bChapter /bb163 /b

    ra’s POV

    Pain shot through my body like a thousand volts of electricity, sharp and searing. It was even worse than theshings I’d taken before

    I could feel the blood rushing to my head, the noise of it pounding in my ears. But it was the pain that had my focus now, a pressure bunder /bbmy /bfingernail that made it hard to breathe.

    A bamboo splinter. So small. But my body couldn’t seem to handle it.

    “Stop,” I whispered, my voice trembling more than I wanted. The words barely escaped through the fog of pain that was eating me from the

    inside out.

    Miughed from behind me. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did that hurt?” Her tone was syrupy sweet, mocking. “I could always be gentler. bJust /bbbeg /bme

    for it.”

    I could feel her grinning, the cruel delight in her voice. This wasn’t just about hurting me; it was about control. Always control.

    I clenched my teeth, trying not to let her winb, /bbut the pain had me shuddering. My chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath ba /bbattle.

    “No…please,” I whispered again, the word more pleading this time.

    She pulled the splinter out slowly, agonizingly so, making sure every inch of it was drawn out for maximum torment. The rough texture bof /bbthe /bbamboo scraped against the raw flesh under my nail.

    My hands went cold as a gasp of pain escaped me, “Ah!”

    A smirk danced across Mi’s lips as she leaned in closer. “So it does hurt, doesn’t it? You know, you haven’t said a word yet. I guess you’re not as tough as you think.”

    She finally loosened her grip. My hand snapped away from hers.

    Blood oozed from the wound, dripped down my finger, andnded on the cushion beneath me.

    Mi’s eyes lit up, the look on her face almost gleeful. “Oh, look at that!” she mocked, “The red’s pretty, but not on my cushions. You should clean that up, ra.”

    I wanted to throw the cushion at her, but instead, I hid my bloodied hand behind my back and turned away, my heart pounding with a burning hatred I had never felt before for anyone.

    Tmade my way to the bathroom, the urge to get away from her growing with every step, but she called out to me from behind.

    “No, no. I want you to wash it here. Right now. Under my watch.”

    I didn’t even bother to respond, my anger boiling over. “There’s no water,” I said tly, my voice like ice.

    Mi snapped her fingers, and within moments, Wendy had brought a bucket of water and soap bfrom /bbthe /bbbathroom/b.

    “Start washing,” Wendy snapped, “You won’t get the stain out without scrubbing.”

    I held my breath. Slowly, I submerged my injured hand in the water, wincing as the pain red anew. The bsalt /bbin /bbthe /bbwater /bbstung /bblike /bbfire/bb, /bbthe /bcruel twist to the game they were ying.

    I ignored the agony as best bas /bbI /bcould. Mi was watching, waiting for me to break. But I bwouldn’t /bbgive /bbher /bbthat /bbsatisfaction/b. bNot this /bbtime/bb. /b

    The seconds stretched as the pain gnawed at my nerve endings, but I stayed focused. I scrubbed the cushion with bone /bhand, determin ignore the throbbing.

    Mi’s voice broke the silence. “Stubborn bitch.” Her words were a hiss, full of venom.

    The sound of her heels clicking against the floor signaled her departure. “You stay here, Wendy. Watch her finish this up. F’m going bto /bbthe /bsalon. Can’t waste my whole day on this.”

    She stormed out, leaving Wendy behind to hover over me like a vulture. the quiet between us felt oppressive, a weight that pressed bdown /bbon /bmy shoulders.

    After what felt like hours of cleaning, Wendy still wasn’t satisfied. “You missed a spot,” she said with a cruel smile, pointing at a bpart /bof bthe /bfloor I’d already cleaned. Then, she stepped on it, leaving her muddy footprints behind. “Do it again.”

    It waste by the time I was finally finished, my body stiff and aching, my hands raw and bleeding.

    When Mi returned, she was glowing, her hair freshly styled, her face radiant with smug satisfaction. The King ising to dinner, she announced, her voice as haughty as ever.

    “Everybody hustle!” she barked, ordering the staff around like they were nothing. “Light the candles! Get rid of those wilting roses! Bring bout /b

    the best china!”

    I stood back as the chaos unfolded around me, trying to fade into the background, but Mi’s eyes found meb, /band that spark of cruelty red

    again.

    I watched her move to greet Lance, feeling an overwhelming sense of cold as he barely nced at her. He tossed his coat aside, almost ignoring her.

    “I want this night to be special,” Mi cooed, desperation leaking through her words.

    Lance barely acknowledged her, slumping down into a chair with an air of irritation. “I’m busy, Mi. Don’t make this a regr thing.”

    He was uninterested, dismissive. I couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes darted toward meb, /bthe disdain in them.

    “ra?” he asked, frowning.

    “What are you doing here?” His confusion hung in the air like a question unanswered.

    “Cleaning the room,” I said coolly, my gaze never wavering from his.

    Mi’s face tightened in anger. She leaned in, trying to get his attention again. “Lance, about the wedding-”

    But he was still more focused on me. “What is that on your neck?” His voice was sharp, suddenly curious. “A choker?”

    I didn’t hesitate, “A gift. From your wife. She didn’t tell you?” My voice was mocking, and I couldn’t help the satisfaction in bit/b.

    Mi stiffened, the tension in her shoulders clear. But I wasn’t done.

    “If there’s nothing else,” I added, “I’m going downstairs for dinner. I haven’t eaten all day.”

    It was a small victory, but it was enough.

    That was when Mi lost it.

    She grabbed a piece of bread from the basket and threw it at me, her face twisted with rage. “bYou /bbwant /bbto /bbeat/bb? /bbFine/b. bEat /bblike /bba /bbdog /bbon /bbthe /bfloor.”

    b15:35 /bFri, 8 Augen

    The room went deathly silent. The servants held their breath, and even the air felt still.

    Finally, it was Lance who broke the silence, his voice booming, full of anger.

    “Are you starving her?” he demanded, standing up from his chair, his frustration palpable.

    b“/bYes, my King, but-“Mi stammered, trying to exin.

    Lance cut her off. “You need the rogue’s food to keep her in this city!”

    His voice shook with fury as he swept everything from the table, crashing it to the floor in one motion.

    “Are you an idiot, Mi?” he shouted. “You think this is how to handle things?b” /b