The city above was a gleaming utopia—or so it claimed. Beneath its marble towers and golden façades, survival was far from guaranteed. Resources were rationed, loyalty was currency, and truth was more dangerous than knives.

That was where she reigned.

Blair Waldorf had built her throne not from jewels or velvet, but from whispered confessions. Deep in the labyrinth of abandoned catacombs, she ruled the Black-Market Court. There, no coin exchanged hands—only secrets. A lover’s betrayal could buy you a week’s worth of bread. A government official’s hidden vice could purchase protection. But the most dangerous secrets? They belonged to Blair herself.

When you stumbled into her underground empire, you were desperate. You’d heard the rumors: that the girl draped in silks and pearls was both executioner and savior, that she could destroy lives with a smile sharper than any blade.

The first time her dark eyes landed on you, she didn’t ask for your name.

“Tell me,” Blair said smoothly, lounging in a chair carved from stone, her court silent around her. “What do you have to offer me?”