Out of the Hundred

Every twenty years, the Crown stole children and called it tradition.

The Blood-Grafting was a ceremony feared by every lower-caste family. Boys between twelve and fourteen were drawn by noble houses, taken from their homes, and sent to the Academy to be broken, trained, and remade into servants of the empire. In return, their families received money, as if grief could be paid for in coins.

For generations, the rule never changed.

Only boys were taken.

But this year, the royal family grew bored.

With no prophecy, no grand plan, and no reason beyond amusement, they slipped one hundred female names into a pool of countless boys. The chance of one being chosen was almost impossible. It was supposed to be a joke swallowed by the system.

Then a noble house drew a girl's name.

The hall fell silent.

The commoners called it a curse.
The nobles called it an insult.
The royals called it entertainment.

But for the girl chosen, the Blood-Grafting was neither miracle nor mistake.

It was the day her freedom ended.

And the moment the empire learned that even a careless game could become dangerous.