I am NOT a Demon Queen!

Cars moved through the streets below, headlights passing between the buildings. A bus pulled away from a stop. Someone shouted in the distance, followed by the honk of a car.

Su Yao rested her arms against the rooftop railing. After a moment, she glanced toward the spot where Wang Liang had vanished. There was nothing there except a faint wisp of smoke drifting across the concrete.

“At least he left without another speech.”

She turned back toward the city, and her phone buzzed in her pocket. The FFF group chat flashed as she pulled it out.

Kayo: Hey. Weird question. Did anyone run into a tall and gloomy guy yesterday who claimed to be their husband?

Kayo: The guy looked really excited to see me then get super disappointed when I introduced myself as Da Ji. He said he was looking for Xie Jing.

Kayo: I thought it was a dream. But my dreams are always r-rated. This had zero naughty scenes. How boring. So it must have been real.

Kayo: @Xie Jing. You got a husband you forgot about?

A moment passed. Xie Jing’s response appeared.

Xie Jing: ...A husband? I don’t... I can’t remember.

Su Yao typed a reply.

Su Yao: His name is Wang Liang. He just left after mistaking me for you. I sent him away.

Kayo: LOL What a loser. Can’t even tell his wives apart. What did you tell him?

Su Yao: I told him to find a new wife and have children. He agreed.

Xie Jing: Wang Liang...? That name... it feels... familiar? But it’s like a word on the tip of my tongue. It’s gone.

Kayo: Well, he’s your problem. My love life is complicated enough without husbands from a thousand years ago popping up.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with a private message from Zhang Wei.

Zhang Wei: The Deep Prince’s paperwork is processed. He’s officially a Level 3 Consultant. What do you want me to do with him?

Xiao Ling: Assign him to monitor the comet’s effect on coastal spiritual pressure. It’s a real job. It will keep him busy and useful.

Zhang Wei: Understood. I’ll have him report directly to the oceanic monitoring station. I will update you if there are significant developments.

The connection closed. Silence returned to the rooftop, broken only by the traffic below. Su Yao stood alone.

Listen to her.

The thought surfaced in Xiao Ling’s voice.

You heard what Xie Jing said during the study session about the person you used to be. The one who believed true strength was kind. You need to accept that was also you.

Su Yao’s jaw tightened. She remembered Xie Jing’s perfect mimicry of her ancient self and the accusation that Li Xuan had stolen her line and philosophy.

She wasn’t lying, the inner voice said. That idealistic fool was part of you. Denying her is like denying me. We are all here, in this soul. You need to stop running from the pieces of yourself you find inconvenient.

Su Yao listened. She had once watched Kayo livestream a game called Persona where arguing with one’s own true self caused it to manifest as a monstrous Shadow that tried to kill you. The idea that denial led to self-destruction was sound.

I’m not a ‘Shadow.’This isn’t a video game.

“Noted,” Su Yao muttered aloud. The analytical part of her mind agreed with the premise. Continual internal conflict was impractical. Acknowledging the fractured pieces of her identity was the path of least resistance toward functional cohesion.

Her phone buzzed again with another message in the FFF chat.

Kayo: So is anyone going to deal with Xie Jing’s ex-husband or what? He’s probably still wandering around looking all heartbroken. It’s killing the vibe.

Yuzuriha: He just found me and confessed his undying love, saying I was his destined one.

Kayo: SERIOUSLY?! That was fast! What did you do?

Yuzuriha: I told him I’m already married. And that I’ve a daughter. He looked... crushed. Then he vanished into a puff of smoke. It was very dramatic.

Kayo: BAHAHAHA! This guy is the worst! He just goes down the list? First Su Yao, then me, now you?

Su Yao: It seems his ‘eternal love’ was remarkably transferable. A flaw in his original design.

Kayo: A flaw? It’s hilarious! I hope he finds Baoqing next. She’d charge him a consultation fee for his emotional baggage.

Yuzuriha: He did seem genuinely distressed. But my husband would be upset if I brought home a stray ancient entity. The paperwork alone would be a nightmare.

Su Yao: His distress is his own to manage. He is no longer our problem.

Xie Jing: Why are so many mortals and immortals obsessed with us foxes? I just don’t get it.

Yuzuriha: Because we do make excellent wives and mothers. If treated with respect and loyalty, a fox’s devotion is unwavering. We are clever and can be very nurturing. My husband and daughter would agree.

Su Yao: That’s a foolish way of thinking. Anyone can be a ‘good wife’ or ‘good mother’ if they’re treated well and choose to return that kindness. It’s about mutual respect and understanding. His obsession is with the myth he wants to own.

Kayo: Su Yao’s right. He wants a trophy. A shiny, mythical creature to put on his arm to prove how great he is. It’s pathetic.

Yuzuriha: ...I suppose that is also true. The good ones, like my husband, are rare.

Xie Jing: So it’s about an idea. That... actually makes me feel a little better about forgetting him.

Su Yao opened a news app on her phone. The headline article was about the Tsuchinshan-ATLAS comet. Scientists confirmed it would be visible in the night sky. They reiterated it posed no threat of collision with Earth. The article debunked theories that it was an alien spacecraft, calling such speculation ‘baseless.’

She scoffed and closed the app. The mortal world was so easily frightened by things outside their understanding. Their attempts to rationalize everything were almost endearing.

Her phone buzzed with a direct message.

Zhang Wei: The Deep Prince’s report is filed. Initial reports show a 5% increase in ambient spiritual pressure along the coastline, correlating with the comet’s approach.

Su Yao: Continue monitoring. Report any anomalies that exceed predictable models.

Zhang Wei: Understood.

A new message popped up in the FFF chat.

Kayo: So if the comet isn’t going to hit us and it’s not aliens, then what’s the big deal? Why are all the big factions freaking out?

Su Yao: Because they are fools who believe power must always have a malevolent purpose. They can’t comprehend that a cosmic event might be indifferent to them.

Xie Jing: The cosmos should be indifferent. That is its nature. A great being does not look down and actively seek to stomp on an ant hill. It simply does not see the ants at all. It’s only when the ants bite its foot that it might bother to brush them away.

Su Yao: A valid perspective. Their panic is a self-centered delusion. They are ants screaming at the sky, believing the sun rises and sets for them. Their fear wastes energy they will need for the actual threats.

Kayo: So we just... do nothing? Wait for the big light show and hope the noisy ants don’t start a war in our backyard?

Su Yao: We observe and prepare. Let their paranoia weaken them. It’s more effective.

She put her phone away. The comet was a spectacle. Her immediate concern was more mundane. She phased off the rooftop, reappearing in her bedroom. A stack of textbooks sat on her desk. Midterms were a more immediate challenge.

Su Yao picked up her phone and dialed Li Xiu’s number. It connected after two rings.

“Did your bodyguard receive a rabies vaccination?” Su Yao asked.

There was silence on the other end. “I... what? Yumi? Rabies?”

“My textbooks are covered in her saliva from her psychotic episode. Saliva is a transmission vector for the rabies virus. I need to know if I require a medical intervention.”

“Xiao Ling, she’s a gumiho! She doesn’t have rabies!”

“The symptoms of hypersalivation and aggressive behavior are consistent. If she isn’t vaccinated, I will have to incinerate these books and bill you for replacements.”

“She isn’t rabid!” Li Xiu said. “It was the comet’s influence! It amplified her base instincts.”

“Then make sure she controls those instincts in the future.”

Su Yao ended the call and looked at the damp-spotted textbooks. She summoned a small flame at her fingertip and passed it over the pages, sterilizing them without setting them ablaze.

As the flame passed over the corner of a page on macroeconomic theory, a heat-activated ink shimmered into view.

If you’re reading this, I’m dead. The Oprichniki got me. I knew the truth about Tunguska. They’re—

The message ended. Su Yao stared at it for a moment.

Oprichniki? Tunguska? The words meant nothing to her. Some mortal’s final words, hidden in a second-hand textbook.

She finished sterilizing the book and closed it. Her phone buzzed again.

Zhang Wei: The Deep Prince’s report is filed. The spiritual pressure increase is holding steady at 5%. No further anomalies.

Xiao Ling: Acknowledged. Continue the watch.

She put the phone down, staring at the faded writing for another second. The context was intriguing. A secret message in a textbook was at least more interesting than supply-side economics.

Su Yao picked up her phone and called Yuzuriha.

“The Oprichniki. Tunguska. Explain these terms to me,” she said, again without a greeting.

There was a brief pause on the line. “You are asking about Russian history? The Oprichniki were the secret police of the Tsar, a very brutal instrument. Tunguska was a massive explosion in Siberia over a century ago. The official cause was a meteorite, but there are many conspiracy theories.”

“And the Oprichniki? Are they still active?”

“Their public organization was disbanded long ago,” Yuzuriha replied. “But in my time in Harbin, we heard whispers that the core of the Oprichniki never truly went away. They just went deeper into the shadows. I’ve no proof, of course. It’s just rumor.”

“Understood.” Su Yao ended the call.

So the writer believed they were killed by the enduring secret police of the Russian Empire for knowing the truth about an ancient explosion.

She filed it away and opened her textbook to study.

A thought occurred to her. She sent a quick text to Zhang Wei.

Xiao Ling: Add a task. Have someone pull the current operational file on the Jinyiwei. I want to see their activity report regarding the comet. Don’t alert them.

Zhang Wei: The Jinyiwei? Xiao Ling, they haven’t existed since the fall of the Ming Dynasty. Emperor Hongxian never saw a need to reestablish them. They’re a historical relic.

Su Yao read the message. It was easy to forget which obsolete mortal institutions had actually dissolved and which had merely rebranded.

Xiao Ling: Very well. Disregard that. Focus the investigation on modern intelligence agencies with known occult divisions. Start with the ones belonging to the Russian Empire. The Oprichniki appear to be active, and they are taking an interest in the comet.

Zhang Wei: At this point, it would be far easier to list the intelligence agencies who aren’t interested in the comet. Our global monitoring indicates heightened activity across all major and minor powers. It’s a universal pattern.

The ants were indeed swarming, all convinced the sky was falling.

Xiao Ling: Then continue general monitoring. No direct intervention is required unless their activities directly threaten the city’s structural integrity or my peace.

Zhang Wei: Preliminary analysis indicates the only entities showing no interest in the comet are nations or groups currently engaged in intense localized conflicts.

Zhang Wei: For example, Thailand and Cambodia are too preoccupied with their border dispute. And, according to our data, the Australian government remains primarily focused on its ongoing century-long tactical struggle against the Emu population.

She stared at the message for a full three seconds. The second example was idiotic.

Xiao Ling: Emus? The flightless birds?

Zhang Wei: They have proven to be a strategically resilient opponent. The conflict is a significant drain on resources and attention.

An almost imperceptible sigh escaped Su Yao’s lips.

Xiao Ling: Noted. Continue monitoring. Alert me if the emus develop spaceflight.

The apartment door clicked open. Nohime stepped inside, her arms laden with grocery bags. Her gaze swept over the overturned furniture and the lingering scent of foxfire.

“The comet’s influence was particularly strong here, I see,” she said, placing the bags neatly on the one clear spot on the kitchen counter.

She then hung her coat. “My apologies for the delay. I was detained at the market. A young master from the fallen Lingyun Sect challenged me to a duel over the last basket of discounted winter melon.”

Nohime unpacked the groceries. “He was exceptionally arrogant for someone whose sect can no longer afford full-price vegetables. I left him frozen to a produce display. The store manager gave me an additional ten percent off for removing the nuisance.”

Su Yao looked up from her textbook. “The factions are monitoring the comet with unusual intensity. Do you have any insight?”

Nohime placed a carton of eggs in the refrigerator. “I’ve seen this pattern before. During the Kyōhō period, a comet passed. The official records called the unrest in Edo a riot.”

The snow woman closed the refrigerator door. “The truth was different. People moved with a single mind, attacking anything living. They were like zombies.”

She turned to face Su Yao. “In Europe, a different comet once caused a dancing plague. People danced without rest until their feet were raw and their hearts failed. They could not stop. Some comets aren’t merely lights in the sky. Their influence varies. The smart ones watch closely to see which one this will be.”

Su Yao closed her textbook. “What is your assessment of this specific comet?”

Nohime finished storing the last of the groceries. “This one should be harmless. Its energy signature lacks the corrosive quality of the historical events I described. It may amplify emotions, but it will not rewrite wills or command bodies.”

Su Yao considered Nohime’s words. The comet itself might be inert, but the fear it generated was a tangible force capable of causing its own catastrophe.

She picked up her phone and sent a new command to Zhang Wei.

Xiao Ling: Issue a public statement through controlled channels. Confirm the comet is scientifically harmless. Frame it as a beautiful celestial event. Suppress doomsday narratives aggressively. The panic is now a greater threat than the comet.

Zhang Wei: Understood. We’ll initiate a counter-disinformation campaign immediately.

Su Yao returned to her textbook. She had plugged the leak of irrational fear. Now, she needed to pass her exam after the comet’s influence caused her to forgot everything she learned.

She studied through the night. The equations and theories provided a framework that demanded total focus. As the first light of dawn filtered through the window, her phone vibrated on the desk. The screen showed Ashiya Dōman’s name. She answered.

“The main campus building burned down last night,” Dōman said. “An electrical fault, they said. The administration has declared all midterms for the semester canceled. Everyone passes by default. No exams are required.”

“An electrical fault,” Su Yao repeated. “And is this this cancellation an actual rule, or did you fabricate it?”

“It is an actual rule,” Dōman replied. “Force majeure. An unforeseeable circumstance that prevents the fulfillment of a contract. In this case, the contract of education. The building is ash. Therefore, no exams.”

“A convenient rule,” Su Yao mused. “And the fire itself. You are certain it was an accident? If this rule is widely known, it provides a powerful motive. A student, perhaps amplified by the comet’s emotional resonance, could have decided to expedite their academic success.”

There was a brief pause on the line. “If it was arson,” Dōman said. “I’ve a verifiable alibi. My mother was with me the entire evening. Besides, I would never engage in something so crude. I prefer more elegant solutions to problems.”

Su Yao’s grip tightened on the phone. “I didn’t suspect or accuse you. I was merely exploring the logical possibilities. Why are you presenting an alibi so defensively?”

Dōman sighed. “Really? Forgive my presumption, but suspecting me for things I haven’t done is usually your first instinct. It’s a refreshing change to be wrong.”

“Recent events have changed things,” Su Yao said. “The incident with Yumi showed that raw instinct can be messy. It’s more rational to analyze before acting.”

“Ah,” Dōman replied. “You fought the gumiho. So the fox who nearly lost her liver has decided to use her brain before her claws. A novel strategy. I look forward to seeing how long it lasts.”

“The strategy will last as long as it proves useful,” Su Yao said. “Now, regarding the fire. If it was not you, then the list of suspects with both the capability and a motive remains manageable. I will begin my own analysis.”

“By all means,” Dōman said. “Do try not to set anything else ablaze in the process. I’ve grown accustomed to this campus.”

“You don’t seem particularly distressed about the destruction of the campus,” Su Yao said.

“Why would I be?” Dōman said. “I completed my primary objective weeks ago after copying every text in the library. The physical building was merely a shell. Its loss is an inconvenience.”

“How convenient,” Su Yao acknowledged. “Then your studies are unaffected.”

“Entirely. My focus can now shift to more pressing matters. Like determining who actually burned it down. It’s a curious incident.”

“Indeed. I will begin my investigation from the ashes. Don’t interfere.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dōman said, and the line went dead.