Death Knocks on Hell’s Door Chapter 35

Chapter 35 The Underworld

The underworld was devoid of sunlight, its barren land offering no trace of life. The River of Suffering echoed with the wails of the souls of the dead. Venus, draped in a white divine robe, his golden hair cascading down, was the only source of brightness in this dark, desolate realm.

There was none of the splendor of the divine mountain, none of the beauty of the human world, only eternal emptiness and desolation, along with eerie sounds emanating from the river in the darkness.

Shivering with fear, Venus wrapped his arms around himself. Unaccustomed to hardship, he found himself ill at ease in such an oppressive environment. If not for the sake of finding Adonis’ soul, he would have fled this dreadful place without hesitation.

But for Adonis, he pressed on, his resolve firm.

At the gates of the underworld, the three-headed dog, Cerberus, lay in slumber. Any living soul that dared to approach would be met with its gaze and driven away in an instant.

Venus felt a pang of uncertainty. Cerberus only allowed the dead to enter, and gods of the underworld were free to come and go. As an Olympian god, he was powerless to enter the realm of the dead.

He paced before the gates, trapped in indecision.

“Venus?” A surprised voice called out to him. “What are you doing here?”

Venus looked up and, upon recognizing the familiar voice, felt a rush of relief. “Hermes!”

Of course, how had he not thought of it before? Among the Olympian gods, there was one who could move freely in and out of the underworld.

Hermes held many roles. He was the messenger of the gods, the patron of travelers, doctors, thieves, and merchants. He was the god of deception, speed, and eloquence, and also the conductor of souls, responsible for leading the departed to the underworld, making him an unofficial member of the realm.

After all, Hermes had been born a penniless illegitimate child, and his current position was entirely the result of his own hard work. He had a good reputation and extensive connections on the divine mountain, even having some connections with the underworld. All of this was due to his many years of frantic work, so busy that he didn’t even have time to have a romantic relationship.

There were gods on Mount Olympus who lacked lovers. Hephaestus was one, and Hermes was another. However, because Hermes always appeared as a youthful figure, the other gods never viewed him as a mature man.

Even though he was several centuries older than Venus, he still saw him as a younger brother whenever they met as adults.

“Hermes, have you escorted a soul named Adonis to the underworld? He has golden hair, about this tall, very handsome, and his eyes are golden,” Venus asked eagerly.

Hermes shook his head. “No. You might as well ask Thanatos and Hypnos? I only share some of their work.”

Thanatos, the God of Death, used his scythe to reap souls, while Hypnos, the God of Sleep, was responsible for lulling bodies into eternal slumber — otherwise, there would be a phenomenon of the walking dead. The souls severed from their bodies by Thanatos’ scythe were then guided to the underworld by the two brothers, similar to the role of the Black and White Impermanence in the East. Sometimes, when they were overwhelmed, Hermes would help them out, so he had a good relationship with the brothers.

Later, even the King of the Underworld followed the Eastern example, recruiting a whole army of temporary death and sleep gods to lessen the workload of his inner circle, and replicating a vast collection of scythes and sleeping pills. But that was a tale for another time.

“I was about to ask them,” Venus said with a troubled glance at Cerberus, the three-headed dog. “But I can’t get in.”

“No problem. I’ll take you in.” Hermes was very straightforward.

Venus: “Thank you! Meeting you today has been the luckiest thing that’s happened to me!”

Under Hermes’ guidance, Cerberus, the three-headed dog, ignored them entirely, and they slipped effortlessly through the gates of the underworld.

“Is Adonis your friend from the mortal world?” Hermes asked, his tone casual, like he was indulging in gossip. He knew Venus had been going down to the mortal realm frequently lately, and Adonis might not just be a friend but a lover. After all, who would journey all the way to the underworld for the soul of a mere friend?

“Sort of,” Venus replied, not wanting to elaborate. He wasn’t naive. He had seen the trouble caused by jealousy on Mount Olympus. Given how many suitors he had, it was safer for Adonis’ identity to remain hidden as his lover.

“He died in an accident,” Venus continued, “and I want to bring his soul back to the human world.”

“King Hades won’t agree to that,” Hermes said. “Once a mortal has died, they cannot return. He would never risk upsetting the balance of the human world for you.”

Venus pressed his lips together. “How would we know unless we try?”

Hermes sighed. “King Hades is as firm as iron in his judgment.”

Venus thought for a moment. “What if I slept with him?”

Hermes: “Cough, cough, cough!”

There was a saying on Mount Olympus that if one could spend a night with the God of Beauty, they’d agree to anything — star or moon, it didn’t matter.

Just looking at his face was enough to make most gods unable to refuse his requests. But in bed? They would give their very lives.

Hermes had assumed that Venus hadn’t heard his earlier words, but it seemed that not only had he heard them, but he had also taken them to heart.

“You’re going to sleep with King Hades? What about your lover…… friend? Won’t he mind?”

Venus: “But I’m doing it to save him.”

Hermes: “If he knew that you were saving him in this way, even if he came back to life, he might die of anger again.”

“Oh? Is that so? But even if he didn’t die, I would eventually sleep with someone else. If he has to die of anger every time I sleep with someone, how many times would I have to save him?” Venus fretted. “I don’t get it. What’s there to be angry about?”

Hermes: “……” Luckily for him, he wasn’t in love with Venus, or he would have died of anger upon hearing these words.

They saw Hades seated on his throne. On his left and right stood a god shrouded entirely in black robes and a beautiful golden-haired youth, respectively. These were Thanatos, the God of Death, and Hypnos, the God of Sleep.

Hades was a handsome, cold, and aloof god in black. After hearing Venus’ request, he remained unmoved as expected. “The souls of the dead cannot return to the human world. That is the rule.”

Venus wasn’t ready to give up. “What if I offer one night of myself in exchange?”

Hades’ gaze remained calm, his expression unchanged.

Venus, biting his lip, decisively unfastened his divine robe.

Hermes’ eyes widened, and a flicker of desire stirred in his gaze. Hades, however, remained as still and composed as a pool of stagnant water. Meanwhile, Hypnos, the more gentle and gentlemanly of the two, instinctively turned his eyes away.

Venus’ robe was halfway off when a black robe flew over from the sky, covering Venus tightly.

He looked up and saw a gloomy yet beautiful silver-haired youth standing to the left of Hades. His silver eyes were cold and pale, and his expression was distant.

It was the true appearance of the God of Death who always shrouded himself in a black robe.

The God of Death draped his black robe over Venus.

Venus blinked. The God of Love felt neither shame nor embarrassment. He was well aware that many gods on Mount Olympus often fantasized about stripping him of his clothes, so when someone covered him up instead, he found the gesture unexpectedly unfamiliar.

No, it wasn’t unfamiliar. Hephaestus had once carefully covered him with a blanket in the same manner.

Why was it that some gods were not swayed by desire? Venus couldn’t understand the three virgin goddesses, just as they couldn’t understand him. He didn’t understand why Hephaestus, despite his love for him, could restrain himself so, nor could he comprehend why the gods of the underworld remained utterly indifferent to him.

“Your Highness,” Hypnos, the gentle God of Sleep, spoke up. “Actually, we have not encountered the soul of this Adonis you mentioned.”

Venus was stunned. His first reaction was disbelief. “That’s impossible. I saw him die with my own eyes. Don’t the souls of mortals all belong to the underworld—” He suddenly fell silent.

Yes, he had forgotten. Adonis was not a mortal.

But he had never asked.

Even gods could die. Being immortal didn’t mean gods couldn’t perish. When free from disease or disaster, they could remain ageless and undying, but should calamity strike, they too would fall. The death of a god meant the destruction of their divine essence — there would be no soul left behind.

Hypnos, unable to bear seeing the God of Love and Beauty so distraught, continued, “You mentioned that Adonis lived in the forest, but Thanatos has not reaped any souls from the forest today. Could you tell us how old Adonis was? We can cross-check the list of deceased souls. Perhaps there’s been an oversight.”

“I’m not sure,” Venus shook his head. “I’ve known him for about one hundred and fifty years.”

Everyone: “……”

Finally, Thanatos spoke up, his tone as cold as his nature. “There is no such thing as a one hundred and fifty-year-old mortal youth.”

Venus: “……” As expected of the God of Death. His words struck with brutal precision.

Hypnos, his voice gentle and sympathetic, added, “The Adonis you speak of may have been a forest god. He was likely completely extinguished, with no soul remaining. Please accept our condolences.”

A wave of dizziness swept over Venus in that moment.

This was the truth he least wanted to face.

Venus left the underworld in a daze, with Hermes accompanying him out of concern.

Thanatos seemed to want to say something, but he hesitated. He was usually a man of few words, and today, he had already spoken more than he usually did. He wasn’t inclined to say anything further.

Understanding, Hypnos spoke on his behalf. “Your Highness, would you mind returning my brother’s robe? He’s very fond of it and wears it every day.”

Venus: “……”

He quickly put on his clothes and returned the robe to Thanatos.

The God of Death donned the robe once more, concealing his delicate features and shining silver hair beneath its folds.

Venus couldn’t understand why someone so beautiful would hide their face. He thought, if he had such looks, he’d want the whole world to see them.

Hermes led a dejected Venus out of the gates of the underworld.

Hermes, noticing his downcast mood, tried to console him. “Don’t doubt your charm. The gods of the underworld are all ascetics. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t be able to endure this bleak, oppressive place. If it were an Olympian god in there, you wouldn’t even be able to walk out that gate in peace.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Venus replied, his voice full of anguish. “I’ll never see Adonis again. Just thinking about it breaks my heart.”

Hermes gave a knowing smile. “Out with the old, in with the new. The best way to get over one love is to find another.” Hermes was just short of writing the words “I’m right here” on his face.

Venus, however, was unmoved. “Where would I find a new love? No one could ever compare to Adonis.”

Hermes: “What do you think of me?”

He felt some affection for Venus, but he didn’t expect anything too serious. Being emotionally intelligent and well-traveled, he knew that true love was rare and never something to take for granted. He had been so busy for centuries that he never had time for romance. If his first serious relationship happened to be with a beauty like Venus, that wouldn’t be such a bad outcome.

Venus gave him a long, thoughtful look before, with a sad sigh, turning her gaze away. “Forget it, you’re still a little brother.”

Hermes: “……I’m a few hundred years older than you.”

“That still makes your little brother look so small.”

“……My little brother isn’t small!” Hermes protested, his tone defensively proud.

“Oh.” The tone was perfunctory, obviously not believing it.

Hermes suddenly began to hate his body that never grew up. Was it his fault that he would remain a youth until his death?

Author’s Note: Some readers have asked why Poseidon didn’t confess. It has already been said in the text that whether he confessed or not, Venus would seek new love. Even if Adonis had stayed with Venus, Venus would still go for new dishes after getting tired of this one. Poseidon isn’t naive. He’s already seen through this. So, he kept Adonis in that “freshest” state, allowing Venus to always remember him. Adonis, in the original myth, was the love of Venus’ life, but that didn’t stop her from seeking other lovers. 【It’s not because the God of Sea died and Venus was heartbroken that he began to be a scumbag. He was a scumbag in the first place. Even if the Sea God didn’t die, he would still be a scumbag, but the God of Sea didn’t give him the chance to be a scumbag and died first.】

I’ve already warned that this story doesn’t have a moral compass. Venus’ flaw is his innate promiscuity, while Poseidon’s is his unscrupulous methods. Only by using underhanded tactics can he control his natural tendencies. The God of Fire, however, was sincere. He truly loved Venus, but he still ended up betraying him repeatedly, showing that sincerity wasn’t enough. The God of Sea was the one who baited Venus step by step, even using stories of defiance against the heaven to manipulate him, all to keep him longing for him. What might seem like Venus’ true affection was simply Poseidon’s brilliant manipulation.

The synopsis says that the God of Sea is yandere. Here is the Baidu definition of yandere: In a broad sense, it refers to the personality traits shown by a person who is mentally ill and strongly attracted to something and cannot extricate themselves from it. It is a bit biased towards possessiveness and has extreme thoughts or behaviors. People with yandere attributes usually have a strong obsession with something and will do some extreme behaviors for it, such as self-harm, harming others, etc.

For Poseidon, this obsession with Venus as the perfect lover leads him to take extreme measures to ensure that Venus’ heart belongs only to him. His extreme, immoral actions align perfectly with his character. The fact that he doesn’t make Venus abstinent already goes against the typical yandere trope. Letting Venus behave normally would undermine his character.

As the story progresses, both characters’ moral levels continue to deteriorate. My focus lies in their mutual harm and control over each other, two inherently flawed beings shaping each other’s fate. This is a serialized story, where each part is independent. This isn’t a flashback or past memory. It’s the ongoing narrative of their lives. No plot will be skipped.

This is the fourth warning, and I won’t emphasize it again. When I first started writing this type of story, I thought it would just be for my own satisfaction. I’m pleasantly surprised that others enjoy it. If you don’t, feel free to move on to another story. There are plenty of morally perfect protagonists out there. Why cling to these scumbag gods?

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