Every second that ticked by was another she would never get back—a reminder that her life had become a long, quiet resignation. The office clock loomed on the far wall, its precise ticking slicing through the low hum of fluorescent lights and lifeless chatter. Sara stared at it as if sheer willpower could drag the minute hand to twelve, her hazel eyes dull from a day spent behind spreadsheets. Her shoulders ached, her fingers hovered above her keyboard, and though the room around her bustled with quiet productivity, she sat hollow, counting down the final seconds until six o'clock set her free.
And then—it struck.
The room stirred to life. Office chairs scraped the linoleum floor. Computer monitors dimmed with a symphony of shutting down. Bags zipped, murmured farewells drifted past, and coats rustled from their hooks like forgotten ghosts. But Sara moved on instinct, her motions clean and exact from years of repetition. She collected her papers with the speed of habit, shoved them into her bag, and rose without looking back.
The elevator doors closed just as she reached them. A brief moment of hope extinguished in polished chrome. She let out a breath—sharp, resigned—and pivoted without hesitation. The stairwell groaned in protest as she shoved it open, her heels clicking down the echoing flights in time with the frantic beat of her heart.
The fatigue of the workday peeled off her shoulders as she hit the bottom floor and pushed through the glass doors into the cool breath of dusk. The city had begun to exhale, lights flickering on in scattered windows, horns humming in the distance, but all she could think of was the novel waiting on her phone.
"Ten years," she mumbled under her breath, eyes flicking to her phone screen like a reflex. Blossoms Beneath the Moon—her favorite series, the one that had been her refuge through loneliness, heartache, and boredom—had finally updated with its final chapter. A whole decade spent lost in the romance between Princess Hana and the mysterious cultivator prince. A decade of rage over Hau Lianxue, the scheming cousin who betrayed them all.
Sara's pulse quickened with every step she took toward the bus stop. The world faded around her—gray buildings, commuters in coats, the rattle of trains—all swallowed by her thoughts. Would Hana survive her trials? Would she be crowned empress or fade into the shadows of tragedy? And Lianxue… would she be punished at last?
By the time she reached her apartment, the questions had spiraled into a frenzy. She barely acknowledged the scent of old takeout or the dust clinging to the bookshelves. Her keys clattered into the ceramic bowl, her shoes were kicked off with practiced precision. The moment she locked the door behind her, the world outside ceased to exist.
She changed into her softest pajamas—faded pants and a shirt from a forgotten concert—and curled up on the couch under a thick blanket. Her thumb hovered above the app icon on her phone, her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Then she tapped.
The chapter loaded slowly, as if it too had waited years to be read. Her eyes devoured the text—Hana standing in the snow, her once gentle eyes blazing with grief and justice. Around them stood the elders, the cultivators, and the emperor's guards. Hau Lianxue knelt in the center, bound with spirit-threaded rope, her black hair fanned out behind her like ink spilled on the snow. Hana's voice cracked with fury as she accused her cousin—of breaking the seal, of luring the demon in, of orchestrating her downfall. But Lianxue said nothing. Her head remained bowed. No excuse, no denial, no defense. Only silence. The snow fell in slow, quiet drifts as the executor raised his sword. And just before the blade descended, Hau Lianxue whispered, her voice like a breath carried by the wind:
"The world does not give birth to villains, Hana. They are carved by duty, silence, and sorrow."
Then the sword came down. Blood bloomed across the white field like spilled paint. The sky itself screamed, thunder echoing as a blizzard tore through the valley. The cultivators left without a word, leaving Hau's lifeless body buried beneath the snow. Forgotten. Condemned. As if the heavens themselves wept for her, the storm howled until the path vanished behind white veils, and the silence that followed was heavier than any executioner's blade.
Sara sat up, her chest tight. Her phone trembled in her hand.
"That's it?" she breathed, stunned. The betrayal of it hit deeper than she expected. Her fingers flew across the screen, flipping pages, hoping she had missed something, that there was more. But the ending was clear. Blossoms Beneath the Moon had ended not with triumph or heartbreak, but indifference.
The review section beckoned. She hadn't intended to comment—but her fingers moved as if possessed. Her post began politely, expressing her long devotion to the series. But the words turned bitter quickly. She criticized the pacing, the shallow execution, the waste of Hana's journey and the lack of reckoning for Lianxue's crimes. When she ended the message with a cold, final line—"Don't Read."—her heart pounded like she'd said it aloud.
She tossed the phone onto the couch and closed her eyes. But something had shifted.
The air around her thickened. A low hum, deep and ancient, buzzed beneath her skin. The screen flickered. Symbols glitched across it, unreadable and wrong. Static distorted the glow. Then came the thunder—a crack so loud it rattled the windows, followed by a flash of lightning that plunged the apartment into darkness.
Her phone lit up once more, and a message appeared:
[System Notification]
Welcome back, Princess Hau Lianxue.
Quest Start
Objective: Prove Your Innocence
Reward: Title – The Innocent
The room twisted. Her breath caught as a great force seized her, wrenching her from the couch. Her body flailed without gravity. Sound exploded around her—shouts, blades, rushing wind. A sharp scent of blood and incense filled her nose. The world fractured and reformed all at once.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying beneath a silk canopy. The bed beneath her was too soft, the pillow perfumed with jasmine. Sunlight filtered through golden lattice windows. Her fingers curled against embroidered sheets.
Slowly, she sat up.
A carved screen stood across the room, delicate cherry blossoms painted across it. The furniture gleamed with lacquer. A vanity held jade brushes and silver combs. Her hands trembled as she reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face—black. Glossy. Her skin was pale, smooth.
A knock. Then the door creaked open, and a girl stepped in. She wore plum-colored robes with wide sleeves, her hair bound with silver pins.
"Young Miss… you're awake." She spoke, bowing in a gentle yet quick manner before continuing on her task.
Sara watched in silence as the girl moved through the chamber with quiet efficiency. She opened the lattice shutters to let in more morning sun, adjusted the embroidered curtains so the breeze wouldn't catch them, and lit a new coil of incense in the corner alcove. There was care in every gesture, as if she had performed this routine countless times. But every so often, the girl would glance back at the bed, her eyes wide and uncertain, as though something wasn't quite right.
Sara stared. "Who are you?"
The girl blinked, visibly shaken. "I am Ming'er, your handmaid. It is the twelfth year of the Xiangrui Era, under the reign of the Xian Empire."
Her breath caught. Xian Empire.
Before she could say more, the doors burst open. Two men stormed in, cloaks billowing, spiritual pressure crashing against her like a storm.
Jinhai's movements were sharp, deliberate. His eyes blazed with righteous anger, the deep violet of his robes flickering like shadows beneath the bright sunlight. He took a step toward Sara, and the very air seemed to quiver in response.
"You!" he snarled, his voice a low, seething growl that made the walls vibrate with suppressed rage. His hands, clenched into fists at his sides, twitched with the urge to strike. His face was a mask of fury, sharp cheekbones, narrowed eyes, and lips curled into a sneer of disgust. "You killed her!"
He stormed forward, barely pausing to acknowledge Ming'er, who shrank back in fear. The younger woman's eyes darted nervously, her hands twisting in her lap as the tension in the room exploded into a tangible force.
Jinhai's hand shot out, slamming a vase off a nearby table, sending it crashing to the floor in a spray of shattered porcelain. The shards scattered, a sharp, jarring noise that made Sara flinch. He didn't seem to notice— His breath came in ragged bursts, nostrils flaring, chest heaving.
"You betrayed the trust of everyone, Hau Lianxue!" he barked, his voice rising, trembling with barely contained rage. His fists trembled as if holding back a torrent of destruction, and his expression twisted in disbelief and contempt. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Sara's breath hitched. She shrank back instinctively, though his aura held her frozen in place, unable to escape.
Meanwhile, Wei Yichen, though quieter, exuded a fury of his own, and his silence was perhaps more terrifying. His eyes, filled with grief and anger, locked onto her, and his voice was a low growl that seemed to vibrate from his very core. "You removed the seal," he accused, his words slow and deliberate, as if savoring every syllable. His tone was more controlled, but no less filled with loathing. "That was the barrier meant to protect Hana. How dare you..." He finally took a slow step forward, his heavy golden robes brushing against the floor, the weight of his every movement reinforcing the suffocating atmosphere of judgment.
His gaze was cold, almost predatory, as though he was calculating the moment before he struck. The way his eyes narrowed made it clear that he saw no room for explanation, no chance for redemption.
"She trusted you, Lianxue..." His voice dropped into a low growl again, thick with accusation and pain.
Both men stood, towering over her, their aura like a thick cloud of pressure suffocating the room. Ming'er, visibly trembling, stepped forward, her hands raised defensively in front of Hau, but her gaze was uncertain, flickering between the two men. She didn't dare speak, her lips pressed tight in fear.
Jinhai stepped closer, his glare unblinking, his expression twisted with disdain. "You will pay for this, Lianxue." he spat, his voice harsh and jagged as if every word left a bitter taste in his mouth. "The world will never forgive you for what you've done."
Wei Yichen's voice cut through the room again, dark and filled with sorrowful anger. "You ruined everything. Everything," he repeated, almost as if trying to convince himself. He reached out, his hand slamming down onto the wooden table next to the bed, sending a metal candleholder crashing to the ground. The room rang with the echo of it.
The air was thick with hatred, yet also with grief. It was a twisted mix of sorrow and rage that crackled like an unseen storm, and Sara was left trembling beneath its weight.
She wanted to scream, to explain, to tell them that she was not the villain they believed her to be, but the weight of their fury pressed down on her like a vice.
Wei Yichen's voice rang out again, sharper now. "And you do this... without a single word of defense. What kind of monster are you?" His gaze never wavered from her, his expression twisted with pain and disbelief, as if he couldn't reconcile the person he had once known with the woman before him. He tried to take another step closer, but this time, there was a slight tremor in his hands. His anger was raw, ragged.
Jinhai's rage reached its peak when he slammed his fist against the wall, sending a tremor through the room that rattled the windows and left a hole in his wake. The sound of it echoed through the room like a thunderclap, loud and violent. Sara let out a loud gasp as she jumped and flinched at the sudden noise. He turned on her, eyes blazing, mouth twisting in an animalistic snarl. "Why?" he roared. "Why did you betray us?"
In that moment, the room seemed to shift, the weight of the cultivators' fury pressing down on her. The intensity of their anger, their broken trust, crushed her heart, and Sara felt a sharp pain in her chest as if the very force of their emotions was tearing her apart from the inside.
"Wait—" she tried to stand, but the pressure of their aura weighed on her like stone, keeping her down.
Her breath came shallow, her body refusing to move. Her eyes darted between the two cultivators, their faces twisted with grief and righteous rage, and for a moment, she thought they might strike her down then and there. She opened her mouth to speak, to plead her case, but no words came—only the dull pulse of fear pounding in her ears.
"Enough," came another voice—low, cool, commanding.
A third figure entered, and the room seemed to still. He was tall, with broad shoulders and graying hair bound in a crown-knot. His robes were black and crimson, simple yet heavy with authority.
General Hau Wenji.
Sara recognized him instantly. The general who was unyielding, always behind walls of duty and tradition. He had stood silent, immovable as stone. And yet now, she felt his gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting. It burned through her skin like judgment.
"You overstep, cultivators," he said, his voice sharp. "This child of mine was injured in the attack. There is no proof of her involvement."
"But the seal—" Jinhai interjected.
"Is under investigation." Wenji gaze turned colder. "You forget yourselves. My home is not a battlefield."
Jinhai's jaw tensed while Wei Yichen stared at her as if memorizing her for future judgment. But both bowed, stiff and reluctant, and turned on their heels.
The silence left behind was louder than the confrontation.
Wenji looked at her for one long moment before turning to leave. His footsteps were heavy, but he didn't pause. Not even to speak to her.
When the doors shut again, Sara collapsed back into the bed, her mind a storm of fear and disbelief. Ming'er knelt beside her, eyes wide.
"Are you… well, Young Miss?"
Sara swallowed. But she managed a nod.
Her thoughts echoed louder than her voice.
"Princess Hana is dead."
"And everyone believes it was me."
"And worst of all... I'm starting to believe it too."