Commanded to Kneel

After a while, the head maid appeared.

She was a widowed noblewoman of unwavering loyalty who had served Hector for many years.

With a tense expression, she relayed various cautions before gesturing to Chloe’s clothes.

“First, you must change.”

Chloe’s face stiffened.

She bit the inside of her lip without speaking.

The dress she currently wore was a high-quality garment prepared at the hunting lodge.

Though it had not been tailored specifically for her, it was far superior to the dresses she had worn at the count’s estate.

In contrast, the attire of a lower maid was a uniform.

A beige linen one-piece was placed in her hands.

It was plain, designed solely for practicality, draping over the body without ornament.

“You must hurry. His Majesty must not be kept waiting.”

Urged on, Chloe changed into the uniform.

She tied a wrinkled apron around her waist.

When the headscarf was secured as well, her beauty dulled completely, and she looked like any ordinary palace servant.

If Hector’s intention had been to make her taste humiliation, he had succeeded halfway.

This was more than wounded pride.

Having been trained to wield her exceptional appearance as a weapon, she felt a strange unease now that her attire rendered her plain.

The head maid crossed her arms gravely.

Her expression carried the tension of a storm about to break.

“Now then. Lady Larouge must attend to His Majesty’s bath.”

“What exactly must I do?”

“Everything.”

Her violet eyes trembled like petals in rain.

“I beg your pardon…?”

The head maid sighed quietly.

“His Majesty has ordered that only you enter the bath chamber.”

At that moment, the chief steward and several attendants entered the waiting room.

They appeared to have been dismissed from Hector’s presence.

Chloe was given an extensive explanation of how to attend to the Emperor’s bath.

In that instant, she realized how foolish she had been to believe she would feel no shame in such duties.

As she absorbed the meticulous instructions, she could not lift her head.

A vivid sense of embarrassment crept upward from her feet.

There was no time to delay.

Pushed forward, she was escorted to the bedchamber.

Through the antechamber and then the inner doors opened by a servant, she was practically thrust inside.

Silence filled the vast room.

It was the same space she remembered from her previous life.

Centered around an imposing bed, the enormous chamber glittered with furnishings adorned in gold, silver, and gemstones.

Forcing her reluctant feet to move, Chloe stepped deeper inside.

“Your Majesty?”

She called softly, barely louder than a mosquito’s hum.

No sign of him answered her search.

Then she spotted a figure on the dim balcony, holding a goblet.

The crimson cloak still rested across his broad shoulders.

Though he had washed and changed at the lodge before returning, the damned cloak remained the same one from the forest.

Surely beneath the leg draped over the railing lay a stain of blood.

The thought stirred an unbearable surge of anger in her throat.

He rotated the goblet leisurely before sipping what remained.

Like a patient predator, he simply watched as she approached.

When they faced one another, a peculiar standoff formed.

Though her hands were folded properly like a maid’s, he detected the insolence beneath and raised the tip of his brow.

Hector exhaled in disbelief and emptied the goblet.

“Care for a drink?”

Chloe fiddled with the plain headscarf and steadied herself.

Just get through this moment.

Focus only on the bath.

Putting distance between herself and Hector—or leaving the palace altogether—would come later.

For now, she needed strength to overcome this obstacle.

If alcohol could help, she would not refuse.

“Yes. Please.”

She swallowed dryly and answered in a small voice.

“Do you drink well?”

“It would be my first time.”

“Ah. Brave, to accept your first glass so boldly.”

The corner of his mouth curled upward in open mockery.

In truth, she could drink a little.

During her training with the Eternal Order to become the Emperor’s mistress, she had been taught how to drink.

If one could match a man cup for cup, it proved advantageous.

But her frail constitution had never allowed her tolerance to improve.

She merely knew how.

When he handed her the goblet, her eyes focused on its size.

It was so broad she needed both hands to hold it.

Just one sip, then quickly proceed with the bath as instructed.

If done efficiently, perhaps it would end within the hour.

For some reason, Hector’s eyes curved strangely.

An ominous feeling thickened like mist in the forest.

The crystal decanter tilted over the goblet.

Dark amber liquor flowed in.

It was clearly a strong spirit meant to be sipped sparingly, yet he did not stop even after filling it past halfway.

“That—that is enough.”

Though she protested in flustered distress, the level continued rising.

It filled to the brim.

Even then, he did not stop.

The overflow spilled onto her hands.

Only after emptying the entire decanter did he withdraw.

His crescent-shaped eyes gleamed with violent amusement.

“Drink.”

He tossed the empty bottle over the balcony.

It shattered below with a piercing crash.

Liquid dripped steadily from Chloe’s hands, pooling at her feet.

The scent of the fine liquor carried notes like charred pine bark.

The sharp bite of alcohol rose into her nose.

This was no casual offer.

It was an order.

A punishment from a thoroughly displeased Emperor.

At the hunting grounds, she had tried to flee and paid dearly.

Her inner thighs still ached from being pushed to the limit.

After returning, she had attempted to create distance—and had been reduced to a lower maid.

Looking at the rough linen sleeve of her uniform, now soaked in liquor, her chest tightened.

If she refused to drink, she could not predict what punishment might follow.

Hector was a man capable of far worse than she could imagine.

“Will you merely hold it?”

His displeased gaze stabbed at her like a needle.

It seemed he might pry her mouth open and pour it down himself.

He reached for her white headscarf.

With a tug at the knot beneath her chin, he loosened it and brushed her hair back as though it were his own.

The cloth slipped from her crown like a bride’s veil, and her long silver hair cascaded down.

She could not stall any longer.

A sharp awareness struck her that he might seize her by the hair if she hesitated further.

Her hands trembled uncontrollably, making the surface of the liquor ripple.

With a resigned sigh, she raised the goblet to her lips.

One swallow sent a burning fire down her throat.

“Cough—”

Hector’s lips stretched faintly.

Was her struggle amusing him.

He lifted a finger and circled it in the air.

Continue.

Of course, mercy was not in this man’s nature.

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut.

Better to finish it at once.

Steeling herself, she gulped it down.

She could feel the alcohol scorching from her esophagus to her stomach.

When she tilted her head back to force down the final mouthful, dizziness struck.

Her body swayed involuntarily.

“Ah—!”

The golden goblet rolled across the floor.

Hector was suddenly before her, grasping her elbow.

His gaze held the fascination of one observing a caged animal.

It was a vile amusement.

He regarded her as no more than a performing monkey, snickering as she struggled against the rising intoxication.

“Now then. Were you not here to attend my bath?”

She squeezed her eyelids shut and opened them again.

The room spun.

Though her condition was wretched, she did not forget her duty.

She nodded.

“The head maid instructed me. Shall we proceed?”

“Let us see your skill.”

With a faint, mocking curve of his eyes, Hector released her and walked inside.

Staggering, Chloe caught the balcony frame to steady herself.

His stride as he moved away was far too wide.

To avoid falling behind, she would have to grit her teeth and follow.