Chapter 13 The White Room

Chapter 13 The White Room
“Senator Silas doesn’t like ghosts, Eris. And I like assets who forget their place even less.”
Madame Viveca’s voice was like the shatter of glass on the floor of The White Room. Here, there was no color. Everything was white—from the walls to the floor, even the steel chair where I sat bound. No windows, no air, only the blinding glare of LED lights that felt like they were trying to melt my retinas.
“I didn’t mean to alarm him, Madame,” I replied, forcing my voice to remain cold even as my hands went numb from the restraints behind my back.
“Liar.” Viveca stepped closer, her heels clicking rhythmically against the white tiles. She tilted my chin up with the gold tip of her cane. “You marked him. You made him realize his security has holes. Now the Senator thinks I’ve let lowly activists or spies into my home.”
A sharp slap landed on my cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a bruise—she wouldn’t dare ruin her “product”—but it was enough to snap my head to the side.
“Julian thought he found a diamond in the mud,” Viveca sneered, scanning my face with clinical detachment. “But I think he just found a stubborn weed. Did you think achieving Rank 13 gave you the right to play with my clients? Silas is the lifeblood of the Sanctum. You do not provoke him. You do not speak of ‘Jade’ or any other nonsense that would make him paranoid.”
I didn’t answer. It was better for her to think I was just an arrogant trainee than to know the truth.
“I won’t ruin your face; it’s too valuable,” Viveca smirked. “And I won’t break your bones. We need you elegant for the next auction. But I will break your mind, Eris. I will make you realize that in this house, you are nothing but a tool. A tool I can replace at any time.”
She signaled the guard. Suddenly, a high-frequency noise erupted from the speakers. It was a piercing, shrill shriek that felt like a needle being driven directly into my brain.
“This is Sensory Overload,” Viveca said, her voice now muffled by the screeching. “You will stay here. No food. No water. No sleep. Only this sound and this white light will be your companions until you learn the meaning of ‘obedience.’”

The screech of the speakers suddenly morphed into the sound of heavy rain hitting the tin roof of a shack in the Iron Roots.
I remembered my first month in the slums. I was hiding in a concrete drainage pipe. It was dark, cramped, and smelled of stagnant water. I stayed there for forty-eight hours because the men who burned our house were still roaming the area, looking for ‘loose ends.’
I was starving. I licked the condensation off the side of the pipe just to keep my throat from closing. Every time I heard a footstep, I thought it was the end. Inside that tube, the concept of time vanished. I learned to survive the silence. I learned that as long as I don’t speak, they can’t find me.
The mud was my first teacher. And Viveca? She’s just another predator I need to outlast.

I don’t know how many hours passed. The white light never flickered, making every blink of my eyes a descent into hell. My stomach felt like it was eating itself, and my throat was as dry as a desert.
Suddenly, the door opened. Julian entered.
He carried a glass of water and a small piece of bread. But he didn’t come to feed me. He just stood in front of me, his face as hard as stone for the cameras watching us.
“Look at you,” Julian said, his voice low and raspy. “I warned you, didn’t I? I told you not to touch Silas. Now, you’re back at the bottom. You are Rank 15 again. All your progress… gone.”
“Rank 15… is where I… belong,” I panted, forcing a smile through my cracked lips. “At the bottom… where I can… see everything.”
Julian’s eyes flared with anger, but beneath it, I saw a flash of agony. He grabbed my chin, his fingers cold against my burning skin. “If you don’t submit, she will kill you. Do you understand? This isn’t a game anymore, Eris.”
“I’ve been… dead for a long time, Julian,” I whispered.
Julian let go of my chin. He slowly poured the water onto the floor, right in front of me. The sound of the liquid hitting the tiles was the cruelest torture.
“Then die in this room,” he said coldly, turning his back on me.
But as he walked away, I noticed something. In the spot where he had been standing, a small sugar cube had fallen. It was hidden from the camera’s angle by the shadow of my metal chair.
He didn’t look back. The door slammed shut, and the high-frequency noise returned. I struggled with my restraints, my body screaming in pain, until I managed to tip my head down and catch the sugar cube with my tongue.
It was a tiny burst of energy. A reminder that Julian Thorne is still fighting himself.
When they finally released me, I couldn’t even stand. The guards dragged me back to the West Wing. My obsidian gown was gone, replaced by the gray, tattered tunic of a Rank 15.
They threw me into the center of the dormitory in front of everyone.
“Look who’s back,” Dominique’s voice rang out, laced with delight. “The ‘Jade’ who thought she was a Queen is a floor rag once again.”
I stayed on the floor, my face pressed against the cold tiles. The other Proteges whispered. In the Sanctum, the fall is always faster than the climb.
“Clean it, Eris,” Dominique said, splashing a bucket of dirty water in my direction. “Madame V said you’re the official latrine cleaner for the next month. No meals until the West Wing sparkles.”
Slowly, I raised my head. My eyes were bloodshot, but inside, the fire burned hotter than ever.
I reached for the rag.
Senator Silas (The Fear)
Madame V (The White Room)
Julian Thorne (The Sugar Cube)
The ranking board flickered in the hallway.
RANK 1: DOMINIQUE
RANK 15: ERIS
I started to scrub the floor. Lulu approached me secretly, trying to hand me a piece of fruit, but I shook my head. “Don’t, Lulu. You’ll get dragged down too.”
“But you haven’t eaten in three days,” she whispered.
“Hunger is a tool,” I replied. “It makes the senses sharper.”
When Julian passed by the hallway with Madame V, they didn’t even glance at me. I was just another servant scrubbing the floor. I bowed low, my face hidden, but my eyes were scanning Julian’s pocket.
He was carrying a keycard—a red-level access card he didn’t have before. Access for Facility Beta.
The sugar cube Julian gave me wasn’t just for energy. It was a message. He knows I’m going for Leo. He’s waiting for me to make a move.
A sharp smile touched my lips as I wiped the shoes of Dominique, who was passing by again.
“Clean it well, loser,” Dominique jeered.
“Yes, Rank 1,” I whispered.
Enjoy your throne while it lasts, Dominique. Because the Rank 15 at your feet is the one who will drag you all down to hell.
I don’t need food to survive. I have enough hatred to last a lifetime. And the next time I step into that East Wing, I’ll make sure the white room turns red.