Appearing most prominently were the ghosts, each drifting past them with silk robes trailing like coloured smoke.
Then, there were the jiangshi. A kiosk to their right boasted [NOSTALGIA NOODLES – TASTE YOUR CHILDHOOD (NO REFUNDS)]. The jiangshi behind the counter caught his eye and gave him a hopeful thumbs?up with a half?rotted glove.
Chewie sniffed. “Later.”
“…”
They turned a corner where the street widened into a plaza ringed with stalls. The smell hit him first—steam and sugar, layered with the sharp, metallic tang that had been decoupled from blood.
Up on the tiled roofs, fox spirits sauntered about, chattering into floating SpiritTube drones that captured their every laugh and wink.
Above a tea stand, a holographic projection of a smiling auntie spirit looped endlessly: Try our Melancholy Oolong! Cleanse your regrets in three sips or your karma back!
Upon turning, Eathan nearly walked into a floating delivery cart piled high with glowing packages. He side?stepped; the cart swerved; they both compensated in the same direction.
For a heartbeat they were on a collision course—until something else slammed into him instead.
He bounced off what felt like an invisible wall in human shape.
“Watch where you’re going,” a voice snapped.
Eathan staggered back, hands up automatically. The ghost he’d collided with was tall, draped in layered robes so perfectly arranged they might as well have been ironed by Li Wei during a mental breakdown. His hair was tied up with a jade clasp; his face, although handsome, had an expression like everyone around him had personally lowered his stock prices.
A badge gleamed at his chest: [T4 – Virtuous Spirit]. The characters pulsed smugly.
“Sorry,” Eathan said. “Crowded.”
The ghost’s scowl deepened as he flicked imaginary dust from his sleeves. “How dare you run into someone of my standing?”
“Wow,” Chewie muttered. “Breath can stink even in the afterlife.”
The man’s gaze snapped toward her, then dropped to their IDs. Eathan followed his gaze, glancing down at the slim plaque in his hand, which had somehow simplified itself upon officially entering the Passing.
[SPIRITUAL ID]
Name: Lin, Eathan
Status: Visitor – Provisional
Tier: —
Mortal Date of Entry: 02/22/2045
Blank—except for his name and entrance date.
The ghost's scorn grew wider.
“Oh,” he drawled, loud enough that nearby spirits actually slowed to listen. “Freshly minted Unclassifieds. How quaint.”
A couple of passersby glanced over.
“Not even Tier?6?” he continued. “That’s worse than the Common Shade ranks. There are lost housecats with better karmic standing.”
Heat prickled at the back of Eathan’s neck. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. The mission did not include starting bar fights with dead people.
Chewie, however, took one tiny, lethal step forward.
“Say that again.”
Her voice was very flat. The hand not clutching her ID had flexed, and Eathan could almost feel the phantom weight of Chi You’s blade itching to manifest.
He grabbed the back of the twelve-year-old’s collar on reflex and reeled her in half a step.
“Chewie,” he said. “We are—technically—trespassing in the cosmic downtown area. Maybe don’t stab the regulars.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “He started it.”
“Undeclared souls with no sense of etiquette.” The T4 ghost sniffed, watching the conversation unfold beneath his nose. “No wonder your tiers haven’t even been evaluated. Honestly. To come to Midnight Avenue unclassified—have you no shame?”
Eathan reflexively lifted his own ID, as if maybe squinting at it would suddenly conjure a tier. Nothing changed.
“Wanna step outside and compare karmic achievements?” Chewie said sweetly. “Oh wait. You can’t leave.”
The man bared spectral teeth. “Security!”
Several heads turned. Unfortunately, some of them belonged to actual spirit officers in navy robes loitering at the edge of the plaza, whose job descriptions probably included “Quell disturbances started by low?tier idiots.”
“Okay,” Eathan cut in, raising both hands. “We’re not causing trouble. We’re new. We’ll go get, uh, properly tiered, so the neighbourhood association can sleep at night.”
Chewie twisted free of his grip. “I don’t want to get tiered because of him,” she snapped. “I’m only getting tiered so I can come back and shove it in his face.”
“…Motivation is motivation."
Eathan's fingers twitched on instinct, trying to load [Receipt Printer] arrays in his HUD in case the twelve-year-old decided on psycho-mode anyway in the afterlife. An illusionary thermal paper icon flashed, then greyed out with a chime.
[SYSTEM] NOTIFICATION:
Qi?based skills cannot be used in the current realm!
“…Huh?”
Eathan’s eyes widened as his entire Qi Token display blurred out into static.
“Then what was the nine months' worth of aura farming for?”
Chewie shot him a quick look. “What?”
“Qi Tokens are greyed out,” he murmured. “Whole column. Only [Karma]’s showing.”
She blinked, then snorted. “Well, yeah. RoP runs on karma, not qi. You’re literally in a post?life credit score system.”
“Such manners, to be talking amongst yourselves while I’m still here,” the T4 ghost said. He swept his sleeves in a practiced swirl, robes billowing as if there were a wind just for him, and glided away with a last withering glance. “The newly dead truly lack refinement.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
The crowd’s mild interest followed him, then dispersed back into the regular noise of the Avenue. A few sympathetic looks darted their way—half pitying, half amused—before those too faded.
Chewie stood rigid for three beats, tiny fists clenched.
Then she pivoted on her heel, grabbed Eathan’s wrist, and yanked.
He stumbled after her. “Where are we going?”
“Tier?classification—as we agreed on,” she snapped. “I am not spending seven days being looked down on by glorified dead accountants.”
***
The Bureau of Karmic Affairs looked exactly like what Eathan would expect from a soul spreadsheet.
The building rose at the Avenue’s far end: an elegant tower of black glass, its surface etched with constellations. Lavender incense curled around them as they stepped through the door. Inside, the lobby was all hovering lanterns. Soft light pooled over rows of pristine counters, each occupied by a clerk in robes, their expressions suspended between mild serenity and terminal boredom.
A grand floating directory hovered near the entrance. Columns of glowing script listed services:
MEMORY RETRIEVAL APPLICATIONS
EXPRESS REINCARNATION QUEUES (Tier Verification Required)
EMOTIONAL DEBT CONSOLIDATION
LOST SPIRITUAL ID REPLACEMENT – Inquire Within
"Conveniently bureaucratic," Chewie muttered, arms folded as she read. "Who knew being dead involved so much fine print?"
“Commander Meng, apparently,” Eathan said. “This is her territory after all.”
As they approached the main hall, a massive projected chart rotated slowly above the central desk: six distinct tiers arrayed in a circle.
Tier 1 – Ascendant Luminary
Nearly mythical; divinity?adjacent. The descriptions scrolled like ad copy for enlightenment.
Tier 2 – Enlightened Phantom
Advisors, sages, celebrity ghosts. Privileges included (but were not limited to) supreme mobility, high political leverage, and exemption from most checkpoints.
And down:
Tier 3 – Noble Essence
Tier 4 – Virtuous Spirit
Tier 5 – Resolute Soul
Tier 6 – Common Shade
Occupations flashed beneath each: “Memory Artisans,” “Karmic Accountants,” even something called “Regret Collectors.” Lower tiers staffed night markets and minor offices; higher tiers wore titles and headaches.
Eathan’s eyes flickered between the chart and his [SYSTEM] interface. His HUD, still dimmed to twilight mode, blinked a bland status line in response:
[Karma]: +11560
Tier evaluation pending…
Having solid numbers meant nothing if he didn’t know the curve. Was +11560 “wow, karmic billionaire” or “congratulations, you can afford one (1) regret dumpling”?
Chewie had stopped reading. She’d already marched to the nearest open counter.
The clerk there was a middle?aged spirit with slicked?back hair and half?lidded eyes. He didn’t look up until Chewie slapped her blank ID down with more force than strictly necessary.
"Tier-classification,” she said.
The clerk blinked once, the spiritual equivalent of a sigh.
“Of course. Place your hand on the karmic resonator,” he droned, gesturing to the device built into the counter. “Remain still for evaluation.”
The “resonator” resembled a silver orb set into a lotus pedestal, inscriptions swirling on its surface. Chewie dropped her palm onto it like she was smacking a buzzer.
The orb pulsed. Symbols flared across a holo screen above their heads, characters running too fast to read. The main hall paused; a few bored souls turned to glance at the display.
After three seconds of humming, the projection snapped into clarity.
"Tier-4: Virtuous Spirit."
Nearby customers paused mid-conversation, whispers rippling through the hall. Tier 4 wasn’t unheard of, but it wasn’t exactly common either.
Eathan glanced up at the description flashing beside the label:
Tier 4 – Virtuous Spirit
Recommended Occupations: Memory Artisans, Poets, Emotional Vendors, Karmic Accountants, Spiritual Ferrymen.
Privileges: Expedited reincarnation options, limited access to exclusive Night Market sectors, baseline bureaucratic respect.
Chewie eyed the screen as if grading it.
“Hm.”
The clerk actually straightened, eyelids lifting a millimeter. “Congratulations, honoured spirit,” he recited. “Tier-4 is an admirable standing. Many would—”
“Yeah, okay,” Chewie cut in. “Print it.”
A golden thread stitched itself into her ID. [T4 – Virtuous Spirit] appeared in neat script.
She pocketed it, turning with a shark?bright smile that did not bode well for certain T4s in the near future.
“Your turn,” she said.
Eathan swallowed, stepping forward.
He had flashbacks—not to executions, but to school health screenings. The kind where they lined you up to measure your height and weight in front of the whole class, and some over?enthusiastic nurse announced your numbers loud enough to cause a week’s worth of teasing.
“Name?” the clerk asked, though it was already glowing on his ID.
“Eathan Lin,” he said. His voice came out steadier than he felt.
“Please place your hand on the resonator. Remain still. Try not to catastrophically alter your karmic reading mid?scan.”
Eathan set his palm on the silver surface. The orb was cool against his skin. It pulsed once, faintly.
Nothing happened.
It pulsed again, symbols flickering as if unsure how to proceed. The clerk frowned.
"Odd... Usually doesn’t take this—”
A low hum vibrated up through Eathan’s bones at that moment, rising like someone had cranked a subwoofer inside his fingertips. The orb’s glow leapt from soft silver to gold.
The main hall went silent.
The clerk steered back, squinting. “What in Lady Meng’s…?”
Then, without warning, the device beneath his palm erupted into a blinding surge of light like a treasure chest cracking open. The golden went from being orb-like to flooding the entire chamber. This time, the clerk pushed back from the counter altogether, nearly tumbling from his chair.
But the orb wasn’t done yet.
It thrummed even harder. A corona of golden light rushed up Eathan’s arm, fractal lines spiderwebbing beneath his skin. The holo projection above them flared white, then—
Resolved.
Above Eathan's stunned form, a text burned into existence in elegant gold:
"Tier-2: Enlightened Phantom”
The silence shattered into a collective gasp. Eathan stared up at the floating letters.
“…Huh,” he said.
Murmurs spread like wildfire. Someone behind him actually dropped their clipboard. The clerk’s previous ennui evaporated out the window. He scrambled to his feet, knocking his chair over with a bang, and nearly bowed over the counter.
“T?Tier Two…” he stammered. “Honoured spirit, p?please remain exactly where you are. I will—ah— I must fetch Director Hai immediately!”
Before Eathan could say “Please don’t,” the clerk vanished in a blur of blue robes.
Chewie was still staring at the projection, expression stuck somewhere between confused and delighted. She dragged her gaze back to him, then to the tier chart hanging over the hall.
Tier 2 – Enlightened Phantom
Recommended Occupations: Senior advisors to Lady Meng or Lady Foxfire, revered sages, celebrity spirit?tubers, top merchants.
Privileges: Supreme mobility, exemption from most bureaucratic checkpoints, strong political leverage, VIP access across Midnight Avenue.
She looked back at him, lips twitching.
“Look at you,” she said. “You overachieving holy credit score.”
Eathan felt his ears heat. His HUD helpfully chimed in at that moment:
[SYSTEM] NOTIFICATION:
Host karmic tier has been evaluated by external authority!
Updating Host [PROFILE]…
“Welcome, honoured Tier?Two,” a new voice boomed.
Eathan flinched.
A ghost in three?layered robes glided toward them, flanked by two attendants. His beard was groomed into precise, flowing curves that screamed “middle management with delusions of mythic grandeur.” He stopped a polite distance away and bowed from the waist, hands clasped.
“Hai Xianmo, Deputy Director of Initial Karmic Evaluations,” he introduced himself with a flourish. “Allow me to personally extend my warmest welcome to our rare Tier?2 Enlightened Phantom.”
“I—uh,” Eathan said. “Hi.”
Four spirit attendants materialised around him like pop?up notifications. Before he could protest, one draped an ostentatiously embroidered cloak over his shoulders. Another pressed a steaming cup of something fragrant into his hand. A third produced a stylus and holopad. The last simply beamed at him like a proud dad.
Eathan was uncomfortably reminded of Great Peng’s taste in outerwear during the Games. And that one horrible birthday in middle school when his classmates had thrown him a surprise party and everyone had sung at him while recording his reaction.
He hadn’t liked being the center of attention then either. He’d ended that party with being caked.
“Please, honoured sir, this way,” Hai Xianmo said, gesturing toward a set of doors at the side marked [VIP LOUNGE]. “We must ensure your data is accurately recorded and that you are made aware of your privileges.”
Eathan instinctively grabbed for the nearest lifeline.
“Wait,” he blurted, pointing at Chewie. “My friend—she needs to come too.”
Hai Xianmo turned, noticing her properly. Recognition flickered at the [T4 – Virtuous Spirit] etched on her ID.
"But of course," he said smoothly, bowing to Chewie as well, though more perfunctory. "The Virtuous Spirit is naturally welcome to join us. Any companion of a Tier?Two Enlightened Phantom is our honoured guest.”
Chewie’s brows climbed. She sidled closer, clearly far less bothered by the sudden upgrade.
“Welcome to your afterlife celebrity status.” She elbowed him in the ribs, as if reading his mind. “Time to embrace your inner Peng.”