Medusa | Novella

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A sharp, resounding slap echoed through the grand casino, silencing the lively crowd. Every gaze snapped towards me, their eyes predatory, as if they were watching me being devoured alive. The woman standing before me, her hand still raised, radiated disdain. My jaw throbbed, the metallic taste of blood spreading across my tongue, but I bowed my head, my expression composed, almost mechanical.

"My apologies, my Lady," I said calmly, as though unaffected by the weight of the blow, despite the countless eyes boring into me.

The Duchess sneered, flicking her wrist dismissively. Her butler, anticipating her every whim, stepped forward, offering a pristine handkerchief, which she took without a glance. She wiped her hands delicately, as if my mere presence had sullied her. With a flick of her fingers, she tossed the cloth into my face.

"Stay out of my sight for the rest of the evening," she commanded coldly.

"Yes, my Lady."

She gave me one last, withering look, as though my existence had defiled the very air around her, before turning sharply on her heel and walking away. I ignored the snickers and whispers that fluttered through the crowd. Their derision was expected. I was, after all, just another showgirl to them—something to ogle and degrade.

I glanced down at the tray of food I had dropped when I collided with her, now scattered across the floor, a mess that mirrored the disdain of the room. A server hurried over to help me, his blond hair tied back with a bandana. His bright blue eyes brimmed with concern as he knelt down to assist, glancing over me as if checking for injury.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a hushed tone, his gaze filled with a nervous kind of worry.

"I'm fine. Don't bother yourself," I replied, curt and distant. I had no intention of making friends here, not with the staff, not with anyone. This was temporary.

"It's your first day, right? I'm really sorry about that," he continued, still picking up the pieces of the shattered tray.

I nodded, standing as I adjusted the tray in my arms. The golden coins of my belt clinked together with every movement—a sound meant to be tantalising to the guests. My outfit was gaudy, designed to draw eyes, and it did its job too well. Every step I took was followed by the lecherous gazes of wealthy men, their interest far from subtle. To them, I was a commodity, something bought and paid for, like the food and wine they consumed in excess.

"The Duchess can be... harsh," he said awkwardly, avoiding my eyes as if the mere mention of her name could summon her back.

"She didn't have her nail guards on, so at least I'm not bleeding this time," I said dryly.

His eyes widened in shock, unsure whether to be horrified by my indifference or the casual way I spoke of her cruelty. It didn't matter to me. I wasn't here to make a scene, nor did I care about the marks left behind. This wasn't who I truly was. I wasn't a showgirl; I wasn't one of them. This was a mission—and I was nearly done.

"Thanks," I added as I turned and headed back towards the kitchen. The vibrant music of the casino swelled, drowning out the whispers as I left. I didn't glance back at the server. There was no need to remember his name or his misplaced kindness. Once this mission was over, I would never set foot in this wretched place again.

I despised the casino. Despite its grandeur and glittering allure, it was nothing more than a den of decadence for the rich and aristocratic. Alabaster's elite flocked here, squandering their wealth on frivolity, while outside, the people of this very land suffered and starved. Alabaster wasn't my home, nor did I have one to claim. But I had seen enough to know where I had drawn the line between what I could stomach and what I utterly loathed.