[ Third Person ]
The heavy, iron-reinforced doors of the Queen's private pavilion stood closed, guarded by two elite royal sentries whose faces were completely hidden behind steel visors. But inside the parallel service corridor—a narrow, unheated passage utilized by the palace servants—the air was thick with the scent of damp stone and old dust.
Tae Hua moved like a shadow, his silk robes gathered tight to prevent the fabric from rustling against the stone walls. His mind was a hyper-focused grid of data, calculating the exact rotation of the guards outside.
He didn't expect to hear a second set of footsteps.
Before Tae Hua could draw his concealed training dagger, a large, calloused hand clamped firmly over his mouth, and a heavy arm locked around his chest, dragging him back into the deepest recess of a arched alcove.
Tae Hua's eyes went wide as he prepared to strike backward, but a low, familiar voice hissed directly into his ear.
"If you make a sound, the Queen's guards will have both our heads on spikes before the hour ends. Quiet down, Cousin."
Ji Wok slowly released his grip, his dark eyes boring into Tae Hua's through the dim light of the corridor.
Tae Hua tore himself away, smoothing his rumpled collar, his chest heaving with silent fury. "What are you doing here, Ji Wok? Tracking me?"
"You are not the only one who finds the Empress's timing suspicious," Ji Wok whispered back, leaning his shoulder against the damp stone wall, his eyes tracking a small iron-grated vent that looked directly into the Queen's private chamber. "Listen."
[ Tae Hua's POV ]
I pressed my ear against the iron vent, my breath catching in my throat. The muffled, rhythmic voices of my mother and the Empress drifted through the iron slats.
"The regional screenings must be executed with absolute violence, Sister," Queen Ni Xua's voice carried a chilling, calculating weight. "If the Central Empire discovers that the Second Princess survived the initial border purge, our sovereign autonomy over the Northern trade routes will be permanently revoked."
"The tax treaty is already signed with the Red Assassins," the Empress's voice replied, her tone completely devoid of human emotion. "They were paid in imperial gold to ensure the girl was completely incinerated in the valley thirteen winters ago. If she breathes, it means they breached the contract. Find her. Eliminate her before she reaches the capital gates."
A cold sweat broke out across my lower back. A tax treaty with the Red Assassins.
The royal family hadn't just lost a princess; they had actively financed her execution to secure a financial monopoly over the northern borders. The data points in my mind were fracturing, rewriting themselves into a terrifying new reality.
Beside me, Ji Wok's face remained an unreadable sheet of ice, but I saw the rhythmic twitch in his jaw. He had heard it too.
Before we could process the treasonous gravity of their words, the heavy rustle of silk inside the chamber signaled the sisters were moving toward the exit. Ji Wok grabbed my shoulder, forcing me down the corridor as we retreated toward the forgotten southern wing of the pavilion, slipping past a rotting wooden door that groaned under our weight.
[ Weicheng's POV ]
I didn't know how I ended up in the abandoned eastern wing of the academy. My legs had simply carried me away from the dais, away from the terrifying glare of the identical twins, until the manicured courtyard faded into overgrown briars and rotting timber.
The structure before me was entirely swallowed by dead vines—Wisteria Hall. A faded wooden placard hung crookedly above the double doors, the golden paint peeling away like old skin.
Pushing the door open, a thick wave of stagnant, dusty air hit my face, triggering a quiet cough. The interior was frozen in time. Rotting silk curtains hung from the ceiling like cobwebs, and the floorboards were thick with a decade of grey soot.
"Why did you run here?"
I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat as I turned sharply. Ji Wok and Tae Hua stepped through the broken doorframe, their faces shadowed by the dim light of the overcast sky.
"I needed... air," I stammered, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my uniform.
Tae Hua didn't look at me. His brilliant, restless eyes were already scanning the rotting furniture of the room. "This was the childhood pavilion of Princess Xie'en," he murmured, his voice hollow as he walked toward a heavy oak vanity covered in a thick layer of dust. "Before the border tragedy. The palace records claim it was sealed due to structural decay, but it was hidden. Erased."
Ji Wok stepped closer to the center of the room, his boots leaving deep prints in the soot. "They didn't just seal it. They tried to bury the evidence of her existence."
He reached out, his large hand brushing against a massive, floor-length silk tapestry hanging on the northern wall. With a sharp, sudden pull, the rotting fabric tore away from the stone, revealing a hidden, iron-reinforced wooden door set deep into the masonry.
"A secret passage," I whispered, stepping forward despite the terror screaming in my mind.
Tae Hua joined us, his fingers tracing the rusted iron latch. "The lock mechanism is early Arghon design. It bypasses the main courtyard guards entirely, leading straight to the outer valley."
He gave the latch a heavy shove. The ancient wood groaned, swinging inward to reveal a tiny, dust-choked bedchamber.
It was a little girl's room. A small wooden rocking horse sat rotting in the corner, its painted eyes chipped and blind. On the tiny writing desk lay a shattered porcelain doll, its hollow face staring up at the ceiling.
But it was the object hanging directly above the small bed that made my breath completely stop.
A large, beautifully preserved charcoal portrait hung in a gilded frame. The glass was cracked, but the face beneath it was perfectly clear. It was a young girl of perhaps five winters, her eyes wide, bright, and full of life.
I fell back a half-step, my knees turning to water.
The facial architecture, the slight curve of the brow, the specific set of the jaw—it was looking into a mirror across a gap of thirteen years. It was me.
"Cheng? What is wrong with your complexion?" Tae Hua's sharp voice sliced through the silence, his eyes instantly tracking my movement.
"Nothing," I choked out, my voice trembling violently as I forced my eyes away from the canvas. "It's just... the dust. It's suffocating."
I looked up desperately, meeting Ji Wok's dark eyes. He wasn't looking at the portrait. He was looking directly at me, his gaze heavy, dark, and filled with a profound, terrifying realization. He knew. He looked from my trembling hands to the portrait, and the final piece of the tactical puzzle clicked into place behind his eyes.
The grandest secrets of the Empire do not hide within the iron vaults of the capital; they sit rotting in the childhood rooms of dead girls, waiting for the math to finally catch up.