At the highest dais, Lady Foxfire lounged on a throne shaped like a blooming lotus, one leg draped over the armrest. Her crimson robes spilled around her, and her laughter was rich and musical as she tossed dice into the air. Famous SpiritTube anchors and ghost nobles ringed the dais, their laughter like crystal chimes.
In comparison, Eathan felt underdressed in his very normal hoodie.
As if to reinforce his caution, [Calamity Radar] pinged softly at the edge of his HUD—this time with added footnotes.
RISK INDEX: amber+
PRIMARY SOURCE: Foxfire
NOTES: Smiling.
Yeah, no kidding.
"Our mission to retrieve Mister White’s core," Eathan mumbled, leaning to Chewie, "might have just gotten significantly more complicated."
Lady Foxfire’s gaze slid toward them. Her eyes swept over Eathan’s spirit ID badge, catching the faint Tier?2 sigil still pulsing at the corner. Her painted lips curved.
“Well, well. Our newest Enlightened Phantom graces my humble little den,” she purred, voice carrying easily over the noise. “And he brought his tiny war criminal.”
Chewie’s eye twitched.
A muscular guard spirit in dark armour stepped forward, tapping his staff against the floor. The sound rang, instantly quieting the nearest tables.
“Make way for the Empress’s esteemed guests!”
Eathan winced as the crowd parted. The two of them were suddenly very conspicuous, walking down a carpet of flickering purple flames toward the raised platform.
They came to a stop at the base of Foxfire’s dais. Eathan forced a bow—awkward but passable. Chewie’s bow was a brief nod that nowhere close to qualified.
“Commander Foxfire,” he said. "We didn’t know that you were the Ember-veiled Empress.”
“Also didn’t know that Area 008’s Commander gambled,” Chewie muttered.
“My dear, 'gambling'?” Foxfire gasped, raising a hand to the heart. “Oh heavens, no. Such a pedestrian term. I prefer to think of it as a negotiation—a cultivation with fate itself.”
She winked at a nearby vixen, who giggled appreciatively, clearly familiar with the line.
“Oh? Well, okay. Sure.” Eathan smiled politer. “Anyhow, thank you for receiving us.”
Foxfire laughed. “Oh, you are well?mannered. Didn’t expect that coming from Bai Hu’s little protégés.” Her gaze lingered, though slightly sharper now. “Come, sit. We hardly get your kind here. It’s dreadfully boring when everyone is either terrified of reincarnation or pretending they’re above gambling.”
Two cushioned seats shimmered into being across from her gambling table. The table between them was circular, carved of star?studded obsidian. Eathan and Chewie exchanged a glance, then climbed up to the dais and sat.
Dice of translucent rubies rested in a gilded bowl at its center. Karma token stacks glowed faintly at Foxfire’s elbow like obedient fireflies.
She pushed the tokens aside and studied the two in front of her, chin propped in one hand.
“So,” she said. “What brings a baby Enlightened Phantom and a half?retired warlord to my door? Surely not just the food.”
Eathan inhaled slowly.
“We thought that,” he said, careful about the wording, “that if anyone in the Realm of Passing knew about… possible divine anomalies floating around here, it would be you.”
The anonymous ghost had told him they would ping him with a location once nearby, but that “nearby” had no threshold or reference point. They had less than seven days now, so it would be foolish to try to search every attraction of the Passing. The Eternal Pavilion, according to Hai Xianmo, was a site of all kinds of intel—he would need to choose the path that would optimize the little time they had.
Foxfire’s lashes lowered. For a heartbeat, her expression stilled.
Then she smiled again.
"Did you now.” She waved a dismissive hand, sinking back into plush cushions. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid reincarnation ledgers and soul traffic aren’t under my department. My jurisdiction is pleasure and culture. Much more respectable.”
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She tapped her lips, as if deep in thought. “But perhaps you should speak to Meng Po? She positively adores drowning herself in these kinds of paperwork."
“We will go to Commander Meng too, eventually,” Eathan said. “But we were told…” He met her gaze steadily. “That we could receive intel here first.”
Her fan snapped open with a quiet flick. A painted fox winked from its surface.
“You young ones,” she said, amused. “Always so eager to dive into trouble. But I'm terribly busy, as you can plainly see. Gossip cultivation requires my undivided attention."
“But—“
Behind them, one of the guards sucked in a sharp breath. “Mind your tone,” he snapped at Eathan and Chewie. “Her Excellency is the Night Market’s crown and the Radiant Tail of Area 008—”
Chewie turned her head slowly. “Radiant… tail,” she repeated.
The guard flushed. “That is her venerable title.”
“Radiant Tail,” she said again.
“Watch your tone!”
Eathan cleared his throat, cutting into the conversation before the two could flip the table altogether. “Lady Foxfire,” he tried again carefully, "with respect, you and Mister White are both Council Commanders—doesn't solidarity count for something?"
"Solidarity?”
Foxfire tilted her head, examining him as though reconsidering his existence entirely.
“A charming in theory, sure, but it doesn't exactly pay karmic bills,” she said. “Why should I inconvenience myself for Bai Hu’s sake? He’s terrible at games, owes me karmic interest, and he’s extremely difficult to dress for formal events."
Chewie’s gaze hardened. "You do remember who acted in during the Commander’s Nightmare, right? If he hadn’t broken his core, half the commanders would’ve died permanently. The Games would’ve ended in a massacre. You’d have a much quieter casino.”
At that, the room stilled.
Around them, ghost nobles shifted uneasily. No one spoke of what would have happened out loud. The air seemed to cool a few degrees.
One of the male vixens leaned in toward Foxfire, voice soft, “My Lady…”
Foxfire lifted a single finger, signalling silence. Her gaze lost its playful edge for a heartbeat. Something old and sharp flickered behind her eyes.
“It is true,” she said at last, almost to herself. “If that idiotic tiger hadn’t torn himself apart, we’d likely be dust on metaphorical wind.”
Eathan felt a tiny drop in the tension. Chewie sat straighter.
“And,” the twelve-year-old added, “if I recall correctly, Area 008 were among the few allowed into the Games early because of collaborations with Area 001’s Department of Entertainment. Some would call that generosity.”
A sharp cough interrupted before Lady Foxfire could respond. A different guard this time—a vixen spirit with eyes narrowed in cold disapproval—stepped forward.
"You would do well to remember," he huffed, gaze flicking between Eathan and Chewie, "that you are addressing Lady Foxfire, Commander of Area 008 and Divine Overseer of all karmic commerce in the Realm of Passing. A modicum of respect would not be misplaced."
Lady Foxfire merely waved a hand. "Oh, it’s quite all right. They’re Bai Hu’s babies, after all. Allowances must be made."
She reclined further, one hand drifting to stroke the jawline of the pretty male vixen at her side. He leaned into it like a well?trained cat.
Eathan managed a sheepish nod of apology, but Chewie only continued to stared at them unimpressed.
Ahead, Foxfire rubbed the tip of her hair between two fingers, then sighed.
“Generosity,” she echoed. “Is that how you interpret it? After all, he’d refused my very simple request to pretend to be my partner for two weeks to spite a particularly irritating ex.”
She clicked her tongue.
“Do you have any idea how much karmic face I lost?”
Eathan and Chewie stared at her.
The mental image slammed into Eathan’s brain with the brutality of slapstick: Taeril White—the White Tiger, the Pale Judgement himself—stoically pretending to be Foxfire’s romantic partner to make some ancient immortal jealous.
He swallowed an untimely sound that was somewhere between a horrified gasp and a hysterical laugh.
Finn and Willow would explode when they heard about this.
“I told him: ‘Come, be pretty by my side. Glare at my ex across three banquets. We both win,’” Foxfire continued airily, unbothered by neither of their visible distress.
“And he said—and I quote—‘I would rather eat my own core.’”
Eathan choked on air. Chewie squinted beside him. “That… irony.”
“Yes, well, apparently he meant it.” Foxfire sighed, flicking her fan shut. “Don’t look so scandalized, darlings. Immortality is dreadfully boring without occasional romantic espionage."
Still stuck on the “pretend romance,” Eathan tucked the piece of gossip to the back of his brain for future retrieval and cleared his throat again. "With all due respect, Lady Foxfire, if you spare us some helpful intel, Mister White will owe you even more. Isn’t that appealing?”
Just as he said that, he recoiled with a silent mutter of apology to the White Tiger.
"Tempting, I suppose.” Foxfire tapped her chin, eyes gleaming like polished amber. “But I have a reputation to uphold. And charity is simply not a part of it."
"Consider it karmic investment, then,” Chewie said.
"Karmic investment—I do like that more.”
Foxfire lounged back, eyes half?lidded, tails rippling lazily behind her. For a few breaths, she said nothing else—only watched the dice bowl, tapping one fingertip against her armrest.
“I mean,” she said finally, voice dropping a note. “It’s true I might not be sitting here if not for that judgement.” Her gaze drifted upward, toward where the trapped sky would’ve been. “I was never fond of having my existence eaten by poor design.”
She refocused on them abruptly, smile returning, a sharp, gleaming thing. “And humility,” she declared, “is one of my most dazzling traits.”
Chewie made a strangled noise. Eathan coughed into his fist.
“So,” Foxfire continued, “to honour my legendary modesty, I shall benevolently grant a hint or two… if,” she wiggled her fingers, “…you win a game with me.”
Around them, the den erupted in approving gasps.
“The Empress is so generous—”
“A live game between Tier?Twos?!”
“Stream this—no, we’ll die if we stream this—”
Chewie opened her mouth—probably to say something catastrophically honest. Eathan grabbed the back of her collar and hauled her closer before she could roll her eyes in ten dimensions.
He pitched his voice low. “We’re not insulting the woman who controls half the Passing’s black market while on a timer, okay?”
Chewie scowled but grudgingly shut her mouth.
With a smile, Foxfire scooped up a pair of carved karmic dice. “Don’t worry, my dears. It’s nothing too taxing. If you win, I'll tell you what you wish to know."
“And if we lose?” Eathan asked.
Foxfire paused. “Then perhaps Bai Hu’s little protégés would owe me a favour.”
Eathan swallowed. "What’s the game?"
Foxfire’s smile widened.
“You’ll see.”