When Robellia, confused, asked how to respond to statements or ambiguous instructions, the answer was a sharp slap in the face.

“The people around you are all aware of these rules. They won’t be confronted with such troublesome questions, so don’t worry.”

Robellia, clutching her swollen cheek, nodded silently. By now she was beginning to understand what Moss meant by her supposed ‘usefulness’. At first she had assumed she was being used to secure legitimacy for the throne through a hollow marriage, or to serve as a puppet to appease the nobles. But if that were the case, they wouldn’t be treating her so harshly.

“It would be wise for you not to leave this room. The soldiers stationed outside your door won’t stop you if you try. What happens after that, I’ll leave to your imagination.

It wasn’t a direct question, so Robellia simply nodded again and refrained from speaking.

Even as this exchange took place, the knights were busy moving in and out of the room, removing everything of value. Not a single quill was left behind. The doors connecting the bedroom to the living room and the toilet were nailed shut. Now the only access to the outside world was through the front door and the windows.

‘Are the maids all dead?’

There was no point in asking the question aloud. The answer was clear – they couldn’t possibly be alive.

After the knights had finally left, another group of men entered the room. Unlike the armoured soldiers, these men wore simpler clothing. Though clearly part of the rebellion, not one of them spoke unnecessarily. They stood silently against the empty walls, forming a watchful line.

‘They are guards… no, observers.’

“You need to get out of that outfit.”

Robellia looked down at her clothes again. The bloodstains undoubtedly belonged to someone else – her father, her brother, maybe Laren or Emily. She couldn’t be sure, and it didn’t matter. It was all the same now.

One of the men standing against the wall stepped forward and opened her wardrobe. The selection was minimal; this was not a lavishly appointed wardrobe. After rummaging for a moment, he pulled out a plain white nightgown and tossed it to Robellia.

Robellia caught the garment, but remained frozen, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t incapable of changing herself, of course, even without a maid to help her. But none of the men showed any sign of leaving the room, even after they had handed her the nightgown. If she couldn’t leave the bedroom and they wouldn’t go outside…

“Go on. Change.”

Robellia stared down at the nightgown in her hands, disbelief etched into her face.

‘Here? In front of all these people?’

But there was no question of defiance. She had no right to protest.

Marquis Moss, seeing Robellia frozen, gestured to the men. Two of them stepped forward, each grabbing one of her arms.

“Let go…!”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Marquis Moss raised his hand.

‘Here it comes again.’

She squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for the blow.

But the expected pain never came. Tentatively, she opened her eyes to see Marquis Moss standing before her, holding up a small glass vial and shaking it slightly.

“His Majesty mentioned it earlier, didn’t he? If it’s too difficult to teach you, I’ll give you a little help.”

Robellia understood two things at that moment.

The first was that these rebels had crowned Akan as their emperor. It was, in retrospect, a logical conclusion. It wouldn’t be enough to kill the emperor and leave the throne empty. But installing Akan, a descendant of the old imperial line, lent legitimacy to their cause.

The second was that the vial Moss held probably contained the means to “ruin her throat”, as Akan had suggested earlier. It would ensure that she could never speak freely again.

Panicked, Robellia shook her head frantically. If her voice was taken away, she would be completely powerless. It was better to comply, better to keep quiet and do as she was told.

“This is your last warning. You must know by now that it would be much easier to just slit your throat.”

Robellia nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks again. She clenched her throat to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

At another gesture from Moss, Robellia hesitated only briefly before beginning to undo the straps of her dress. Fortunately, the design of today’s dress was simple, with the straps tied at the front. Her trembling hands struggled with the knots, but she managed to remove the outer garment, revealing the pristine white petticoat beneath.

Standing in front of the men in her underwear was a humiliating experience, but she knew she couldn’t stop there. With great reluctance, she reached for the straps of her petticoat and pulled them off as well, revealing the slip underneath.

When she looked at Moss, his expression was one of irritation. Without waiting for further instructions, she moved to lower the straps of her slip. The feel of his earlier touch remained, a reminder of how unbearable it would be if he interfered again. Desperately avoiding eye contact, Robellia slipped out of her undergarments, leaving her clad only in stockings and the thinnest layers of underwear.

Crouching down to hide as much as possible, she quickly removed her stockings. Although under normal circumstances she would never have worn anything under her nightgown, she couldn’t bring herself to remove her last layer of modesty. With trembling hands, she pulled the nightgown over her head, silently praying that she wouldn’t be ordered to do otherwise.

Fortunately, Moss said no more about her clothes.

“On the bed.”

Robellia glanced at her watch. Midnight was approaching – a time when she would normally be preparing for bed. But no one had told her what was happening with the rebellion, nor what her role would be in all of this.

Hesitantly, she shuffled to the bed and, after a moment’s indecision, sat down on the edge.

“You remember the rules I mentioned earlier, don’t you?”

Robellia started to nod instinctively, but realised her mistake just in time. Direct questions had to be answered verbally.

“Yes.”

“You will do well to keep her in mind tonight.”

With that he left the room. The men lined up against the walls, however, remained as still as statues, their presence a suffocating reminder that she was never truly alone.

‘What is going on here?’

Robellia wondered, burying her face in her hands as she leaned forward. Everything felt surreal, as if she were trapped in an unrelenting nightmare. The uncertainty, the humiliation and the overwhelming fear swirled together, making it impossible for her to grasp the reality of her situation.

The men extinguished the candles in the chandelier, leaving only the dim wall lights to cast a faint glow across the room. Even then, none of them left.

‘Am I really supposed to sleep like this?’

Robellia thought as she sat motionless on the edge of the bed in the shadowy room.

Click.

The slow turn of the doorknob made Robellia jump. The person who entered was, as expected, Akan. His appearance was clean, free of the blood that had covered him earlier.

The newly crowned emperor stepped into the room, but the men stationed along the walls remained statuesque, gazing straight ahead as if oblivious to everything around them. Robellia, standing by the bed, watched Akan with wide, suspicious eyes. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him.

But she hadn’t forgotten Marquis Moss’ warning. She couldn’t speak unless spoken to. Fortunately, Akan was the first to break the silence.

“Hello. Ah, wait, I said that earlier, didn’t I?”

Akan walked over to the tea table and sat down in one of the chairs. His gaze lingered on Robellia, forcing her into action. She approached the table nervously, not sure what to do.

“Sit down.”

As she sat down, Robellia thought perhaps Akan would explain something. She hesitated, but finally sat down. Her palms were damp with nervous sweat as she braced herself for whatever might come next, rubbing her hands against her nightgown to dry them.