The gods demand devotion. The gods reward diligence. The gods are always watching.

Shilian knelt on the bamboo mat in front of his modest altar, his hands clasped tightly together, fingers white from the pressure. His lips moved in a whispered prayer, the words flowing so quickly they jumbled together, but he kept going, desperate to finish his tenth recitation for the morning before the sun fully rose.

But of course, something had to interrupt him. Something always did.

The first knock at the door was soft but startling in the quiet of the early morning.

Shilian's eyes snapped open, his prayer stuttering to a halt. His heart skipped a beat as he glanced toward the door. Really, now? Why did people insist on coming to him at the worst possible moments? He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening as if clinging to the prayer might somehow make the interruption go away.

The knock came again, louder this time.

His hands began to tremble, and he quickly brought them to his chest. What should he do? Ignore it? But what if it was an emergency? What if someone was dying? If he ignored them, wouldn't that lower his karma? Oh, but if he interrupted his prayer, wouldn't that displease the gods too?

Another knock, sharp and urgent.

Shilian let out a small, weary sigh. He couldn't ignore it. "Blessed be the gods, who guide us in light and…" He muttered the last lines of his prayer in a hurried tone, cutting it short as guilt gnawed at his chest. "Oh, forgive me, I'll finish later!" he added, bowing quickly toward the altar before scrambling to his feet.

When he reached the door, he took a moment to compose himself. He straightened his robes, wiped his clammy hands on his sleeves, and forced a polite, if strained, smile onto his face.

"Hello, what can I do for y—"

The words died on his lips the moment he opened the door.

Standing before him was someone who looked like they'd barely survived a war. But it wasn't the sight of the blood or the injuries that made Shilian stagger back. No, it was the overwhelming weight that came with you. It was as if the very air had turned sour, tainted by your deeds.

Bad karma. Terrible karma. The kind that clung to a person like a curse, poisoning everything around them.

How could someone carry this much? How could anyone live with such a weight pressing down on them?

Shilian's mind reeled, his thoughts scrambling to make sense of what he was feeling. The oppressive aura of your karma felt like it was seeping into him just by proximity. Panic surged through him, and before he even realized what he was doing, he slammed the door shut.

But to his dismay, the door didn't close all the way. Your hand caught it.

"Ah!" Shilian let out a panicked yelp, stumbling back as if the mere act of touching the door had somehow transferred your karmic taint to him. "N-no, please don't come any closer!" he stammered, his voice trembling as he raised his hands defensively, as if warding off a demon. "I-I can't tend to you!"

He couldn't risk it. He couldn't. The gods would surely punish him for associating with someone like you.

If he helped you, if he even touched you, it could ruin him. His karma was already so fragile, barely scraping by as "good." One mistake, one act of mercy for someone like you, and he could fall into the negative.

But then again, you were bleeding. Clearly in need of help. His healer's instincts screamed at him to act, to do something, but his fear kept him rooted in place, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Oh, gods, forgive him for even standing this close to you.