—

The soup and medicine had not come without a price. As she had feared, the m*n tormented Robellia throughout the night. Akan was relentless, as if he were deliberately pushing her towards death. No matter how fervently she tried to please them with her mouth or clenched them tightly, the m*n always ended by pouring their s*men into her v*gina.

Desperate and broken, Robellia put her head in the cold water of the bathtub, but drowning herself proved far too difficult. Each time her lungs screamed for air, she instinctively pulled her head back out of the water. After several failed attempts, she gave up, washed up and climbed out of the tub.

Later, a ‘gift’ arrived from Akan – an official letter from King Prunus. The foolish old king had been quick to send a sycophantic reply after catching on to Akan’s disdainful references to Robellia. The letter was filled with venomous remarks, degrading and slandering Robellia, someone the king had never even met in person. Robellia couldn’t bring herself to read even half of it before she put it down.

“Hngh…!”

She put a hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

If Akan simply wanted Robellia to suffer, there was no need to go to such lengths. If killing her didn’t satisfy him, he could simply chain her up in the dungeon and torture her. But Akan wanted something deeper – he wanted Robellia to despair, to harbor endless resentment until she was forced to confront the guilt buried deep within her and regret it with every fibre of her being.

“Ugh… kuh!”

Robellia suddenly couldn’t control the nausea that surged through her. As soon as she let go, she vomited violently. She emptied the soup she’d eaten earlier and continued to vomit, her body convulsing until she finally expelled bile. Only after several moments of painful retching did the nausea subside. The man who had delivered the letter looked at her with an awkward, uncomfortable expression before quietly leaving the room.

Left alone, Robellia’s thoughts returned to the possibility of pregnancy. Though she had picked up bits and pieces of information during her preparations for marriage, her knowledge was far from complete.

Still, it seemed almost absurd, even from a common sense perspective, that after receiving so much sperm, she hadn’t yet become pregnant.

Under imperial law, citizens could not be legally enslaved, no matter how much they owed. Slavery as a status was reserved for foreign prisoners of war or hardened criminals. However, the children of slaves – if even one parent had the status – automatically inherited it. This meant that they were treated as personal property, fully owned and without autonomy.

Although Robellia’s status wasn’t officially that of a slave, in practice she was no different to Akan personal property. It was clear that Akan intended to subject her to the same life of servitude that he had once endured. If she had a child, then what?

Robellia shuddered as her thoughts stopped at the horrifying thought. Passing on her sins to a child was a terrifying prospect. If the child carried Akan’s bloodline, there might be a small chance of mercy, but that was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. She didn’t even know the names or faces of the countless m*n who had used her; if a child was born, there would be no way of knowing who the father was.

Robellia wiped away the tears streaming down her face, swallowing back the rising despair, only for the sobs to continue silently in her chest.

The door to the empty bedroom swung open. As always, Akan entered with an expression devoid of emotion. Robellia, sunk in despair, stared blankly at his face.

“Come with me.”

Robellia followed Akan as he walked towards the imperial dining hall, glancing nervously at her surroundings. She knew the layout of the palace intimately, having lived there all her life, but the thought of escaping filled her with uncertainty. Sneaking out unnoticed might be one thing, but trying to escape in front of Akan would surely end in failure within a few steps. The knowledge that the only true escape from him was death weighed heavily on her and made her steps feel leaden.

As they entered the dining hall, Akan pulled Robellia’s loose nightgown over her head, leaving her completely exposed. The musicians and servants who shared the room hardly mattered; she had long since passed the point of being ashamed to be undressed in front of others. A fleeting thought crossed her mind – that she should resist now, to avoid pregnancy – but fear paralysed her, silencing any act of defiance.

Akan pushed Robellia forward and motioned for her to go to the designated spot. Filled with disgust at her own weakness, Robellia trudged to a corner of the room and stood there in silence. She couldn’t help but fear what new tortures Akan might inflict on her today, what cruel demands might tear her body and mind apart once again.

But to her surprise, Akan gave no orders. Instead, he simply began to eat. Robellia, still n*ked, stood idly in the far corner of the dining hall. The disconcerting silence allowed her to notice things she had never noticed before, like the faint strains of music drifting in from the musicians.

Clang!

The sound of a plate crashing to the floor broke the uneasy silence. Startled, Robellia turned her head away from the musicians and towards the source of the noise. Akan’s piercing gaze was fixed on the servant who had dropped the plate. The trembling servant immediately fell to the floor, shaking with fear. It would have been natural to apologise, but knowing the Emperor’s pathological hatred of unnecessary noise, the servant dared not utter a word.

With a sigh, Akan motioned to the guards, who wasted no time in dragging the frightened servant away.

Robellia felt as if the air in the room was running out. Being in the same room as Akan always made her feel as if the air itself had stopped flowing, the oppressive atmosphere pressing down on her. She opened her mouth wide and gasped desperately for air. Her chest felt unbearably tight.

As her breathing became ragged and audible, Akan’s sharp gaze returned to her. Robellia could see his eyebrows furrowed in irritation, but she couldn’t suppress the sounds she was making. If she tried, it felt as if she might suffocate completely. Her trembling legs gave way beneath her and she collapsed to the floor. No matter how hard she struggled and gasped, it felt like she couldn’t get enough air.

“Hngh… h-heuk… huff… huff…!”

“Shut her up.”

At Akan’s command, a group of m*n surrounded Robellia. Even though she knew the punishment that awaited her, she couldn’t avoid it. All she could think of was the desperate need to breathe. Rough, gasping sounds escaped her throat, as if the air in the dining hall had turned to water, flooding her lungs with each inhalation.

Thud.

A man’s kick sent her rolling halfway across the floor. Strangely, she didn’t feel much pain.

Thud.

Another kick from the opposite side sent her sprawling again. Her head throbbed from lack of oxygen, her vision a sickly yellow.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to die like this.