The corridor was long and silent.
Mei followed behind a maid, the sound of her wooden clogs echoing softly against the polished floor.
The maid maintained a distance of three steps from her at all times.
She neither spoke nor looked around.
Like a lifeless doll, every movement was precise and rigid.
That extreme adherence to form itself became a kind of invisible pressure.
Finally, the maid stopped before a door with no markings.
She did not open it, only turned to the side and made a slight bowing gesture.
"Please enter. Someone is waiting for you."
Mei's heart tightened.
Was she going to meet that man already?
She steadied her breathing, forcing her heart to calm.
More than a dozen plans flashed through her mind.
Probing conversation. Sudden attack. Even the desperate resolve to die together.
But when her hand touched the cold door knocker, she extinguished every one of those thoughts herself.
It was useless.
She had seen the Anbu during the enthronement ceremony.
In the Fire Capital, in this man's palace, any resistance was laughable.
She pushed open the door.
Inside, there was none of the luxury she had imagined.
It was empty.
The walls were dull gray, the air thick with the mixed scent of herbs and aged wood.
In the center stood three old women dressed in dark kimonos.
Their hair was white, faces wrinkled, and expressions solemn.
As Mei entered, the heavy wooden door behind her slowly closed.
Click.
The soft sound of the lock falling made her pulse quicken.
Her emerald eyes tightened, and her hand instinctively reached for her back.
It was empty.
Only then did she remember that all her weapons had been confiscated before entry.
"No need to be nervous."
The leading old woman finally spoke, her voice dry, like leaves rubbing together.
"We are simply following orders."
Another old woman stepped forward, holding a wooden tray.
On it lay a ruler, a measuring tape, and a thick booklet.
"There are rules for the consort selection."
"There is a system for entering the palace."
"Before you meet Daimyo-sama, you must undergo a full examination."
The color drained from Mei's face.
She was not naive. She knew exactly what "examination" meant.
"Take off your clothes. All of them."
The old woman's tone was calm, almost casual.
But the words hit Mei like a blade.
Humiliation and rage surged through her.
She was the leader of the Hidden Mist resistance.
An elite Jonin who had mastered two Kekkei Genkai.
She had waded through seas of blood, snapped the necks of countless enemies.
And now she was being treated like an object, to be inspected?
"What if I refuse?"
Her voice was cold, trembling slightly even as she spoke.
A ripple finally appeared in the old woman's eyes.
Not surprise, not anger.
Pity.
"Girl, think carefully."
"Once this door closes, there's no turning back."
"If you refuse now, we won't force you. We'll just escort you out."
"But everything you seek will vanish with that choice."
Her words were calm, but each syllable pressed heavier on Mei's chest.
She clenched her fists, her nails cutting deep into her palms. The pain helped her stay clear-headed.
She thought of her comrades still fighting in the blood mist.
She thought of her ruined, suffering homeland.
She was their hope.
If she turned back here, what would their sacrifices mean?
Mei slowly opened her fists.
The fragile pride in her heart was crushed, turned to dust beneath the weight of duty.
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, the anger and resistance were gone.
What remained was acceptance.
And sacrifice.
Her trembling fingers moved to untie the sash at her waist.
The blue dress slipped down, pooling around her feet.
Then the undergarments.
One by one.
Her figure was flawless, every line perfect.
An ounce more would be excess, an ounce less too thin.
The old women's eyes passed over her inch by inch.
There was no admiration.
Only evaluation.
"Turn around."
The dry voice sounded again.
Mei's body stiffened, but she obeyed.
A cold sensation touched her back.
The wooden ruler.
The old woman moved it down her spine, section by section, professional and precise.
"Bones straight. No old injuries."
Then came the tape measure, brushing against her skin.
A chill made goosebumps rise across her body.
"Shoulder width."
"Arm length."
"Waist circumference."
"Hip circumference."
"Leg length."
One measured while another recorded in the booklet.
The process dragged on endlessly.
From height and weight to finger length, even the thickness of her hair was noted.
She forced herself to detach. To empty her mind.
She recalled her clumsy first attempts at Chakra control.
The joy of her first completed mission.
The laughter of comrades drinking under the sunset.
Those memories were her only defense.
"All right."
"Lie face down on that couch."
The voice snapped her back to reality.
She turned her head and saw a narrow couch in the corner, covered with a white cloth.
Her heart sank.
Her worst fear had come.
She didn't move. Her feet felt rooted to the ground.
"Girl."
There was impatience in the old woman's tone now.
"Don't waste everyone's time."
Mei bit her lip until she tasted blood.
She knew she had no choice.
Step by step, she moved forward, her motions mechanical.
When she lay face down on the couch, hot tears slid down her cheeks uncontrollably.
Nausea and shame filled her chest.
Her instincts screamed to resist.
But a hand, cold and heavy, pressed against her back.
She wanted to fight, but she couldn't.
Time crawled.
Each second was torture.
Her mind went blank.
All her pride and strength turned to ash.
She didn't know how long it lasted.
The hand finally lifted.
"Intact."
"No body odor."
"Good condition. Very clean."
The old woman wiped her hands with a white cloth and gave her verdict flatly.
"Get up."
"Put your clothes on."
"Someone will take you to see Lord Gen."
The three old women packed up their things and exited through a hidden door without another glance.
Only Mei remained.
She lay on the couch, unmoving.
Her blank eyes stared at the floor.
There lay her tears.
And her shattered dignity.
(To be continued.)