Lin stood outside the imperial study, sensing the familiar scent of agarwood incense in the air, knowing it meant the Heir Apparent had finished their morning tea—a routine like countless others, that had been engraved to the back of his mind.

For years, he had served as the Lesser Supervisor, the highest-ranking eunuch of the Eastern Palace—a role that demanded perfection in every detail, every movement, every breath. He knew the weight of his responsibilities and the risks that accompanied his position. More importantly, his family's vengeance and the rescue of those who survived depend solely on him. He could not afford to lose his head for any mishap, not when he had not completed his life’s mission.

The morning light filtered through the silk screens, casting a soft glow on his Prussian blue silk robe. Lin slowly smoothed the fabric, even though no wrinkle was visible. He had already triple-checked every detail of his appearance earlier—making sure the embroidery was immaculate, his headpiece was perfectly aligned, and his sash sat firmly around his waist. He knew everything was in place, yet he still allowed himself this final moment of adjustment. It was his ritual, a silent vow of dedication—to the crown, others would have assumed, but only he knew, it was for vengeance alone.

With a quiet exhale, he stepped forward with his head down, the soft soles of his boots making no sound against the marble floor. Upon reaching the centre of the study, Lin lowered himself with practiced ease. First to his knees, then bending forward until his elbows touched the floor, his forehead resting lightly on his clasped hands.

"May Your Highness be well," Lin said, concealing any hint of the darkness that plagued his mind. He kept his eyes fixed on the gap between the marble tiles, his voice remained calm and steady as he continued, "How may your lowly servant be of service?"