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The morning began with clanging trays, hurriedly whispered orders, and the sound of a biwa in the background. Alice, still a bit dazed, carried a stack of towels toward her mistress's quarters, trying to appear both busy and invisible.

She'd woken with her heart pounding and her knees tingling from curling up so tightly. She couldn't get used to sleeping on the floor. Helpers passed back and forth, carrying basins of rose petals, jade vases, and piles of colorful fabrics. It was like waking up backstage at a historic opera.

Except this time, Alice was in the cast.

She still wasn't sure how much time had passed. Hours? Days? Episodes? It was impossible to tell. The sun always rose from the same angle, and tea always seemed to be served to someone about to cry or die.

Alice tried to go with the flow, but her urban brain, unaccustomed to unpredictable scripts, was already showing signs of malfunctioning. At any moment, she expected to hear the opening theme and wake up back in her bed with a backache and the smell of mold from the fan.

She no longer knew what episode it was. She couldn't remember the order of the scenes. She just had a gut feeling that something awful was approaching.

When she reached the antechamber, Mei was waiting for her, with a smile too calm to be trusted. Alice now knew that her mistress, Lady Mei, the concubine of the east wing, was attending an unusual gathering. A few days earlier, one of the maids in the north wing had brought an invitation to a "private" tea with other palace concubines, including the series' protagonist, Lady Hana.

Mei wore her hair up high and a kimono of such a dark wine tone that it almost looked black. She sat with two other concubines, whispering between sips of tea. One of them chuckled as Lady Hana approached.

"She still dresses like she's the favorite," she whispered dismissively.

"How innocent," the other replied. "She hardly knows what she's getting herself into."

Lady Hana arrived smiling, as serene as a cosmetics commercial star. She sat under a flower-filled pergola. She was the perfect picture of innocence before tragedy.

Alice swallowed dry. She vaguely remembered that after this tea, Lady Hana would get sick. Very sick. But she couldn't remember exactly when or how. Which meant something was about to go very wrong.

"Lin, dear," Lady Mei called, her tone as poisonous as possible. "Bring the special tea from my reserve. The one with white petals and a vanilla scent."

In the background, an assistant stirred pots of herbs with almost surgical precision. The smell was too sweet. It made Alice nauseous.

Alice picked up the teapot. It was lukewarm.

"Is the tea ready?" Alice thought to herself. "Good, less work for me."

With trembling hands, she placed the teapot on the tray. The kitchen maid smiled at her, a smile that seemed subtle but conveyed, "You know too much."

Alice thought that didn't sound right.

Mei glanced at her sideways, smiling sweetly. One of those smiles you learn in etiquette schools for refined assassins.

"Take it to Lady Hana. Serve with clean hands. And don't spill anything."

Alice thought it sounded like a bad day to poison the protagonist.

"Madam... are you sure you want to serve this tea?" she asked, her voice breaking just a little.

Mei arched an eyebrow.

"Are you questioning me?"

"No! No. Of course not. "It's just that Lady Hana mentioned she might have a certain intolerance to vanilla."

That was a lie. Desperation disguised as logic.

"Use the vanilla tea if you don't want to lose your hands."

Alice nodded, her face still, her heart racing. She walked with short, careful steps, like someone carrying dynamite.

"Say something." Drop the cup. Pretend to faint. Anything!"

But her body wouldn't obey. Mei, who was across the room, looked at her as if to say, "Serve this shit quickly," with just a glance.

Alice held out the cup to the protagonist.

"Thank you," Lady Hana said with a gentle smile.

And then everything happened too quickly.

Alice snatched the cup back at the last second and raised it to her lips. If someone had to die, it should be her. Better a dead extra than a poisoned protagonist. Maybe it would even speed up her return home.

She had already started pouring the liquid when a shadow appeared, running behind the columns. A maid Alice hadn't seen before jumped between them and slapped Alice's hand, but she hadn't finished her tea.

The cup flew, shattering on the floor. The silence that followed was absolute.

Then screams.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Lady Mei yelled, already standing.

The intruding maid didn't respond. She knelt before Alice, who was still holding the teapot with trembling fingers.

"Put it down. Now," she whispered.

Alice tried to react, but it was too late. The sweet scent of the tea rose to her nose like toxic vapor. Her stomach churned. Dizziness came in waves.

"Oh my God," she murmured. "Am I going to die?"

The maid grabbed the teapot and hurled it against the wall. Then she grabbed Alice by the shoulders and forced her to lean forward.

"Breathe. Come on. Breathe and let it all out."

And Alice obeyed. There, in the middle of the hall, amidst linen cushions and horrified concubines, she vomited. The pool of guilt and vanilla spread across the floor like a sour protest. The maid remained by her side, holding her hair back with a firm and surprisingly careful hand.

Guards rushed in. Servants screamed. Mei feigned surprise with award-winning talent. Lady Hana looked shocked.

Alice, still kneeling, gasped, trying to comprehend what had just happened. She had spilled everything: rice, tea, and a shred of her dignity.

She turned her head to look at the maid who had saved her.

She had never seen that face before. But there was something there, in the way she smiled with restrained sarcasm, in the firmness of her fingers gripping her wrist, and in the attentive gaze, as if observing an absurd spectacle from a box seat. Something that seemed familiar to Alice.

The maid blinked.

"Are you okay?"

Alice nodded, dizzy, sweating, unsure why this stranger had saved her life. But she knew one thing: she wasn't just any character.