Episode 8

Icarus leaned close to my ear; I could feel his breath tickling me, sending shivers across my skin. I'm at a loss for words to describe my feeling, yet every part of me seemed animated and refusing to heed my commands. Did the Emperor possess the instruction manual to my being?

"Is it just me or is it getting even hotter? Is it always this stifling here?" I asked nervously, grappling with the tumult of contradictory emotions—wanting and at the same time not wanting.

"Turn your back..." Icarus whispered into my ear, sending a fresh wave of chills down my neck. My breathing was erratic, my mind a blank canvas.

"Ehhh! Wait! I'm not psychologically ready for this yet." The thought only heightened my anxiety. "Where are you putting your hand? Hey! That hurts! Be gentle—if you keep up this pace, I’m going to break. Ahh! That's nice. Ahhh! It's actually quite pleasant. No! Hey! That hurts. Take it easy! Don't apply so much pressure. Wait, are you laughing?"

Icarus was over me, his hands exerting pressure on my skin—slightly painful, yet strangely pleasurable. But in an unexpected turn, the door flew open; someone stepped through hastily, and within seconds, I saw a knife fly from Icarus's hand straight into the chest of the entrant. Blood spewed from their mouth and the wound where the knife remained embedded. Their identity obscured in the dim light of the room.

"Where did you get that knife from?" I inquired, looking around. Icarus chuckled before reaching for the candles that cast a glow upon the bed, directing light towards the fallen figure.

"It can't be!" Sheila, the maid who greeted me, exclaimed before collapsing to the floor, clutching her chest. I recognized her voice more readily than her appearance. "How could you be so off-guard in such a situation? Are you even human? Wait! What kind of situation is this? Were you two..."

"Uhm? A massage?" I responded, confused, but in actuality, Icarus had turned me around just to begin massaging my shoulders. Needless to say, the tension from the marital proceedings had made it initially painful, but it was truly pleasant. I had no complaints; his fingers were skilled. Sheila indeed deserved what came for disturbing us. It seems I’m quite adapting to the role of a fine villainess. Look at my thoughts.

"Damn..." Sheila's voice weakened as she slumped against the wall, staining it with blood. "Did I fail the mission? I had to kill you, Alicia, but... that damned emperor... He won't be able to protect you from them."

Those were the last words of the woman who had greeted me with such a warm and welcoming smile upon my arrival, truly underscoring the fact that you never really know people. I had been thoroughly deceived. Life still has so much to teach me.

"I don't think that was enough. They won't stop. Seems like we're in for an eventful night, ready, wife?" Icarus said as he sat on the bed sighing, staring with evident disdain at Sheila's lifeless body on the floor.

My maid was an assassin? More importantly, why did she want me dead? And why were they after me, not the emperor? What did they want from me? And who were they? Whom had I angered so deeply that they sought my demise? Was it my recent outburst that had provoked someone to this extent?