Avalon Palace, Western Wing.
In the corner of the back kitchen, Aerith Ravenscroft tightened the ribbon of her white apron with trembling hands. She had only arrived at the palace yesterday morning as an apprentice servant. And this very morning, she had already dropped two antique plates, poured the wrong herbal tea for Duchess Berelwyn, and nearly gotten lost in the wine cellar corridor.
She did not know where the central hall was. She did not even know that the luncheon fork was different from the dinner fork. But there was one thing she was absolutely certain of:
She desperately wanted to go home.
But going home was not an option. Her father had sold her to the slave market to pay off the family's debts. If not for her mother's courage, pushing Aerith to flee and sneak into the palace, she would, without doubt, have already become a slave by now.
"Aerith! Take this to Lady Elysia's dressing chamber. At once!" shouted one of the senior maids.
Aerith nodded quickly, taking the silver tray filled with dainty snacks and fresh flowers. Her heart beat faster than her hurried footsteps. The name Elysia Montreux was only ever heard in hushed whispers among the maids; they said she was a concubine candidate from Moonstone, a small eastern kingdom so insignificant that it did not even appear on the main maps.
Aerith tiptoed into the dressing chamber, trying her best to set the tray down as quietly as possible.
But at the very same moment, Lady Elysia, who had been bowing her head to spray hair oil at her temples, stood up too quickly, and…
THUD.
The sound was soft, yet fatal. Their heads collided hard. Elysia gasped, her eyes wide and lips trembling. She let out a short scream before collapsing, unconscious, her forehead swelling from the impact.
Aerith froze. Her breath caught in her throat, cold sweat dampening her palms.
No. No. No. This must not happen.
Lady Elysia was one of the participants in the royal concubine selection. And in just one hour, Lady Elysia was supposed to be in the western hall.
Hearing the shriek from Elysia's chamber, the head maid strode quickly toward the sound. The moment she saw Lady Elysia sprawled on the floor, eyes tightly shut, she could not contain her own scream.
"YOU HAVE KILLED A CONCUBINE CANDIDATE!!"
Gwenevere's voice, the Head Maid of the palace, thundered like lightning trapped inside a porcelain jar.
Aerith fell to her knees, her body trembling with fear, hands clutching her knees tightly as waves of anxiety washed over her until she shivered.
"I—I didn't touch her. I mean, I only… I was standing too close, and my head… eh, her head, we… we..." Aerith stammered, unable to form proper words, her thoughts in utter chaos.
"Enough." Madam Gwenevere stepped closer, her face flushed red. "Do you realize what will happen if Moonstone learns that their only envoy for the concubine selection collapsed an hour before the event? Political scandal! Diplomatic outrage! And us? We will be stripped, burned, and cast to the borders."
Aerith lowered her head further, her lips trembling harder. She had made many mistakes since coming here, but this,,, this was the worst. She would not only be punished by Avalon, but the Moonstone Kingdom would never let it go.
Gwenevere paced back and forth, the hem of her gown sweeping the marble floor. Her eyes suddenly fixed on Aerith's face. Slowly, a smile formed, a smile devoid of warmth.
"Damn it! How did I forget this?" Gwenevere smacked her own palm as a thought struck her.
Lady Elysia was merely a princess sent from a faraway minor kingdom at the edge of the continent. Moonstone did not even appear on the main maps, which meant Lady Elysia was a candidate who was, to put it bluntly, insignificant. She was destined never to be chosen.
Gwenevere seized Aerith's shoulders, pulling her upright so that they stood eye to eye. She inspected Aerith's face; there was no bruise on her forehead. With a wide grin, Gwenevere murmured, "Perfect."
"Pardon?" Aerith whispered, not understanding the head maid's words.
"Listen carefully. No one knows what Lady Elysia Montreux looks like. She came from a tiny nation, arrived alone without guards, and has not appeared in public. Since you caused this mess, you will replace her."
Aerith's head shot up in sheer terror. "W-what?! But I… I don't even know how to bow properly!"
Madam Gwen laughed aloud, patting Aerith's cheek as she said, "Excellent. The worse your performance, the sooner you'll be eliminated. What matters is that you appear. After that, this incident will be buried."
"What about Lady Elysia?"
"I will trade your year's wages for the cost of her silence. Lady Elysia will not object to that."
Aerith swallowed hard. She knew the cruelty of life in the royal palace. Even the smallest mistake could condemn a servant to death. Losing a year's wages was still better than losing her life.
Still, she asked again, "But what if… what if this is discovered?"
"If it is discovered," Gwenevere whispered, "we will all die. But let us focus on the fact that the King would never glance at a girl like you."
Aerith nodded meekly. "I will surely be eliminated on the first day," she said with full conviction.
Gwenevere studied her face intently, furrowing her brow before shaking her head. "I believe you deserve to be eliminated even before entering the selection hall."
***
The concubine selection hall glittered with jewels, drenched in expensive perfume and false smiles. Aerith stood in the third row, dressed in a pale blue gown that did not suit her frame. She stared at the floor, repeating in her mind the warnings she had just received:
'Do not speak. Do not meet the King's eyes. Do not smile. Do not cry. Better yet, do not be anything at all.'
Those were the words Madam Gwen had drilled into her over and over again, desperate for Aerith to remember them.
Aerith drew a breath. She was ready to become someone 'uninteresting,' 'useless,' 'unworthy of being chosen.'
In that grand hall, twenty concubine candidates gathered from across the regions, each adorned in their finest attire, except, of course, Aerith.
When the candidates exchanged shallow smiles with one another in a display of courtesy, some of them did not hesitate to let their disgust show toward Aerith, who looked shabby and provincial. Yet at the same time, they were pleased, for it meant they would not be eliminated in the first round.
Ten minutes after Aerith entered the hall, the golden bell tolled. At its chime, King Lucien Valcourt stepped into the chamber, and the atmosphere changed instantly.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore the black ceremonial robe that made him stand out even more among the brightly dressed candidates. King Lucien's face was cold, almost devoid of emotion. His gaze was like sharpened ice, scanning every participant without mercy.
When the King's eyes fell upon Aerith, she reflexively averted her gaze, but the motion was so clumsy that she accidentally stepped on her own gown.
In a flustered panic, she stumbled forward, her hands hitting the floor. She scrambled back up quickly, but a few women could not help but laugh softly.
From the distance, the King halted his steps. His eyes narrowed slightly. He tilted his head, observing the candidate who had just fallen flat on the floor. If memory served, this was the very first humiliation to occur in the entire history of Avalon's concubine selection.
"…foolish woman," King Lucien muttered under his breath.