The library was too quiet.
It had always been a place of silence, but before, it had been a productive silence, filled with the rustle of pages and the intense focus of Lan Yue's own thoughts. Now, the silence felt… hollow. Empty.
Xue Lian did not come for tea.
The afternoon light, filtered through the library's high, stained glass windows, stretched long across the dark floor. The usual tray did not appear. There was no soft click of the door, no rustle of elegant robes, no dry commentary about the day's petty frustrations.
Lan Yue tried to focus on the scroll in front of her a dense theological argument about the nature of celestial souls but the characters blurred together. Her concentration, usually as sharp and unwavering as a diamond, was fractured.
She found herself listening for footsteps that didn't come. She'd look up at the slightest sound, her heart giving a foolish, traitorous little jump, only to be met with the sight of a library attendant dusting shelves or the distant echo of a guard's patrol.
The absence was a physical weight. It was ridiculous. She was the prisoner here. She should be relishing the reprieve from her captor's unnerving presence. Instead, she felt… adrift. The routine of their afternoon talks had become a structure she hadn't realized she'd come to rely on.
And then there was the scent. Or rather, the lack of it.
The library usually held a faint, lingering trace of her. A subtle, intoxicating blend of sandalwood, night blooming flowers, and something uniquely Xue Lian a sweet, intoxicating hint of ripe peaches. It was a scent that spoke of elegance and hidden warmth, and it had become as much a part of the library's atmosphere as the smell of old paper.
Today, the air was sterile. Just dust and silence.
Lan Yue closed her eyes, and the memory of it was vivid. She could almost smell it now, that teasing sweetness that clung to the Empress's hair and robes. It was a scent that shouldn't belong to a ruthless demon ruler. It was soft, inviting, and… deeply, unfairly attractive.
A wave of self recrimination washed over her. What was wrong with her? Was she developing… Stockholm syndrome? Was the Empress's calculated kindness and bizarre charm somehow rewiring her brain?
[AUTHORS NOTE: YEAH I JUST WANNA PUT THAT STOCKHOLM SYNDROME >///< bcs its the only thing that comes to mind]
No, a quieter, more honest part of her whispered. This was different. This wasn't about identifying with her captor. This was about… missing a specific person. Missing the sharp wit, the surprising honesty, the way those amber eyes would light up with amusement. Missing the way her own thoughts felt sharper, clearer, when challenged by the Empress's ruthless pragmatism.
She missed the debates. She missed the stories about disgruntled courtiers. She even missed the infuriatingly goofy comments about interior design.
A servant eventually arrived not Gleeb, but the tall, bark skinned demon. He placed a tray on the table beside her: a simple pot of tea and a plate of food. No pastries. No second cup.
"The Empress is occupied with matters in the Ashfall Province," the demon said, his voice a low rumble. "She sends her regrets and said you are to have whatever you require."
Lan Yue just nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
She poured a cup of tea. It was the same star bloom blend, but it tasted… different. Flatter. Less complex. She ate the food without tasting it, her appetite gone.
The emptiness in the room was profound. The palace, for all its reformed beauty, felt like a shell without its vibrant, confounding core. Lan Yue wandered the shelves, not reading, just moving, her fingers trailing over leather bound spines.
She found herself in the section on demonic flora and fauna. Her hand stopped on a text about the Fox Beast Clan. She pulled it out, her heart doing that stupid little jump again.
She didn't read about battle prowess or political history. She looked for the passage on scent. She found it, a small footnote.
'The White Fox of the Nine Tails is said to possess a natural allure, a scent often described as sweet and fruity, meant to attract and put potential allies at ease.'
"Put at ease," Lan Yue murmured to the silent library. It felt like a gross understatement. It wasn't just putting her at ease. It was disarming her. It was weaving its way into her senses until the absence of it felt like a deprivation.
She snapped the book shut, frustration warring with a confusing sense of longing. This was dangerous. This was exactly what the Empress had planned, wasn't it? To make her comfortable. To make her miss her.
And the most terrifying part was that it was working.
Lan Yue returned to her seat, drawing the twilight blue cloak the one Xue Lian had given her tighter around her shoulders. It didn't smell like peaches. It just smelled like herself.
She stared out the window at the eternal twilight of the Netherworld sky, and for the first time since her arrival, the feeling that dominated wasn't anger or fear or even righteous determination.
It was loneliness.
And the unsettling realization that the person she was lonely for was the very woman who had put her in this gilded cage.