The grand mourning hall, once regal and composed, was now thick with the scent of incense and whispers. Lanterns lined the walls, casting a flickering golden glow over the black-veiled figures of nobility and court officials. Everyone was present—draped in somber mourning attire, their expressions clouded with grief. And still, through it all, no one had seen the Prime Minister.
Until now.
The great double doors creaked open once more, and in walked the man who had wielded more power in the empire than nearly anyone else, save the Emperor himself. Prime Minister Li Xian. His gait was slow, measured, and entirely unbothered by the collective wave of attention that turned toward him.
His absence had already stirred speculation. But his timing? That was gasoline on an already simmering fire.
Gasps, sharp whispers, the quick flicking of eyes from one face to the next. "Why now?" someone muttered. "Where has he been?"
"He should have been here the moment the bell tolled."
