The Emperor’s Women

"What's this?" 19 asked when I met her at my door, handing her the egg tart.

'It's dessert,' I grinned.

She arched an eyebrow. "It looks expensive," she speculated as she inspected the small, exquisitely wrapped package. "Where did you get it?"

'Caio gave it to me,' I replied matter-of-factly, bracing myself for the tirade of questions that I knew was about to come.

"Do you mean Caio as in the archduke?" 19 asked incredulously. "20, which part of my advice not to associate with the nobility did you not understand?"

'It's fine,' I tried to soothe her.

"Do you not value your life anymore?" she wailed. "And why would he give it to you in the first place?"

Before I could jot down a reply, she noticed my new writing slate and grabbed it. "How did you get a new slate?" And then she looked at me, and something in my expression made her gasp like she had just uncovered a new scandal. "You don't mean to say that…"

'Caio also gave it to me,' I confirmed sheepishly. Of course I was aware that Caio always went out of his way to help me, and I was beyond grateful for that. But the way 19 referred to him, she made it sound like I shouldn't even be in the same vicinity with Caio, let alone accept gifts from him.

That was the most glaringly obvious difference between 19 and I: she was from here, and I was not. She was born into a world where clearly defined roles and statuses were a norm, and she accepted them as unavoidable truth. But I felt as comfortable here as a canary in a cage full of hyenas, and Caio was one of the few people I felt I could really trust. I wasn't about to reciprocate his kindness with indifference.

"An egg tart and a writing slate – is that all there is to it?" 19 wanted to know, sounding like a prosecutor in a courtroom.

'Yes,' I nodded eagerly. Now probably wasn't the best time to tell her that Caio invited me for dinner as well. 'Try it. It's really good,' I coaxed, eager to change the topic.

She continued to look at me suspiciously, and then gave a long suffering sigh. She bit into the flaky tart, her eyes shining with excitement at the taste, and I smiled. I was off the hook with her – at least for the time being.

*****

After a hurried breakfast of coffee, bread, and eggs, I discovered to my delight that Madame Leone had finally deemed me qualified enough to be assigned to the imperial garden. 'I can't believe this,' I thought wryly. I was actually excited at the thought of pulling out weeds and watering the plants. I didn't even have any inclination to maintain a small garden in my apartment balcony in Seoul, preferring instead to occasionally buy fresh flowers and put them on the coffee table so I could see them almost anywhere I was in the room.

'The flowers smell so good,' I happily marveled, taking a deep breath as I followed 19 to our first station that morning. I thought the flowers already smelled wonderful from the outdoor laundry area – which was the only reason I almost didn't mind washing a mountain of sheets for a few hours in a row each round. But in the garden, the sweet smelling aroma filled the air so much it was like I had indulged in a bath with rose petals in the water.

"Stop fantasizing and get over here," 19 rebuked me with a grin, and I realized that she was already several meters ahead.

As I walked briskly to catch up with her, I noticed several elegantly dressed women making their way to the gazebo at the center of the garden, with maids and attendants behind them. "Who are they?" I asked, reaching 19's side.

"They're the emperor's highest ranked concubines," 19 replied, following the direction I was staring at. "His official bed partners."

It was like watching a historical royal photo shoot come to life. I had never seen that many sophisticated women gathered in one place, wearing flowing dresses in just about every color of the rainbow and decked out in sparkling jewels. So that's how princesses and noblewomen of the empire looked like.

They were all beautiful in their own right, but one woman in particular stood out. She was in a red dress that clung to her full-bodied figure, and she carried herself with such confidence that would put any Cosmo model to shame. 'What about her?' I asked, intrigued. 'Who is she?'

19 didn't have to clarify who I was talking about. "That's Princess Lucrezia Gabriela Fernandez de Garcia of Mindedore Kingdom," she lectured, as though she was a university professor answering the question of a clueless freshman. "She's Concubine Number 1."

'Oh,' I mouthed silently. So that was the top ranked concubine. Her name had the total making of a princess. I didn't feel the need to add anything more to 19's comment – the princess's strong presence spoke for itself. 'Aren't they all competing for the throne of the empress?' I turned to her. 'Why are they sitting together?' I was curious about that. If I didn't like someone, I'd be hell bent on talking with that person any more than I absolutely had to – which was why I rarely attended my company's social gatherings in Seoul.

"Because the palace is its own kind of battleground," 19 answered with a knowing smile. "Here, people take their battles behind closed doors. And one wrong move can get you thrown out – or killed."

That seemed so intense. I diverted back my attention to the women. If not for what 19 just told me, I never would have guessed that the ladies happily chatting over pastries were in fact sworn rivals – or maybe even cutthroat enemies. No wonder the pantry was never in a shortage of gossip and rumors. There was nothing quite like the scandals of the rich and famous to reel in commoners.

"Anyway," she continued. "It seemed that Concubine Number 1 is the most likely candidate to be the empress." I nodded my agreement; I could almost see her with a crown. But then something else caught my attention and I faced 19 again. 'I thought the emperor has 10 bed partners. Why are there only 9?'

"Oh, Concubine Number 5 rarely participates in any event," 19 replied with the wisdom of a sage. "She's usually called the Abandoned Princess." Wow, palace life was a soap opera, mystery, and suspense thriller all rolled into one. That was the case for the upper classes, anyhow. For lowly servants like me, it was a seemingly endless cycle of chores occasionally punctuated with good food during breaks.

'It doesn't matter,' I told her. 'It's not like we will ever cross paths with any of them.' Even though I was only standing hardly a minute away from where they were, it felt like we were worlds apart. Finally, it was beginning to dawn on me just what 19 meant when she referred to station in life.

*****

Dinner that evening was fish stew, bread, and some leftover scraps of butter. The pantry was noisy as usual, but I was used to it. I thought gardening was relatively easy. Well, it certainly seemed like a nice domestic hobby when I flicked through those random gardening shows on TV. I had no idea it entailed its fair share of back breaking labor. Now I just wanted to finish my meal and go to my room as soon as possible.

"I'm ready for bed." I heard 1's voice and gasped, choking on a lump of bread. 'Did you hear that?' I asked 19, scribbling furiously on my slate.

"Hear what?" 19 said while she helped herself to more stew. She had the nonchalant air of a cat.

'A guy's voice!' I replied as I reached for a glass of water.

"There are so many guys here," she countered, motioning around the room. True enough, the pantry was half full of male servants, and most of them were animatedly talking to each other.

'Not any of the guys here,' I explained. 'Another guy.'

She put down her bowl of fish stew and gently slapped my forehead with her palm. "Did the heat earlier get to you?" she asked. "Do you have a fever?"

'No, I don't.' I skidded my chair sideways so I could face her directly. 'So you really didn't hear him?'

"There's no one else in the pantry aside from the servants." She shook her head at me, her eyes displaying a hint of pity. I couldn't really blame her for that. What I just said did sound crazy, but it was true – at least for me.

I recalled what 1 had said last night, that he was able to hear me randomly. I had never experienced that before, but I just did. It was only my bad luck that it had to be something that made me embarrassed. I gasped again. He didn't hear any embarrassing thing from me by chance – did he?