The moment Everly's eyes fluttered open, her brain immediately sent up a distress flare. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Just a few minutes ago—or at least, what she assumed was a few minutes ago, because time was now a nebulous, slippery concept—she had been in her room. Her perfectly normal, modern, WiFi-enabled room. She'd been lounging against her bed like a content potato, a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously on her stomach, her laptop screen glowing with the chaotic glory of a random Chinese short drama.
The plot? A tyrant emperor with a harem so overstuffed with concubines that it was less a romantic entanglement and more a poorly managed zoo.
The women fought each other daily with the viciousness of feral cats in a back alley, their battles less strategic and more... primal. Like watching dogs bark at each other until someone peed on a tree to establish dominance. Or hawks and crows engaged in an aerial screaming match over a discarded french fry.
