CHAPTER 55: IMPERIAL DECREE

The Qin estate rose from Agartha’s floating landmass like a palace carved out of starlight. Tall, luminous walls curved into sweeping arcs, supported by pillars crafted from metal so refined it looked like glass. Holographic lanterns drifted lazily through the air, adjusting their brightness as Ahce and Amiel approached the main entrance.

Everything shimmered. Everything gleamed. And yet, something felt... wrong.

As they crossed the gardens, Ahce paused, staring at a cluster of vibrant blue flowers blooming in perfect symmetry. Their petals glowed faintly, almost too perfect, too symmetrical.

She leaned closer.

No scent...

Not even the faint earthy warmth she’d grown up with. She touched a leaf with her fingertips. It felt smooth, cold, like polished silicone.

Her chest tightened. "Third brother... are these... real?"

He stopped beside her, following her gaze.

"Beautiful, aren’t they?" A small sigh slipped past his lips. "Artificial. All of them."

Ahce blinked. "All?"

He nodded. "Capital-level atmospheric layers aren’t friendly to organic growth. Real plants need specialized chambers and constant energy feed just to avoid dying. Only the royals and old clans can afford them."

He started walking again, hands in his pockets. "And natural food... well. You’ll see."

She wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a joke.

By dinner, she understood.

The dining hall was enormous, more cathedral than room. Ceilings that vanished into shadow. Walls that glowed softly with crystalline veins. A table long enough to seat fifty, but tonight it held only three, Alexander, Amiel, and Ahce, clustered together near the center as if trying to make the room feel less hollow.

Servants brought out plates decorated with elegant markings. Vibrant vegetables. Glazed meats. Jewel-colored fruit slices cut into patterns too pretty to eat. It all looked perfect.

Ahce took a bite. Her jaw stopped mid-chew. The flavor hit her tongue like scorched synthetic fiber dipped in sweetener. A faint bitter aftertaste clung to the back of her throat. Burnt plastic.

In the shape of a meal. She forced herself to swallow.

Alexander, noticing her reaction, gave her a sympathetic look. Amiel just sighed, stabbing a luminous pink vegetable with his fork.

"Tastes terrible, right?" he asked casually.

Ahce choked on her second bite. "People pay for this?"

"People go broke for this," Amiel corrected. "Because it’s ’natural.’ Harvested from rare, protected environments. The elites pretend it’s prestigious, but honestly?" He nudged the plate away. "It tastes like regret and melted packaging."

Ahce stifled a laugh, though it came out a little hollow.

Alexander chuckled quietly. "You’ve always been picky about food."

She didn’t tell them she wasn’t being picky. That her memories of real fruits, real vegetables, meals cooked with fire and hands and care, those were the only pieces of her old life she still held onto.

Instead, she ate in silence, pretending each bite didn’t make her miss home more fiercely.

After dinner, a servant guided her to her room on the third floor, right next to Amiel’s. The hallway stretched long and quiet, lined with shimmering walls that never dimmed. Her door opened with a soft tone.

The room inside was enormous, beautifully furnished, and painfully unfamiliar. A bed with sheets that shifted texture according to body temperature. Shelves lined with floating lights instead of lamps. Windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, displaying Agartha’s layered sky.

Blue vapor trails from passing ships. Floating land bridges. The constant glow of technoluminescent clouds. It was breathtaking. And it made her feel utterly alone.

Ahce walked to the window and pressed her palm against the cool glass. The world outside stretched wide and strange, a vision of the future she never asked for.

Earth was gone.

Her family was gone.

Reichardt was gone.

She didn’t even get to say goodbye. Didn’t get a last hug, a last laugh, a last argument. She didn’t get anything except stolen time and a universe she didn’t recognize.

Her reflection in the glass looked lost, a stranger wearing her face.

A fist of loneliness tightened in her throat.

In a house full of wealth, power, and technology, she had never felt smaller. More displaced. More painfully aware of how far from home she truly was.

Her breath wavered.

"I’m really alone," she whispered.

And Agartha’s glittering skyline, magnificent and empty, whispered nothing back.

The next morning arrived far too quickly.

Ahce had barely slept, drifting in and out of dreams stitched with old memories and new worlds. She had expected a quiet morning, maybe a slow breakfast with Amiel and Alexander. Instead, the estate woke to tension echoing through its halls.

A messenger ship had arrived at dawn. An imperial decree. Not a simple letter. Not a visit. A decree sealed with the golden sigil of the imperial phoenix.

The household stirred into a frantic expression. Servants hurried through corridors. The head steward adjusted curtains, lighting, and even air temperature in the receiving hall until everything felt suffocatingly perfect.

By the time Ahce stepped inside, the eunuch was already waiting.

He stood with the rigid poise of someone who had delivered countless decrees and ruined countless mornings. His robes shimmered with gold-threaded calligraphy, and a thin circlet hovered near his temple, pulsing gently with authority.

Alexander arrived beside her in full uniform, posture razor-straight and expression unreadable. Amiel followed a moment later, hair slightly tousled, annoyance already simmering beneath his calm facade.

When they bowed, the eunuch unrolled the decree.

A faint ripple of spiritual energy swept through the room. Even the air tensed.

"In the name of His Imperial Majesty, sovereign of the Zevonden Universe, ruler of the Eight Systems..." The eunuch’s voice echoed like ceremonial thunder.

Ahce felt a quiet chill crawl down her spine.

"...the Emperor hereby acknowledges the return of the Qin Clan’s daughter, Ahce Qin, to the capital star."

Her heart thudded once, heavy.

So they knew.

Of course, they knew.

"...and in the interest of strengthening ties between old noble houses, arranging stability for upcoming generational conflicts, and honoring the Empress’s natal kin..."

Alexander’s brows furrowed.

Amiel’s eyes narrowed.

Ahce’s breath tightened.

"...His Imperial Majesty decrees that Ahce Qin shall be wed to the youngest son of the Jing Dutchy."

Silence slammed into the room.

The eunuch gently rolled the decree shut. "The imperial court expects preparations to begin immediately. A date will be delivered in the coming weeks."

He bowed, serene and unreachable, then departed with the kind of calm that only people delivering chaos could ever have.

The moment the door slid shut, the receiving hall broke.