Chapter 4: The Evil God’s Game

I grabbed his still-bloody knife and, without a word, wiped it clean on myself! Kneeling, I offered the shining knife with both hands: “Mr. Kane, I’ve cleaned your knife, anything else you want me to clean? Floor, desk, shoes, glass… I can clean anything!” Clean yourself, you creep! If you dare kneel, I’ll rub you into the ground!

My voice was syrupy sweet, but my eyes burned with defiance. The dirtier I got, the closer I got to freedom. I’d do whatever it took.

He spun the knife, then lifted my chin with the tip. Mr. Kane’s handsome face curled into a wicked smile: “What if I want to kill you?” Kill, kill, kill! All of you die!

I stared back, wide-eyed, every muscle tense. If this was a test, I was determined to pass. Survival mode: activated.

He got close, so I opened my garlic-breath mouth and exhaled on purpose: “Ah? Mr. Kane, where did I mess up, where did I displease you?” As expected, he backed off from the stink.

A little halitosis goes a long way. Even evil has its limits. Small victories.

I immediately hugged his leg: “Mr. Kane, please don’t kill me, I’m really afraid of death! Afraid my filthy self will dirty your knife!” As long as I live, one day I’ll destroy you all!

If groveling were an art, I was Michelangelo. But my mind was always two steps ahead, plotting revenge. Never forget.

He kicked me aside, and I fell: “Please don’t hurt me again, I’m so fragile, so helpless…” He sneered: “A coward like you isn’t worth my effort.” That’s great! Cowardice is useful!

I made a show of scrambling away, clutching my side. If he wanted a coward, I’d give him the best performance of his life. Academy Award, here I come.

He sat on his leather chair, puzzled: “How did such a cowardly waste come out of the gods? Isn’t the Reaper supposed to be a fierce demon?” Damn, I knew he knew my identity!

My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my act going. The less he suspected, the better. Stay small, stay safe.

I quickly covered my face and cried: “Wuwu, I’m the youngest and most useless Reaper ever, I can’t sleep at night, I’m so scared, Reaper afraid of ghosts, how embarrassing!” Hmph, back in my professional interview, I could behead ten fierce spirits without blinking!

Fake tears streamed down my face, mixing with real sweat. Anything to keep him off guard. He’d never see me coming.

I started rambling nonsense, and Mr. Kane watched silently for a while, then clapped: “I wonder what they’d think if they saw this?”

His applause was slow, mocking. But I didn’t let it shake me. I was too deep in the act.

As he finished, a wooden door opened to my left, and Cupid, Lady Luck, and Michael all stared at my twisted, crazy self. “…” All I can say is, ever since I got mentally ill, my mental state has improved. Seeing them, I didn’t feel ashamed, just thought, see, you got caught.

Their shock was almost comical. For once, I was glad for my madness—it kept me alive. Sometimes, crazy works.

By contrast, the three of them couldn’t handle it, their pupils shocked like they’d never seen the world in 800 years.

I resisted the urge to laugh. If only they knew the half of what I’d been through. This was nothing.

Mr. Kane threw the knife: “Only the dead can keep your secret.” I crawled over, grabbed his sleeve, he sneered: “Can’t bear to kill?” No, tears streaming down my face, mixing with mud, stinking more: “Please don’t make me kill, I’m really scared!”

I let the tears flow, my whole body trembling. Fear was my armor now. Let him underestimate me.

Mr. Kane stared at me: “Ugh… yuck… a cowardly Reaper, interesting.”

His disgust was music to my ears. The more he underestimated me, the better.

I looked at the three, they were tied up, wounds everywhere but the face, the rest too gruesome, but their faces were stubborn, unyielding, no wonder they got beat so bad. Serves them right! As gods, can’t let go!

Even battered, they had that divine spark in their eyes. I made a mental note to lecture them later about blending in. Blend or bleed, people!

Turning back to Mr. Kane, I was pitiful and cowardly: “I don’t dare kill, I really don’t!” “Gods all have soul lamps. If they’re killed and the lamp goes out, no matter where or who, the lamp will write a detailed report.” So I’m alive not just because I’m cowardly, but because of this. If I die, heaven will come.

I clung to that knowledge like a lifeline. My soul lamp was my insurance policy. Safety first.

Mr. Kane: “What are you afraid of? I’m protecting you here.” I choked: “Then you kill them.” He took the knife, then put it away. Hmph, cowardly man.

I watched him carefully. He was ruthless, but not reckless. Even evil has its bureaucracy. Paperwork everywhere.

I bet he, no matter how ruthless, wouldn’t dare openly defy heaven. “Then how do you think we should handle them? They came to save you.” What kind of talk is that. I pledged loyalty: “Mr. Kane treats me so well, how could I think such things!” Talking about you, bastard! “It’s Mr. Kane who gave me my purpose, Mr. Kane saved me! Please don’t say such hurtful things, I’ll be very sad!”

I poured on the honey, hoping he’d choke on it. The more loyal I seemed, the less he’d suspect. Sweetness was my shield.

Whatever, just go crazy. I immediately knelt in front of the three: “Please, stay for me!” Cupid, Lady Luck, and Michael were shocked.

Their eyes widened, but I didn’t flinch. I was committed to the bit. Go big or go home.

I was about to grovel when Mr. Kane yanked me up, don’t know what got into him, he said: “Enough, I said I’ll protect you, from now on you’re my deputy, no need to kneel to them, just be cowardly in front of me.” In my heart: mmp, treating me like your chief lackey? Emperor Kane?

I saluted him with all the fake enthusiasm I could muster. Anything to keep him happy and myself alive. Survival 101.

I obediently saluted Mr. Kane: “Yes, sir!”

My voice rang out, steady and clear. I was determined to play the long game. I’d win eventually.

On a dark, windy night, I took the three back to my place. The air was quiet, and for the first time in ages, black energy rose from me—the power of the Reaper.

I felt it—like a spark reigniting in my chest. Power, finally trickling back. Hope.

For the record, it’s not because I’m angry, but because my rank here rose, so my power returned. The higher the rank, the more power comes back.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the tingle of magic. Maybe, just maybe, we had a shot. Light at the end of the tunnel.

The three walked behind me, out of sight of Mr. Kane’s place and spies. I turned back and, expressionless, explained my earlier madness: “That was my second personality.” The three fell silent: “….”

Their silence was heavy, but I didn’t care. I’d survived, and that was all that mattered. Let them think what they want.

I looked up: “I hope you don’t tell Professor Whitaker about my second personality.” After a while, Cupid, ashamed, took my hand: “Riley, I misunderstood you…” “Heh, not too dumb.” I glanced at them: “Here, only madness keeps you alive.”

They nodded, finally understanding. In Maple Heights, sanity was a liability. Blend in or get crushed.

Back in my room, Professor Whitaker was obediently sitting, still in the dirty Maple Heights disguise. The three were shocked to see him like this, but with me as an example, Whitaker’s state was nothing strange.

He looked up, a smudge of dirt on his cheek, but his eyes were clear. My heart skipped a beat. He made even mud look good.

Whitaker noticed my gaze, paused, and said: “I was worried about you.” His eyes were gentle with pain: “If only they’d noticed sooner, you wouldn’t have suffered here so long.”

His words were a balm to my battered soul. I wanted to reach out, but held back. Not yet.

Michael, angry: “So you did it on purpose! Letting us escape just to get beat.” Whitaker was calm: “Riley warned you, you didn’t listen.”

He always had a way of cutting through the noise. I admired that. I needed that.