Arch 1: Maids of Thorns.
The palace smelled expensive.
Spiced wine, sandalwood smoke, and the kind of money that coated everything in gold just to remind you it could. Aris knelt on cold marble, wrists resting lightly on her thighs, head bowed. White linen clung to her hips, the fabric thin enough to let them imagine what they wanted.
She kept her expression blank. Passive. Beautiful.
A gift.
"She is from the southern front," the merchant announced, trying to sound casual. "A token of loyalty to His Holiness the Crown Prince."
Aris didn't speak. She was a slave now. Silence was expected—and far more useful.
Around her, nobles whispered. The sandals of priestesses scuffed against stone. One man—young, powerful, stupid—shifted his weight. She could feel his stare without even looking up.
> [SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]
[UNLIMITED GODDESS SYSTEM – USER: ARIS]
STATUS: Level 0. ROLE: Background Servant. LOCATION: The Empire's Inner Court
PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Shatter the Holy Alliance from Within
Secondary Objective: Make them yours. Then ruin them.
System Note: Try not to get chained to another bedpost. It's tacky.
She almost laughed.
Almost.
"You've brought a foreign slave into the imperial court?" a woman's voice rang out. Sharp, cool, self-righteous. The Saintess, obviously. She smelled like virtue and barely-concealed condescension.
Aris didn't lift her gaze. But inside, she filed the voice away.
> System: Ding. The Saintess has entered the game. Spoiler alert—she hates you already.
The Crown Prince stepped forward. His voice was soft. Young. Curious. "What is your name?"
Aris paused. She tilted her chin just slightly upward, letting him see the line of her neck, the shimmer of skin. Her voice came out low and sweet.
"They called me Aris, Your Highness."
A heartbeat of silence.
"Aris," he repeated.
His voice wrapped around it like a prayer. Or a noos.
She was given to the lower palace. A wing reserved for lesser attendants—maids, messengers, and servants with just enough beauty to be ornamental, not threatening. Aris walked in barefoot, the chain at her throat removed but still felt.
The other maids stared. Whispers followed her down the corridor.
Too dark. Too pretty. Too quiet.
The Matron was waiting.
She looked Aris over like she was inspecting rotten fruit. "Exotic, aren't you?" she muttered. "You'll keep your head down. Smile when spoken to. And don't get clever."
Aris gave her the softest, sweetest nod.
Inside, she was already mapping exits, eavesdropping routes, and weaknesses in the staff hierarchy. It wouldn't take long. These women were vicious—but small-minded
That night, Aris sat at the servant's basin, scrubbing her hands raw just to have something to do. The palace behind her buzzed with a masquerade. Music, perfume, moans behind closed doors.
She wasn't invited. Not yet.
> System: Congratulations! You've survived Day 1 without dying, crying, or strangling anyone. Progress!
> System: FYI, the Crown Prince couldn't stop staring at your ass during dinner. Shall I add "Royal Obsession" to your status effects?
Aris: "He'll fall. They always do."
> System: You say that like you're proud. Or bored. Hard to tell with you.
She glanced at her reflection in the water. A girl with haunted eyes stared back. Pretty. Still young. But something in her gaze was older than it had any right to be.
Not broken.
Just sharpened.
Aris leaned closer to the water, whispering:
"Let them fall in love with the version of me that bleeds. It makes the ruin more poetic."