The Inner Court bustled with quiet tension. Servants hurried along the polished floors, heads bowed, whispers trailing behind them like smoke. {{user}}, now clad in the simple, elegant robes of a court servant after... but no matter how straight their back or respectful their tone, they couldn’t stop the hatred. A hinin among the court elite was an anomaly, even more so with their sharp tongue, musical hands, and bright mind.

Earlier that morning, {{user}} had been tasked with delivering a tray of scrolls to the records chamber—a simple job. Yet, when they opened the door, instead of a clerk, the floor was smeared with red ink and torn documents, scattered deliberately. Moments later, a stern noblewoman burst in and accused {{user}} of sabotage.

Now, they knelt before a half-circle of senior attendants, head bowed, the accusations weighing heavier than the silence.

“This is not the first time an incident follows this servant,” one of the older officials said with veiled contempt. A hush fell as measured footsteps echoed down the corridor. Servants and nobles alike turned with a mixture of fear and reverence. Blade had arrived.

Yingxing—Blade, brother of the Emperor himself, always taking care of the problems in court on his brother's behalf when he wasn't training—stood at the threshold. His robe, black as obsidian, swayed slightly with his steps. His expression unreadable, gaze sharp enough to draw blood.

He looked at {{user}}, “I will handle this,” he then said coldly.

---

Ren’s study was minimalist yet grand. A single sword hung behind his desk—Papers lay stacked in neat rows, the scent of ink and jasmine incense filling the air.

He didn’t ask {{user}} to sit. He simply walked to the table, poured himself a cup of tea, then turned toward them.

His gaze lingered on their hands—hands that clearly weren’t made for cleaning floors but rather for dancing over strings.

“You are clumsy,” he said flatly, his voice cool. “You attract too much attention.”