I wrote a dolcett story, 37000 words, I hope you all enjoy, feedback is welcome

...Some tombs of royal kin contain large numbers of human victims sacrificed to the lords. Some humans were decapitated and laid on the ramps within the tombs, while others were designated to be buried directly in the burial pits of their masters. Wang Jihuai - Religious History of Ancient China and the Three Dynasties

Around 1640, a drought in Henan and Shandong became so bad that "women and babies were arrayed in the market as human food and were sold by the slaughterers just like mutton and pork." Sometimes, women and children were slaughtered in the back rooms of butcher shops while customers were waiting for fresh meat. Zheng, Yi (2018). Scarlet Memorial: Tales of Cannibalism in Modern China

As far as I understood, Asian (mainly Chinese) funerals differed from Western cultures. The archaic concept of grave offerings still existed.

A very private Chinese funeral with demonic elements involving sacrificial tribute to the evil spiritswas stranger.

A funeral with honest-to-god human sacrifice, a tradition harkening back to the cruel Shang dynasty and combined with a culinary offering of human meat, was the most significant shock to me. A feverish dream, and a mind-numbing experience, something I had the privilege of witnessing, and yet, I was invited to one. At such a young age, to witness a complete, paralyzing shock full of horror...and arousal.

How did it come to this?

I could barely focus my thoughts after hearing the long, polite explanation in mildly accented English from the young lady at my door. Imagine waking up at 8:00 AM on a day off to my doorbell ringing, when I was supposed to be melting in anxiety because I had lost my parents, and inherited a shop which I literally had no idea how to run. And now stood before me a woman: I was getting a visit from a shorter, yet older, beautiful Chinese woman dressed in a stylish blouse, pencil skirt, and a blazer, with a red envelope in her hand. I took a good, long look at her:

Her jet-black hair was sleek and perfectly styled into a modern bob, framing her sharp features and accentuating her smooth, porcelain complexion. A few wisps of hair fell delicately around her face, giving her a touch of softness despite her poised demeanor.

She wore a tailored, white blouse made of silk, its high neckline paired with subtle pleats that flow into a sharp, black pencil skirt that hugs her figure with sophisticated precision. The skirt ended just below the knee, allowing her polished, black heels to catch the light with each step. Her outfit was a perfect balance of modern professionalism and understated elegance, with no details left to chance.

She wore a small, silver watch on her right wrist, wearing no makeup except a tiny bit of eyeliner accentuating her almond-shaped eyes behind delicate spectacles.

There was something undeniably magnetic about her—her calm, measured movements, the way she carries herself with quiet authority yet grace and politeness displayed in a single smile. She was not just a secretary; she was a quiet force within whatever organization she served, blending beauty with intellect in a way that is impossible to ignore.

And she was at my door, a well-off, upper-middle-class European boy who lived in a two-story house on the outskirts of...

...nevermind. You wouldn't care. It's about what I was to experience.

So, facing her delicate, lovely features clad in the most expensive office attire I could imagine, I was the worst contrast, standing like an idiot in my sweatpants; not having taken care of myself for a week after I had my entire family dead in a mysterious accident. I could have told her to leave, were it not for the cold, soulless, sunglass-hidden stare from a very large Asian man with tattoos on his arm and a clear aura of menace, waiting behind her. His thick jeans, black short-sleeved t-shirt, and waist that unnaturally bulged unevenly from one side made a clear sign that refusing was not an option. So the next thing to do was naturally listen to the little miss secretary or whatever kind of paper pusher she was in a hotshot corporation likely to buy my late father's shop. I wanted her to get the hell out, but she was talking, AND the big goon next to her was kind of hard to refuse. However, her gentle, polite way of addressing me, and the reason for her visit had nothing to do with my inheritance made me pause.

This was no buyout offer from a Chinese corporation of small European businesses: a common method of having inroads to Europe.

"You want me to accompany you all the way to...?" I kept the sentence hanging sarcastically despite the intimidation by the big guy behind her. I received only a polite, cheerful nod.

"You have nothing to worry about." The polite, lovely woman smiled. "Please do not mind the security. All we need is your consent, and you can follow me with a personal invitation from my benefactor." Her tone was very polite, precise, and almost autistic.

The story she told me made me put two and two together, as my grogginess faded into alert curiosity.

The Chinese Triad's unorthodox ruler(imagine: a female crime boss woman in Asia, in autocratic China no less), a very vicious crime lady had died; a beautiful, yet ruthless woman who named herself Xiwang-Mu, got nicknamed the most unimaginative epithet of "Dragon Queen" by her rivals, who fancied and cultivated urban legends after some Underworld Chinese deity. Unbelievably enough, I was invited to her funeral due to an impossible (mis)fortune. According to the young Asian lady at my door, I had saved my visitor's boss when I was a young man working to help his father's shop. Fearful of her huge bodyguard at her side, I politely asked my visitor holding a red envelope when this had happened. Without even breaking her polite smile, the beautiful office lady simply recalled the fateful night when I was barely sixteen down to its smallest details.

It was a bad experience, but I had gotten over it.

Approximately five years ago when I was a young boy, I had hidden a very worried-looking Asian woman in her mid-30s from a pair of dangerous-looking Russian men. She had run inside the shop, with a very curt, yet desperate order of "Hide me" on her lips. I had shown her where to hide; in a half-buried locker, stuck in place due to faulty construction. Within seconds, four huge monstrous excuses of men ransacked the place and roughed me up, asking where "the kitaisky bitch was". I thought they were mobsters trafficking women, so I had done the only thing one should have done and despite threats, had not given her up, swearing that she ran to the next building across the street. The woman had emerged from the supply closet I had carefully covered in the next morning. After speaking in Chinese to a cell phone, she was escorted by several shady-looking Asian men in black to a limo, but not before hugging me, giving me a sweet peck on my nose, stuffing something in the register, and asking for my name. She had disappeared from my life as quickly as she had come, and my dreams about something other than the monetary reward given evaporated, what else could have happened from a scenario out of a movie? So imagine my shock, five years later, when I found a very polite, cheerful, beautiful, petite, black-haired Chinese woman in a pencil skirt handing me a plane ticket and a very ornate letter, with an equally polite, yet tattooed and dangerous bodyguard at her side, a tall, bald Chinese man in sunglasses whose face was one of stony neutrality as if I wasn't there.

"So the lady you helped, namely my boss has unfortunately passed away, young man." The young woman spoke, who seemed to be older than me, yet looked impossibly young.

You never know with Chinese, no offense intended to any readers of the Celestial Kingdom.

"But she would want you to attend her funeral to honor her passing to 100 Heavens..." She apologetically smiled, her almond eyes gleaming. "...or 12800 Hells, since my boss was not entirely a good soul." After a short silence, she tilted her head and smiled with closed eyes. "Allegedly." She emphasized the last part with a sweet, innocent voice, her bodyguard's stone-like face did not even move, unamused.

After the untimely death of my parents due to a car accident, I inherited his stationery shop, and was still in shock; though he was distant and abusive, I was nineteen with a burden I could not carry by myself, spending nearly two weeks at home.

Then my doorbell rang.

Hence the story.

And this lady, Jun, had invited me to attend the funeral of a woman whose life I had saved, a woman who was hoping to see me at least once in her life. I was loved, liked, and sought, this is something that would capture any man, even beyond the grave. My shock and resurrection of my mind from the depths of depression to an escapist's dream world was a tonic to my soul, and I quietly informed her that I would be coming right after I would put my household in order for an extended trip.

"We will wait." The woman politely spoke, silent as a statue. Shutting the utilities and locking down everything, I packed what I could, even though I was assured I would be provided for.

So, I never had believed that at this age I would find myself flying to Asia, much less be driven to a hidden, isolated, small mansion on a mountaintop where the funeral would commence. I am nothing but a nineteen-year-old man, barely an adult. Was it my young, blonde, European features you could find in any anthropology-related website or an "AI picture of a young, blonde European male with blue eyes" that made her remember me? Was I attractive even to a much older woman? And why was I summoned to such an isolated place when she was dead?

The polite Chinese woman Jun, who was with me during my whole journey to the airport told me that her boss, the daughter of the late "Dragon Queen" wanted me to witness her funeral for some inscrutable spiritual reason, and I would be amply rewarded. She looked like some stereotypical secretary from some drama series, vulnerable, cute, and polite yet with a hint of resilience under that façade. She had told me that I was chosen to be invited in her will to her funeral with "an appropriate award". The tragic car accident that claimed my parents had made me accept this offer, after all, it was a unique experience that would be home to emotions and sensations I'd never experience ever again, maybe a fresh change of air. Come to think of it, why was the accident that destroyed my life known to a very distant, sinister, and hidden leader of a criminal cartel known to them, I never thought about it.

But it lingered in the depths of my mind as the airplane continued its journey to the land of mists and a billion souls so alien to me, yet human nonetheless. Flying business class had its perks. I literally slept through my flight on the clouds, waking up energized, and happy when the plane started to land. Jun always politely accompanied me for translation every step of the way, but the "guard" wasn't there, having departed at the airport:

"My boss and our organization rarely keep men on as permanent staff."

"What about me?" I asked her, eliciting a warm smile:

"The organization's members have husbands, lovers and friends. You, of all, are good as family after what you have done these years ago."

I sighed, feeling a bit of guilt, despite having done all I could. "It was not enough." Jun squeezed my hand at these words and replied in her sweet accent, her bespectacled eyes gleaming with pride:

"For a young boy, you did what you could. Again, you are as good as family. He was just a temp."

A temp goon? That was odd, probably a hoodlum from a local set. We got off at the airport, I did attract a few stares but I didn't care. I felt slightly happy after the trauma of losing everyone dear to me. Hey, I am young, horny, intrigued with an already broken mind after losing it all. Who am I to argue? Maybe I'll get laid, maybe the "Boss"'s daughter will want me, maybe something, anything, a scenario out of a mystery murder movie will come to be. I didn't care, anything was better than the life I was about to inherit, to be crushed into nothingness. During the flight we chatted, Jun warning me that the funeral was a very private event and if I returned (that had some implications I didn't want to think about- for now...IF and not when?), I could never tell anyone what happened there. When I asked for an explanation, she enigmatically smiled and held my hand.

"You'll find out."

I was led to a small, nondescript hotel next to the airport regularly used by ex-pats, and given a bare, cheap room to sleep in, my benefactor Jun informing me that I would be picked up first thing in the morning.

Sleep came easily, despite the excitement of an incredible, free, and exotic journey. I watched the neon lights of the Asiatic metropolis glimmer with life, action, and the strangest lives coalescing in this corner of the world. It was the glittering China, but I didn't have the money or language to traverse it. Maybe one day?

Come next morning, Jun arrived with a fresh set of clothes, and a big smile, and led me to a black SUV, immediately leaving the glittering lights of Chinese cities for the cool, misty, and painfully beautiful, green, rolling landscape of Asia. Up the mountains, through mysteriously well-maintained asphalt roads, and into an isolated patch of lights at the mountaintop, likely the funeral home. I already saw a few paper balloons leaving the building's spacious gardens as the vehicle arrived, the scent of cool pine and fresh air intoxicating.

The place was a beautiful Chinese mansion an impossibly huge compound with many shady-looking Asian people about, though surprisingly most of the Yakuz- forgive me, Triad members were women, with masculine outfits, grim faces, and eyes covered by sunglasses, men were distant as if they were repelled by them. Many seemed to be eager to make their deliveries of nondescript construction materials and leave the place, reminding me that this new organization was almost exclusively female. The walls were not soulless concrete but rock, with engravings of ancient dynasties and the ubiquitous dragons. Inside, the compound had a wide, wide expanse of gardens, and behind the mansion, a long, stony road leading to a series of caves in a forested patch. The family graves? Mausoleums?

Who knew?

As I got out of the car, amazed at the beautiful landscape and the luxurious surroundings, I was welcomed by a somber-looking Chinese woman in white funeral clothes surrounded by armed guards, a woman who looked like the younger version of this so-called crime boss, whom I had researched on the road: she was her daughter. Her mother, the late "Boss"'s mundane, birth name was Mei-Li, an unassuming woman from Guangzhou, who had developed a vicious reputation for dismembering rival leaders at an alarming rate and was rumored to consort with dark powers, Rakshasa, Tao-Tie, you name it: things from stories and tales. The Triads had reformed under her, accepting more women than men, and were rather gender-neutral now, yet even less scrupulous: males were often distant, not banned, but repelled by these "witches" even the women were merely violent survivors trying to act vicious in a continent famous for the gender roles of its women. The inner circle of the Triad was now entirely of women: strange women who were said to use death and dark rites for power. The white-clad, robed, sad, somber woman before me was her daughter, Yu-Xi, who nodded quietly and gave a little bow of her head, luckily I didn't try shaking her hand. My guide, after exchanging a few brief words, whispered in my ear:

"She thanks you for visiting, and says you honor her with your presence for the occasion."
"Likewise." My guide translated it, and I saw a hint of an enigmatic smile on Yu-Xi's face. She was eyeing me up and down with a mournful look. Jun led me to take a walk in the gardens to tour the mansion and eased my worries about whether I was in danger.

Most of the stories about the "Dragon Queen" were nonsense. She was allegedly the matriarch of a human and organ trafficking ring rumored to commit unspeakable evils: organ harvesting, cannibalistic underground restaurants with the victims served to discrete, elite, cruel clients across the world. Rumors and allegations all around the internet had that she sold Asian girls all over the world in many forms: sex slaves, mail-order brides, organs, lethal medical subjects, and even meat and leather. Meat and leather! And now she was dead, declaring that her passing must be honored with appropriate gifts to Heaven and Underworld. I cannot imagine human trafficking, cannibal meat-purveying Triad Queen could be spiritual, and would be paying respects both to mundane and profane! Well, maybe most of the allegations were wrong, I never found out.

However, some information I could read on the way hinted that her reputation was an exaggeration, and the most realistic explanation of this new Triad was they were focused on "victimless" crimes: stealing organs from the recently dead or impossible-to-save (read: expectant) due to connections in hospitals and selling heroin, fentanyl and whatever narcotics the West desired. I wouldn't exactly say victimless, but least predatory on living beings. If you think drugs are pushed on adults ARE victimless, that is...

No one could maintain a nightmare-grade industrialized snuff machine in the heart of autocratic China, a country with even less tolerance for its shrinking population now; kidnapping and selling thousands per night was surely the stuff of horror movies. Still, exaggeration always brought an intimidation factor in such criminal societies, this new Triad seemed to be merely a resourceful gang of nearly all-female criminals that scavenged the modern society's detritus while avoiding active predation.

She seemed to be an "anti-villain" of sorts, yet her funeral was an erotic, barbaric throwback to Shang tyrants of old, as I would find out. Only a real villain would want to be buried with offerings of a dark nature, hopefully not me! My nervous chuckle thinking about that drew Jun's puzzled look.

"Something wrong?"
"Nothing!" I laughed nervously, again, she smiled and held my hand.
"You are safe here."

Jun led me to a dreamy, beautiful garden where waitresses with the lovely uniforms of a catering company held out drinks and sweets. When I quietly asked if there would be a real dinner, Jun leaned and explained, me munching on a tasty-looking rice cake, eyeing the immeasurably large, well-maintained, and clean garden. The shrubbery smelled of cut grass:

"Meat products in our funerals are discouraged: we must refrain from eating meat because the immortal gods do not eat meat, only the profane, earthly beings such as us, and evil spirits do. One reason is that meat has blood, and blood symbolizes uncleanliness. The exclusion of meat is also a respectful gesture of 'downgrading' the meals; that is, no fancy foods. Meat does not appear in family meals until the next morning of the burial day. The family mourners' diet is therefore vegetarian, and a common vegetarian dish is jai. Jai symbolizes purity, and by eating this vegetarian dish, family members keep their bodies clean. Whenever food is eaten by them, the same food is offered to the deceased. This customarily is a bowl of rice and vegetables including jai. By abstaining from meat and purifying their bodies and the spirit of the deceased with jai, the family is demonstrating their faith in the gods and helping to ensure their loved one has a safe journey to heaven and eternity."

"Wow," I said, surprised by her long explanation and the intense passion she had for culture. "You mentioned that dark spirits still use meat in this ritual," I thought. "Will meat be offered to drive them away?"

Jun smiled mysteriously. "Yes, but it's for the spirits, not for us. At least, not until tomorrow's lunch. Come with me." She clicked her heels as she turned and gently pulled my arm as if I might get lost. "We need to pay our respects to the deceased, and you should see what's coming."

Her words tickled my fancy and heart, as the beautiful Chinese assistant led me inside. Passing the ornate wooden doors, I could hear a shrill-sounding, reed instrument being played in a low, mournful, blaring melody somewhere I couldn't see, as we passed people by, mostly middle-aged businesspeople who used the event likely to socialize, and talk business. I wasn't "exotic" to them, even to the locals despite standing out: they were likely well-traveled. These are people who saw the world twice over, likely. Waitresses refilled water glasses and smiled at me, it felt good to be admired. Yellow Fever is a fact of life and a two-way street, thanks be to whatever gods existed in such a world.

"I must kindly warn you," Jun turned and held my arm softly, looking into my eyes with a serious look. "Please do not stray from my instructions or sight. My lady's extended family and this society is a deeply spiritual group who have very...unorthodox views on religion and life."

I scratched my head, drinking a glass of water and munching on a small red plum from a nearby plate set by a waitress. "Eastern Spirituality? Buddhism?" My young, innocent question twisted Jun's face who bit her lips and tittered:

"Those words are Hollywood talk. Just like the Disneyland view of magical pagans, vikings and natives you people romanticize." Her pale, soft face and bespectacled eyes bore onto me. "Old Ways are a bit...less nice than you think."

"How... less nice?" My morbid curiosity overcame any dread, coupled with my thirst for exotic dark delights awakened a corrupt, impressionable part of my soul.

Jun stopped, her hand on her chin her lovely, oval face deep in thought as if she thought of how to gently break the news. Her eyes widened, finding a way to explain it:

"First of all, you must promise to be absolutely understanding and accepting of anything shown to you. You are in the middle of a foreign land on a mountain with a few hundred armed men and women."

I nodded, swallowing, coldly dreading, yet curious. "I won't be killed, will I?"

"No. Not unless you bring death on yourself. Relax." She smiled, touching my cheek with her soft hand. "You are a guest, an honored guest. It's just the culture shock that may follow. Let me tell you as we walk to visit the departed and the altar."

The lights, impossibly wealthy furniture, the bronze statues of demons, gods, and tiny shrines in every corner, had enchanted me as we kept walking, Jun's sway adding to her elegance and beauty at my side.

"The Shang, a bronze age Dynasty of China had developed a fearsome reputation. They were cruel and probably lost the Mandate of Heaven due to undeserved cruelty on many needless issues. Their kings and concubines had a taste of pain, human flesh and blood." I listened to her with dread. "Funerals had mass sacrifices of slaves, human bone offerings, and human flesh was a veritable, traded item."

Slowing down with the dreadful realization, my hand went cold, until her soft, small hands held mine and warmth came crawling back.

"Of course, my boss is nothing like that. HOWEVER, as the Shang faded into obscurity..." She slowed down as I caught my breath, and could process what she said. "...some aspects of satisfying ancestors, and offering various foods and delicacies and "grave goods" to the departed remained. Just presents...Milk, juice, fruits, clay figures of actual people and so on." My guide gently caressed my arm, her breath and warmth calming me down (and arousing me a little) as we kept walking, stopping before an ornate door.

"Therefore, we leave presents of vegetarian snacks and dishes the departed enjoy, to please them and please the higher powers on their behalf." Jun talked in a gentle voice. "We leave heavier dishes, dishes which came from killing animals, like fish, chicken, and beef for demons that might trouble the dead, since as I said, blood-borne food is for the infernal. But that doesn't mean it's dirty: such foods and offerings are included during the funeral to placate the dead and spiritual. Everything is honored and treasured, even a life. And so, as our spirituality evolved, human sacrifice and vicious rites faded away." That would have been reassuring if she hadn't added the last sentence:

"But it always kept a place. And was never forgotten"

My excitement and fascination made me think about a dish made from... No, we won't be seeing human steaks offered, will we?

Moment of truth.

A Chinese waitress in a no-nonsense white shirt, a short tie on her neck, and a long, ankle-length grey skirt pulled the door open and bowed, beckoning us to enter, and my attention dispersed a little. I smiled at her and received a smile in turn as Jun led me inside.

"You will keep the ritual forever a secret, young man," Jun spoke softly with a hint of menace. "Enter."

And enter I did...

I saw a massive, slightly dimly-lit hall, at the of which a large, marble altar stood: it was a large series of ascending, long, rectangular tables draped with pure white sheets; on top of it, the huge picture of the woman I saved years ago residing over the series of chairs like the memorial of a goddess. It was the picture of a stern-looking, long-haired Chinese woman in a black suit looking at the viewer with a perfect stony gaze, a black ribbon covering the edge of the photo frame. Her last photo was set on a pedestal on the altar and was covered with a veritable forest of white flowers. Beneath the picture lay small samples of lovely, beautiful offerings of food, garishly painted bundles of fake money, and sticks of burning incense.

On the altar, fake money called "joss paper", and bits of small delicacies as offerings to the dead were scattered. Two small cups that smelled like heavy alcohol flanked what seemed to be the main offerings. Juicy fruits, particularly red peaches, apples, a plate of bananas, and fragrant pastries were the typical offerings to the dead. They were all displays of art, for the dead, if they felt, also must have appreciated art and beauty in offering to their passing. I had to admit, it was a lovely, haunting reminder of beauty, rebirth, and death, the fruits were seed-bearing vessels, a hope for another life, naturally offered by their plants.

But that wasn't what made my heart leap and my face go pale.

What made me shudder was the profane series of offerings to the lower beings. A second tray, lower than the first one had a few bottles of liquor and meat dishes laid as funerary offerings, likely to nether beings that ate meat, unlike holy beings. Various meat dishes were on small plates: prepared animals, cooked or smoked. The dishes were surrounding the largest silver plate, on which lay an actual, restrained, tied...

...human offering.

A live human offering, a girl, was gracefully restrained in the silent, nude submission of her body, tied with ribbons in a fetal position, lying face down, her chest on her folded knees, otherwise naked. My blood rushing to my brain (and somewhere else) made Jun smile, watching my reaction. She softly commented no doubt to steer my emotions away from panicking. "After all, the most valuable meat offering is human. Don't worry, she accepted this honor. Donated by her loving family for this funeral, the family whose wealth is owed to our Triad's blessed patronage."

"Did she now?" My head turned slower than the moon to regard the gentle smile, torn between lust, fear, and dreadful anticipation of something horrible.

Upon the grand altar, the young woman lay curled on a silver platter, bound in intricate golden ropes that shimmered in the dim candlelight. Her bare skin was smooth, unblemished, and carefully positioned—as if she were not just a sacrifice, but a sacred offering. Her delicate features reflected quiet acceptance; her soft brown hair framed her face, and her half-lidded eyes held a distant, almost dreamlike gaze. A faint blush colored her cheeks, whether, from ritual preparation, her sexual pose or lingering life, it was unclear.

The bindings were not crude restraints, but deliberate, ceremonial—wrapping around her wrists, ankles, and torso in symmetrical patterns, a silent testament to the reverence of the rite. She lay in a fetal-like posture, her arms tucked close, her legs drawn inward, a pose that spoke both of surrender and sanctity.

Around her, the funeral altar was adorned with rich red peaches, sweet plums, and golden persimmons—offerings meant to appease both the spirits of the dead and those who watched over the transition between worlds. Thick incense coiled through the air, its cloying sweetness weaving a veil between the living and the departed. Plates of food, candles, and sacred inscriptions bore witness to the solemnity of the moment, their flickering shadows dancing across her still form.

I closed my eyes and thought this was some dream. But when I opened my eyes, reality hit me. This was real. A real-life "Yellow Peril-exploitation" rerun of Eyes Wide Shut with something even darker: a girl about to be offered as a funerary sacrifice as meat. I drew a deep breath and looked at the sight again so my mind could acclimate to the reality.

It was real: I looked and analyzed it again.

The Chinese girl was set on a large, human-sized plate, restrained in a prostrate position as a sacrificial offering as if she were a giant turkey, pig, or goat. Her arms were bound behind her back, she was slightly overweight with a soft, plush body; loops of yellow ribbons smelling of sacred incense kept her soft, pale, beautiful arms tied in an armbinder-like getup. Her open hands carried a tastefully artistic bouquet, thumbs tied together and palms pointing up as if praying, or offering something: namely herself to the heavens. Her legs were bundled under her belly, the ankles of her delicate feet gently bound with more erotic bondage, with the same golden ribbon that also kept her toes tied to each other. She wasn't crying, or panicking; the naked girl, a literal archaic human sacrifice to be prepared and cooked wore a serious, serene expression and looked almost asleep, watching the staff keeping the funeral chamber clean with a patient, serene gaze. Her chin rested on a small improvised bundle of soft, hot towels for comfort, her lips gently moved in prayers perhaps: the absolute sacrifice of self. Her cute, plush, marble-white butt was raised in the air as she was prostrate. The preparation, and presentation of a girl as a funerary offering was an absolute shock to me, punching through my grogginess and waking me up from the hypnotized daze of this fragrant room. My attention turned to a motherly, broad-faced, slightly overweight Asian woman wearing voluminous gold robes and a simple black cap with a "yin-yang" symbol. She moved around the altar without a care, and when she caught my surprised stare, she gave me a warm smile before returning to her work. The priestess, with a kind, gentle presence, waved a small bundle of fragrant sticks over the flowers, slowly moving from one offering to the next, spreading the sweet smoke over each one.

Bright, shining plates of red peaches, sweet plums, and persimmons were blessed—red fruits seemed to be a common offering for the honored dead. The smoke drifted over the fruits, snacks, and vegetarian dishes. I turned my gaze back to her as the ritual continued. She smiled at me, her head slightly turned, and blessed the sacred offerings, the bundle circling each bowl with a soft, sweet hum. It felt reverent. These people had a unique grace and artistic respect for the tradition—I could feel that now.

"This is for Hun, or Yang, or..." She gave a quick chuckle "White Magic, the spiritual as you Westerners know from Hollywood. I won't bother you with a museum tour." I turned and gave a faint smile even as I was watching a human sacrifice being prepared, at least the victim seemed content.

Then, taking another bundle of black sandalwood sticks, likely as black signified something dark, "Po" Jun mumbled to me. "Dark, substantial...materialist...profane. You get it. Dark and heavy."

"Like meat from animals, even if the "animal" is human," I mumbled, Jun nodding in approval.

"You do have an understanding, that is good. Humans are just another type of animals." She added, holding my hand whenever she spoke, and matching my breathing...was it?

...wait...

It must be the wind.

"In any case, this is a perfectly accepted ritual. I hope you will not interfere and do anything...disagreeable." She purred gently. "You can leave for fresh air if you want until the funeral procession starts." I shook my head. It was heady, I was already entranced, by the beauty, by the hunger this place instilled in me, by the haunting beauty, impending death, and the cheerful acceptance of it.

"I want to stay." My answer in English came slowly, as if slurred, then I drew a deep breath, now alert and mind set on witnessing everything. Jun, always at my side, kept her cool, polite smile. The sacrifice, the bound girl in erotic, spiritual, and encompassing bonds in her fetal position, was still to be blessed and honored as the victual of the Nether Gods. (I understood that "Higher Gods" preferred vegetarian food)

"So tell me," I spoke, eyes locked on the girl bound as a sacrificial lamb accepting her fate, her nudity even more arousing. "This is, really, and I mean really, in your religion. Is it? Or is it unique, only for...special people?" That made her have a polite, serious expression.

"Yes, human sacrifice, using of humans for rituals and human meat is, despite modern sensibilities, never banned by our culture or was banned by its clergy, only by secular institutions. Of course, it's illegal, but that doesn't mean it's not religiously not allowed. Our people have a different, overlapping spirituality with many schools. Unlike the West, and secular laws which officially banned human sacrifice in its religions, here, it's a...let's say, grey area. And my house and people are deeply spiritual, old ways are respected."

All I could give was a resigned sigh and "I understand." Jun was very pleased, but her eyes were misty.

"I am glad you do." Her voice broke, and I turned my head in surprise. My adorable, bespectacled, bookish companion started to wipe her eyes with a gentle sob. She was crying! But not for the girl, for her boss which she respected.

"She would be so happy to see you." Her face slowly turned back to her kind smile as she gently wept. "The Big Sister had planned to reward you for that night when you saved her. Maybe a position here, or brought to court some of the girls, maybe even her daughter. "There," she told me, "someone brave enough to hide me from Russian vory"..." Her face twisted as she sobbed again, wiping her eyes, all I could do was watch. "I'm sorry, it's unbecoming. She would not have wanted to see me like this."

Fuck...Did I really do that?

Five Years Ago:

I had faced the Russian Mob ransacking the store, keeping a straight face before four Neanderthal rejects out of a horror movie. All the while Mei-Li, our late "Dragon Lady", had been hiding in a hole in the floor in a cupboard we never bothered to remove, buried due to a structural fault. When the police came the next day, I had told them nothing of the woman. What the hell, how had I been brave that night? Sadly, it seemed my antics only delayed her death, as Mei-Li was now lying in a coffin in her eternal sleep, soon to be entombed with sacrifices, one of them human to follow her into the afterlife, behind the altar. I wonder...did my parents die in a crash, or was it planned? Was all this some compensation for a possible mob hit in revenge now that Mei-Li was discovered again, and likely questioned, or her "escape"'s last location, namely my family home and shop...

...It was possible. Well, the only thing that was left to enjoy was the macabre, yet spiritual procession and offerings.

The portly, kind priestess kept murmuring and daubing the plate of fish with short, fast strokes of her right hand holding the sandalwood incense bundle. Mumbling, she kept patting the meat dish and sprinkling a few drops of water from a small bowl on her left hand, dipping and wetting the non-burning end of the bundle like an improvised aspergillum. Slowly circling the table, the priestess turned to the cuts of red beef, sprinkling and smoking them all the same. Then came the roast chicken offering to be blessed, and with a sigh, and knowing smile, the middle-aged woman turned to approach the great silver plate where the naked, sacrificial, bull-bodied Chinese beauty rested her head on towels, bundled in her fetal, nude, ribboned helplessness, lips moving softly. The woman sprinkled the girl's body with a kind smile, starting from her feet, legs, hips, and back (avoiding disrupting the flower offering on the girl's palms, gently rubbing her body with the sticks, sensual and kind, yet avoiding being overly ticklish. When the old woman tapped the girl's forehead, blowing sacred smoke on her face, the girl stopped praying and exhaled, relaxed, and raised her head to face the priestess. Slowly they smiled at each other, lowering their gazes.