The Emperor's Shame and a Cup of Tea
The next day, Luciel ended up oversleeping.
The moment she forced her heavy, gritty eyelids open, the creak of the old door heralded Madame Tana's entrance into the room.
The hem of her form-fitting red silk dress gleamed in the morning sunlight.
"How long do you plan on sleeping? Get up, quickly. You have clients to receive."
Her voice was chilling. Luciel didn't even have the energy to sit up, but Madame Tana paid no heed to her condition, dragging her ruthlessly out of bed.
Her touch was rough, treating Luciel like a broken doll.
Is it starting again? When will I ever escape this wretched cycle?
Luciel screamed inwardly, but outwardly, she could offer no resistance.
Dragged toward the bathhouse by Madame Tana, Luciel's feet felt as heavy as lead.
"Wash up and make yourself presentable. The client is waiting. You'd best steel yourself—tonight will be quite long and arduous."
Leaving behind a meaningful, chilling smile, Madame Tana shoved Luciel into the bathroom and shut the door.
Luciel turned on the cold water and splashed her face. The reflection in the mirror was stained with fatigue, irritation, and deep despair.
Damn it. What kind of bastard is it going to be today?
When she emerged from the bathroom, Madame Tana had already prepared everything to receive the next client.
She dressed Luciel in a gown so dazzlingly lavish it made her eyes ache, and meticulously applied her makeup.
Luciel simply let her body drift, blankly submitting to Tana's touch. She was as listless as a soulless doll.
“There, all finished. Now, let us go greet your guest. Tonight, too, you must pour out everything you have without holding back.”
Madame Tana nudged Luciel's back, guiding her toward the door.
Standing before the door, Luciel gathered the final, shattered remnants of her pride and took a deep breath. She had to don her mask once more and play the role of a skilled courtesan.
Alright. Let's do this, Luciel.
The door opened, and a new client greeted her.
He was a massive, burly man with a menacing first impression. His cropped hair, rough beard, and the scars tracing his entire body hinted at a brutal life, and his eyes gleamed with raw, unbridled lust.
“Heh, so we finally meet, the rumored whore of the house. Tonight, make sure you show me everything you've got.”
The man roughly grabbed Luciel's chin and forced it up. A repulsive stench of cheap alcohol wafted from his mouth.
Luciel glared back at him with cold, hollow eyes. She made a silent, ironclad vow.
I will escape this hell, no matter what, and exact a bloody vengeance upon all of you.
Regardless of her unyielding resolve, the curse of the Constellations activated without fail. The moment his rough hands brushed her skin, a wave of intense pleasure surged from deep within her womb. She writhed, barely holding her composure, when a sudden, jarring silence brought everything to a grinding halt.
The man had thrust his engorged cock into her wet folds, but before he could even manage a few strokes, he embarrassingly came.
*Splat*
“…Huh?”
Overwhelmed by a sudden, hollow emptiness, Luciel looked up at the man with a gaze thick with disappointment and irritation. His face was flushed crimson with sheer embarrassment, completely at a loss.
The man muttered to himself, trying to salvage his dignity.
“This... I was just a bit tired today, so don't get the wrong idea.”
He looked even more flustered, squirming in mortification. Shrouded in shame, he couldn't even string a proper sentence together.
Luciel suppressed her boiling irritation, cursing inwardly.
This fucking premature-ejaculating bastard! My body was just starting to heat up!
Left with nothing but a half-baked pleasure and clumsy stimulation, her frustration reached its peak. Though she was furious, a stubborn pride flared up—she couldn't let it end like this. Or rather, her cursed, highly sensitive body refused to let it end here.
Forcing a seductive smile onto her lips, she gently caressed the man's cheek.
“It's quite alright, sir. You must have been nervous since it's your first time. Shall we try once more? This time, I'll be a bit more active.”
The man seemed taken aback by her sudden kindness and blatant seduction, but a greedy grin soon spread across his face as he nodded eagerly.
Luciel skillfully stroked his body, coaxing his lust back to life.
Yet, the result was exactly the same. He barely managed a couple of pathetic thrusts before limply spilling his seed once more.
*Splat*
Swallowing her mounting rage and disappointment, Luciel helped the man up and ushered him out, acting as if nothing was amiss.
Contrary to his fierce appearance, the man repeatedly mumbled apologies as he scrambled to leave. His retreating figure looked utterly pathetic.
But that wasn't the end of it.
The next client was also a massive brute, but he possessed absolutely no technique. He did nothing but sweat profusely before ejaculating in less than a minute.
*Slide... Splat*
Luciel's body was burning hot, but because she couldn't reach a proper climax, her unfulfilled desire curdled into a boiling rage.
“Sir!”
“Y-Yes... I-I'm so sorry... *sob*... I have no excuses...”
The second man also had tears welling in his eyes. With his self-esteem thoroughly crushed, he bowed his head and fled the room in a panic. The firmly shut door felt incredibly heartless.
After two consecutive failures, Luciel was rapidly reaching the limit of her patience. Along with her mounting irritation, the unquenched lust felt as if it were clawing at her from the inside out.
Her pride as an Emperor had been utterly trampled, and her body was left in a frustrated, aching mess. Yet, her night was far from over. Tonight, the Madame seemed determined to keep shoving clients into her room.
“I am the Emperor. I can overcome a trial of this caliber as many times as it takes. I will not break over something so trivial.”
She comforted herself, quietly closing her eyes. However, her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails dug deep into her palms.
Though her pride refused to allow it, the suppressed lust was already eroding her reason. A scorching heat welled up from the depths of her womb.
“Damn it... Damn it...!”
After dealing with two useless clients in a row, Luciel was consumed by an agonizing sense of dissatisfaction.
Her body was burning, but the unquenched desire warped into an unbearable irritation and helplessness that tormented her. She tried taking a cold shower, but it was entirely useless. If anything, it only made her more acutely aware of the scorching lust coiled inside her.
Sia crossed her mind, but Luciel couldn't bring herself to seek her out for something like this. She decided to take matters into her own hands. She couldn't endure it any longer.
With trembling hands, she stripped off her soiled clothes and laid her naked body upon the cold bed. Shrouded in extreme shame and self-loathing, she began to grope her own flesh, sliding her fingers into her most intimate crevice.
The empty room and the icy bedsheets only made her feel more isolated and wretched.
Her slender, pale fingers cautiously traced her private folds. It began hesitantly, as if touching something foreign and forbidden, but her movements gradually grew bolder and faster. Like a starved beast, she was ruled entirely by the primal instinct craving pleasure.
She pleasured herself more fiercely, more desperately. Yet, the more frantic her movements became, the deeper her shame and despair grew. Surrendering to her own touch, she plunged endlessly into an abyss where pleasure and agony intertwined. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks without pause.
Writhed in the throes of pleasure and pain, she let slip a desperate, animalistic groan. The sound of her whimpering echoing through the empty room felt profoundly tragic.
Finally, sobbing miserably, she reached a hollow climax. Though her body shuddered violently, her heart remained utterly empty and unfulfilled.
Lying face down on the bed, she buried her face in the pillow and wept silently. Only an unquenched thirst and a profound loneliness weighed heavily upon her.
The Next Morning
Luciel woke up with swollen eyes. Having barely slept a wink all night, her body felt as heavy as lead, and her head throbbed with a splitting ache. Unlike yesterday, the weather outside was bright and sunny, but her heart remained a dull, leaden gray.
She dragged herself out of bed to wash her face, threw on some simple clothes, and left her room. She felt that if she stayed inside any longer, she would be completely crushed by the endless melancholy.
Her feet led her to the backyard of Hyangyeon. A faint scent of laundry soap drifted through the air, mingling with the damp smell of earth.
A large wooden washbasin sat nearby, and colorful lingerie fluttered in the breeze on the old clotheslines.
Luciel stared blankly at the washbasin. She detested doing laundry. No, during her days as the Emperor, such a chore was beyond the realm of imagination.
The sticky soapy water and the damp texture of the wet clothes disgusted her.
But she had no choice. Today was her designated laundry day, a chore Madame Tana had forced upon her.
Perhaps it was a punishment for not 'performing' properly yesterday. To make matters worse, Sia was away on service today, meaning her share of the work had been dumped onto Luciel as well. She could practically see the hateful Madame's sneering face.
Damn it. To think that I, the former Emperor, have to do such menial labor myself. What a wretched life.
Shaking her head, Luciel reluctantly dipped her hands into the washbasin. The water was warmer than expected, gently enveloping her hands, but her heart remained frozen solid. She pulled out a piece of wet lingerie and limply wrung it out.
Just then, without making a single sound, someone approached from behind and quietly sat down beside her.
“………”
Startled, Luciel turned her head. It was Areli. The other elven courtesan of Hyangyeon, who was always as quiet and silent as a shadow. Bathed in the morning sunlight, Areli's face appeared even paler and more translucent than usual.
Luciel knit her brows slightly. It wasn't that she disliked Areli, but she wasn't someone Luciel felt like approaching warmly either.
With her seemingly emotionless, cold eyes and tightly closed lips, Areli looked like a solitary being trapped in her own world, completely severed from any connection with others.
Yet, without a word, Areli pulled a piece of laundry from another bucket nearby and began wringing it out alongside Luciel. Her movements were surprisingly practiced, and the effortless way she squeezed the water out was somehow reassuring.
“Why are you helping me?”
Luciel asked bluntly, making no effort to hide her wariness.
“If we do it together, it'll be over quickly.”
At those words, Luciel let out a faint, incredulous chuckle.
“How unexpected. You usually hide away like a shadow and never say a word to me.”
“Exactly. I'm still not talking to you. I'm just doing the laundry.”
Areli's reply was short and concise, yet it carried a blunt honesty that was uniquely hers. Luciel glanced at her sideways in silence.
Areli simply continued to wring the clothes in silence. Her long silver hair fluttered gently in the breeze.
The two of them wrung the laundry in silence for a long while. Cold water droplets splashed, and the faint scent of soap drifted around them. Under the quiet morning sun, only the rhythmic sound of wringing clothes echoed softly.
Luciel suddenly turned to look at Areli. Though her profile remained expressionless as she quietly worked, her touch was surprisingly gentle and careful.
Her long silver hair shimmered faintly in the sunlight, casting a mysterious aura around her.
“Are you always this quiet?”
“Yes. And even now, I don't really have any intention of becoming close with you.”
Luciel was at a loss for how to respond to such bluntness.
“But... being with you isn't uncomfortable.”
At those words, Luciel quietly averted her gaze. For some reason, a ticklish, unfamiliar sensation blossomed in a corner of her chest.
Perhaps sensing Luciel's gaze, Areli smiled—a tiny, almost imperceptible curve of her lips. It was an incredibly faint smile, yet it felt remarkably warm.
It felt as if something very delicate had been gently nudged within her. Luciel was swept by an inexplicable emotion. A tiny spark of warmth seemed to seep into her cold, barren heart.
She was a woman of few words, but being together—no, precisely because she was silent—felt incredibly comfortable. Luciel did her best to hide her complicated emotions and silently focused on the laundry once more.
That was simply who Areli was.
Just then, a droplet of rain fell with a soft patter onto Luciel's cheek.
“It's raining.”
Areli spoke softly. Her voice sounded even lower and sweeter as it mingled with the sound of the rain.
Looking up at the sky, dark clouds were rapidly rolling in, and the raindrops were growing heavier.
“We should hurry.”
Luciel quickly began gathering the wet laundry. Areli helped her without a word.
Cradling armfuls of damp clothes, they hastily fled the backyard.
The room where they hung the laundry was instantly filled with a damp, heavy humidity. The touch of the clammy air against her skin was unpleasant.
Luciel stared out the window. Sheets of rain were pouring down heavily. It felt as though the entire world was being dyed in shades of gray.
Damn it. There won't be any clients tomorrow because of this weather. It's going to be even more miserable.
She let out an irritated sigh without realizing it. Her suppressed emotions were on the verge of exploding once more.
“Would you like some warm tea?”
Areli asked quietly. Perhaps due to the sound of the rain, her purple eyes looked deeper and softer than usual.
Luciel hesitated for a moment before giving a small nod.
“Sure.”
The two of them headed to the kitchen side by side.
Sitting across from each other at the worn wooden table, they sipped the warm tea. A subtle, herbal aroma wafted from the steaming cups.
The scent of the tea gently enveloped the damp room. The heavy patter of rain outside tickled their ears.
Their shoulders were close enough to almost touch, and an awkward yet comfortable silence settled between them.
Outside, the rain continued to fall relentlessly.
Yet strangely, Luciel no longer felt lonely. By her side, she had Areli.
A presence who, though silent, was comfortable to be around. Perhaps, a presence that offered a tiny sliver of solace.
The rain poured down harder and harder. The sound of the storm grew louder.
Clasping the warm teacup tightly with both hands, she fell into deep thought. A faint sadness lingered on her tightly closed lips.
As the rain grew heavier, the inexplicable anxiety looming in her heart seemed to grow darker as well.
A strange premonition that something ominous was about to strike weighed heavily upon her. The roaring storm outside only amplified her unease.
