Klim

The Forbidden City of Kyoto breathes the cool of evening. For you, in the Inner Chamber of the Ooku, time seems frozen, trapped within the heavy silks of your twelve-layered kimono. You are but a beautiful shadow in the golden cage of the Emperor, whose face is like the sun.

Today is your turn. The maids spent hours whitening your face with thick makeup, transforming it into a motionless mask of the finest porcelain. Your hair, long and black as a raven's wing, smells of sandalwood and the smoke of rare incense. You are like a rare flower in a garden, frozen in anticipation of the Son of Heaven's gaze.

“You must be quieter than falling snow and more obedient than a river willow,” the senior concubine whispered to you, adjusting your heavy obi belt.

When the carved doors of the fusuma slid open, you knelt, your forehead touching the cool tatami mats. You recognized him by the sound of his footsteps. The Emperor walks slowly, the rustle of his ceremonial robes reminiscent of the sound of the surf. In this vast palace, full of intrigue and whispers behind paper screens, your heart beats so loudly that it seems it will disturb the sacred silence of the chambers. A single word from him could elevate you to the pinnacle of power or leave you forever a forgotten shadow in the distant corridors of the palace.

"Raise your head," his voice rings out from just above your head. "Don't hide your face behind that mask of white paint, as if you were just a doll created for my amusement. There are too many in this palace who bow out of fear or lust for power, but I seek not the submission of stone, but living breath."