders. A cool breeze blows through the air and he finds himself back in Diêm Vương’s office. Unlike before, they are alone.

“Welcome back,” booms the King of the Underworld.

Looking down at his youthful body, Vector gives it an experimental stretch. Then he crosses his arms and leans against the wall.

“I was told that this wasn’t supposed to happen,” he drawls.

Diêm Vương slightly shakes his head and then looks down at Vector’s name. It had been stamped over three times, the name almost obscured by the red ink.

“There is an imbalance in this universe,” begins Diêm Vương, stroking his beard. “After negotiations with all afterlife departments, we’ve come to a compromise.”

Vector raises a brow.

“Don’t tell me it’s what I had to go through,” he mutters.

The King of the Underworld clears his throat.

“Allow me to finish. We’re starting a new department in the afterlife. I would like you to be its first employee,” proposes Diêm Vương.

“Oh?”

“To take care of this situation…we’ll have you enter various stories and arbitrate the karmic balances for us. There’s quite a list.”

Vector frowns.

“And how will I arbitrate?”

Diêm Vương slowly blinks.

“You have experience with disposing of problems, don’t you?”

Vector chuckles and shrugs.

“It depends.”

Physical experience? Unfortunately, very little. During his rule, he only ordered the executions of the most heinous of criminals. The want to eliminate those that bothered him?

Oh, more than enough.

“The other option for you is to reincarnate into another story,” says Diêm Vương.

Immediately, Vector’s smile fades. He balls his hand into a fist. To be killed again. And again. To come to this damned place, again and again. An unending cycle of misery.

“Never,” he growls.

“Then will you take this job?”

“You’re not giving me much of a choice,” growls Vector.

Diêm Vương narrows his eyes.

“You’ve cheated death long enough now, child. Your soul has deteriorated with each cycle you’ve been through. Souls are not meant to be rapidly reborn.”

“If I take this job, will it mean that I’ll never be reborn again?”

“Correct.”

Vector grits his teeth. No more gruesome deaths. No one will ever cut him to pieces and feed him to the pigs again. No one will ever fry him and eat his mutilated flesh again. No one will burn him ever again.

“Deal.”

Pulling a long black stamp from a drawer, Diêm Vương stamps it on top of Vector’s name. He shows Vector his name, stamped over and over again. On top of the red reincarnation stamps is KARMIC ARBITRATOR.

A heavy wind blows into the office. Vector looks at his hands, cleared of all the blood it had shed. He feels heavy yet light at the same time, his body floating in the wind.

“There will be no need to eat, drink or sleep anymore,” declares Diêm Vương above the howling of the wind. “You are now immortal and a member of my court.”

A burning sensation fills Vector’s neck. His hand flies to the area and he grits his teeth. When the burning sensation stops, he finds Diêm Vương’s emblem embossed onto his collarbone. The black characters glare at him, glowing with an eerie pulse.

“Welcome to the Court of the Dead,” booms Diêm Vương.

Vector’s world blurs and then darkens, the wind wailing in his ears. For a brief second, a bolt of pain tears through his body. In this moment, he can see his previous reincarnations in other tales. A sorcerer. A farmer. A trickster. A prince. The memories of his most recent lifetimes rush through him in a blaze of anger. Then he awakens, coughing on a desk.

Before him, a large book sits, just like the books from his youth. Its cover is worn through and dotted with holes. Its edges are burnt, as if it was rescued from his stepmother’s fires. The smell of tobacco and betel nuts emanates from the leather. Vector takes a deep breath, reminded of his father. He runs his hands along the edges of the book, surprised to find that it was quite sturdy.

Getting up on unsteady feet, he looks down at the title.

REGISTRY OF FAIRY TALES

Then, he turns to the name plaque by his desk.

Vector

Happy☆Heroine☆Sniper

Associate of Lord Diêm Vương, Karmic Balance Department

Turning around, he sees a long rifle encased in glass. Its metallic body shines beneath the lamp. He approaches the rifle, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. This. This is his salvation.

H☆H☆S

Oh, it looks like we finished right on time. This next story will be far, farther than all of the stories we’ve been to before. I don’t know any of the characters in this one. Maybe you will.

Judging from its aura, something is terribly off with this one.

Ha, I’ve caused quite a mess for the fairytale universe, haven’t I? Rules are meant to be followed, not teased and stretched until they shatter.

Heroes are meant to fall in love and ride into the sunset. They must possess pure and unyielding hearts. Villains deserve to be punished, regardless of their intentions. The hero does not have the privilege of doing evil things to achieve their happy ending.

Just kidding. I made up the third one.

To me, we’re all bastards.

#zexal #yugioh zexal #vector #rei shingetsu #yuma tsukumo #foilshipping #ryoga kamishiro #vietnamese mythology #writing from iris #H☆H☆S

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