The first thing Rei perceives is a ferrous taste in her mouth. Then her head throbs enough to make her moan. Attempting to stretch, she meets immediate resistance, her movements halted by something warm against her. 

Her eyes open wide, and she stops breathing.

The room is in the twilight. The front door is closed, allowing only a few rays of light to reach her, revealing a torso. Rei is in a bunk bed, apparently hers. Her hand is tangled in long, silky black strands, and a double row of horns accents the blue eyes that meet hers. Their bodies are pressed together, skin against skin, so she instinctively pulls away and sits up. “Oh no, no, no.”

“Good morning, love.” his voice deeper than usual. 

Ignoring him, Rei searches for answers. The blankets go down her belly, revealing her bare skin wrapped in underwear. What the fuck happened?

She recalls going for a walk in the forest, A-Yin following. They ended up at Dora's tavern, where Lì and Kahn were already there. The idiot in her bed proposed a drinking contest, and she remembers the two middle demons giving in quickly, then nothing else— “Shit, what have I done?”

“What have you done?” the demon's voice sounds amused and clear, even if a little weighed down by the sleepiness.

Rei doesn't bother looking at him and hastily throws the blankets in his face as she rushes out of bed. 

He grunts and remains sprawled on the mattress. "Come back to bed," but she growls, "Shut up."

With fast movements, the fubai grabs her clothes from the floor and gets dressed in a hurry. When she opens the door to leave, a bright light floods the room, making A-Yin curl up and shield his face with a pillow. After a few moments, he snorts and asks, “What time is it?”

“Almost noon.” A severe and disconsolate voice answers from the bed down his own.

A-Yin raises his head and squints his eyes, trying to get used to the morning’s sun. “Who did I steal the bed from?”

“Nobody, it’s hers.”

“Why are you here?”

The avalanche of questions makes Lì nervous. He stands up from the lower bunk and shoots a reproachful look at him. “This is my room too, and I have to wake up with two drunken sneers. I told you not to exaggerate, Sir. Do you know how much you drank last night?”

“No, enlighten me with your wisdom.”

“Two months of reserves! Dora is desperate.”

A-Yin chuckles and sits idly, looking at his underpants with satisfaction. “Not so drunk if I got undressed.”

Lì shakes his head; frustration is evident as he runs a hand through his hair. “Sure thing, and yet I had to take off your shoes. And the shirt, too.”

“Ah.” the leader whispers, then freezes and stares at him strangely. I don’t remember you.

The red demon turns not to look at him and says, “Hurry up and get dressed. Yesterday, you promised Kahn to assist with the training. Although I don't know what the three of you might be able to do today.” Then he walks out of the room, half-closing the door. 

As the light is softer and more bearable now, the leader stretches and slips out of the blankets, gathers his clothes, dresses calmly, and then ties his hair in a smooth braid. He remembers drinking with them, and at the end of the evening, he and Rei were so wasted that they could not stand straight. 

It’s been a few centuries since I’ve been drunk like this, he thinks as he caresses the memories of last night.

He had carried her on his shoulder to what he thought was his room and tried to strip her down with poor results. When he started to take off his clothes, he got caught in the shirt. What he remembers best is her perfume and the softness of her skin. As in a confused dream, probably nothing more has happened, but still, it’ll be fun teasing her. 

They also engaged in a brief conversation about humans. The mere thought of it casts a shadow of gloom over him. Rei must have endured some harrowing times, especially considering the fall of the RiShi clan about 170 years ago—an event deeply familiar to A-Yin. The irony of fate strikes him: who would have thought he'd end up sleeping with a survivor of the massacre?

The RiShi Pit was never a picturesque or cheerful place, but many once called it home. The air was thick with metal dust, and sunlight struggled to penetrate. People were treated with hatred, yet there were some children and families, sometimes even laughter. During the battle of Closure, a curse befell the chief clan, TaShan Yao, and his entire people, transforming them into monsters, half-human and half-demon, so the other clans took advantage of their weakness and locked them in the RiShi Pit.

During that period, A-Yin was still traversing the Rèn with a fresh cohort of demons, having recently embraced the notion of establishing a Resistance, but in 130 years was taking shape, particularly fueled by the extensive raids orchestrated in the TarTan region. Nevertheless, A-Yin retained a fondness for the casual companionship of humans, finding solace in their superficial interactions, where he could maintain a facade and avoid revealing his true nature.

Old habits die hard.

Initially, A-Yin spent a century steering clear of the gates, unwilling to get too close. Witnessing the oppression of minor demons, however, fueled his desire to return home. Yet, there was a hindrance— breaking the seal required the convergence of all blood owners of the heroes. A-Yin had secured the Quiànquian’s and one of the Duatié’s, but they proved insufficient.

A-Yin's blood rasuah allowed him to absorb the power of those he consumed, and he needed all of the descendants of the heroes. The potency of the new generations is diluted, and if the possessor doesn’t perish, their ability to control shinat reverts to the original body, rendering him unable to exploit it after a brief period.

While unable to manipulate the light power humans use, it strengthened his resistance, and his blood retained its effect on seals. Hence, he decided to hunt down all the descendants of the heroes. At the time, the Taijàng were the easiest prey, so he figured out a way to infiltrate the RiShi Pit alone and take all the blood of that clan’s hero. Besides, fubais lived longer, so the power he needed was still dense. Rumor had it that she was the direct descendant of Tashan Yao, making her a very tempting prey.

Inflicting chaos and orchestrating raids, he manipulated humans into believing that the demonic resistance was concealed within the RiShi Pit—an idea that seemed plausible given the corrupted clan's cohabitation with demons in that vicinity. The pervasive corruption had transformed them into entities more akin to demons than humans, to the extent that they were acknowledged as a distinct race.

With the arrival of human forces, it was easy enough for A-Yin to infiltrate by changing his appearance. That was the time when he was experimenting a lot with the blood mark. He made a mistake branding a general named Mayka, who led the expedition. The woman was conscious the whole time, and he didn’t realise it.

A fierce confrontation ensued, spiraling out of control.

Amidst the pandemonium, a fateful decision was made to ignite fires, shrouding the entire area in consuming flames. The once-harsh cries of confusion and chaos now echoed with the sorrowful crackling of the inferno, marking the tragic demise of the clan. Luckily, the demon managed to trace, in extremis, a bearer of the blood of the heroes—a golden-eyed fubai alone in her house. Likely Rei's mother, judging by her age and appearance. The child wasn't present, or he would have devoured her too. Unaware that she had a daughter, A-Yin was astounded when he found her standing before him, pounding on his door, unknowingly seeking to open the same gates for which her grandfather had been corrupted.

These memories leave a subtle bitterness lingering in his mouth. Inexperience and impatience proved to be the perfect recipe for numerous challenges, but those times are now mere water under the bridge. With Shaka’s mask, he asserts control over the humans, and with A-Yin's, he manages the demons. The unexpected element of the fubai adds a touch of brightness to his days, nothing more.

There's no benefit in dwelling on the past. 

Moving forward with a swift and resolute pace, he heads outward, a serene expression masking a closed chapter of his story.