White silk banners fluttered across every corridor of the imperial palace.
The vibrant red decorations that once symbolized prosperity had been removed overnight. In their place hung long sheets of mourning cloth that swayed gently in the cold wind.
The palace looked unfamiliar.
Quiet.
Heavy.
Broken.
Servants walked with lowered heads.
Even the guards spoke in whispers.
The words had spread faster than wildfire.
"The Empress is dead."
But grief did not fall equally across the palace.
Some mourned sincerely.
Some whispered rumors.
Some felt guilt.
And some felt something far more dangerous.
---
The Empress's Courtyard
Inside the Empress's courtyard, the air felt suffocating.
No one spoke loudly.
No one dared to.
The Empress lay on the bed, her body pale and motionless.
Her hair had been gently arranged by the maids.
A thin blanket covered her fragile frame.
Her breathing was so faint that most people could not even see it.
But the Emperor could.
