If you've never sprinted through a royal palace in a maid's outfit while trying to keep your wig from sliding off, congratulations — you have lived a better life than me.
The mask on my face scratched my cheeks, my lungs burned, and the skirt kept wrapping itself around my legs like it was trying to assassinate me. Every few seconds I had to yank it up just to avoid tripping over the hem.
Behind me, the guards' armor clinked like an angry wind chime.
"Stop her!" one barked.
Her.
Yep. Still a "she" in their eyes. Which is good, because the moment they find out I'm a guy, I'd probably be charged with severe infiltration and public indecency.
I darted around a corner, my shoes skidding on the polished floor, and nearly collided with a decorative vase bigger than my torso. Pretty sure it cost more than my entire family home.
Before you start judging my life choices, let me explain how your beloved Xiao Zhen ended up as a fugitive palace maid.
We had three whole days of rest from training. A rare gift from the heavens. My classmates scattered to do whatever suited them — some slept like the dead, others picked fights in the courtyard, and a few weirdos spent the time polishing their swords like it was a religious ritual.
Me? I had a higher purpose.
The archives.
See, the palace is basically welded to the Academy like a rich cousin who refuses to move out. This means students are technically allowed into certain palace areas… and strictly forbidden from others.
And what's the fun in staying where you're allowed?
I wanted to find the hidden library — the one I was sure contained dusty scrolls, forbidden histories, maybe a few family scandals, and hopefully not a list of "Banned Academy Students" with my name on it.
Sneaking in was easy. I weaved through servant corridors, hugged the shadows, and even passed two guards without them noticing. Then I reached a corridor that practically radiated importance — heavier patrols, sharper eyes, and a silence that said whatever's here is important enough to kill you over.
The problem? Students weren't allowed there. But I noticed something: maids were.
In hindsight, this is where a rational person would have gone home.
I am not a rational person.
I found the maids' resting room, spotted a neatly folded uniform, and — after a shameful five-minute struggle with buttons and skirts — emerged as… Maid Number Forty-Seven. Mask on for "dust protection," hair hidden, posture hunched just right to look unthreatening.
And it worked!
Until the fifth step.
"Maid," a guard said sharply, "remove your mask for identification."
…And that's when my brain hit the emergency button.
I spun around and bolted. The skirt tangled in my legs, I slammed into two startled servants, and my wig slid sideways so badly that for a moment I looked like a lopsided scarecrow.
The guards shouted behind me, their boots pounding against the marble floor. I barreled into a side room, slammed the door shut, and saw — hallelujah — a window.
In seconds I was clambering out, scrambling up onto the roof above it, and hopping from rooftop to rooftop like a very confused cat.
That's when I heard them. Voices.
I froze, crouching low. Below me was a massive chamber — the kind you see in paintings of royal history. Polished marble floor, gold-thread banners, and enough space to fit my entire village twice over.
On a raised platform sat a man in a heavy, jewel-stitched robe — unmistakably the King. Beside him sat Princess Elena, her expression cool and distant, nothing like the warm young woman I'd spoken to before.
In front of her stood… him.
A man swathed in black from head to toe, cape flowing like smoke, gloved hands folded neatly. His mask was carved into a smile — not a friendly one, but the kind that made your skin crawl, like it knew something about you it shouldn't.
They were deep in conversation.
"Father," Elena said, her voice sharp enough to cut glass, "I don't believe in such things like destiny. It's better if we go according to plan… according to what you promised me."
The King leaned forward slightly. "Elena, you know… Charles is still young. You should not waste your time on him."
Her eyes didn't soften. She didn't even blink.
The masked man chuckled — a sound too quiet for the echoing hall, but it still reached me. "It's going to be very long… how much will you wait?"
Elena turned her gaze to him but said nothing. The silence between them felt like a weight pressing down on the room.
The King opened his mouth to speak — and in the blink of an eye, the masked man vanished.
No flash, no sound. Just gone.
I was still processing that when a voice purred behind me, smooth and cold at once:
"Well, well, well… look what we have here."
I turned slowly.
There he was. The same masked man. Floating in midair like gravity was beneath him. His cape and robes swirled as if moved by an invisible wind, the carved smile on his mask aimed directly at me.
And I… was still dressed as a maid.