BANG! BANG! BANG!
The sound jolted her awake.
Above her, the trapdoor rattled. A bony fist pounded again."Get up, lazy thing!" the old servant barked.
She groaned, sitting up in the cramped attic space. Dust floated in the faint morning light. Her thin blanket slipped off her shoulders.
The girl sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Move it!" the old woman snapped. "Dawn's here. Go fetch water for the tea!"
"I heard you," she muttered, pulling on her worn-out robe. She slipped on her cracked sandals, climbed down the creaking ladder, and stumbled out into the alley, eyes still heavy from exhausion.
The sun barely touched the rooftops. Frost clung to the ground. Her breath came in sharp little puffs.
She carried two buckets on a yoke, heading down the muddy street. The brothel sat on the edge of the slums, far from the main gates. Chickens scattered as she passed. Dogs barked from behind broken fences.
Her stomach growled sharply. She hadn't eaten any breakfast — there hadn't been any.
Near the well, a group of men leaned against a cart, talking loudly.
"You hear? The Longwei trials start next week."
"No kidding. Only nobles get in, don't they?"
"Not just nobles. They say anyone who passes the entrance test can enter. But who's stupid enough to try?"
She slowed, curiosity catching her, which was a rare thing.
"What's the Longwei trials?" she asked quietly.
The men turned, surprised. One looked her up and down — the thin robe, the pale skin, the colored eyes. His lip curled.
"A mutt girl like you doesn't need to know."
"She's one of the brothel rats," the other spat out. "What's it to you, girl?"
Heat prickled at the back of her neck. "Just curious."
They sneered.
"Curious? Go scrub floors, mutt. This isn't for you."
Her face tightened. She grabbed her buckets and stalked off, their loud laughter following her down the street.
The path home split. One way led straight back to the brothel. The other curved toward the city's outer gates — giant stone walls, golden gates, armored guards bearing the emperor's crest colors holding menacing weapons.
For a reason she could not name, she turned.
The big gates loomed ahead, flanked by dragon-carved pillars. The guards stood watch menacingly, spears in hand, polished armor gleaming faintly in the morning sun.
She stopped at the edge of the square, heart pounding.
She'd never been this close before. The brothel sat outside the city walls, buried in mud and stinking smoke. The world beyond these gates was a place no one from the slums was ever meant to enter.
Her hands clenched at her sides from apprehension. She shot a quick glance at the guards — then, suddenly, without thinking, she took a step forward.
One step.
Two.
Closer.
"Hey!"
A sharp voice. She flinched.
A guard glanced over lazily, eyes flicking past her without real interest.
"Move on, girl. This place isn't for slum trash and low-born scum."
Her cheeks reddened with the embarrassment of getting caught. She spun around too fast, nearly stumbling and falling into the mudd.
What was she doing?
She froze. Suddenly, she remembered the task she'd been sent for — the one she'd somehow managed to forget for one brief, less obscure moment — and her heart skipped a beat. If she was late, there'd be no food. And she'd be sleeping outside.
She hurried back down the alley, head down, buckets sloshing.
Back at the brothel, the old servant met her at the door, scowling."Took your sweet time, mutt."
Before she could answer, a hand lashed out. The house mistress.
The slap cracked across her cheek, snapping her head sideways.
"Useless brat! We're late for tea!" the mistress hissed.She glared down at her. "No food for you today. And tonight, you will be sleeping outside — like the filthy dog you are."
The girl gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to rub the stinging skin.
All day she worked — scrubbing, hauling, sweeping.
No food.
No rest.
When night fell, the other girls slipped into the main hall, ready to greet the night's customers.
She tried to slip into the attic quietly.
They had locked the trapdoor.
She dragged herself down the rearer steps, outside the back door, and curled up outside the brothel's cold back wall, knees hugged tight to her chest.
Her stomach growled. She hugged her knees tighter, shivering.
The cold was biting. Her thin robe barely held in any heat; the stone beneath her sucked it away. Her fingers trembled, her toes were already numb, and her jaw ached from clenching her teeth so hard.
She exhaled slowly, watching her own breath swirl in the dark — reminding her of a dragon's fiery sigh, just like in the stories she'd once overheard from the brothel's clients while slipping past tables with a wine jug in hand..
If she got sick…
No one here would bring her hot broth or a blanket. If she fell ill, they'd just beat her for slowing down the chores. Maybe worse.
But she was too tired to get anxious about catching a cold anyway.
Her limbs felt heavy, Her head drooped slightly. Sleep was creeping up, heavy and slow, despite the cold. Or maybe was it the cold's creeping numbness.
Her eyes fluttered.
She closed her eyes.
The sharp creak of the back door yanked her awake.
She stiffened.
Voices.
The mistress's shrill tone floated out:"…she's strong, doesn't break easily. Tall for her age. They say mixed blood's no good, but she works like a mule."
A low male voice answered, slow and calculating:"When will she be ready for sale?"
The girl's heart thudded painfully.
She stayed still, pressing herself into the shadows, not daring to breathe too loud.
The mistress chuckled softly."Soon. I'm thinking next week. She's past fifteen. Old enough now."
She added swiftly, sly as a fox, as if reading the man's mind.
"And don't be too quick to turn your nose up at a mixed blood. Take a look at her skin — pale, smooth, whiter even than the top courtesans from the nobles' quarter, even in all their expensive powder. In some regions, that kind of look sells high. Men there pay extra for something 'exotic,' something they don't see every day."
The man snorted, skeptical."Good enough to sell, but not pretty enough for a high price."
The mistress's voice sharpened slightly."She's no great beauty, I know that. But for the right buyer, her look has value. Half-blood girls have… a certain draw you see, especially for men looking for novelty. Trust me — i saw it."
The girl squeezed her fists tight. Her nails dug into her numb palms. She didn't feel it.
The voices drifted away, the door swinging shut.
She stayed frozen in place, trembling — not just from the cold now, but from the sharp twist of fear in her chest. A feeling she had almost learned to live with.