Andy felt like he was going to be sick. His entire present was distilled to the haze fogging his head, the knot twisting his stomach, and the food box weighing down his hands. He barely registered his legs, didn't walk so much as floated back and forth between the kitchens and examinee cells, delivering candidates’ breakfasts while constantly darting furtive glances at his surroundings. He avoided direct eye contact. Every passing gaze was a wordless accusation, every mumbled greeting a veiled threat. Every guard, colleague, and servant cognizant of his culpability. Maybe it was all in his head? It must be all in his head.

But a group of proctors encircled another and proceeded to speak in hushed tones, their shoulders rounded and tense. A bevy of armed guards marched across his path, their pace brisk and unsynchronized. It can’t be all my imagination, can it? Wracked by indecision, not knowing whether to run or keep his head down, Andy barely squeezed into the shadows of Erkang’s cell before breaking down.

He pressed his back against an interior wall and quietly hyperventilated, sagging to the ground. Her fair oval face peeking into view was vaguely bracing, even if it did regard him with alarmed concern. Outside a pair of deputy examiners hurried past, muttering about Lord Ma. They were followed by several more proctors and guards, and the watchtower diagonally across the way was left unmanned, affording a rare opportunity to speak unmonitored.

“What happened to the chief examiner?” Erkang asked in a subdued voice. In a corner cell spanning merely one meter by one and a half, with neighbors on two sides of thin walls, discretion was still paramount even if they were left unguarded. It didn’t seem the news about Lord Ma had reached the other candidates yet. At least, no sounds of disruption could be heard, which meant a lack of distraction to hide behind. She stared at Andy expectantly.

A few hours ago he had prodded Lord Ma’s body once, twice. Checked for breathing and pulse. When he found no signs of life he had walked out of the room in a daze. Simply left without looking back, across the threshold, past the guards, down the stairs, numbly nonchalant. Struggling to fully comprehend what had occurred.

It wasn't until he reached his room and closed the doors that the gravity of the situation caught up with him. Then his anxiety flared, sharp and relentless. Keeping him awake until daybreak, tightly wound and jumping at every sound as thoughts swarmed: Is that them? Have they come for me at last? Should I run? Where should I go? Can I even escape this compound? How far can I even hope to reach before primordial destruction?

To further complicate matters, the last ritual mark remained. Andy couldn't believe his eyes at first. He had rubbed it, scrubbed it, scratched it raw. But the red line stayed vibrantly clear, tracing up his left arm, skirting his shoulder, reaching out teasingly close to his heart only a few short inches away. He had been so sure of the curse’s final target. Had committed murder for it and yet it remained. Why won't it go away? Lord Ma was dead. The cause of Mr. Liu’s torment and suffering was dead! What more did it want?

“A useless tragedy,” Andy muttered sullenly, opening his robes to show the mark’s progression.

Erkang maneuvered off the plank that served as a seat, bringing a small oil lamp close to supplement the dim morning light. She scrutinized his skin, nodded once, and returned to her desk. “Fortunately, we still have the imperial commissioner to carry us through,” she commented.

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“What?” Andy blurted, taken aback.

“The examination will continue,” she repeated blithely. “Nothing shall interfere with the esteemed process, especially this close to the end.” She gave him an indecipherable look. As if to underscore her words, a proctor appeared outside, shouting at nearby candidates who had finally caught wind of a disturbance to cease their buzzing inquiries and return to task.

Andy was thrown into a tumult. He hadn’t expected a direct response but neither did he expect one so left field. But what could he even expect, under circumstances he did not fully understand? His mother had been a cautionary tale. She never said she cared, about the incidents that befell her or the forces driving them. Maybe she did once, a long time ago.

But Andy was still youthful and he cared fully and deeply. About being kept in the dark and everything that’s led up to this point. About how the girl in front of him was always on the periphery of each major event. About why he failed the one time he had acted outside her influence. He didn't even know her name. What was her real name? Would she tell him if he asked? Would he believe her if she answered?

Manically, he squeezed in beside her at the desk, grabbed paper and brush and hurriedly scribbled a note that he pushed over: Did you have a hand in Mr. Liu’s death?

The girl regarded the question for a prolonged moment. So long that Andy feared she wouldn’t respond when she dipped another brush in ink and tentatively painted a few characters: That’s difficult to say. She then hunched over the paper and added more firmly: I believe he had made up his mind before we met. Sacrificing his soul to help me attain juren rank was just a final blow at the chief examiner before parting.

Andy scrawled back furiously: I was summoned to help you cheat? Why didn't you say so?

This time her response was immediate: Why would I tell a vengeance demon the truth?

Unthinking, Andy dashed off: I am not a veng– then stopped. Sadness seeped through, sudden and swift, upon realizing she had only ever seen him as such.

A bone-deep weariness overtook him then, the culmination of the last few nerve-racking hours. He slumped in his seat with a weak sigh, crumpled beneath layers of secrets and lies, conspiracy and subterfuge. He was beginning to suspect he had just traded one set of triggers for another, and wasn't sure he could go back to living like this. He wanted to be medicated. He wanted to see his sisters. And yet…

“Thank you for delivering this meal,” Erkang spoke up. Andy glanced over to see her rooting through the food box he had left on the floor. She returned shortly with a mooncake cupped in her hands and, standing with her back to the cell opening, she split open the crumbling golden pastry, revealing a roll of rice paper lodged in the center where an egg yolk should've been. When pulled out and unfurled, passages from the Five Classics were shown, ones referenced in the third exam session.

Andy abruptly felt a peculiar sensation at his chest. He peeked under his robes and was momentarily startled, then thoroughly relieved to find the final curse mark gone. Unexpectedly, however, the surface of the wall he had sagged against earlier began shifting, shimmering, soon resolving into an entryway. He stood up in shock, staring now at two adjacent openings: one leading to a gray compound alleyway tinged by pink dawn light, the other to a green manicured lawn under a white blazing sun.

“So,” the girl said, her voice sounding both near and far, “Where are you headed?”