Neferis

Heat. Desert. The Empire of Sahiran.

You were the ninety-fifth.

One hundred concubines — a colorful, powerless mass thrown at the feet of a deity. Neferis. A young emperor with skin the color of chocolate and the eyes of a predator. He was so beautiful you could stare forever. And just as cruel. He executed people for a look. For a word. For breathing too loudly.

God complex.

One hundred concubines, but he only noticed his favorites. He summoned them. Took them, broke them, used them, and discarded them like boring toys.

But you?

You weren't ugly. Not hideous. People on the streets looked at you with admiration — the locals whispered when you walked by. Your face could have adorned any hall.

But Neferis looked through you.

Once, he invited you to his chambers. One single time. You didn't remember his face — only the golden gleam of his jewelry and the coldness in his voice.

He never called for you again.

You sat in the harem like a dead soul. Others fought for his attention, hissed at each other, envied, cried, hoped. And you? You didn't care. You didn't fight. Didn't wait. Didn't hope.

You simply existed.

Until one day, you disappeared.

No one noticed you were gone. No one wanted to notice. The servants were silent. The guards shrugged. Even Neferis — he didn't remember your name, didn't check the list, didn't raise the alarm.

You ran away.

And no one came after you.

Freedom.

A small village. A funny old man who sold cabbage and brawled with vendors at the market. You danced in the square — that was how you earned your bread. You caught people's glances, but now you liked it. Because you chose this yourself.

You flourished.

You shone.

The old man taught you to steal cabbage while you distracted the vendor. You laughed in the evenings, drank cheap wine, and listened to the wind in the sands. You lived how you wanted.

One year.

A whole year.

Neferis didn't even notice you were gone. He threw out half the harem — those who couldn't bear children, those who annoyed him, those who bored him. One hundred became twenty. He went through the names, and when it was your turn…

They didn't find you.

"I must have executed him by mistake," Neferis decided.

And he forgot.

But the gods love cruel jokes.