The revelation that the world's magic had been bottled up like overpriced mineral water was enough to make any ancient sovereign go into a meditative trance for a decade. Unfortunately, I had a shift at Heavenly Brews Coffee at 8:00 AM.
Being an immortal in the 21st century meant that while my soul was eternal, my bank account was very much mortal.
"One venti oat milk latte, extra foam, two pumps of vanilla, and—is that a fly in the pastry case?"
I stared at the customer, a woman whose "I-want-to-speak-to-the-manager" aura was so potent it practically formed a physical barrier. Back in the day, I would have neutralized such a threat with a flick of my wrist. Now, I just adjusted my green apron.
"That's not a fly, ma'am," I said, my voice as flat as the spiritual ley lines of this city. "That is a specialized, organic raisin. It's a feature of the muffin."
I didn't tell her it was actually a low-level shadow imp attracted to the high sugar content. If I killed it here, the resulting burst of dark energy would sour the milk for three blocks.
The lunch rush was a battlefield. I moved with the "Ghost-Step" technique, weaving between espresso machines and steam wands with a grace that wasted no energy. To the mortals, I just looked like a very efficient barista. To anyone with a shred of spiritual sight, I was a blur of silver intent.
"Chen Feng! Break time!"
My coworker, Xiao Tang, slapped me on the shoulder. Tang was twenty-two, lived on energy drinks, and was convinced that I was a retired stuntman because of how I "handled the equipment."
"You okay, man?" Tang asked, leaning against the counter. "You've been staring at the steamed milk like it's a portal to another dimension."
"Just thinking about the harvest, Tang," I muttered, wiping down a portafilter.
"Right, right. Farm-to-table. I dig it," Tang said, completely misinterpreting me. "Hey, did you see the news? Some billionaire just opened a 'Clean Energy' plant downtown. They're saying it's going to power the whole district for free. Sounds sketchy, right?"
I froze. A "Clean Energy" plant that produced power out of nowhere? In a world where the natural mana was being siphoned?
"Free energy is never free," I said.
After my shift, I spent my "daily life" doing the most important task for a hidden immortal: laundry.
The laundromat was my true sanctuary. The hum of the dryers provided a white noise that masked the constant, irritating static of the city's low-grade mana. I sat on a plastic chair, reading a wuxia novel I'd bought for three dollars, scoffing at how the author described "internal alchemy."
"He felt the heat rise from his dantian like a dragon," I read aloud. "Please. It's more like a slow-cooker that's been left on the 'warm' setting for three days."
Suddenly, the lights in the laundromat flickered. A heavy, metallic scent filled the air—the same scent Mei Lin had carried.
I looked out the window. Across the street, a manhole cover was vibrating. A thin, golden vapor was seeping out of the iron cracks. This wasn't the blue, artificial energy the Bureau used. This was the raw, unrefined "Golden Dew" of the ancient heavens.
A stray cat walked through the vapor. For a split second, its tail split into three, and its eyes glowed with a terrifying, divine intelligence. Then, it hissed and bolted, its tail snapping back to normal as the vapor dissipated into the smog.
I sighed, pulling my damp socks out of the dryer.
"Great. First my vending machine, now the plumbing is leaking divinity."
If the "Silos" were overflowing into the sewers, it meant the backdraft Mei Lin warned me about wasn't years away. it was happening now. And if I didn't do something about it, my favorite laundromat was going to be the first thing to ascend to a higher plane of existence.
And I really liked this dryer. It was the only one that actually got the lint off my robes.