I am NOT a Demon Queen!

A sense of restless purpose unfurled in Su Yao’s chest, urging her toward the next disruption waiting to be found. She stepped out of the library. The heavy door clicked shut behind her. Without breaking stride, she pulled out her smartphone. Her thumbs flew over the screen as she opened the FFF chat group.

Su Yao: Does anyone know the identity of Ashiya Dōman’s mother? I need details on the attack against her. Can she be contacted?

The response was almost immediate.

Yuzuriha: That would be me, dear. And there’s no need for details. I left the fool who attacked me alive. Why bother with killing? They’ll die soon enough from old age, sickness, or some mundane accident. It’s all so pointless.

Su Yao: Pointless? But they targeted you. They are part of a network hunting our kind. Your sentimentality leaves loose ends.

Yuzuriha: Loose ends? Child, when you’ve lived as long as I’ve, you learn that vengeance is a tedious hobby. Let the universe handle its own cleanup. I’ve better things to do, like tending my bonsai garden.

Kayo: LOL! Mama Yuzu is too chill for this! But Su Yao has a point! These black robes are like cockroaches! Need to stomp them all!

Yuzuriha: Tamamo, please. Violence is so undignified. And Su Yao, if you’re so eager, handle it yourself. But don’t expect me to hold a grudge. It’s bad for my complexion.

Su Yao’s eyes narrowed at the screen. She typed back, her fingers striking the keys with sharp precision.

Su Yao: Your inaction endangers others. I require any information you have on the attacker’s appearance, methods, or affiliations. Now.

Yuzuriha: Oh, very well. He was a man in black robes who used a dagger that felt cold and unpleasant like all the others. But really, it was over in a moment. I shooed him away. Now, if you’ll excuse me. My tea is getting cold.

Su Yao: This tells me nothing new. Cold daggers and black robes are their standard issue. Where did the attack happen? If it was in Harbin, their operational range is broader than my initial intelligence suggested.

Yuzuriha: Duwang, dear. I was leaving the university after parents’ day. Such a tedious affair, but one must support one’s children. The attack was in the parking lot.

Su Yao: Did the attacker say anything?

Yuzuriha: Oh, he shouted something dreadfully cliché. “Die monster, you don’t belong in this world!” Really, such a lack of originality. I almost felt sorry for him.

Su Yao’s jaw tightened. She snapped the phone shut, cutting off any further useless philosophizing.

“Zhang Wei,” she barked into her comms unit. “The prisoner. The one from my apartment. Is he still in holding?”

“Affirmative,” Zhang Wei’s voice came through, laced with static and weariness. “Cell 3. Low-priority. Awaiting psych eval and reassignment.”

“Reassignment is canceled. I’m conducting an interrogation. Now. Meet me there.”

Her form flickered, phasing through the solid walls of the university library. She reappeared outside a nondescript government building across the city in the space of a single breath. Zhang Wei was already there, looking harried.

“Xiao Ling, protocol requires—” he started.

As she walked past him, the security doors hissed open before her. “Protocol requires results. This one has outlived his usefulness as a prisoner. He will serve as an intelligence source.”

She strode into the sterile white interrogation room. The black-robed assassin looked up. His eyes were wide with fear. The specialized dagger she’d confiscated lay on the table between them.

Su Yao placed her palms on the table, leaning into his space. “Your organization attacked a fox spirit in the parking lot of Duwang University after a parents’ day. The attacker shouted, “‘Die monster, you don’t belong in this world!’” Her voice was flat. “Who was the operative?”

The man stammered, “I don’t know! We work in cells! I don’t know every mission!”

“Wrong answer.” Su Yao’s hand shot out. The air around his head condensed, squeezing like a vice.

“The phrase. It’s distinctive and unprofessional, the rantings of a fanatic. Who in your cell is known for such lack of originality?”

“Gao! It was Brother Gao!” the man choked out. His face turned purple. “He always says that! Every time! He was assigned to the Duwang area last month!”

“Appearance?”

“Tall! Skinny! A mole under his left eye! He chews betel nut constantly!”

Su Yao released the pressure. The man gasped, slumping forward.

She turned to Zhang Wei. “Cross-reference all student and faculty records for Duwang University for a male with tall, thin build and distinctive mole under the left eye. Check for any disciplinary records related to betel nut.”

Zhang Wei, already typing on his tablet, nodded. “On it. The description is specific. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Good.” Su Yao’s gaze returned to the prisoner, cold and final. “He is now redundant.”

“Wait,” the prisoner began.

Su Yao made a slight flicking motion with her fingers. A tiny spark of foxfire shot from her fingertip. It struck the man’s forehead. His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed, unconscious.

“He will sleep for a week. When he wakes, he will remember nothing of this place. He will believe he is a humble accountant who suffered a nervous breakdown.” She looked at Zhang Wei. “Have him processed and released accordingly. This was a waste of a cell.”

The tablet in Zhang Wei’s hand chimed. He looked down. His eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed in frustration. “I’ve a match. The description fits a post-graduate student named Ma Guo. He worked in the campus logistics office.” He scrolled, his brow furrowing. “But he’s dead. A hit-and-run two days ago near the west gate took his life. The case is already closed and deemed an accident.”

Su Yao’s cold smile vanished. An expression of icy contemplation replaced it. “An accident? How convenient.”

“They are tying up loose ends,” Zhang Wei stated. The implication was clear. “The black robes knew we could trace the operative from the failed attack on Yuzuriha so they eliminated him before we could.”

“Or he was eliminated for his failure,” Su Yao corrected. Her voice was flat. “The attack on a target of Yuzuriha’s caliber, using such a blatant phrase, was an amateurish mistake. Their organization has quality control. They cull their weak.”

She turned and strode from the interrogation room. Zhang Wei fell into step beside her. “So the trail is cold?”

“Cold? I don’t think si. It’s merely redirected.” Su Yao’s mind worked with brutal efficiency. “This confirms their cell is highly organized and has infiltrated the university’s administrative functions. They knew about Ma Guo’s identity and his termination required access to his schedule and movements.”

She stopped in the hallway, turning to him. “Pull all traffic camera footage from the incident. I want to see the vehicle. Cross-reference the logistics office staff list with any other disciplinary records or personnel complaints. Anyone who had a grievance with Ma Guo or anyone who accessed his file after the attack on Yuzuriha could be involved.”

“The traffic division will require a formal request,” Zhang Wei began.

“Then make it formal!” Su Yao’s voice cracked like a whip. “Or shall I enter their server room and take it? Their incompetence in misplacing a contained Deep Prince is leverage. Use it.”

“Understood.” Zhang Wei nodded, already pulling out his comms device. “I’ll have the footage and personnel records within the hour.”

“Good. And Zhang Wei,” she added. Her gaze was piercing. “Find out who closed the case on Ma Guo’s ‘accident’ so quickly. I wish to have a word with them about their investigative rigor.”

Zhang Wei’s comms device buzzed. He listened for a moment. His expression turned grim. “The traffic footage is in. The vehicle that hit Ma Guo was an ambulance responding to a call, lights and sirens active. He stepped into the crosswalk without looking left or right and walked directly into its path.”

Su Yao’s lip curled. “Natural selection in its purest form. This isn’t America, where an ambulance driver might purposely hit a pedestrian to generate a lucrative patient. Here, it’s merely a case of stupidity on the part of the pedestrian.”

She paused, tapping a finger against her arm. “But the timing is too convenient. Retrieve the ambulance’s log. I want to know the nature of the emergency call that took it on that route at that exact moment.”

Zhang Wei nodded, relaying the order. Within minutes, a new report came through. “The call was for a fainting spell at the student dormitories, a routine medical response. The crew has no prior connections to Ma Guo or the university. It checks out as a genuine coincidence.”

“Coincidence?” Su Yao’s eyes narrowed. “There are no coincidences. If the ambulance was not weaponized, then the manipulation was on Ma Guo. He was driven to that crosswalk at that precise time.”

She turned to Zhang Wei. “Pull his financials, communications, and any recent contacts. Someone made him panic, or someone ordered him to die. Find out who.”

Zhang Wei’s next report was swift. “We pulled his communications. The last outgoing message was to a female student, Cheng Lian, widely considered the most popular girl in the Faculty of Business. He confessed his feelings. The message was sent an hour before his death.”

Su Yao let out a derisive snort. “A fool’s gambit. He likely thought the worst she could say was ‘no.’ He was wrong.”

“The response was brutal,” Zhang Wei confirmed, scrolling through the transcript. “She publicly mocked him in a group chat, shared his message with screenshots, and made very specific, cutting remarks about his poverty and appearance that made him repulsive. The chat log shows he left the group immediately after and didn’t send another message.”

“Driven by humiliation,” Su Yao concluded. Her voice was devoid of pity. “Either to drink himself into a stupor, leading him to stumble into traffic, or to simply cease caring about his own survival. The black robes only needed to identify his vulnerability and apply the precise pressure. They used this Cheng Lian as their unwitting weapon.”

She turned, her decision made. “This Cheng Lian. She is either a recruited asset, conditioned to target specific individuals, or she is a naturally cruel individual whose tendencies the black robes identified and exploited. Bring her in. We will determine which.”

“On what grounds?” Zhang Wei asked. “We can’t arrest someone for being rude.”

“On the grounds of being a person of interest in a national security matter involving a clandestine organization hunting non-human entities,” Su Yao stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If she is innocent, the interrogation will be brief. If she is not, then her usefulness is at an end. Zhang Wei, locate her. Now.”

“A moment, she’s not in the city. Her social media and travel records show she’s on vacation in Nova Moskva.”

Su Yao’s brow furrowed slightly. “Nova Moskva? Where is that?”

“Formerly Canggu, Badung Regency,” Zhang Wei clarified, looking up from his tablet.

“I still don’t know where that is.”

“It’s located on an island north of Australia, a tourist destination. It seems Cheng Lian is an influencer with a substantial following. She’s currently vlogging her entire stay there.”

Su Yao’s expression cleared. A look of utter contempt replaced her momentary confusion. “An influencer? That explains the performative cruelty. The deceased’s humiliation was content for her, a story to tell her followers.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Forget her. Don’t bother with an interrogation. She would simply turn the entire encounter into another vlog.”

Zhang Wei frowned, scrolling through the data on his tablet. “But what if Ma Guo’s death really was just an accident? A tragic combination of humiliation and bad timing? The ambulance’s crew was doing their duty and he did step out without looking.”

Su Yao’s eyes narrowed, but then the memory of Yuzuriha’s casual dismissal in the FFF chat surfaced.

“Yuzuriha,” Su Yao muttered, pulling out her phone and typing rapidly into the FFF group.

Su Yao: @Yuzuriha You said you let the attacker live because he would die anyway. What did you actually do to him? You didn’t just let him walk away, did you?

Yuzuriha: Oh, dear. I really didn’t do anything to him. All I did was tell my binbōgami friend to follow him for a while. That’s all.

Su Yao stared at the screen.

Su Yao: Binbōgami? What is that?

Yuzuriha: You know, a poverty god? A little spirit that attracts misfortune? I asked one to cling to him just to make sure his life became sufficiently unpleasant. It worked a bit too well this time, I suppose.

Su Yao looked up at Zhang Wei. Her expression was grim. “It was no accident. Yuzuriha had a binbōgami attach itself to him. It amplified his misfortune, leading to his humiliation and eventual death.”

Zhang Wei’s shoulders slumped. “So the black robes aren’t responsible for his death? Then we’re back to square one. We still don’t know who’s running the campus cell.”

“Correct,” Su Yao said. Her voice was cold. “This was a dead end caused by external spiritual interference. The black robes may have manipulated the social situation, but the final trigger was unrelated. I’m no closer to identifying their leader.”

She straightened. Her gaze swept across the campus outside the window. “Then I will cease active hunting for now. I will become what I’m supposed to be, a student. I will attend classes, blend in, and wait. They will show themselves eventually. And when they do, I will be there.”

“But what about the girl?” Zhang Wei asked. “The one they targeted? You can’t just wait while they might go after another victim.”

“My primary goal is to prevent more deaths like hers,” Su Yao replied. “I will monitor the student body closely. Any sign of their activity, I will intercept. But without a clear target, rushing in blindly is pointless. I will use my access to watch and wait.”

She turned and walked away from Zhang Wei. Her form blended seamlessly into the stream of students changing classes. For the next few hours, she was a ghost in the machine. She sat in the back of a lecture hall on macroeconomic theory.

Her eyes scanned the hundreds of students, sensing nothing but mundane academic anxiety. She wandered through the library. Her spiritual perception was a passive radar, finding only the faint flickers of minor spirits and the concentrated will of studious minds.

The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the quadrangles. Having detected no threats, Su Yao decided the patrol was over for the day. She phased from the center of campus, reappearing moments later in the alley behind her aunt’s apartment.

She entered to find the home spotless. A chill hung in the air. Nohime, the Yuki Onna, was meticulously scrubbing the stove. A light frost formed on the metallic surfaces around her hands.

“You are late,” Nohime stated without turning around. Her voice was like the whisper of a winter wind. “Your aunt called. There is leftover mapo tofu in the refrigerator. I attempted to reheat it, but my touch complicates electrical appliances.”

Su Yao glanced at the microwave, which now had a delicate, frosted-over control panel. “Noted. Don’t attempt to use the toaster.”

She opened the fridge, retrieved the container, and ate the spicy tofu cold. Its complex flavors were a stark contrast to the sterile, chilled atmosphere of the kitchen. She could feel the subtle, watchful presence of the various wards and seals she had placed around the apartment, all undisturbed. The black robes hadn’t come here.

This was the new routine, a waiting game. She would be the patient student by day, the silent guardian by night, until the enemy inevitably made a mistake and showed their hand.

The next day, classes passed by as normal. Su Yao sat through a lecture. Her eyes scanned the room for any hint of malice or hidden intent. Nothing. The students around her doodled, took notes, or scrolled through their phones.

Either the black robes were laying low, or they had already finished their objective here and moved on. The thought grated on her, but she maintained her calm façade.

During a break between classes, she leaned against a wall in the hallway, sipping from a water bottle. Her phone vibrated. A message from Zhang Wei.

“No new anomalies in campus security feeds. The dean is behaving normally.”

Su Yao typed a quick reply. “Continue monitoring. Focus on any students with sudden changes in behavior or unexplained absences.”

Her phone buzzed again, this time with an incoming call. The ID flashed Bai Lang. Su Yao answered. Her tone was flat.

“What?”

“Hey, Su Yao! Stop brooding in some lecture hall and come hang out,” Bai Lang’s voice crackled, energetic and unbothered. “There’s an old friend in town. I think you’ll want to meet her.”

Su Yao’s grip on the phone tightened slightly. “An old friend? Name them.”

“Not over the phone! You think the lines are secure? Meet me at the usual spot by the river in an hour. Don’t be late, or I’ll start without you.” The line went dead.

For a moment, Su Yao stared at the phone before shoving it into her pocket. An ‘old friend’ could mean anything from a fellow ancient spirit to a trap. But Bai Lang’s instincts, however unhinged, were rarely wrong about tangible threats. This was more promising than waiting for an enemy that might not show.

She phased from the hallway, reappearing instantly in her apartment to change out of her student disguise. Whatever this was, it beat watching paint dry in a classroom.