Chapter 2: The Taste of Old Wounds

“Quinn.”

The Judge called my name again.

I quickly dropped my gaze, my hands endlessly stirring the steaming soup in the pot, and replied gloomily, “I haven’t seen her.”

My voice sounded steady, but inside, my stomach twisted. I wished the soup could swallow me whole. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Derek Lawson standing with his hands clasped behind his back, looking over the shabby Bridge of No Return.

His suit was all sharp lines, immaculate except for the tension crackling in his shoulders. He seemed out of place against the warped handrails and mossy planks of the Bridge, like a Wall Street exec lost at a county fair’s haunted house. When he heard my voice, his eyes narrowed, cold as knives.

Pretending to stay calm, I sprinkled a little white sugar into the soup. My grandma always said a pinch of sugar could fix anything, even a bad day. I guess I never shook the habit. It was an earth-world ingredient; Ms. Porter’s soup was usually bitter, but I was used to adding a touch of sweetness to take the edge off.

I always thought the sugar made things better—a little comfort in a bowl, the way folks in the South put sugar in their cornbread. Here, it was my secret trick to make the underworld taste less sharp, a reminder of Sunday breakfasts in another life.

“What are you doing? That’s not how it’s supposed to taste.” Derek’s voice was curt, suspicious.

His voice startled me so much I nearly dropped the spoon, my whole body shaking.

It was like I’d been dragged back to my last life, when Derek tore out my spine and whispered in my ear: “Jane, don’t be scared. Your spine will grow back. Lila can’t wait any longer…” He spoke softly, almost kindly, but his hands were ice. I wanted to scream, but the pain stole my voice.

Even now, the memory made my skin crawl. He’d said it so gently, like a doctor talking a child through a shot, but the pain was blinding. I was in agony, begging him to stop, but to him, I was never worth even half as much as Lila.

He never realized I was just a lowly underworld clerk, with barely any magic. Once my spine was gone, I could never grow another—unless he went up to the Upper Court and picked a Sevenfold Radiance Lily for me.

The Lily was a legend even in the underworld, like some miracle drug you’d hear about on late-night TV—impossible to get, always just out of reach. Otherwise, I’d be crippled forever.

And so I became a cripple, lying in bed day after day, bitterly waiting for Derek to bring me the Sevenfold Radiance Lily so I could heal.

I’d watch the shadows crawl across the ceiling, every creak in the hallway making me flinch, hoping it was him coming back with the cure. But hope died slow, and every day felt heavier than the last.

But then Lila, always getting into trouble, wandered into North Ridge, got chased by a wild animal, and ended up with her arms and legs torn up.

News spread fast down here—by the time I heard, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Lila had always been reckless, testing her luck and dragging everyone else into the fallout. The accident changed everything, turning Derek’s desperate need into a storm that tore through my small, broken world.

The Sevenfold Radiance Lily could not only heal a spine, but also restore flesh and bone.

Up in the Upper Court, it takes a thousand years for a single flower to bloom.

It’s almost funny—after sharing a bed with me for ten years, Derek still chose to save Lila.

The memory stung, sharp as a paper cut. We’d built a life together, or so I thought. Apparently, a promise to someone else outweighed a decade of quiet mornings and shared secrets.

He told me, “You and I aren’t even really from earth; our bodies are immortal. Lila’s different. I promised her parents I’d take her up to the Upper Court as an attendant, to pay them back for adopting me when I was a kid.”

I could see him now, eyes pleading, like his pain was bigger than mine. He made it sound logical, inevitable. “Jane, I know you’ve got the kindest heart. Just wait a little longer, okay?”

He left before I could say a word.

I coughed up blood and finally understood why Big Sis and Second Sis lost their minds after coming back from the world.

They were right—the world was a meat grinder, chewing people up and spitting out husks. I lay there, coughing and alone, finally seeing the truth.

The world is just so damn cold.

So I decided to leave it behind and come back to the underworld.

I slipped out quietly, with nothing but the clothes on my back and a heart full of regrets. Here, at least, no one could hurt me the same way again.