The eastern wing was less resplendent than the imperial hall but no less suffocating. If the main palace glittered like the sun, this place was the soft glow of moonlight—beautiful, delicate, and filled with shadows.
Here, the air carried the fragrance of perfumed oils and faint incense. Laughter floated through silk screens, low and lilting, but beneath it ran another current—sharp, poisonous, impossible to ignore.
Selene followed silently in Madame Xiu's wake, each step echoing against polished floors. The halls unfurled around her in veils of painted silk and carved lattice windows, every corner revealing yet another reminder that she was trapped inside a gilded cage.
And inside that cage, women lived like queens.
Concubines of the emperor—glorious, envied, adored. Yet Selene could see it already in the strained laughter, in the quick glances traded between them and their maids: every smile hid sharpened teeth. The air itself felt heavy with rivalry.
Her chest tightened. If this was the battlefield Madame Xiu had thrown her onto, then Selene was entering it without armor.
At last, they entered a chamber draped in veils of pale blue and silver. Light poured through the latticed windows, catching on strands of silk until the whole room seemed bathed in water. Lanterns glowed faintly in the corners, filling the air with a warmth that was almost deceptive.
And there, reclining like a painting brought to life, was Lady Zhen.
Selene's breath stuttered.
Lady Zhen was beauty carved into flesh, every detail deliberate and dangerous. Her features were delicate yet sharpened to perfection, like porcelain crafted to wound. Robes of shimmering silver and deep blue wrapped around her in waves, pooling like liquid moonlight. Her hair, long and black as a raven's wing, spilled down her back in glossy sheets that shimmered each time she moved.
But it was her eyes that rooted Selene to the floor.
Soft. Unreadable. Endless, like looking into a calm pond that might conceal either lilies or serpents. They flickered briefly toward Selene, then away, as if she were no more consequential than a shadow in the corner.
Selene's heart hammered all the same.
"This is the girl?" Lady Zhen's voice was like silk drawn across glass—smooth, elegant, but carrying the faintest rasp of warning.
"Yes, my lady," Madame Xiu replied with a bow. "She will attend you from now on."
For one agonizing heartbeat, Lady Zhen's gaze lingered on Selene. She felt the weight of it in her bones, as though the concubine could see straight through her borrowed skin.
Then, with the faintest nod, Lady Zhen dismissed her doubts. "Keep your eyes lowered and your mouth closed, maid. Do so, and you might survive."
Selene swallowed hard, bowing so deeply her head nearly brushed the polished floor. "Yes, my lady."
And just like that, her service began.
The hours bled together in a haze of labor.
She carried trays laden with delicate porcelain teacups so thin she thought they might shatter from her trembling hands. She polished jade hairpins until her fingers numbed, the cold stone biting into her skin. She swept endlessly beneath painted screens, each brush of the broom accompanied by the sound of concubines' laughter and whispered schemes floating just out of reach.
Every task seemed trivial. Pointless. Yet each was bound by rules so intricate they strangled her.
A bow held too long or too short. A tray balanced at the wrong height. A silence broken one second too early.
Every move was a trap. Every breath had to be measured.
The System made sure she never forgot.
Notification: Action correct. Favorability: +1.
Warning: Do not stare too long.
Selene nearly snapped when the second message appeared as she brushed Lady Zhen's robes.
"Are you serious?" she thought bitterly, keeping her face blank. "Now even my eyeballs have survival stats? What's next—breathing patterns?"
Her nerves frayed under the invisible weight. The System was a chain tugging her in every direction, mocking her with rules she didn't understand, scoring her like a student in an impossible exam.
Yet as the hours passed, Selene began to notice things.
Every concubine had her own small court of maids. They whispered together, cast side-glances at rivals, exchanged favors like currency. Smiles were weapons. Compliments were daggers in silk wrapping.
Lady Zhen herself remained a puzzle. Sometimes she would speak softly to her maids, her voice like velvet, eyes warm enough to almost convince Selene there was gentleness there. Other times, her gaze turned cold and distant, cutting conversations short with a single glance.
Selene learned quickly that survival here was not about strength, nor even cleverness.
It was about reading the tide before it drowned you.
The palace was not simply a home.
It was a battlefield dressed in silk.
And if Selene wanted to live, she couldn't remain a pawn forever.
That realization sank into her bones as the sun dipped low beyond the palace walls.
Her body ached from endless labor, her palms raw, her head pounding from the heavy scent of perfume and incense. But even exhaustion couldn't smother the unease crawling beneath her skin.
Because she could see it now—
The smiles were too sharp.
The silence was too calculated.
The courtyards too quiet, as if hiding wars fought in whispers.
The palace glittered like a dream, but its foundations were thorns.
And Selene was caught at the very center.
By the time the lanterns were lit across the eastern wing, Selene felt as though her bones had turned to sand.
Her arms trembled from carrying trays, her knees stung from kneeling on marble, and her scalp throbbed where pins dug mercilessly into her hair. The perfume of burning incense clung to her like a second skin, suffocating her lungs no matter how many shallow breaths she took.
And still, the work never ended.
When Lady Zhen retired for the evening, Selene was ordered to tidy the chamber. She smoothed silken sheets, refilled porcelain jars, swept away petals that drifted from a vase of white chrysanthemums. Each task was meticulous, precise, and Selene performed them with a silent desperation, terrified of one wrong move that might condemn her.
Every second felt like walking the edge of a blade.
The System offered no comfort, only its cold intrusions.
Notification: Efficiency acceptable. Favorability: +1.
Warning: Posture faltering. Correct immediately.
Selene gritted her teeth, back straightening as if jerked by strings.
"What are you, my PE teacher?" she cursed silently. "Next you'll tell me I failed at folding laundry. Oh wait—that might actually kill me here."
It was while she was sweeping near the lanterns that she heard it.
Two senior maids stood just beyond the veil, their voices hushed, yet the silence of the room made every word slice through the air.
"…the Empress grows suspicious," one whispered, her tone sharp with fear. "If Lady Zhen cannot secure favor soon, she will fall."
Selene's hand froze on the broom handle.
Fall? The word twisted in her mind like a blade.
The second maid's reply was colder, weighted with dread. "Then what of us? We will be discarded alongside her."
Silence followed. Thick. Suffocating. The kind of silence that meant both women understood the truth but dared not say it aloud.
Selene's stomach knotted so violently she thought she might retch.
Discarded. Forgotten. Erased.
The word clung to her bones like frost.
She had been living on borrowed time ever since she woke in this body, but hearing it spoken aloud—casually, like a shared secret—made the reality sink deeper than ever before.
They weren't talking about a loss of privilege or a demotion. They were talking about annihilation. In this world, maids and concubines weren't people. They were tools. And when tools broke or failed—
—they were thrown away.
Selene forced her trembling hands to move, sweeping the same corner over and over so the women wouldn't notice her listening. Her ears burned with the effort of catching every word. But the conversation dwindled, their whispers melting back into silence before fading footsteps carried them away.
When the room was quiet again, Selene stood frozen, heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.
Her throat was dry. Her palms slick.
This wasn't a home. It wasn't even a prison.
It was a game rigged against her.
A stage where survival depended on pleasing masters who could discard her with a flick of their sleeve.
A battlefield where alliances determined whether one ate or starved, whether one lived or was buried in silence.
Her chest heaved as the truth settled in.
And then—
The System pulsed, its glow flooding her vision.
Main Quest Activated: Survive the Palace of Thorns.
Sub-Quest: Assist Lady Zhen in gaining favor.
Reward: Increased survival rate.
The words burned against her sight like fire branded into flesh.
Selene's knees gave out beneath her. She collapsed onto the straw mat of her quarters later that night, trembling so violently she could barely curl her fingers.
Her breaths came shallow and ragged. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was worse—spiraling, fraying, splintering under the weight of the quest now shackled to her soul.
A gilded cage.
A battlefield.
A nightmare wrapped in silk.
And she was at its very heart.