Mu Xi stood by the pointed window of the room, coldly watching the group of masked “Guests” through the mottled light cast by the stained glass.
Her delicate face was expressionless, silver-white hair cascading over her shoulders like moonlight pouring down.
A fragrant scent lingered around her, sharply contrasting with the Manor’s eerie atmosphere outside the window, which only accentuated a fragile kind of beauty.
“Nobles? They’re nothing but maggots breeding in filth,” Mu Xi sneered silently.
On the surface, they looked glamorous, but inside, they had long since rotted—a hotbed for sin.
And this Manor was the nest they had built together, a den to satisfy their perverse desires.
One after another, they passed through the Garden.
The lawn, trimmed like a green velvet carpet, now seemed like a carefully woven trap, waiting for prey to fall right into its snare.
The fountain in the center of the square still gushed streams of water, refracting illusory rainbows under the sunlight, but it couldn’t dispel the dark gloom hanging over the Manor.
Those lifelike sculptures, in Mu Xi’s eyes, seemed to have turned into symbols of mockery, silently watching the arrival of these beasts in human clothing.
On either side of the hall, Black-Clad Bodyguards stood motionless like statues, their eyes hidden behind dark glasses but unable to conceal the deadly coldness radiating from them.
They were the Manor’s guardians and the Master’s fangs, maintaining the order of this sinful place with absolute obedience and cruelty.
“Knock. Knock.”
The door was knocked, and Mu Xi said, “Come in.”
The door opened in response, first revealing the respectful head of a maid, then the figure of Ye Lan appeared in the doorway.
Today, she wore a black velvet evening gown, its neckline plunging low to reveal a large expanse of snow-white skin, contrasting sharply with her jet-black hair and making her complexion even more radiant.
Her eyes scanned the room before settling on Mu Xi, her tone carrying a hint of casual indifference: “Have you chosen your dress?”
Mu Xi pointed to the white dress hanging on the rack.
The dress was simple in design, with smooth lines and a soft, flowing fabric, carrying a hint of youthful purity.
Among this pile of elaborate gowns, each seemingly competing to be covered in the most expensive embellishments, it stood out for its understated elegance.
Ye Lan’s eyebrows twitched imperceptibly, clearly displeased with Mu Xi’s choice.
She approached the rack, her fingers sliding over the brightly colored, boldly designed dresses, finally stopping on one that could barely be called a “dress,” more like strips of cloth.
The dress was blazing red, sequins flickering like flames; the deep V-neck plunged down to the waist, and the back was boldly hollowed out, held together by only a few thin straps. It was less of a dress and more of lingerie meant for seduction.
“Try this one on.” Ye Lan’s voice held an unmistakable command.
Mu Xi’s fingertips curled slightly.
She looked at the red dress and felt a burning heat rush over her as if it wasn’t a piece of clothing but a roaring flame, threatening to consume her entirely.
She pressed her lips together, saying nothing, but the resistance in her eyes was clear.
Ye Lan noticed Mu Xi’s expression.
Her phoenix-shaped eyes narrowed slightly, but her tone remained gentle, as if soothing a sulking pet: “What, don’t like it? I picked this especially for you. Wearing it, you’ll definitely be the brightest star tonight.”
‘The brightest star?’ Mu Xi sneered silently.
More like the most “valuable commodity.”
She knew Ye Lan’s intention—to make her showcase her “value” to the fullest, to better please those so-called “Guests.”
The more compliant she was, the more Ye Lan would push her, as if squeezing out every last drop of worth from her.
But what could she do to resist?
Taking a deep breath, suppressing the humiliation and anger swelling in her chest, Mu Xi slowly approached the rack and reached out.
Her trembling fingertips felt as if they were about to touch not a piece of clothing, but a poisonous, dangerous item.
“I… I’ll go change.” Her voice was soft, with a barely noticeable quiver.
Ye Lan smiled in satisfaction, a smile blooming on her exquisite face like a poppy—beautiful but deadly: “That’s good.”
She came close to Mu Xi, affectionately stroking her silver-white hair, her fingertips brushing past Mu Xi’s earlobe with a hint of intimate suggestion.
“Remember, perform well tonight. Don’t let me down.”
A chill shot up Mu Xi’s spine.
She clenched her disgust deep inside, not pulling away from Ye Lan’s touch, only lowering her head and whispering in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, “Yes, Master.”
“Such a good girl.” Ye Lan let out another satisfied chuckle and turned to leave the room, leaving Mu Xi alone with the red dress that seemed ready to burn her to ashes.
Silence returned to the room, broken only by the shifting shadows cast by the stained glass windows, twisting nightmares slowly writhing on the deep green walls.
Mu Xi stood where she was, her thin shoulders trembling slightly.
She stared hard at the red dress, her eyes full of loathing and hatred.
There was no other way.
Mu Xi ended up putting on the red “rags.”
In the mirror’s reflection, it was no dress—it was a flickering, bewitching flame dancing on her body, devouring the last remnants of her girlhood.
Every inch of exposed skin felt scorched by blazing fire, so hot it made her want to escape.
She felt like a carefully decorated sacrifice, about to be offered to the monsters lurking in the shadows.
The dress was so thin it was nearly transparent; the sequins trembled slightly with her breath, like countless eyes greedily watching her.
She lowered her head and saw the bright red heart tattoo on her lower abdomen, now ignited by the red dress, pulsating with a strange, eerie glow.
Taking a deep breath, she suppressed the surge of humiliation in her heart.
She walked to the center of the room and cleared her throat toward the night outside the floor-to-ceiling window.
Her voice was hoarse, like rusty saw blades scraping dry wood.
Frowning, she gently touched her throat, where it felt as if a flame was burning, making it impossible to produce clear notes.
Thinking of the Throat Lozenges Ye Lan gave her every day, a wave of nausea rose in her chest.
Those weren’t Throat Lozenges at all.
They were a slow poison, gradually corroding her will, making her like a frog boiled in warm water, slowly losing all strength to resist.
She tried humming a few lines of the song Ling Yue had taught her, but her voice was still rough and dry, as if blocked by grains of sand.
No, this absolutely wouldn’t do.
At the month-end Banquet, she was supposed to sing those decadent tunes.
If her voice was this bad, it would ruin everything.
She had to find a way.
Mu Xi went to the desk and picked up the open book.
The Kangyong Sutra.
She had stumbled upon it on the bookshelf by chance.
It was said to have the effect of calming the mind and focusing the spirit.
She flipped open the scripture and let her gaze fall on the ancient characters.
The calligraphy was elegant, the ink’s fragrance faint, but for some reason, she always felt an indescribable strangeness lurking in the text.
They say that reading too many books can make you absorb their aura.
Could one truly read the books in this Manor with peace of mind?
Ye Lan was so obsessed with collecting books.
Was it really just to cultivate a refined image?
Her fingertips brushed the pages; the rough paper scraped her skin, tingling painfully.
Suddenly, she recalled a rumor—some ancient scriptures were made from human skin, still stained with the grudges of the dead.