The palace was a labyrinth of gold and silence, its endless halls designed not for comfort but for command. Every corridor stretched in perfect symmetry, marble floors gleaming like frozen rivers under the flicker of lanternlight. Painted screens whispered stories of victories long past, each brushstroke a reminder that power here was eternal—and mercy, optional.
To anyone else, the grandeur might have been breathtaking.
For Selene, every step she took inside those gilded walls felt like another loop of an invisible noose tightening around her throat.
She had barely spent a single day in this world, and already the weight of it pressed down until her ribs ached. The silence wasn't peaceful—it was suffocating, the kind that swallowed thought and made even her heartbeat sound too loud.
And through it all, the System hovered faintly in her vision like a silent ghost. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, it pulsed softly whenever her mind wandered—always there, always watching.
Last night, when panic had nearly broken her, she had tested it. Desperation had made her foolish. She'd blinked commands, whispered nonsense, begged to any god that might be listening. She'd pictured her bedroom back home—the hum of city traffic, the glow of her phone screen—pleading for that familiar world to pull her back.
The System had responded only when it wanted to.
And when it did, it was always in cruelly useless ways.
(Notification: Maintain composure. Survival rate increased by 2%.)
Selene had stared at that glowing line until her eyes burned.
"Two percent?" she'd whispered into the dark, her voice raw. "Am I supposed to clap? Throw you a parade for your generosity, you smug algorithm?"
There had been no reply. There never was.
This wasn't a harmless game you could restart. There were no checkpoints, no pause button, no comforting hum of a computer fan. Here, everything was real.
The sharp bite of cold water when she bathed.
The sting in her knees when she knelt too hard on polished marble.
The thick, choking burn of incense that clung to her lungs.
Pain was real. Fear was real.
Death—she was beginning to understand—would be very, very real.
Her new life began officially at dawn.
When the first streaks of sunlight brushed the palace roofs, the quiet of her chamber shattered. A line of palace maids swept in like a tide, their movements so synchronized it felt rehearsed.
Selene blinked against the brightness as they bowed—not to her, but to the invisible chain of command that owned her.
She didn't even have the chance to speak before they stripped away her thin night-robe. Their hands were cool and impersonal as they bathed her, steam rising in pale curls that blurred the painted walls. The scent of lotus soap filled her nose—sweet, cloying, foreign. It made her stomach twist.
Layer after layer of pale silk followed, heavy as obligation. Each robe added weight until she felt buried beneath them. The crimson sash cinched at her waist bit like a shackle.
Her hair was pulled tight, coiled into a bun so severe it tugged at her scalp. Pins slid into place—sharp, deliberate, final.
When they finally stepped back, she caught her reflection in a bronze mirror propped against the wall.
And her breath stopped.
The woman staring back was not her.
Delicate brows arched perfectly over soft, dark eyes that seemed to belong to someone far gentler than she felt. Skin too flawless, lips tinted just so. A face framed by glossy black hair that glimmered under the morning light.
She hardly recognized the person in the mirror.
This isn't me, Selene thought, her chest tightening, a tremor rippling through her hands. This is her body. Her life.
And I've stolen it.
The walk to the inner court was long.
Too long.
Each step stretched Selene's nerves thinner, like silk pulled to the point of tearing.
The palace unfolded around her like an endless maze, each turn revealing more gilded corridors carved with dragons that seemed ready to slither off the walls. Courtyards opened like traps, blooming with flowers she didn't recognize—strange colors, strange scents.
Servants hurried past, silent but not blind. Their glances brushed over her, then darted away, followed by the low hiss of whispers.
"Who is she?"
"Another new one?"
"Too plain. She won't last long."
Selene kept her gaze fixed on the floor. Her chin dipped low, her shoulders small. Every instinct screamed to disappear—to melt into the marble itself and never be seen again.
Her heart thudded hard against her ribs, each beat louder than her footsteps.
And then, as if mocking her panic, the System chimed again.
(Quest: Reach the inner court without drawing suspicion.)
(Reward: +1 Favorability with Head Maid.)
Selene's lips twitched in a bitter smile.
"Oh, wonderful," she thought darkly. "Like a game master dangling crumbs. What's next? Collect three phoenix feathers to unlock the privilege of breathing?"
But she obeyed anyway. Because what else could she do?
Her movements became measured. Her steps, deliberate. Her back straight but not proud, her head bowed but not groveling. Every breath was calculated, every glance trained downward.
It felt like walking through the jaws of some great beast—its teeth made of gold and its hunger disguised as silence.
When the towering gates finally came into view, carved with phoenixes so lifelike they seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, Selene's breath hitched. Guards stood on either side, armor gleaming like cold light, eyes as unreadable as the marble beneath them.
One of them raised a hand.
She stopped instantly, palms damp against her robe.
For a moment, no one spoke. The guard's gaze swept over her, sharp and assessing, before he finally gave a curt nod. The massive gates groaned open, ancient hinges wailing softly like ghosts in pain.
And then—she stepped through.
The courtyard beyond stole the air from her lungs.
Petals drifted through the air, a rain of soft pink from the plum blossoms overhead. They landed on her shoulders, her hair, the hem of her robes—like fragile reminders of beauty in a place that allowed none.
The air was sweet and sharp at once, the kind of scent that clung to the inside of your nose until it made you dizzy.
The palace wings rose around the courtyard like a great celestial bird mid-flight, lacquered pillars glowing red beneath the morning sun. Light caught on the gold filigree of the eaves, dazzling her eyes until she had to look away.
And there—standing at the center, poised and still—was Madame Xiu.
The Head Maid.
Her presence silenced the world.
She was tall, severe, and ageless, with a face carved from restraint. Her robes were simple, but authority clung to her like a second skin. Her posture was straight enough to break glass, her hands folded neatly before her.
But it was her eyes that made Selene's blood go cold.
Sharp. Narrow. Unforgiving.
They didn't look at her—they dissected her.
This was not a woman who needed to raise her voice to terrify. This was a woman who had seen hundreds of girls like Selene, and discarded them with the same ease one might brush dust from silk.
"You are the new one," Madame Xiu said. Her tone was cool, even, but every syllable struck with the precision of a blade. "Name."
Selene froze.
Her throat closed up.
Her mind spun through possibilities—none of them safe.
And then, that faint light flickered at the corner of her vision.
(Notification: Answer truthfully.)
Her pulse jumped.
She lowered her gaze until her lashes touched her cheeks. Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
"…Li Mei."
The name felt foreign on her tongue, heavy and wrong. But it was the name that belonged to this face, this body, this cage.
Madame Xiu's eyes lingered on her far too long. Long enough that Selene could feel her knees start to tremble.
Finally, the Head Maid inclined her chin, almost imperceptibly.
"You will serve in the eastern wing, under the Second Concubine," she said. "Do not overstep your bounds. Speak when spoken to. Work silently. Fail once, and you will regret you were ever born. Do you understand?"
Selene's mouth went dry. She lowered her head even further, her voice thin as thread.
"Yes, Madame."