The morning came too fast.

Gray light filtered through the cracked window, spilling over ash-stained floorboards and the pile of half-packed clothes on the chair. I dressed in silence, brushing soot from the hem of my coat, fingers lingering for a second too long.

I didn’t say goodbye.

Not to Selene. Not to Elias.

Not to the room that had watched me break apart and piece myself back together more times than I could count.

By the time I reached the tram station, the city was already alive—vendors shouting, horns blaring, the usual chaos humming just beneath the surface. But it all felt muted. Like I was underwater, moving through someone else’s dream.

The tram rattled on, and I watched the skyline shift. Metal and glass rising higher. Cleaner streets. Guards at every turn.

When the palace gates finally came into view, towering and silver-tipped, my breath caught.

It didn’t feel real.

The guards didn’t speak. One scanned my ID; Another stared at me like my boots had personally offended his ancestors.

The gates creaked open, and just like that, I was inside.

Cue the marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. So much gold it looked like someone had given a toddler a palace and a blank cheque.

I was ushered down a hallway that smelled like expensive wax and poor decisions, and finally stopped at a door labeled:

“Staff Coordinator - Madame Delphina Vale.”

Because of course her name was Delphina. Nothing about that name said “casual.”

The door swung open before I could knock.

And there she was.

Five-foot-something of terrifying posture, tailored gray skirt suit, glasses perched like they were personally judging me, and a bun so tight it could’ve been used as a weapon.

She gave me a once-over. The kind that could peel paint.

“So,” she said, voice clipped like scissors. “You’re the charity case.”

“Actually, I’m Ember,” I said, because self-respect is free.

She didn’t blink. “I don’t care what you are. You’re late. Your resume is tragic. Your boots are...unforgivable.”

I glanced down. Okay, yes, they had seen better centuries. But still.

She turned sharply, heels clicking like a countdown to doom. “Follow me. And try not to breathe too loud. We already have enough problems.”

The walk through the servant’s wing was fast and brutal. Like a military drill with more sarcasm. She pointed at things as we passed—“Don’t touch that.” “That’s older than you.” “That’s more useful than you.”

At some point, I started keeping a mental list of her insults. When we reached ten, I decided she was secretly impressed and just hiding it behind trauma and hair gel.

We stopped at a narrow wooden door.

“This is your room,” she said. “Your roommate’s already inside. Try not to get attached. The last one cried after three days.”

“Did you kill her?”

“I don’t discuss personnel matters.” And with that, she turned and walked off like a disapproving storm cloud.

I opened the door slowly.

Inside, a girl sat cross-legged on the lower bunk, sketching something in a tiny notebook. She glanced up at me, pen still in hand.

“You’re new,” she said.

“Is it that obvious?”

She pointed at my boots. “Yeah. Those scream ‘first day and already regretting it.’”

I shut the door behind me. “You must be my roommate.”

“No, I’m a ghost haunting the help quarters. Boo.”

I raised a brow.

A tiny smirk tugged at her mouth. “Kidding. I’m Liora. I’ve been here six months. It’s not hell, but it tries.”

She didn’t jump up or try to hug me. No musical numbers, no confetti. Just calm, slightly tired eyes and a vibe like she knew more than she let on.

“Ember,” I said, tossing my bag on the bed that looked slightly less tragic.

Liora nodded, then gestured to the far wall. “That corner leaks when it rains. The chandelier above your bed flickers for fun. And Madame Delphina? She once broke someone’s spirit using only a clipboard.”

“Efficient.”

“Legendary.” She paused. “You got assigned to sewing or serving?”

“I don’t know yet. Delphina just insulted my boots and walked off.”

“Classic Delphina. You’re lucky she didn’t bring up your eyebrows.”

I blinked. “What’s wrong with my eyebrows?”

“Nothing. That’s the game.”

She went back to her sketching like this was all completely normal.

So far, it kind of was.