Finally Got You Hooked

The grand hall of the imperial palace was shrouded in golden light, the scent of sandalwood and ink thick in the air. A hush settled over the court as the chief minister stepped forward, bowing deeply before the king.

"Your Majesty, the people of the palace have spoken," he announced, his voice smooth yet firm. "Consort Noor, gentle and graceful, has gifted the empire with an heir. A motherly model for the nation. An auspicious day should be selected to bestow upon her the title of Empress."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the hall.

Noor Giza, dressed in a gown of delicate silk embroidered with phoenixes, lowered her gaze in a show of humility. But beneath her demure expression, a flicker of satisfaction gleamed in her eyes. She had won. She had reached the pinnacle of power.

Or so she thought.

Sitting on his gilded throne, the king reached for his teacup, his fingers trembling slightly. The room suddenly tilted in his vision, the warm scent of the tea turning bitter in his nose. A dull ache pounded behind his temples. He barely heard Noor's worried voice calling out to him.

"Your Majesty!" Noor gasped, rising from her seat. "Do you feel unwell?"

The king shook his head, rubbing his temple. "It's nothing. I simply spent too long reviewing reports last night."

Noor placed a gentle hand on his sleeve. "Your Majesty carries the weight of the empire, but you must also care for your health."

The tea cup rattled against the saucer in his unsteady grip. His vision blurred. His breath became shallow. And then—

The porcelain slipped from his grasp, crashing to the floor.

A single word left his lips, barely above a whisper.

"...Sefa…"

And then, he collapsed.

A collective gasp rang through the court. Nobles scrambled to their feet, faces draining of color. Palace attendants whispered in frantic tones.

Noor Giza dropped to her knees beside the king, her hands trembling as she reached for him. "Your Majesty! What should we do? Call the Imperial Physician!"

The chaos swelled like a storm. The court was spiraling into panic.

Until—

"BE QUIET!"

My voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the noise like a blade. Silence fell instantly.

I took a single step forward, my gaze sweeping over the terrified faces. "His Majesty will be fine. The physician will be here soon. But before that, let me make one thing clear—if anyone dares spread despair in these halls, I will personally ensure that your entire family wails in despair at your funerals."

The frightened murmurs died immediately. The nobles lowered their heads. Noor, still clutching the king, turned her wide eyes toward me, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face.

I could see it. The calculation in her gaze.

She thinks she has control.

She doesn't.

The Imperial Physician arrived moments later, kneeling beside the fallen king. He pressed two fingers to the monarch's wrist, his expression darkening.

Consort Noor's voice trembled as she asked, "Physician, what is wrong with His Majesty?"

The physician exhaled slowly. Then, he turned—not to Noor—but to me.

"Consort Sefa," he addressed me solemnly. "His Majesty has contracted an infectious disease."

A ripple of shock spread through the room. Noor stiffened.

I narrowed my eyes. "This is no trifling matter. Are you certain?"

The physician hesitated, then nodded. "I am ninety percent sure."

The air thickened with tension.

I turned toward Noor, watching her carefully. "Then we must decide—who will stay to care for His Majesty?"

A sharp intake of breath. Noor's fingers clenched the fabric of her sleeve. A single bead of sweat trailed down her temple.

She was afraid.

Of course, she was.

If she refused, she would appear cold and unworthy of her soon-to-be title. But if she accepted…

She would be trapped.

I let the moment stretch, watching the horror dawn on her face as she realized the checkmate I had laid before her.

"Are any of the ladies here willing to tend to His Majesty?" I asked.

The silence was deafening.

The noblewomen lowered their gazes. Some dabbed at their eyes with silk handkerchiefs, though there were no real tears. Others shifted uncomfortably, stealing glances at one another. Not a single one dared to step forward.

I feigned a sigh, shaking my head. "It seems that only I—"

"I AM WILLING!"

Noor's voice rang out like a whip crack.

The room turned to her.

She knelt, her silk skirts pooling around her, her head bowed in a dramatic display of devotion.

"I am willing to take care of His Majesty and share your burden," she declared, her voice soft yet determined.

I tilted my head, as if surprised. "Consort Noor, there is no need to force yourself—"

"No!" She cut me off, desperation creeping into her tone. "I hope you will allow me to care for him as I wish."

Her words were clear.

She wasn't doing this for the king.

She was doing this to protect herself.

The court erupted into murmurs.

"How touching…" one noblewoman whispered. "Consort Noor truly harbors deep affection for His Majesty."

How easily they were fooled.

I flicked my fan open, waving it lazily as I gave Noor a slow, approving nod.

"In that case," I said smoothly, "we are counting on you."

Noor bowed deeply, her fingers curled tightly against the fabric of her dress.

The physician stepped forward once more, his gaze flickering between Noor and me.

"Consort Noor," he said gently, "please follow me. There are precautions you must take."

Noor wiped at her reddened eyes, offering a fragile smile. "Of course. I would never do anything to endanger His Majesty."

I watched her closely as she turned away.

She thought she had regained control. That she had protected herself.

But the game was far from over.

I saw the flicker of doubt in her expression as she walked away.

"Sefa Yilmaz must not know… right?"

Oh, Noor.

You have no idea.

I tapped my fan against my palm, my lips curling into a slow smile.

The real show was just beginning.