The palace was a labyrinth of gold and silence, its sprawling halls designed not for comfort but for command. Every corridor stretched with intimidating symmetry, marble floors gleaming like frozen rivers under flickering lanterns. Painted screens whispered stories of wars long past, their brushstrokes frozen in eternal triumphs that mocked the fragile lives wandering below.
To anyone else, the grandeur might have been awe-inspiring.
For Selene, every step she took inside those gilded walls felt like another loop in an invisible noose tightening around her throat.
She had barely spent a day in this world, and already the weight of it pressed down on her ribs until her chest ached. The silence itself was suffocating—so deep it swallowed her thoughts.
And through it all, the System hovered faintly in her vision like a silent spectator. No matter how she tried to ignore it, it pulsed in the corner of her sight, glowing softly whenever her mind strayed.
Last night, when panic had driven her nearly mad, she had experimented like a desperate fool. She had blinked commands, whispered nonsense, prayed to whatever higher powers might be listening. She had even willed herself toward escape—closing her eyes and imagining a door back home, the glow of her phone screen, the hum of city traffic.
The System had responded only when it pleased.
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 message until her vision blurred.
Two percent.
"What the hell does that even mean?" she had muttered into the darkness of her straw mattress. "Am I supposed to clap and thank you for that, you smug algorithm?"
There had been no answer. There never was.
This wasn't a harmless simulation where one could restart upon failure. There were no second chances, no log-outs, no cheat codes. Here, everything was suffocatingly real. The sharpness of the cold water during her bath. The sting of her knees when she knelt too hard on the polished marble. The choking burn of incense so thick it clung to her lungs.
Pain was real. Fear was real. Death would be real, too.
Her new life began officially at dawn.
The moment the first streaks of light touched the palace roof, the quiet of her chamber was broken. A line of palace maids swept in, their movements so precise it felt rehearsed. Selene blinked groggily as they bowed in unison, not to her, but to the invisible chain of command that owned her existence.
She had no choice but to obey.
The maids stripped her night-robe away without hesitation, their hands cool and efficient as they bathed her. Selene's skin prickled beneath the touch of strangers. Warm water sluiced over her shoulders, steam clouding the polished screens, perfumed soap filling her nose with the cloying sweetness of lotus. The scent made her stomach twist—it was too heavy, too alien.
Next came the dressing.
Layer upon layer of pale robes were draped over her until she felt weighed down, suffocated. The crimson sash cinched tightly at her waist seemed less like fabric and more like a shackle. Her hair, too, was coiled into a strict bun so tight she thought her scalp might tear. Pins slid into place, each one stabbing with deliberate neatness.
When they finally stepped back, Selene caught sight of herself in a polished bronze mirror propped against the wall.
The reflection that stared back was not her own.
Delicate brows arched perfectly over dark eyes too soft, too distant. Skin so flawless it seemed carved, untouched by blemish or flaw. Lips faintly tinted, face framed by strands of ink-black hair that no longer felt like her own.
She hardly recognized the woman in the reflection.
This isn't me, Selene thought, her chest tightening like a fist had closed around her ribs. This is her body. Her life. And I've stolen it.
The thought was unbearable. She swallowed hard, forcing her eyes away from the mirror before the panic could choke her completely.
The walk to the inner court was long, and every step stretched her nerves thinner.
The palace unfolded like an endless maze, each turn revealing yet another corridor carved with dragons, yet another courtyard blooming with flowers she didn't recognize. Servants passed her with hurried bows, whispers trailing in her wake like smoke.
"Who is she?"
"Another new one?"
"Too plain. Won't last long."
Selene kept her chin low, her gaze fixed on the gleaming floor. She pretended she couldn't hear them. But her heart thudded against her ribs like it wanted to escape.
The System, ever faithful in its mockery, pinged again.
Quest: Reach the inner court without drawing suspicion.
Reward: +1 Favorability with Head Maid.
Selene's lips twisted bitterly.
"Oh, wonderful," she muttered inside her head. "Like a game master dangling crumbs. What's next? Collect three phoenix feathers to unlock the privilege of breathing?"
Still, she obeyed. She walked with measured steps, back straight, shoulders lowered, every inch the picture of obedient silence.
When the towering gates finally appeared before her, carved with phoenixes so lifelike they seemed ready to take flight, Selene's breath caught in her throat. Guards flanked the entrance, their armor gleaming cold beneath the morning sun.
They stopped her, of course. Every movement of theirs was sharp and rehearsed, like predators sizing up prey. One guard's eyes lingered on her face, unreadable, before the heavy gates groaned open.
And then she stepped through.
The courtyard beyond stole the air from her lungs.
Plum blossoms painted the morning air in drifting pink, petals spinning like soft confetti with every breeze. Their fragrance was sharp and intoxicating, filling her nose until her head swam. The palace wings fanned outward from the courtyard's heart like the feathers of some celestial bird, lacquered pillars glowing blood-red beneath the rising sun. The light caught on gilded eaves, dazzling her until she had to blink away the brightness.
And there—standing at the very center, like the eye of the storm—was the Head Maid.
Madame Xiu.
Her presence alone could silence an army.
Tall, severe, and ageless, Madame Xiu wore her authority like armor. Her robes, though simple, carried the weight of command. Her posture was so rigid it seemed carved into stone. But it was her eyes—sharp, narrow, merciless—that pierced directly through Selene's soul.
This was not a woman who needed to raise her voice to terrify. This was a woman who had seen countless girls like Selene come and go, who had discarded them as easily as one might brush aside worn silk.
"You are the new one," Madame Xiu said, her voice cool, even, measured. Each word landed like the edge of a blade. "Name."
Selene hesitated. Her throat dried instantly, her mind flashing with a dozen possible answers. And then the System blinked again.
Notification: Answer truthfully.
Her pulse spiked. She lowered her gaze to the stone tiles, palms clammy against her robes.
"…Li Mei," she whispered. Using the name of the body she now inhabited.
Madame Xiu's gaze lingered on her for a moment too long. Long enough for Selene's knees to nearly buckle beneath her.
Finally, the Head Maid inclined her chin. "You will serve in the eastern wing, under the second concubine. 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 head dipped lower, so low the tips of her hair brushed her cheeks. Her stomach churned. "Yes, Madame."
A hum of approval. "Good. Then follow."
And with that, Selene's fate wound tighter.