Three days had passed since Mia's meeting with the Emperor in the Moon Viewing Pavilion. Three days of scrubbing floors, washing linens, and enduring Liu Mei's triumphant smirks whenever they crossed paths. Whatever punishment Liu Mei had feared for striking Mia clearly wasn't coming, and her confidence had grown accordingly.

  "Still here, Song?" Liu Mei taunted as she passed Mia in the servants' corridor. "I thought you'd have been reassigned to the pig pens by now."

  Mia kept her head down and continued polishing the brass incense burner she'd been assigned to clean. The salve the Emperor had applied had prevented a bruise, but the memory of Liu Mei's hand across her face remained fresh.

  "Nothing to say? Perhaps our little schor has finally learned her pce."

  There was nothing to be gained by responding. Mia had survived far worse than petty bullying across her previous lives. She focused instead on the knowledge that in a few hours, she would meet the Emperor again—this time in the small archive room adjacent to the Imperial Library, where he had commanded her to help him locate certain historical texts.

  These meetings had become her sanctuary. For brief intervals, she could speak freely with Jin-Wei, share her thoughts on literature and philosophy, and watch as something awakened in those ice-blue eyes—a spark of the soul she had known across multiple worlds.

  Liu Mei, receiving no reaction, eventually huffed and moved on. Mia allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She finished polishing the incense burner and moved to return it to its pce in the ancestral hall.

  As she rounded the corner, a figure detached itself from the shadows—a man in nondescript dark robes, his face unremarkable in a way that seemed almost deliberate. He moved with such silence that Mia nearly dropped the burner in surprise.

  "Song Yi-Mei?" His voice was barely audible.

  Mia gnced around nervously. They were alone in the corridor, but that could change at any moment. "Yes?"

  The man didn't introduce himself. Instead, he pressed a small scroll into her hands. "Tonight. After the final bell. Northern storage room behind the kitchens." Without waiting for a response, he melted back into the shadows as silently as he had appeared.

  Mia quickly tucked the scroll into her sleeve, heart racing. Was this a trap? Had the Empress discovered her meetings with the Emperor after all?

  She completed her duties in a fog of anxiety, turning the mystery over in her mind. When she met the Emperor that afternoon, she considered mentioning the encounter but decided against it. If this was indeed a trap, she would face it alone rather than risk implicating him further.

  The storage room behind the kitchens was dark and smelled of dried herbs and preserved vegetables. Mia slipped inside after the final bell, guided only by the thin shaft of moonlight coming through a high window. She had brought a small knife concealed in her sleeve—a precaution that would mean her death if discovered, but better than being completely defenseless.

  "You came alone. Good."

  Mia whirled toward the voice. The same unremarkable man from earlier stepped from behind a stack of rice sacks. He was not alone. Two others fnked him, simirly dressed and simirly forgettable in appearance.

  "Who are you?" Mia demanded, her hand moving toward her concealed knife.

  "The knife won't be necessary," the man said, his tone almost amused. "If we meant you harm, you wouldn't have seen us coming."

  He made a slight gesture, and one of his companions lit a small covered ntern, casting just enough light to see by without being visible from outside.

  "We are the Emperor's Eyes," the first man said simply. "I am Fei."

  Mia's breath caught. She had heard whispers of the Emperor's Eyes—a network of spies that had operated for generations, answerable only to the Emperor himself. But most believed they had been disbanded or absorbed into the Empress's own intelligence network years ago, when Jin-Wei first took the throne.

  "The Emperor sent you?"

  Fei nodded once. "His Majesty has reactivated certain... resources that have in dormant for some time."

  "Why?"

  "Because of you." Fei's expression remained neutral, but there was something like curiosity in his eyes. "The first command he has given us in nearly a decade was to investigate who had harmed you and why."

  A feeling of warmth spread through Mia's chest, quickly followed by arm. "He shouldn't have risked exposure for something so trivial."

  The second man snorted. "The Imperial Eyes are never 'exposed.' We are servants, guards, merchants, even nobles. We have been the eyes and ears of thirty emperors."

  Fei shot his companion a silencing look before turning back to Mia. "We have identified three individuals responsible for your mistreatment. Liu Mei, daughter of Wu Mei-Ling, sister to Head Eunuch Wu. Also Xiu Fang and Bai Li, both assigned to the Empress's outer chambers."

  Mia wasn't surprised. "What will happen to them?"

  "That depends on you." Fei studied her carefully. "His Majesty has authorized us to act according to your wishes."

  The implications stunned her. The Emperor was giving her—a mere servant—the power to determine the fate of people connected to the Empress's household.

  "What... what options do I have?" she asked cautiously.

  The third spy, who had remained silent until now, spoke. "We could arrange an accident. Nothing fatal, but perhaps a pot of hot water over Liu Mei's feet? Or an unexpected fall down the pace steps?"

  "No," Mia said firmly. Violence had never been her way across any of her lives.

  "Then perhaps reassignment?" Fei suggested. "The silk farms in the southern provinces always need workers. The Empress's pdogs would find life there... educational."

  Mia considered this. Permanent banishment would eliminate the threat, but it felt disproportionate to the offense. More importantly, it would create questions about their disappearance—questions that might lead back to the Emperor's unusual interest in a servant girl.

  "I have a different idea," she said slowly. "One that serves multiple purposes."

  The next morning, Mia was scrubbing the floor of the Eastern Corridor when Liu Mei and her companions appeared, right on schedule. As always, they carried fresh linens to the Empress's chambers at this hour.

  "Still on your knees, Song?" Liu Mei sneered. "That's where you belong."

  Mia said nothing, continuing her work as the three girls passed. Just as they reached the end of the corridor, a stern voice rang out.

  "You three. Stop immediately."

  Imperial Steward Chen, the highest-ranking domestic official in the pace, stood blocking their path. Behind him were two pace guards and a court scribe with an official ledger.

  "Steward Chen," Liu Mei said, bowing low. "How may we serve you?"

  "Liu Mei, Xiu Fang, and Bai Li," he read from a scroll bearing the imperial seal. "By direct order of His Imperial Majesty, you are hereby reassigned effective immediately."

  The blood drained from Liu Mei's face. "Reassigned? But the Empress—"

  "The Emperor's authority supersedes all others in this pace," Steward Chen cut in sharply. "You three will serve in the Imperial Laundry for the next three months, washing the garments of the pace guards and stable hands."

  Mia bit her lip to keep from smiling. The Imperial Laundry was notorious—hot, humid work washing heavy uniforms soiled by sweat and worse. It was punishing bor but wouldn't raise the same questions as a more severe punishment or banishment would.

  "May I ask what we have done to deserve this?" Liu Mei's voice trembled with suppressed rage and fear.

  Steward Chen consulted his scroll. "His Majesty has noted a pattern of disruption to pace harmony. You will use this time to reflect on proper conduct befitting imperial servants." He gestured to the guards. "Escort them to their new posts."

  As Liu Mei and her friends were led away, Liu Mei's eyes locked with Mia's. The hatred in them was palpable, but beneath it was something new—fear. For the first time, she understood that Mia had protection she hadn't anticipated.

  Mia returned to her scrubbing, keeping her expression neutral even as satisfaction warmed her chest. The punishment was proportionate and practical—and best of all, it appeared to be an ordinary imperial reassignment rather than personal vengeance.

  As Steward Chen passed her, he paused briefly. "You've missed a spot," he said loudly enough for others to hear, pointing to a perfectly clean section of floor.

  Mia bowed her head. "Thank you, Steward Chen. I'll attend to it immediately."

  He nodded and continued on his way, but not before Mia caught the slight inclination of his head—the smallest acknowledgment that he, too, was one of the Emperor's Eyes.

  That evening, when Mia arrived at the small study where the Emperor had summoned her, she found him reading a report. He looked up as she entered, those ice-blue eyes glinting with satisfaction.

  "I understand there was some excitement in the Eastern Corridor today," he said, setting the scroll aside.

  Mia bowed. "News travels fast, Your Majesty."

  "It does when one finally bothers to listen." He gestured for her to sit across from him. "Was the resolution satisfactory?"

  "Very," Mia admitted. "Though I'm surprised you would use imperial authority over something so trivial as a servant dispute."

  Jin-Wei's expression grew serious. "It was not trivial to me." He studied her for a moment. "You know, when my father was alive, he told me that an emperor must have his own eyes and ears—people loyal to the throne itself, not to whichever faction currently holds favor."

  "Your network of spies."

  A smile touched his lips. "You've heard of them? Yes, the Imperial Eyes have served the Qin Dynasty since its founding. My father introduced me to their leader the day I took the throne." His smile faded. "I never utilized them. After my father's death, I... lost interest in many things."

  Mia understood better than he knew. Each fragment of Noir's soul she had encountered carried a simir emptiness—a sense of something missing that they couldn't name.

  "What changed?" she asked softly.

  The Emperor rose and moved to the window, gazing out at the garden beyond. "I don't know," he admitted. "For years, I've let the Empress's family run the empire while I retreated into poetry and solitary walks. I told myself it didn't matter who held the power as long as the country functioned."

  He turned back to her, something vulnerable in his expression. "Then I saw you—dirty water dripping from your hair, the mark of someone's hand on your face—and something... woke up inside me. Anger, yes, but more than that. A sense that things are not as they should be. That I am not as I should be."

  Mia's heart quickened. This was the awakening she had witnessed in different forms across three worlds—Noir's soul beginning to recognize itself, to reach for something more.

  "Perhaps you needed a reminder of what real power is for," she suggested. "Not court intrigues or factional advantages, but protection of those who cannot protect themselves."

  Jin-Wei considered her words. "A schor's daughter who speaks with the wisdom of a sage," he mused. "Tell me, Song Yi-Mei, if you were Emperor, what would you do differently?"

  The question was treasonous—for both of them. Yet Mia sensed its importance. This wasn't idle curiosity but a genuine seeking of guidance.

  "I would remember that an emperor is both above his subjects and responsible for all of them," she said carefully. "Power without purpose leads to emptiness. Purpose without power leads to frustration." She met his gaze directly. "You have the power, Your Majesty. You need only rediscover your purpose."

  For a long moment, Jin-Wei stared at her, those ice-blue eyes seeming to look beyond her face to something deeper. Then he smiled—a real smile that transformed his features from imperial mask to something genuinely human.

  "I believe I'm starting to," he said softly.

  In her inventory, Mia felt the silver locket pulse with warmth. The three fragments it contained seemed to resonate in response to their missing piece, growing stronger as Jin-Wei took his first steps toward reciming not just his throne, but his soul.