The Phoenix Pavilion within the Inner Pace was a masterpiece of imperial architecture—jade-inid pilrs supporting a ceiling painted with celestial scenes, silk tapestries depicting the mythical bird reborn from ashes, and furnishings crafted from the rarest woods polished to mirror sheen. It was a setting befitting its occupant, Empress Wang Lihua, who sat upon her carved rosewood throne as Minister Zhao delivered his monthly report.

  "The tax revenues from Jiangnan Province exceeded expectations this quarter," Minister Zhao noted, his eyes fixed on the scroll in his hands. "Your father's policies have proven most effective, Your Majesty."

  The Empress nodded, idly turning the jade rings on her fingers. At thirty-two, Wang Lihua remained strikingly beautiful, her features perfect and cold as carved ice. The eborate phoenix headdress she wore added to her imperious height, forcing everyone in her presence to look up at her—just as she preferred.

  "And the silk tribute from Suzhou?" she inquired.

  "Arrived yesterday. The finest quality, as Your Majesty deserves."

  Minister Zhao continued his report, but the Empress found her attention wandering. Six years she had been married to Emperor Jin-Wei, and for five of those years, she had effectively ruled the Great Qin Dynasty through her family's extensive network of officials. Her husband had retreated into schorly pursuits and solitary wanderings shortly after their marriage, showing no interest in governance beyond the minimal ceremonial duties required by tradition.

  It had been a perfect arrangement. The Emperor provided legitimacy while she and her family wielded actual power. Her father, the Grand Chancellor Wang Qiang, managed the court. Her brothers controlled the military. Her uncles oversaw the provinces. The Wang cn had never been more powerful.

  A discreet cough interrupted her thoughts. Her chief dy-in-waiting, Madam Sun, had entered and now waited for acknowledgment.

  "You may pause, Minister Zhao," the Empress commanded. "What is it, Madam Sun?"

  The older woman bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, Lord Fang from the Imperial Household Department seeks an audience regarding a matter of pace administration."

  The Empress suppressed a sigh. Pace administration was ordinarily beneath her notice, but Lord Fang was her cousin and one of her most reliable informants within the pace bureaucracy.

  "I will see him briefly. Minister Zhao, wait in the antechamber."

  The minister bowed and withdrew. Moments ter, Lord Fang entered, a thin man with nervous hands but shrewd eyes that missed nothing within the pace walls.

  "Speak," the Empress commanded once they were alone save for her most trusted attendants.

  Lord Fang kowtowed. "Your Majesty, I bring news of... unusual occurrences within the pace administration."

  "What sort of occurrences?"

  "Three servants from your household staff have been reassigned to the Imperial Laundry."

  The Empress frowned slightly. "And this warrants my attention because...?"

  "The reassignment came directly from the Emperor, Your Majesty. Not through normal administrative channels."

  This was indeed unusual. Jin-Wei had shown no interest in pace staffing for years, leaving such matters to the Imperial Steward, who understood which appointments satisfied which factions.

  "Perhaps the Imperial Steward merely used the Emperor's seal as a formality," she suggested.

  Lord Fang shook his head. "Steward Chen confirmed the Emperor gave the order personally. And there's more. His Majesty has requested the complete records of pace personnel assignments for the past year, as well as inventories of the imperial treasuries."

  Now the Empress's attention was fully engaged. "What else?"

  "He has been seen in the company of a pace servant—a girl recently purchased for the outer court. They meet in various locations, always privately."

  The Empress's red-painted lips curved into a cold smile. "Ah. So my husband has finally found a diversion. How... predictable. Is she pretty, this servant?"

  "Unremarkable, from all reports. But educated. A schor's daughter sold for debt."

  "And this has been going on for how long?"

  "Nearly two weeks, Your Majesty."

  The Empress waved a dismissive hand. "Men are disappointingly simple creatures, Cousin. Even emperors. My husband has been without feminine companionship by his own choice for years. It seems he finally tired of solitude and found someone to warm his bed."

  Lord Fang hesitated. "With respect, Your Majesty, their meetings appear to be... conversational. There are reports of books and scrolls being exchanged. And following these meetings, His Majesty has begun making minor administrative decisions. The servant reassignments, an inquiry into grain storage practices, a review of the pace guard rotations."

  For the first time, a flicker of concern crossed the Empress's perfect features. Jin-Wei showing interest in governance, however minor, was unexpected.

  "Have you identified this girl?"

  "Song Yi-Mei, formerly daughter of Song Wen, a provincial schor who criticized policies implemented by Minister Chen."

  "Ah." The Empress rexed slightly. "My father had that troublemaker imprisoned three years ago. So this is his daughter." She considered the information. "She likely fills my husband's head with her father's subversive ideas while he fills her bed. A small revenge for her family's disgrace."

  "Should we remove her, Your Majesty? It could be arranged quietly."

  The Empress contempted the option, then shook her head. "Not yet. Removing her might awaken genuine interest in my husband if he's grown attached to her. Better to let the affair run its course naturally. These things always do." Her smile turned cruel. "Besides, even if she has momentarily captured his attention, what can one insignificant servant girl accomplish against the Wang family's generations of power?"

  Lord Fang bowed. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

  "Continue to monitor the situation. If the Emperor's... administrative interests... expand beyond trivialities, inform me immediately."

  After Lord Fang departed, the Empress returned to her daily business, dismissing the matter from her mind. Her husband's small rebellions—if they could even be called that—were of no consequence. Like a child pying at being emperor, he could reassign a few servants or review a few reports. The real power remained where it had been for years: in her hands and those of her family.

  Across the pace, in the Imperial Study, Emperor Jin-Wei was engaged in conversation with the Minister of Works, reviewing reports of flood control measures along the Yellow River. It was the first such meeting he had initiated in years, and the minister could barely conceal his surprise at the Emperor's pointed questions and evident knowledge of the subject.

  "So you're saying the reinforcements to the northern dikes have been completed?" Jin-Wei asked, studying the map spread before him.

  "Y-yes, Your Majesty," the minister stammered. "Completed st autumn, as ordered by the Grand Chancellor."

  "Yet I see no allocation of funds for the southern portions, where flooding has been most severe for three consecutive years."

  The minister shifted uncomfortably. "The Grand Chancellor prioritized the northern regions, where Your Majesty's father-in-w has significant nd holdings."

  Jin-Wei's ice-blue eyes narrowed slightly. "I see. And the petitions from the southern prefects?"

  "They... may have been deyed in processing, Your Majesty."

  "Find them," the Emperor commanded. "Have them on my desk by tomorrow. Along with a proposal for emergency reinforcement of the southern dikes before the summer rains."

  "But Your Majesty, the treasury allocations for this year have already been—"

  "Reallocate from the pace renovation fund," Jin-Wei interrupted. "I have no need for additional gilding on my already excessive accommodations while my subjects drown."

  The minister stared at him in naked astonishment. "I... as you command, Your Majesty."

  After the minister departed, Jin-Wei leaned back in his chair, a small smile pying at the corners of his mouth. For years, he had drifted through his own pace like a ghost, detached from the empire that was his birthright, numbed by grief over his father's death and his own powerlessness against the Wang family's machinations.

  But now, something had changed. Or rather, someone had changed him.

  His thoughts turned to Song Yi-Mei—to the wisdom in her eyes that seemed far older than her years, to the strange familiarity he felt in her presence, as though they had known each other in some other lifetime. In their private conversations, she had gently but persistently reminded him of what an emperor could be—not merely a figurehead, but a force for order and justice.

  "Even the smallest act of true authority creates ripples," she had told him just the previous evening. "Power unused fades. Power exercised grows stronger."

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Fei, the leader of his Eyes, entered silently.

  "Report," Jin-Wei commanded.

  Fei bowed. "The Empress has been informed of your recent activities, Your Majesty. And of your meetings with Song Yi-Mei."

  Jin-Wei tensed. "Her reaction?"

  "Dismissive, for now. She believes it to be a passing infatuation and sees no threat in it."

  Relief mingled with irritation in the Emperor's chest. Relief that Yi-Mei was not in immediate danger, irritation at being so easily dismissed by his own wife.

  "Her exact words?" he pressed.

  Fei's expression remained neutral, but Jin-Wei detected the slightest hesitation. "She referred to Song Yi-Mei as 'one insignificant servant girl' who could accomplish nothing against her family's power."

  The Emperor's jaw tightened. "I see."

  "The Empress has ordered continued observation but no intervention at this time. She expects Your Majesty's interest in both the girl and in governance to fade naturally."

  Jin-Wei stood and moved to the window, gazing out at the pace grounds where servants scurried about their duties like ants. Somewhere among them was Yi-Mei, perhaps scrubbing floors or carrying linens, enduring the indignities of her station while secretly helping to awaken an emperor.

  "My wife underestimates both of us, then," he said softly.

  "What are your orders, Your Majesty?"

  Jin-Wei turned back to his spy master, a new resolve hardening his features. "Continue as we have been, but accelerate our timeline. I want complete reports on all Wang family holdings and positions of influence within the week. And I want the locations of the imperial seals my father told me about—the ones hidden for emergencies."

  Fei's eyebrows rose slightly, the only indication of his surprise. "The Dragon Seals have not been used in three generations, Your Majesty. Their authority supersedes all other imperial instruments."

  "Precisely." Jin-Wei's ice-blue eyes glinted with purpose. "My wife believes this is a game. She doesn't realize the board has changed."

  "And Song Yi-Mei, Your Majesty? She remains vulnerable while working in the outer pace."

  The Emperor considered this. Yi-Mei had refused his offers of protection or elevation to a higher position, insisting that her influence would be more effective if the Empress continued to underestimate her.

  "She remains where she is for now, as she wishes. But assign two of your best people to watch over her at all times." He paused, then added quietly, "She is more important than anyone realizes."

  After Fei departed, Jin-Wei returned to the reports on his desk, reviewing them with a crity of mind he hadn't experienced in years. The fog of disinterest that had enveloped him since his father's death was lifting, burning away in the light of a new purpose.

  Let the Empress believe what she wished. Let her think him distracted by a servant girl. Let her continue to underestimate them both.

  By the time she recognized the threat, it would be too te.

  In the servants' quarters that evening, Mia carefully unfolded a small piece of paper that had been slipped into her sleeve during her brief encounter with the Emperor in the Archive Room. His handwriting was precise and elegant:

  The lotus grows from the mud, yet remains untouched by it. So too does wisdom sometimes emerge from the most unexpected sources. The changes begin tomorrow. Be watchful.

  She reread it twice, committing the message to memory before burning it in her small oil mp. The Emperor was moving faster than she had anticipated. In previous worlds, the fragments of Noir's soul had taken much longer to awaken to their true nature.

  But Jin-Wei seemed different—more receptive to the connection between them, more ready to embrace his potential. Perhaps the accumuted energy of the three previous fragments was strengthening this fourth piece of Noir's soul, accelerating the process.

  Or perhaps it was simply that in this world, their souls had recognized each other more quickly.

  As she prepared for bed, Mia felt the silver locket in her inventory pulse with a warmth that seemed to synchronize with her heartbeat. The fragments were stirring, responding to their missing piece as it awakened. Soon, she would need to find a way to help Jin-Wei understand who—and what—he truly was.

  But for now, it was enough that he was reciming his power while the Empress remained blind to the threat within her own pace. Underestimation was a powerful advantage, one Mia had learned to cultivate across multiple lifetimes.

  Let the Empress dismiss her as insignificant.

  The most profound changes often began with the smallest whispers.