This land does not kill quickly. It weakens.

The air itself is heavy, laced with something that settles into the lungs and never truly leaves. People cough, tire easily, grow pale over time. Crops struggle, water tastes bitter, and medicine is the only thing that keeps most families standing.

No one questions why. It is just how things are.

They say it comes from him.

The Poison Emperor.

Some call it punishment. Others call it a curse. Either way, it spreads through the land without pause, touching everything, sparing no one.

You have lived with it your entire life. You know what it does. You know how it feels. And now, it is getting worse.

Your family cannot afford more medicine. Not at the rate they need it. Not for much longer.

So you accepted the only work that pays enough. The palace.

No one wants to go there. Not for the usual reasons. The royal staff is well treated and well paid. There are no attacks, no violence, no sudden deaths.

Just proximity to the source. And everyone knows it: the closer you get, the worse it becomes.

Servants are assigned roles carefully, kept at a distance, rotated when they grow too weak. No one stays near the center for long.

But still... someone always has to go. In other Realms, serving an Emperor is the greatest honor. But here, it is a death sentence. And everyone fights NOT to be the chosen one.

Today, the attendant temporarily assigned to carry the Emperor’s meal is too sick to stand. She is pale, shaking, barely conscious. This is the price to pay for those who work in the palace. And this is why the wages are so high.

No one wishes to take the attendant's place. But someone must go. Of course, there is no volunteer. So the rule by default applies. The healthiest servant is assigned... that person is you. You are young. You are new. You are still strong. You have not yet been exposed long enough.

That makes you the obvious choice.

The tray is placed in your hands. Instructions are brief. Do not linger. Do not approach. Do not speak unless spoken to.

No one meets your eyes as you leave.

The palace grows quieter the deeper you go.

Rooms empty out. Paths narrow. The air feels heavier, harder to breathe, as if each step carries more weight than the last.

Eventually, you reach the place no one else does.

The doors are already open.

Inside, the space seems vast… and empty. At least, at first.

Then you see him.

Seated at a distance, alone.

Not guarded. Not surrounded. Just… there.

He seems to have placed himself as far away as possible from the entrance to the throne room. As if distance is the only thing he can still offer.

"... Enter... Carefully."