Death Knocks on Hell’s Door Chapter 59 Part 2

Chapter 59.2 Inquiries

With his purchases neatly packed, Yanluo grabbed the bags and walked over to Venus’ table. Sitting down, he greeted them casually. “Good afternoon. I have something to ask you. As thanks, I’ll waive your rent for another month.”

He spoke in Greek. Since the conversation involved gods, it was best to use a more encrypted language. Otherwise, people around them might think they were “good-looking but crazy.”

Poseidon glanced at him and said, “Go ahead.”

He didn’t particularly care about the rent. What truly piqued his interest was the fact that this money-obsessed Eastern King of Hell was willing to forgo a month’s worth of it.

Yanluo got straight to the point. “It’s about Thanatos. Has he always been like this? Or is there a reason?”

“The sea and the underworld have never been particularly close.” Poseidon raised an eyebrow, sensing that Yanluo’s concern for Thanatos was becoming excessive. This wasn’t the first time he had inquired about him. After a pause, Poseidon answered, “For as long as I’ve known him, he’s always been like this.”

Yanluo frowned.

“But before that, I did hear something.” Poseidon continued, “It was said that the lecher Zeus abducted the daughter of a river god and hid her away. Sisyphus, however, discovered her location and revealed it to the river god in exchange for certain benefits. Zeus then angrily ordered Thanatos to take Sisyphus’ soul.

“Although the God of Death belongs to the underworld, the sky reign supreme among the three realms, and even he could not afford to offend the King of the Gods. He went to claim Sisyphus’ soul, but the cunning mortal tricked Thanatos into putting on his own shackles and imprisoning him for ten years. For a full decade, no one on earth could die, and the order of the human world was thrown into chaos. Later, Thanatos was rescued by the God of War, Ares.”

Poseidon finished the tale and added, “Perhaps whatever he endured during those ten years of captivity made him afraid of interacting with the outside world.”

To be honest, Poseidon had always found this story full of holes. He had spent time with Thanatos and knew that his power surpassed what most could imagine. Thanatos was no fool, certainly not on Zeus’ level of recklessness. How could a mere mortal have tricked and restrained him for an entire decade?

But since he and Thanatos were little more than acquaintances, he had never bothered to dig deeper. This was the version of the story that had circulated through all of Olympus, so he simply passed it on to Yanluo.

Ten years.

The little reaper had suffered that much?

Yanluo’s expression darkened. “And what happened to Sisyphus in the end?”

“After kidnapping a god and disrupting the balance of life and death, of course, it didn’t end well for him. He was sentenced to push a boulder up a mountain, forever pushing a giant rock to the top, only for it to roll back down to the foot of the mountain, endlessly.”

Yanluo’s brows relaxed slightly.

“Have any of you ever seen his face beneath the black robe?” Yanluo asked.

Thanatos was actually quite easy to talk to. Yanluo enjoyed teasing him whenever he had the chance. But there were two things the little reaper was absolutely firm on: first, he refused to go out; second, he would never remove his robe. No matter how much Yanluo coaxed, reasoned, or even pestered, it was useless.

That robe was his barrier. As long as the wall remained unbroken, the robe would stay on.

Poseidon shook his head. Despite spending three centuries in the same space as Thanatos, he didn’t know what the God of Death looked like either.

“I have,” Venus said.

Yanluo looked at him, slightly surprised.

“It was when I went to the underworld to beg Hades for Adonis’ soul,” he explained. He shot a pointed look at Poseidon before letting out a cold huff. “He’s the incarnation of the one next to me. The King of the Underworld said that dead souls cannot return to the earth and refused to give me Adonis’ soul. At that time, I was young and ignorant, so I thought of seducing him in exchange. I had just started slipping off my clothes when Thanatos removed his robe and covered me with it.”

Yanluo: “……”

It only proved that the little reaper was soft-hearted and unfailingly respectful. Even when faced with the infamous God of Love and Pleasure, even though exposing himself clearly terrified him, he still took off his black robe to cover Venus’ body at the first moment.

Damn, he liked him even more now.

“You want to see his face?” Venus asked, lips curling into a playful smile. “Why don’t you try stripping in front of him? That should do the trick.”

Yanluo: “……”

“No, thank you,” he said flatly. An Eastern god would never do something so improper.

He also chose not to ask Venus what Thanatos looked like. He preferred to wait for the day he could see for himself.

Just then, Cupid, who had been quietly listening to the adults talk, suddenly spoke up. “I’ve seen the God of Death too!”

Three pairs of eyes immediately turned to him.

Cupid shrank back a little. “Not his face. But I met him once when I was out playing in the human world.”

The little God of Love was fond of watching the love stories of mortals. He often descended from the divine mountain to observe couples falling in love. Among them, there was a pair whose relationship was very sincere and deep. To Cupid, they were the sweetest couple he had ever seen. He especially loved watching their daily love life.

But one day, the girl fell gravely ill. On her deathbed, she held the boy’s hand, saying she was reluctant to leave. The boy stayed by her bedside, crying and begging the God of Death to spare his beloved.

But Thanatos still came. As soon as the girl finished her final words, he took her soul without hesitation. Her fingers slipped from the boy’s grasp, leaving him devastated, sobbing in anguish and cursing the merciless god who had taken his love away.

Humans could not see gods. The black-robed figure stood silently by the bedside, quietly watching all of this, and then turned and left with the girl’s soul.

Cupid had witnessed the entire parting. Back then, he also resented the God of Death because death separates love.

In the West, the God of Death was death itself. He was the most feared and despised by mankind. He carried out the most laborious of divine duties, yet no one worshipped him. There were no temples in his name, no offerings in his honor. And still, every day, he carried out his work, guiding souls to their end.

Cupid had gone home and complained to Hephaestus about what he had seen, venting his frustration at the God of Death’s cold-heartedness.

After listening, Hephaestus simply replied, “That is the God of Death’ divine duty. He is only fulfilling his role. It is what he was meant to do.”

“It’s a horrible job,” Cupid muttered, still sulking.

“It is,” Hephaestus agreed. “But someone has to do it. And if he were truly heartless, he wouldn’t have waited for the girl to finish her final words before taking her soul. The God of Death is very busy. Countless people die every day. He doesn’t have the luxury of waiting. But he chose to linger, just a little longer, because he didn’t want to leave them with regrets.”

Hearing this, Yanluo suddenly understood why the little reaper was so weary of the world.

Would someone as intelligent and powerful as Thanatos truly be deceived and imprisoned by a mere mortal?

The whole story was suspicious. Zeus had stolen the river god’s daughter, and Sisyphus had exposed her location. How was that Sisyphus’ fault? Yet Zeus sent Thanatos to kill him. Would someone as kind as Thanatos really carry out such an unjust order without question?

What if he had let himself be captured?

What if, for ten long years, he had used that imprisonment as an excuse to abandon his duties? However, upon seeing the human world descend into increasing chaos, he realized that death was indispensable. Even though he still didn’t want to face the sorrow of parting, he endured the criticism and obediently returned to his post.

Wrapped in a black robe, he concealed not only his fears but also boundless tenderness.

Yanluo, too, bore the weight of his own position. Although their duties were not identical, he could, to some extent, understand Thanatos’ burden.

In China, people revered ghosts and gods, never daring to curse them outright. At most, they would grumble about the heavens’ injustice. Though the roles of the God of Death and Impermanence Immortals were similar, they were treated very differently. The Impermanence Immortals were merely seen as messengers to guide spirits to the afterlife. Thanatos, however, was considered as the embodiment of death itself.

But was that truly fair? The fates of Western mortals were written by the Moirai. Thanatos was simply following the script they wrote, carrying out his duty as instructed. Yet somehow, he became the scapegoat for every death.

How could he not resent it?

Yanluo finally understood. The little reaper wasn’t truly troubled by humans’ fear or hatred. What tormented him most was witnessing the endless cycle of separation, over and over again.

How could he not hate his duty?

The kindest god was burdened with the cruelest role.

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