Chaos had begun to stir again in the heart of the empire.

It had been days—eight, perhaps nine—since Lara had last seen the Emperor. The palace was a hushed battlefield of glances and whispers, and every corridor carried the same poisonous tale: the Emperor has gone to his first concubine.

Lara had heard it so many times that it had begun to sound rehearsed, as if the walls themselves had been commanded to repeat it.

They said he had gone to her chamber the very night he left Lara’s. They said he had stayed until morning. They said—

Lara no longer listened.

Well...How scandulous.

But sometimes, in the quiet moments before dawn, her mind betrayed her. It replayed the heat of his breath, the tremor of his voice, the fire that had nearly consumed her that night. She despised herself for remembering. She despised him for letting her. She just despised HIM.

The air in the palace had grown cold. Courtiers walked with eyes averted. The other Empresses smirked behind painted fans. Every laugh, every murmur felt aimed at her.

All other women of his palace had started to move. Creating traps to set. Viscous.

Then came Lilliyana.

She entered Lara’s service only days ago—a woman with sharp eyes, calm voice, and a mind that saw through illusions like glass. Her loyalty had not been bought with gifts or promises; she had simply sworn it one evening, kneeling before Lara and saying, “My conscience belongs where truth resides. To you...”

And truth, as she had quickly discovered, was rarely found in the palace.

That morning, as frost rimmed the windows and the sound of distant bells drifted through the corridors, Lilliyana stood before Lara’s desk with a sealed report in hand.

“This rumor,” she said quietly, “is not what it seems.”

Lara looked up from the parchment she had been pretending to read. “Go on.”

“The source traces back to the Royal Chamberlain. His hand is all over it—letters, servants, even the kitchen gossips. Someone wanted the story to spread quickly and precisely. It’s not simple mischief; it’s a message. Something is going on... It all leads to one conclusion. 

It's time for the first concubine to LEAVE.”

Lara leaned back, eyes narrowing. “A message? for whom?”

“For you, perhaps. Or for him.” Lilliyana hesitated, then added, “There’s also something else. The Chamberlain has ordered the records of certain visitors to the palace archives sealed—visitors from the Aizdihar Kingdom.”

The name of her fallen homeland was like a needle through her chest. “When?”

“Two months ago. Right before your arrival.”

A long silence stretched between them. Then Lara said, almost absently, “Keep watching. But be careful. Shadows in this place don’t stay still for long.”

Lilliyana bowed and withdrew, her footsteps vanishing into the echoing hall.

Lara remained seated, staring at the dying candle before her. The flame wavered and sputtered, its smoke curling into the air like a secret trying to escape.

It was strange. She had sworn to care nothing for rumors or politics—but curiosity was a stubborn, living thing. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, a thought took root: what game is being played around me? A smile, a smirk... a frown.

Yet another part of her—the older, colder part—whispered back: You don’t have time for their games. Find Nina. End this.

By the next evening, she was ready.

Disguised in a dark traveling cloak, Lara stepped out of her palace under the cover of twilight. Only her guard accompanied her—a man who had sworn silence and loyalty long ago. The air outside was crisp, scented with woodsmoke and the faint salt of the river that wound through the capital. The city was alive in a way the palace never was—chaotic, loud, human. Humane.

She passed through narrow streets where laughter spilled from taverns and oil lamps cast trembling halos of gold. Beggars huddled near doorways; merchants shouted their wares; children darted past with stolen bread clutched to their chests. For the first time in months, Lara felt the pulse of the world again.

She had come to learn, to listen—to dig where whispers buried truth.

In a district heavy with perfume and sin, she paused beneath the hanging lanterns of a brothel. Women in silks lounged by the doorway, their smiles painted and weary. Somewhere above, a flute played a slow, aching tune. Her eyes caught a familiar glint—the sign of an old noble house etched faintly on a carriage parked outside.

Her target had arrived,

Tonight, she would begin where all secrets festered: among the powerful who had forgotten what shame meant.

As she stepped forward, her guard fell into step beside her. Behind them, the city breathed—a restless, sleepless beast.

Lara pulled her hood lower, her voice barely a whisper. “We start here. Someone in this street knows where Nina’s trail ends.”

The guard nodded once. “And if they don’t?”

Lara’s eyes flashed beneath the hood, cold and resolute. “Then I’ll make them remember. I will make this man remember...”

The night swallowed her words as they vanished into the glow of the capital’s underworld.