Chapter 3.
Tea, Silk, and Poisoned Smiles.
The weight of the upcoming Empire Founding Festival was a physical pressure behind Elisa's eyes—a dull, throbbing headache.
She sat within the velvet confines of the carriage, her gaze fixed on the window. Across from her, Sia watched with a weary, flickering concern. Outside, the capital's central market the crowd was thicker than usual; with the festival only a month away, the city had begun to breathe a different, more frantic kind of air.
The streets were scrubbed unnaturally clean and draped in festive banners. Even through the carriage glass, the heavy, spiced aroma of street food—roasting meats and fried dough—seeped into the cabin. Merchants, from wealthy silk-traders to humble stall-keepers, had laid out their finest wares in a desperate bid for coin.
"M... My Lady?" Sia reached out, giving Elisa's shoulder a gentle nudge to break her trance.
Elisa blinked, the vibrant colors of the market snapping back into focus. "Oh... forgive me. I was merely lost in the view."
"My Lady, please," Sia said, her voice laced with a raw, protective loyalty as she took Elisa's hand. "Are you truly alright?"
Am I alright? I am many things, but 'alright' is not among them, Elisa thought bitterly.
"Why? Do I look so haggard, Sia?" Elisa asked, tilting her head with a faint, practiced curiosity.
"No, it isn't that... I just worry the festival is weighing on you."
"Hmm. It matters little whether I wish to attend or not," Elisa sighed, leaning her head back against the upholstery. A tired exhale escaped her lips. "Every noble and aristocratic house is bound by law to be there. To absent oneself is to whisper 'treason' in the Emperor's ear."
Their conversation was abruptly cut short as the carriage jerked to a halt.
"What now?" Sia grumbled, pulling the curtain aside to peer out.
A soft rap sounded on the wood before the driver pulled the door open, his expression apologetic. "My apologies, My Lady, but the carriage can go no further. The main thoroughfare is completely choked with the crowd."
"Is there no detour?" Sia demanded.
"None, Lady Sia. This is the only route into the heart of the market."
Elisa looked out at the stagnant sea of people. The congestion was absolute. If she intended to keep her appointment, her own two feet were now her only reliable transport.
"Sia, let's go."
Sia's hand tightened on Elisa's in a flash of nerves. "But My Lady, the Darren Boutique is still a mile from here! Please, wait in the carriage. The driver and I will find another way or fetch a another carriage from other side."
Elisa shook her head, a small, resolute smile playing on her lips. "A mile is nothing but a brisk walk, Sia. Besides, I should like to see the market up close before we reach the boutique."
Sia let out a heavy, defeated sigh. "Very well then."
At Elisa's silent nod, Sia reached back into the carriage to retrieve a leather crossbody bag.
"Wait here," Elisa told the driver, pressing two bronze coins into his palm. "Get yourself a hot meal while we are away."
***
"Oh, heavens! My Lady, look at that!" Sia's earlier worry had vanished, replaced by a wide-eyed wonder as they delved deeper into the market's glittering heart. The further they walked, the more opulent the views became.
"Hush now, Sia. We aren't here for sightseeing," Elisa urged, though her tone was soft. "Walk faster, or we shall be late."
"Oh, right! Sorry," Sia mumbled around a mouthful of a kabab she'd managed to snag from a vendor.
A short walk later, they stood before the imposing facade of the Daren Boutique—the premier destination for the Empire's noblewomen. Its proprietor, Marchioness Elle Daren, held an iron grip on high-society fashion. To wear a Daren original was to signal one's indisputable status.
As Elisa stepped toward the entrance, a guard shifted, blocking her path with a heavy arm.
"State your name, My Lady," the guard commanded.
A new face, Elisa noted, her eyes narrowing.
"What is the meaning of this?" Sia snapped, her voice rising in indignation.
"Commoners are not permitted entry," the guard stated flatly, his eyes raking over Elisa's attire.
What a tedious fuss, Elisa thought. I chose this dress for comfort, but it seems that in this city, if you aren't dripping in gold, you are invisible. Or worse, an eyesore.
"I shall not ask again," the guard said. "Your name, or you move along."
"Elisa. Elisa Nirvana," she replied, her voice dropping into a cold, weary register.
The guard let out a sharp, mocking scoff. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth as if he'd just heard a particularly pathetic joke.
Sia flinched as if struck, her fists clenching white-knuckled at her sides. How dare he? How dare this dog laugh at my lady?
"Do you have a death wish?" Elisa's voice was like a razor. She held the guard's gaze until he saw the icy venom behind her eyes. "Or perhaps you find your head too heavy for your shoulders? I can have it removed if it's such a burden."
The guard's smirk vanished. He recoiled, the color draining from his face as he dropped into a frantic, clumsy bow.
"Know your place". Elisa said softly as she swept past him.
Ding-dong.
A silver bell chimed as they entered. The interior was a temple of luxury. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the walls, reflecting a thousand crystalline lights designed to make every woman look like a goddess.
No matter how often I come here, the decadence only grows, Elisa thought, her face a mask of indifference. The Darens certainly know how to spend a fortune.
"Welcome, My Lady. Please, follow me to the waiting room," a staff member said, gesturing toward a plush lounge.
Elisa stepped inside to find several noblewomen already seated on the velvet sofas. They were all her age, their fans fluttering like the wings of nervous birds.
"Oh my, oh my! Look who's here," one of them, Lady Keeta, announced. Her voice was drenched in mock surprise.
"Greetings, Lady Keeta," Elisa replied with practiced politeness, moving toward the seating area.
Keeta Ranen—the daughter of Marquis Ranen and a self-proclaimed confidante of the Crown Princess. At least, that was the fiction she maintained in the salons.
"Oh... I am so terribly sorry, Lady Elisa," Keeta said, her eyes glinting. "As you can see, there simply isn't a single spot left for you."
The sofa was clearly large enough, but the other ladies had spread their voluminous skirts wide, creating an artificial barrier.
Are they children? Elisa wondered, the air in the room suddenly feeling thick and suffocating. Truly, this is exhausting.
"Do not trouble yourself, Lady Keeta. I shall sit on the chair over there," Elisa said smoothly. She took a seat on a solitary wooden chair in the corner, with Sia standing like a silent sentinel behind her.
"Haha! Just look at that... what a 'humble' dress she's wearing," another lady whispered, not quite quietly enough.
"The Nirvana family is truly finished, isn't it?" a second added, leaning in. "Once the 'Beauty of the Empire,' now she's just 'Beauty with Dirty Desires.' A fallen star."
A pack of hyenas, Elisa thought. She didn't give them the satisfaction of a reaction, instead turning her attention to the gowns on display. Why waste energy on those who have nothing to do with me?
But Sia was not so detached. She was trembling with a quiet, volcanic rage. Her fingernails dug into her palms so hard they threatened to draw blood. Elisa felt the girl's heat and reached back, squeezing Sia's hand.
Sweet child, Elisa thought. I am calm only because others are angry on my behalf.
"Calm yourself, Sia. It is fine," Elisa whispered. "Gossiping is the only work these ladies know. Let them do their jobs, and you do yours."
Sia stopped shaking, but the shadow of hurt remained etched on her face.
"Oh! Marchioness Elle is here!" Keeta squealed.
The ladies rose as one, curtsying deeply as Elle Daren entered the room.
"My Ladies, you are the pride of this boutique," Elle said, her voice smooth and practiced. "It is your grace that brings my creations to life. It is an honor to see you in my work."
"Oh, Lady Elle, you are too kind! We have so much to learn from your elegance," Keeta gushed.
"Greetings, My Lady," Elisa said, standing to offer a nod.
Elle turned, her eyes cooling instantly. "Oh. You are here as well, Lady Elisa."
"I am."
"I heard a rumor you arrived on foot," Elle said, her tone dripping with faux-concern. "How many miles did you trudge through the heating route?"
"A mile, perhaps," Elisa answered softly.
"Haha! My! I am truly saddened for you, Lady Elisa," Keeta chimed in, laughing behind her fan. "Can your father truly no longer afford even a common carriage for his daughter?"
She's trying to bait me, Elisa realized. How incredibly tedious.
"I suspect you don't realize how short a mile is, Lady Keeta," Elisa said with a thin smile. "It is a distance easily conquered by anyone with functioning legs. You should try it."
"Why would I walk like a peasant? I am a Noble!" Keeta snapped, her irritation breaking through.
"My Lady had to walk because the crowds blocked the road!" Sia interrupted, unable to stay silent. "We did have a carriage!"
"Oh, you mean you walked among those filthy commoners? The ones who reek of sweat and poverty?" Keeta gave Elisa a look of pure disgust. "Two lashes of a whip is usually enough to clear such filth from one's path."
"Well, it won't matter soon," another lady remarked. "After the Foundation Festival, Lady Elisa will be a commoner herself. She's just getting a head start on her new life."
Clap. Clap.
Marchioness Elle clapped her hands, cutting through the tension.
"Now, let us look at the dresses, Ladies. And please, bring tea and cookies," Elle commanded. She turned a cold shoulder to Elisa. "Lady Elisa, you will have to wait."
"Very well."
For the next three hours, a parade of exquisite gowns was brought out. Elisa remained in her corner. The other women gossiped, sipped tea, and nibbled on sweets, yet not a single dress was actually tried on. Elisa was ignored entirely—not even a drop of water was offered to her.
"Oh dear... Lady Elle, how could you forget to serve Lady Elisa her tea?" Keeta said suddenly, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Keeta poured a steaming cup and walked toward Elisa. Just as she reached her, she 'tripped.' The scalding liquid splashed across Elisa's lap and hands.
"Ah!" Elisa bolted upright, the heat blooming across her skin. It wasn't boiling, but it was hot enough to sting sharply.
She looked at Keeta, her eyes narrowing into slits. This bitch.
Keeta actually flinched, her legs wobbling as she met the raw fury in Elisa's gaze.
"My Lady!" Sia rushed forward, frantically dabbing at Elisa's dress and hands with a handkerchief, her eyes brimming with tears. "Are you out of your mind?" she screamed at Keeta. "If this leaves a scar, I'll—"
"Calm down, Sia. I am alright," Elisa said, her voice eerily steady. She looked back at Keeta.
"It was a mistake, Lady Elisa! Truly!" Keeta stammered, putting on a show of remorse. "I was only trying to be a friend, and my foot slipped." She smirked behind her fan.
Elisa said nothing. She merely exhaled a long, tired sigh and walked toward Marchioness Elle.
"My Lady. Please, assign a staff member to me now. I have no more time to waste."
Elle didn't even look up from a bolt of silk. "Lady Elisa, you know my terms. We do not serve fallen houses. It is bad for business." She paused, finally meeting Elisa's eyes with a mocking smirk. "And given your... colorful reputation... I cannot risk the Daren name by dressing you."
Elisa clenched her dress and stayed silent for a moment. And then-
"Ha... haha... very well then," Elisa scoffed. She looked around the room, her lips curling into a sharp, dangerous smirk that made the surrounding women recoil. They hadn't expected her to smile after such a humiliation.
"You ladies have entertained yourselves quite well today," Elisa said, her voice dropping to a low, melodic chill. "I shall see you all... next time."
With that, she turned and swept out of the boutique.
The humiliation burned worse than the tea. How can they treat a person so? she wondered, her face remaining a stoic, emotionless mask.
Once they were a safe distance away, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small, weathered card.
Alley 202, Backward Area of the Market. Shop 307. Wild Dog Investigation Bureau.
Elisa read the words to herself, her thumb tracing the embossed ink.
The time for playing nice is over, she thought. It's time to lay the pieces on the board.