Chapter 57.1 Treating Someone to a Meal
Cui Jue watched, dumbfounded, as King Yan and the little demon in black robe left together. Sitting on his office chair, he pulled out his phone, opened a group chat titled “Proletarians of the Underworld Must Unite to Overthrow the Capitalists”, and began typing furiously.
Across the world, employees from all realms, save for the socially reclusive Greek Underworld, which didn’t even have social media accounts, typically had a group chat to complain about their bosses. This particular chat included the Four Judges, the Black and White Impermanence, Ox-Head and Horse-Face, and even Granny Meng, but notably, King Yan was not in it. Anything too inappropriate for the official Underworld Work group chat was fair game here.
Cui Jue: Breaking news! A little demon came to me for a job interview today, and it happened to coincide with King Yan’s visit to the hotel for inspection. They actually hit it off! He told that little demon that as long as the little demon said a sentence, King Yan would give them a thousand underworld coins. Heavens, is this still our King Yan who is so stingy and only loves money? If this isn’t love, what is it? My hands are shaking as I’m typing.
Wei Zheng: For His Majesty to spend money so freely, it must be true love.
Zhong Kui: Following Lao Hei and Lao Bai, our King Yan is also going to be in a relationship?
Lu Zhidao: Am I the only one focused on the fact that His Majesty is actually wooing someone by throwing money at them? Just solving everything with raw financial power? We mere wage slaves are clearly unworthy of love.
Granny Meng: So sweet! I’m shipping them. What does the little demon look like? To have caught King Yan’s eye, they must be really attractive, right? Is it male or female?
Cui Jue: Ah, about that, I have no idea. The demon was wrapped up head to toe in a black robe and didn’t say a single word from start to finish. I couldn’t even tell their gender. No clue what His Majesty saw in them.
Granny Meng: ??? Did King Yan take a fancy to that black robe?
Cui Jue: Wait! I just remembered! His Majesty didn’t say he’d give the little demon a thousand underworld coins. He said he’d waive a thousand in rent! They must have known each other already. Lao Hei, Lao Bai, are you two here? That little demon should be one of the residents in Yanluo Apartments. Since you both live there too, do you know who it is? Any gossip to share? @Fan Wujiu @Xie Bian
Xie Bian: No little demon in a black robe.
Fan Wujiu: There is a Western God of Death, though.
Everyone: ???
Good heavens. A cross-cultural romance, no less.
Granny Meng: East meets West, how poetic! I’ll start writing fanfiction now.
Lu Zhidao: Miss Meng, you’re a literary genius. Once you finish, be sure to share it in the group.
Yanluo never expected his subordinates to be so imaginative that they had already started pairing him up with the God of Death in a BL fanfiction.
But the truth was, he hadn’t even seen what the God of Death looked like. They had barely spoken a few words, let alone enough for him to develop feelings. This was too unreasonable.
The only thing was, he had misunderstood Thanatos. He had mistaken the God of Death’s social anxiety for arrogance. And in retaliation, he had blasted eerie music for several days straight, tormenting both their ears. The God of Death probably saw him as some inconsiderate flatmate with terrible musical taste.
Thanatos never came to complain, not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t dare.
A great nation, a land of etiquette. And yet, this time, he had truly been impolite. He ought to make amends. Waiving the rent outright would have been too obvious. So he came up with this excuse instead. Not only could it reverse the first impression, but it might also help the God of Death overcome his social anxiety.
They couldn’t just live under the same roof without ever speaking. It would be a waste of such a good opportunity for a cultural exchange. Yanluo wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
Thanatos didn’t understand the twists and turns of Yanluo’s thoughts, but the job offer he had received was undeniably generous.
Of course, the job itself wasn’t easy for him. But that was his own issue, not Yanluo’s.
The Eastern god had been quite kind, aware of his struggles and extending an olive branch in response.
He wanted to say thank you. The words hovered at the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t bring himself to say them.
This job was truly difficult for him.
At noon in September, the sun blazed high, and the temperature had climbed to a sweltering 35°C. Pedestrians crowded the streets, shielding themselves with umbrellas and grumbling about the heat. Many had resorted to holding their jackets over their heads for shade. But Thanatos? He was the only one wrapped head to toe in a heavy black robe.
Yanluo, on the other hand, was casually dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, his tall frame and striking looks making him stand out. Walking side by side, the two of them made for quite the eye-catching pair.
One looked like a god, the other like someone not quite right in the head.
As gods of the underworld, neither of them was affected by the heat. Thanatos wasn’t using the robe to block out the sun. It was merely a shield against the prying eyes of the world. Although his unusual attire still drew plenty of attention, at least it provided some psychological comfort. As long as no one could see what lay beneath, it didn’t matter.
Thanatos walked along the road, heading for the crosswalk that would take him back to the apartment.
“You’re planning to walk back?” Yanluo asked, quickly picking up on Thanatos’ intentions.
Thanatos nodded.
Yanluo frowned. “Do you even know the way?”
Thanatos nodded again.
He was completely unfamiliar with the roads of China, but his memory was excellent. He walked to the Yanluo Hotel today entirely by GPS, and had memorized the route after walking it once.
Asking for directions was out of the question. Hailing a taxi or squeezing into a packed bus or subway was even worse.
Thanatos actually had wings and could fly at great speed, but with so many people around, unfolding them here wasn’t an option.
“It’s several kilometers back to Yanluo Apartments. If you walk, it’ll take forever.” Yanluo glanced at the busy street, then said, “I’m heading back too. Just take my car.”
Thanatos considered for a moment and didn’t refuse.
After all, if he walked, he would attract even more attention. It was better to deal with just Yanluo than an entire crowd.
“Wait here. I’ll go get the car.” Yanluo turned to leave.
Thanatos nodded and watched him go.
His outfit was far too unusual. People passing by couldn’t help but glance at him before quickly looking away.
Thanatos stood silently at the intersection, not moving an inch.
Across the street, a group of anime cosplayers approached. One of them was also wearing a black robe, dressed exactly like Thanatos, and holding a plastic scythe in his hand.
Upon spotting him, the cosplayer enthusiastically called out, “Hey, brother! Are you heading to the convention too? You’re cosplaying a Grim Reaper, right? But you’re missing a prop, you need a scythe! Look at mine! Swinging it around makes me look so cool. You should get one too.”
Thanatos: “……”
If his scythe so much as swung, people would actually die.
He remained silent, and the cosplayers, sensing the lack of response, awkwardly moved on, completely unaware that they had just brushed past death itself.
A sharp beep cut through the noise of the street.
A sleek Hongqi sedan pulled up, its horn honking once. Yanluo lowered the window and gestured for Thanatos to get in.
As expected, King Yan even drove a domestic-brand car.
Thanatos didn’t take the passenger seat. Instead, he opened the rear door and slid into the back.
The distance between them was almost palpable.
Yanluo drove in silence for a while, occasionally glancing at the black-robed God of Death through the rearview mirror. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he asked, “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
Thanatos shook his head.
Even though he knew that speaking just one word could shave a thousand off his rent, he still instinctively preferred to respond with nods and shakes of his head whenever possible.
Not only had he skipped this meal, he hadn’t eaten anything for the past month. A god who could barely afford rent certainly had no money to spare for food. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t starve to death anyway.
Back in Greece, he had never cared much about food. The gods of the underworld had long since abandoned such mortal cravings.
Yanluo let out a silent sigh. How pitiful. Truly pitiful.
What could possibly drive a socially anxious god to apply for a job as a waiter? Poverty.
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