Satyadhara and His Wife
Satyadhara climbed the polished stone steps with complete confidence.
"I'll return shortly."
"It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."
Tara waved casually.
"Take your time."
"Don't let them overcharge you."
Malini nodded.
"We'll wait here."
The little boy happily continued nibbling on his candy while holding Tara's hand.
The moment Satyadhara stepped beneath the crimson curtains...
A warm smile greeted him.
A beautifully dressed attendant gracefully bowed.
"Welcome, honored guest."
"Are you searching for fine perfumes..."
"...luxurious oils..."
"...or perhaps companionship for the evening?"
Satyadhara nearly stumbled.
"N-no!"
"I..."
"I am merely purchasing an oil."
The attendant smiled knowingly.
"Of course."
"They all say that."
"..."
Satyadhara already regretted coming.
Across the street...
Chandraveer watched in silence.
"..."
Nayan folded his arms.
"It appears only Commander Satyadhara entered."
A tiny sigh escaped Chandraveer.
"...Good."
"So the oil was likely for him."
Nayan nodded.
"That seems the most reasonable explanation."
Chandraveer's shoulders relaxed.
For the first time since entering the Entertainment District...
He felt relieved.
Mira rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Boring."
"I was expecting something more scandalous."
Just as Satyadhara was about to take another step inside...
An angry voice thundered across the entire street.
"...SATYADHARA!!"
Everything stopped.
The music.
The conversations.
Even the nearby pigeons took flight.
Satyadhara froze.
His entire body stiffened.
A cold sweat rolled down his forehead.
His pupils slowly shrank.
"..."
"..."
"...No..."
"...It can't be..."
Very slowly...
He turned around.
Standing at the bottom of the steps...
Hands firmly planted on her hips...
Was a woman glaring at him with enough fury to frighten even seasoned soldiers.
His wife.
Satyadhara's soul quietly left his body.
"...Dear..."
"What..."
"...what are you doing here?"
She climbed the steps one slow step at a time.
Each footstep echoed like a drum of execution.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
By the time she reached him...
Satyadhara had completely forgotten how to breathe.
She looked at the building.
Then at him.
Then back at the building.
"..."
"...Would you care..."
"...to explain..."
"...why my husband..."
"...is entering a pleasure house..."
"...in broad daylight?"
Satyadhara immediately began waving both hands.
"N-no!"
"You've misunderstood!"
"I was sent here!"
"I swear!"
She narrowed her eyes.
"...Sent?"
"By whom?"
"My..."
"My employer..."
She folded her arms.
"...Which employer?"
Satyadhara's mouth opened.
Then closed again.
"..."
"..."
"...I can't say."
"You..."
"...can't say?"
"It's confidential."
The silence became even more terrifying.
"..."
"..."
"...Confidential."
She smiled.
A terrifying smile.
"I see."
She gently grabbed one of his ears.
Satyadhara blinked.
"...Dear?"
She grabbed the other one.
"...Dear?"
Then...
She twisted.
"AAAAAAAHHH!!"
The commander of the Imperial Guard screamed loud enough for half the district to hear.
Without another word...
She dragged him away by both ears.
Satyadhara desperately stumbled after her.
"Listen!"
"It's not what you think!"
"I can explain!"
"You always say that!"
"I genuinely can this time!"
She continued dragging him toward a nearby alley.
Several pedestrians curiously looked over.
One merchant whispered,
"...Should we help him?"
Another shook his head immediately.
"...Not unless you have a death wish."
The woman suddenly stopped.
She slowly turned toward everyone watching.
"..."
"...What exactly..."
"...are all of you staring at?"
The street instantly became empty.
People disappeared into nearby shops.
Merchants suddenly became extremely interested in organizing their shelves.
A dog quietly walked in the opposite direction.
No one wished to become involved.
From inside the alley...
Only one thing could be heard.
"AAAAAAAHHHHH!!"
"LISTEN TO ME!"
"THAT'S MY EAR!"
"I'M TELLING THE TRUTH!"
Followed by...
THUD!
SMACK!
BONK!
And one final furious roar.
"I'LL TEACH YOU TO VISIT PLACES LIKE THIS!"
The entire Entertainment District fell strangely quiet for several seconds.
Even the musicians had stopped playing.
Across the street...
Tara...
Malini...
And the little boy...
All stared toward the alley.
"..."
"..."
"..."
Tara slowly swallowed.
"..."
"I suddenly don't feel like buying oil anymore."
Malini nodded immediately.
"I completely agree."
The little boy looked up innocently.
"...Is that scary lady going to hit us too?"
Both women answered simultaneously.
"I HOPE NOT."
Meanwhile...
On the opposite side of the street...
Chandraveer and Nayan stood frozen.
"..."
Nayan finally spoke.
"...Well..."
"...that happened."
Even Mira, who had been enjoying the spectacle, blinked in surprise.
"...His wife..."
"...is terrifying."
Chandraveer slowly nodded.
"...Remind me..."
"...never to anger Commander Satyadhara's wife."
Nayan quietly replied,
"...I don't believe anyone wishes to."
Tara's Decision
The laughter and furious shouting from the alley had barely faded when the three of them stood in uneasy silence outside the shop.
Satyadhara was gone.
Dragged away by his terrifying wife, his voice still echoed somewhere in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sounds of a very unhappy beating.
Tara stared after him with a stiff expression.
Then she slowly turned to Malini.
Then to the little boy.
Then back toward the entrance of the building.
For a few moments, none of them said anything.
The Entertainment District remained noisy around them, but somehow it felt much farther away now.
Tara slowly exhaled.
"...Well."
Her voice came out smaller than usual.
"That was horrifying."
Malini folded her arms tightly against her chest.
"...Yes."
"I would also like to forget it ever happened."
The little boy tugged lightly on Tara's sleeve.
"Is that uncle okay?"
Tara looked down at him, then forced a shaky smile.
"He'll survive."
"...Probably."
That answer did not sound reassuring even to her own ears.
She glanced again at the shop sign.
Then at the entrance.
Then at the dimly lit curtains hanging over the doorway.
Her expression slowly shifted from embarrassment to hesitation.
Because now...
there was a problem.
Satyadhara was gone.
And the oil still had to be bought.
Tara turned to Malini.
"Okay."
"We still need the oil."
Malini immediately stiffened.
"...No."
Tara blinked.
"Why not?"
Malini looked toward the building as if merely standing beside it was already enough to damage her reputation for the next ten years.
"Because I am a servant."
A very unhappy servant, but still a servant.
"If I walk into a place like this..."
"...people will remember it."
Tara frowned.
"So?"
Malini gave her a long, flat look.
"So my entire future will become a rumor."
Tara stared at her.
Then slowly pointed at herself.
"I am a minister."
Malini said nothing.
Tara continued, as if this settled everything.
"My future is already ruined by public responsibility, paperwork and meetings."
"Nobody is expecting me to be dignified at this point."
Malini opened her mouth to respond, but Tara was already spiraling further into her thoughts.
"If the shopkeeper sees you entering first..."
"He'll assume something terrible."
"If someone recognizes you..."
"They'll talk."
"And if they talk..."
She hesitated.
"...well."
She rubbed the back of her neck.
"I'd rather be the one embarrassed than ruin your life over it."
Malini stared at her for a long moment.
The annoyance on her face slowly gave way to resignation.
"...That is the most annoyingly sensible thing you've said today."
Tara gave a weak smile.
"I know."
"I hate it too."
The little boy looked up between them, confused.
"So who is going to get the oil?"
Neither woman answered immediately.
The boy waited.
Then Tara closed her eyes and let out a long, suffering sigh.
"...I will."
Malini's head snapped toward her.
"...What?"
Tara pointed at the building with a miserable expression.
"If someone has to go in..."
"...it might as well be me."
Malini's eyes widened.
"You are not serious."
Tara looked at her, equally unwilling to believe it herself.
"I absolutely am."
"You're a servant."
"I'm still a minister."
"If I come out of that shop with a bottle of oil and a ruined expression, at least people will assume I was doing state business."
Malini pinched the bridge of her nose.
"That is not how state business works."
"It is today."
Tara took one step forward, then stopped.
The closer she got to the entrance, the more obvious the shop became.
Beautifully polished wood.
Red curtains.
Soft lantern light glowing from within.
The smell of incense, perfume and expensive oils hung in the air.
It was, by every measure, a luxurious and deeply embarrassing place to enter alone.
Tara swallowed.
Then straightened her shoulders.
She could feel her face already heating up.
"If I don't come back in ten minutes..."
She glanced at Malini.
"...you may pretend I never existed."
Malini looked horrified.
"Devi Tara, don't say things like that."
Tara gave a tiny nod, trying very hard to look brave and failing slightly.
"Fine."
"I'll be back."
She turned toward the entrance.
At the same time, far across the street...
Chandraveer was still staring in the direction where Satyadhara had been dragged away.
He had not yet recovered from the sheer amount of trauma his eyes had witnessed.
Nayan stood beside him, quietly hoping the day would get no worse.
Then Chandraveer saw it.
Tara moving.
Slowly.
Directly toward the entrance of the pleasure house.
His entire body went rigid.
For a second, he simply stood there.
Then the color drained from his face.
His thoughts stopped making sense.
His heartbeat, too.
"...No."
It came out as a whisper.
Nayan looked at him carefully.
"...Your Majesty?"
Chandraveer did not answer.
He just kept staring as Tara took another step closer to the doorway.
Then another.
Then another.
The world seemed to tilt.
Nayan followed his gaze and immediately understood the problem.
His own expression darkened with dread.
"...Oh no."
Mira, who had been busy glaring at the shop from the side, finally glanced over.
The moment she saw Tara approaching the entrance, she immediately smiled with wicked satisfaction.
"Oh..."
"So that's her decision."
Chandraveer's hand slowly curled into a fist at his side.
He could feel something very dangerous happening inside his chest.
Not anger.
Not exactly.
Something worse.
Something far more humiliating.
Because Tara was walking into that shop.
Alone.
And he could do absolutely nothing about it.
His lips parted, but no sound came out.
Nayan noticed the expression on his face and quietly moved half a step closer, ready to catch him if necessary.
"...Your Majesty."
Chandraveer still did not blink.
He only stared as Tara reached the entrance...
and stepped inside.
Inside Govinda's House
Tara took one slow breath before stepping beneath the crimson curtains.
The moment she crossed the threshold, the sounds of the Entertainment District faded behind her, replaced by a very different kind of atmosphere.
The air inside was warm.
Not unpleasantly so.
Just enough to make the incense, sandalwood, and expensive floral oils settle heavily around the room.
Soft lantern light glowed from polished brass stands.
The walls were lined with lacquered wood and silk drapery, while low tables displayed bottles of perfume, oil jars, decorative combs, and carefully wrapped bundles arranged with almost excessive elegance.
For a brief second, Tara simply stood there.
Blinking.
Her face was already warm.
This place looked far too luxurious to be called a shop.
And far too quiet to be called a market stall.
Before she could think any further...
Three attendants turned toward her.
All at once.
All smiling.
One of them—a woman dressed in a deep wine-colored silk robe—stepped forward with practiced grace and bowed slightly.
Attendant 1:
"Welcome, honored guest."
"How may we be of service today?"
Tara instinctively stiffened.
She glanced once toward the entrance behind her.
Then back at the attendants.
Then down at her own hands, as if she might suddenly discover an explanation written there.
Tara:
"Ah..."
"Well..."
"I'm just here to..."
She coughed lightly.
"...buy something."
The second attendant, a younger woman with a soft smile, folded her hands politely.
Attendant 2:
"Of course."
"We have many fine goods for guests of every taste."
"Are you looking for fragrance?"
"Bath oils?"
"Medicinal blends?"
"Or perhaps something more... private?"
Tara's soul nearly left her body.
Her face turned bright red in an instant.
She took a half-step backward before forcing herself to remain still.
Tara:
"Private?"
"No."
"I mean—"
Her voice dropped.
"...No."
"I'm only here for oil."
The third attendant, an older woman with sharp eyes and an expression that suggested she had heard every possible excuse in her life, gave Tara a slow, knowing smile.
Attendant 3:
"Mm."
"Just oil."
"That is what many first-time visitors say."
Tara nearly choked.
"I really am only here for oil!"
The older attendant looked amused rather than offended.
"Of course, dear."
"Everyone is."
The younger attendant hid a smile behind her sleeve.
The first attendant stepped slightly aside and gestured toward the interior.
Attendant 1:
"If you'd like, I can bring out our best selections."
"We keep several varieties prepared for our guests."
Tara hesitated.
Guests.
That word alone made this entire place feel more impossible.
She swallowed and tried very hard to keep her expression normal.
It did not work very well.
Tara:
"I was told this was the place to buy high-grade warming oil."
The older attendant nodded immediately.
"Ah, the mountain kind."
"Yes, we do carry it."
"But it is stored further inside."
She gave Tara a light, sympathetic smile.
"Don't be embarrassed."
"People often become shy when they first enter."
Tara stared at her.
"I'm not shy."
The attendants all looked at her red face.
Tara followed their gaze.
Then immediately looked away.
"...I mean."
"...I am not that shy."
The younger attendant laughed softly.
"That is even worse."
Tara covered her face with one hand for half a second, then forced herself to lower it again.
She had led expeditions.
She had chaired ministerial meetings.
She had argued with governors twice her age.
And yet one whisper of this place had completely defeated her.
The first attendant, however, only smiled more kindly.
Attendant 1:
"Please, this way."
"If you are here for the genuine oil, you came to the correct place."
Tara blinked.
"...The genuine oil?"
The older attendant nodded.
"Yes."
"There are many imitations in the market."
"Some are too weak."
"Some are watered down."
"Some are sold by merchants who know nothing about the original formula."
She gestured lightly toward the back of the shop.
"But our master sources only the finest version."
Tara looked relieved for exactly one second.
Then, as the meaning of the words began to sink in, her face turned red again.
"Imitations?"
"Original formula?"
She stared at the shelves of oils and perfumes behind the attendants.
None of them looked particularly innocent anymore.
The younger attendant seemed to enjoy Tara's suffering immensely.
She tilted her head.
Attendant 2:
"Would you like to speak with our specialist?"
"He understands the differences better than anyone here."
Tara opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Then opened it again.
"...A specialist?"
The older attendant chuckled.
"Yes."
"He is waiting further inside."
Tara suddenly became aware of just how quiet the room was.
How polished everything looked.
How expensive everything smelled.
How impossible it would be to pretend she had wandered in by mistake.
She straightened her back.
Then, with all the dignity she could gather from the wreckage of her pride, she nodded.
Tara:
"Fine."
"I'll speak to him."
The attendants immediately smiled, as though she had just made a very brave decision.
The first attendant stepped aside.
"Then please, honored guest..."
"This way."
Tara took one reluctant step forward.
Then another.
Her face was still burning.
Her expression, however, had become very carefully blank.
Because at this point, if she showed even one more sign of embarrassment, she was fairly certain the entire building would remember it forever.
And somewhere far outside...
Completely unaware of the full disaster unfolding inside...
Chandraveer was still staring at the entrance with the expression of a man watching his own burial.