Sleep did not come.
Selene lay on the straw mat, staring at the wooden beams overhead as the first tendrils of dawn stretched pale fingers across the servant quarters. The dim light revealed the scratches in the floorboards, the roughness of the walls, and the dust motes floating lazily in the air. Normally, she would have ignored these things, but tonight—even the mundane seemed sharpened, edged with danger.
Her thoughts replayed the banquet in fragments, each memory a jagged shard pressing against her skull: the delicate fall of plum blossoms like snow drifting in midair, the Emperor's faint smile that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words, Lady Zhen's triumphant gaze glowing like a candle in the dark, and, above all, the Empress's silver eyes, piercing through her very soul. Those eyes had not just looked—they had measured, weighed, and passed judgment. They were endless, cold, like a still lake whose depths held secrets too dark to comprehend.
Selene shivered despite the thin blanket curled around her shoulders. Her limbs ached in ways she didn't expect: the muscles tense from standing too long, the bones stiff from knelt prayers, the fingers twitching with the echo of holding tea cups just so. She could still feel the phantom warmth of Celestia's touch at her chin, an icy pressure that made her spine rigid and her thoughts stumble.
And yet, sleep would not claim her.
The system hadn't been merciful either. Its persistent glow hovered at the corner of her vision, pulsing with a cold reminder:
New Main Quest: Survive the Empress's Interest.
Difficulty: Impossible.
Selene rolled onto her side, hugging her knees. Impossible? The word echoed like a taunt bouncing off every wall, curling in the corners of the ceiling, and whispering into her ear. She wanted to scream. She wanted to bolt through the corridors, through the palace doors, through reality itself. Instead, she lay there, thinking bitterly: I'm just trying not to die. Not trying to seduce emperors, not trying to outwit celestial-level rulers. I'm just… me. A maid. A nobody.
But the palace did not care for "nobody." Every misstep here carried consequences carved in blood, hidden or not. One wrong word, one misjudged glance, one poorly arranged flower, and death could come silently—through rumor, through poison, through a blade she didn't even see.
Selene's stomach knotted as she remembered Lin Hua's smile, sweet as honey but sharp as a glass shard. Every time she blinked, she could still feel that trace of malice, that imperceptible threat hidden behind practiced innocence. And then there was Lady Zhen, her mistress—powerful, graceful, and unknowable—whose eyes now lingered on Selene in ways that felt both protective and perilous. Measuring her. Testing her. Weighing courage against recklessness, loyalty against usefulness.
The room was silent, but every sound felt amplified. A draft whispered through the sliding paper doors, rustling the thin mats. Somewhere far down the hall, a maid coughed, a sound that might have been innocent—or might have been the first note of an impending trap. The wind rattled the wooden shutters, a soft, insistent knock like a threat, carrying with it faint perfumes: lotus oil, sandalwood, faint traces of plum blossoms from the inner courtyards. The smells, beautiful and cloying, made her stomach churn. The palace itself seemed to breathe around her, inhaling and exhaling tension, wrapping her in it.
She hugged the blanket tighter. I have to think. I have to act. Doing nothing was the fastest way to die.
And yet, thinking was a dangerous luxury here. Each thought had to be weighed, measured, filtered for exposure. One careless worry could slip into speech, one misjudged expression could invite suspicion. Her mind raced: What if Lady Zhen falters? What if Lin Hua strikes again? What if the Empress notices me, and it's not with amusement but… displeasure?
Selene's fingers dug into the mat as she pictured the banquet scene again: the plum blossoms drifting, the Emperor's faint glance, the subtle movements of concubines weighing one another with eyes like sharpened knives. She could still feel the pulse of danger in every smile, the hidden calculations in every nod. Survival, she reminded herself. Survival first. Everything else could come later.
The sun had begun to cast gold across the palace roofs, yet the warmth did little to calm her. Every corridor she imagined in her mind seemed longer than it was, every window a watchful eye. Servants bustled past, their faces familiar yet unknowable, like extras in a dream she could not fully wake from. Even the sounds of water trickling from the inner gardens felt like a warning—a note of potential peril disguised as serenity.
Selene pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to still the racing thoughts. I can survive this. I have survived worse already. I am… clever. Observant. Careful. And yet, a small, dark voice in her mind whispered: Cleverness is not enough here. Not yet. And the Empress is not yet amused.
The palace itself seemed to press closer, the shadows pooling into corners, the sunlight streaking through latticework like slashes of gold across the marble floors. She could almost hear the whispers—the soft, deliberate conversations she was not meant to catch, the rustle of silk as rivals measured and weighed each other, the subtle echo of footsteps that were louder in her mind than in reality.
Selene exhaled, slow and deliberate, forcing herself to straighten. She would not let the palace crush her before her first meeting with the Empress. Not yet. She would rise to the occasion, step by step, choice by choice, heartbeat by heartbeat.
Soon, she promised herself, I will understand the rules. And then… I will play.
And as the sunlight touched the edges of the servant's quarters, the first, faint spark of fear-driven resolve ignited in Selene's chest. The Empress's gaze would come. And she would be ready.
By mid-morning, the summons arrived.
A eunuch in immaculate white robes, his face a mask of unreadable calm, appeared at the doorway of the servants' quarters. "Li Mei. Her Imperial Majesty requests your presence."
The room fell silent as if the very air held its breath. Other maids froze mid-task, their eyes wide, mouths slack in disbelief. One young girl dropped the fine needle she was threading, the sharp point skittering across the wooden floor like a small cry for mercy. Another crossed herself quickly, murmuring a prayer against misfortune.
Selene's stomach dropped into her chest, twisting her insides into tight knots. Her hands felt like they no longer belonged to her, trembling as she smoothed the plain sleeves of her robe. Her mind spun: Her Imperial Majesty… the Empress herself? Me? Surely this is a mistake.
But the eunuch's expression remained unchanging, stone-cold and absolute, and Selene knew there would be no mistake. She bowed stiffly, murmuring assent. "Yes, Your Majesty's servant."
As she followed the eunuch through the palace corridors, the familiar halls seemed transformed. Light poured in through lattice windows, painting long, angular patterns across polished marble. The scent of incense, mingled with distant bouquets of fresh flowers from the inner gardens, was heavier than usual—suffocating, fragrant, and foreboding all at once.
Her slippers whispered against the floors. Every soft step seemed amplified in her mind, echoing like drumbeats in a hall too vast, too silent. She felt the weight of the palace pressing against her from all sides: the carved dragons that spiraled up the pillars, the painted screens depicting emperors and battles long past, the faint rustle of silk from unseen courtiers and servants. Each element seemed alive, watching, judging, waiting.
Selene's pulse hammered against her temples. She tried to steady herself, forcing her thoughts into careful, controlled lines. Do not trip. Do not speak. Do not draw attention. Just survive. Step by step. One choice at a time.
The Hall of Radiant Moon lay at the innermost sanctum, protected by twin stone lions whose eyes glimmered faintly in the sunlight as though aware of her approach. Selene's heart seized. She had heard tales of the Empress's presence: how a single glance could chill a seasoned courtier to the bone, how one misstep could erase years of service in an instant.
The eunuch halted, signaling her to enter. Selene's knees threatened to buckle, but she forced them to hold, stepping into the hall with deliberate care.
There, on a raised dais, Celestia sat—a vision of terrifying elegance. Her crimson robes, embroidered with golden phoenixes that seemed to shimmer and shift in the morning light, clung to her form with both authority and grace. Every motion was measured, every breath controlled. Her silver eyes, like polished steel, locked onto Selene immediately.
The sensation was instantaneous: standing beneath Celestia's gaze was like standing exposed beneath a hawk poised to strike. Every nerve fired at once, every thought instantly fragile.
Selene's knees hit the marble before her mind could catch up. "This lowly maid greets Your Majesty," she stammered, forehead pressed to the cold stone. Her voice quivered with the weight of a thousand unspoken fears.
"Rise," the Empress commanded. Her voice was soft, almost melodic, but each word carried a weight that brooked no argument.
Selene obeyed, keeping her gaze lowered. Her mind raced as she took in the hall: the intricate latticework casting patterned shadows across the floor, the faint scent of jasmine and sandalwood heavy in the air, the soft glimmer of sunlight on the golden phoenixes stitched into Celestia's robes. Every detail screamed of meticulous control—every corner of this hall reminded her that she was being watched, tested, measured.
The silence stretched unbearably. Finally, Celestia spoke again, her tone slow and deliberate: "You are Li Mei. New to the palace."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Selene replied, her throat dry as dust.
Celestia's gaze did not waver. "I have heard that during last night's banquet, Lady Zhen offered words to the Emperor that stirred even his weary heart. Curious, is it not, that a new maid's cough preceded them?"
Selene's blood ran cold. The memory hit like ice water: the delicate cough she had offered to clear her throat, the whispered movements, the precise placement of flowers meant to steady Lady Zhen. Was this cunning… or foolish?
She dropped back to her knees, palms flat against the floor, and whispered, "This humble servant was only careless. I beg Your Majesty's forgiveness if it offended."
Celestia descended from her dais with slow, deliberate steps. The swoosh of her scarlet robes sounded like fire across the marble, each footfall resonating in Selene's chest. With every step, the Empress drew closer, until Selene could feel the warmth radiating from her, warm yet inescapably terrifying.
A hand, pale and delicate, tilted Selene's chin upward, forcing her gaze to meet those silver eyes that gleamed like liquid metal under sunlight. The Empress's touch was deceptively soft, yet it felt like a vice, pinning Selene in place.
"Do not lie to me," Celestia murmured, her voice low, deadly in its calm. "I despise liars more than I despise incompetence."
Selene's mind screamed: What do I say? How do I live?
The system flared faintly in her vision:
Choice detected.
Option A: Deny everything.
Option B: Admit cleverness but downplay intent.
Option C: Redirect attention to Lady Zhen.
Selene's pulse raced. Denial would be foolish—Celestia's gaze would pierce any falsehood like a sword. Blaming Lady Zhen? Suicide. Every instinct screamed at her: The wrong choice, and it is over. Literally over.
She drew a shuddering breath and chose the middle path.
"I only wished to serve Lady Zhen, Your Majesty," Selene whispered, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the tremor. "She was… nervous. I thought a reminder of spring's fleeting beauty might steady her heart. I did not mean for the Emperor to notice."
Celestia studied her in silence, her hand still at Selene's chin. The pressure of those silver eyes was unbearable, weighing down on Selene's shoulders, compressing her chest, threatening to crush her thoughts.
Then, unexpectedly, Celestia laughed. Soft, sharp, like glass breaking in sunlight, beautiful and dangerous all at once.
"So bold," the Empress said. "A maid who thinks she can steady a concubine's heart. A maid whose words reach the Emperor's ears."
Selene's stomach lurched. She bowed lower, voice cracking. "This servant overstepped—"
"Perhaps." Celestia's hand fell away. Her robes swept through the hall like scarlet water, arcs of gold catching the light. "Or perhaps the gods have a strange sense of humor, planting a clever weed in the cracks of my garden."
Selene dared to glance up. Celestia's gaze lingered on her, a faint curve of her lips neither smile nor threat, but something in between—a dangerous curiosity.
"You intrigue me, Li Mei," the Empress said finally, her voice softer now yet sharp with unspoken power. "Few in this palace do."
Selene's throat tightened. "Your Majesty is too kind."
"Do not mistake my interest for kindness." Celestia's voice hardened. "I keep what amuses me close. But I destroy what displeases me. Which will you be, I wonder?"
Her knees nearly buckled at the weight of the words. The system's warning flared again:
Main Quest Updated: Maintain the Empress's favor.
Failure: Certain death.
Celestia waved her hand, dismissing her with the effortless authority of someone who held life and death in a flick of her wrist.
"Go. Attend your mistress. I will summon you when I desire."
Selene bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the marble. "Yes, Your Majesty."
As she fled the hall, the eunuch escorting her gave a look—equal parts pity, awe, and a reminder that few ever survived such an encounter with their dignity intact.
Stepping back into the sunlight, Selene's chest heaved. The palace air was thick with blossoms, incense, and the faint tang of danger that she now could not ignore. She had survived the Empress's gaze. For now.
Yet where Celestia's fingers had touched her chin, her skin tingled still, as if the silver eyes had branded her soul.
Selene inhaled deeply, tasting the sharp, sweet air. This is only the beginning.