"A great deal, actually. Or rather, their meeting does. The story you've been told isn't quite accurate—your father was wounded, and your mother did nurse him back to health, but he himself inflicted the injury."

Paen thinned his lips. He didn't believe anything so ridiculous. "Why on earth would he do such a foolish thing?"

"Because I told him his Beloved was nearby."

"You told him?" Paen stared at the man in outright disbelief.

Caspar smiled—on the surface a pleasant smile, but Paen was aware of the aura of power that surrounded the alastor. "Yes. Your father engaged the demon lord Oriens to find his Beloved. I was charged with locating her, which I did. I informed your father of her situation, and counseled that a drastic action would be needed to get within her circle of friends. He took the action, and the rest, as they say, is history. Literally, in this case, but that's one of the perks of being immortal."

"Even assuming that's true—and it sounds highly unlikely to me—what does that have to do with my father now?"

Caspar carefully set the glass onto the desk, clasping his hands over his knee, an affectation that for some reason annoyed Paen. "There is a little matter of the debt your father incurred by purchasing Oriens's help."

Paen's jaw tightened. Yet another gold digger, albeit a demonic one. He went around to the other side of the desk, pulling out the estate checkbook. "How much?"

"You misunderstand me, Paen. The debt your father owes Oriens is not one that can be repaid by means of mortal money."

"Oh?" Paen closed the checkbook, watching the man suspiciously. "What is it he owes for this debt, then?"

"A simple thing, really. A small statue of a monkey. You may be familiar with it? I understand it is a family heirloom—the Jilin God is its most common name."