Chapter 14 Rice Grain

Chapter 14 Rice Grain
The silence inside the Refectory was nothing like the silence of the White Room. Here, every clatter of a spoon or fork against porcelain sounded like a gunshot. I sat with my head bowed, my hands—blistered from a week of scrubbing latrines—clutching my food tray tightly.
It had been one week since I was released from Madame Viveca’s torture chamber. For seven days, I had survived on scraps, the smell of ammonia, and the mockery of Proteges who once looked up to me.
“Look at those hands. Disgusting,” Beatrice whispered as she passed behind me. “From obsidian silk to toilet scrubbers. That’s what you get for playing the hero, Eris.”
I didn’t react. I kept my head low, eyes fixed on the floor. I had learned the art of humility—not because I was surrendering, but because submission is the ultimate camouflage for a predator.
The aroma of the warm rice in front of me triggered a sharp memory of a night in the Iron Roots.

I remembered my early days in the slums. A group of kids had stolen the last piece of bread I’d managed to hide. I was livid; I wanted to fight back, to scream that I was Margo Valderama and they had no right to touch me. But an old man named Tatay Isko placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Nene, the rice stalk that is full of grain bows low. The one that is empty stands tall and proud,” he whispered, handing me a small sack of grains that had fallen from a passing truck. “If you want to survive, learn to bow until they no longer see you as a threat. Only then can you move.”

That night, I ate rice mixed with dust, but the fullness I felt wasn’t just in my stomach—it was in my mind. Humility is not a weakness; it is tactical camouflage.

“Rank 15, come here.”
Viveca’s voice rang out from the high table. Everyone stopped eating. I stood up slowly, carrying my tray, and walked toward her. Every step was heavy, my back slightly hunched—the perfect image of a broken asset.
“Yes, Madame,” I murmured, keeping my eyes averted.
Julian sat beside his mother. I saw his jaw tighten, his eyes darting to my scarred hands. He saw the weight I’d lost. He saw the toll.
“You’ve served the West Wing for a week, Eris. The guards say you no longer complain. You clean in silence. You eat what is given. You bow when told,” Viveca mused, her tone dripping with sadistic amusement. “Have you learned your lesson?”
“I have, Madame,” I replied, forcing a tremor into my voice as if I were on the verge of tears. I had to use the very lessons they taught against them. “I realized my only purpose is to serve the Sanctum. My arrogance was a mistake I will never repeat.”
I heard Dominique’s soft snicker from across the room. She loved this. She lived for my destruction.
“Good,” Madame Viveca leaned back, her silk dress rustling. “The Senator’s paranoia has subsided, thanks to your… removal from his sight. Since you’ve shown such remarkable discipline, I am granting you a reprieve. You may return to your old quarters tonight. You may eat with the Top 10 again.”
A murmur erupted in the hall. Dominique’s fork clattered against her plate.
“But Madame!” Dominique protested, standing up. “She’s still Rank 15! It’s against the rules!”
“I make the rules, Dominique,” Viveca snapped coldly. “Eris will remain Rank 15 on the board, but her privileges are restored. She needs to be healthy for her next assignment. I don’t want her looking like a corpse for the next client.”
I bowed deeply. “Thank you, Madame. I am grateful for your mercy.”
Back at my old seat, I felt Julian’s gaze. It wasn’t just an observation; it was a warning. But while my head remained bowed, my eyes were no longer on the floor.
I was observing everything.
My access to the quarters was restored, meaning I was closer to the East Wing again. I noticed a document folder next to Julian—it was marked ‘BETA-TRANS.’
My heart thudded. Beta-Trans. Transport for Facility Beta.
I kept eating, my movements slow and deliberate. On the outside, I was a lamb surrendered to the wolves. On the inside, every grain of rice was being converted into fuel for the strike.
When I returned to my room, Lulu was waiting. She ran to me and pulled me into a sob-filled hug.
“Eris! Thank God you’re back,” she whispered. “I thought we’d never see you again.”
“Shhh, Lulu. I’m okay,” I said, calming her down. I had to maintain the act even with her. “Madame V was right. I needed to learn.”
“I’ve prepared your things,” Lulu said, wiping her tears. “And someone left this under your pillow.”
She handed me a small vial of antiseptic and a scrap of paper. I went to the bathroom and unfolded it. It was Julian’s handwriting.
02:00 AM. South Loading Dock. Don’t be a fool.
My fist clenched. Was Julian giving me a window? Or was he testing my boundaries again? Either way, the risk was worth it.
At two in the morning, the West Wing was dead silent. I slipped out, wearing my grey tunic with black tactical gear hidden beneath it. I moved with a new level of caution; now that they thought I was “broken,” there were fewer guards, but more eyes. I utilized the blind spots I’d discovered during my time as a latrine cleaner.
I reached the South Loading Dock. It smelled of diesel and cold steel. An armored truck sat idling, its engine a low hum in the dark.
I saw Julian. He was handing documents to two guards.
“Make sure Subject 044 is secured. No stops until the new facility,” Julian ordered.
Subject 044. Leo.
My heart felt like it would burst from a mixture of rage and adrenaline. They were moving him. Tonight. If I hadn’t been moved back to the quarters, if I hadn’t received Julian’s note, I would have lost him again.
I hid behind a stack of crates, watching as they loaded a medical-grade gurney into the back. Even from a distance, I knew it was him. My brother. My only remaining family.
“Sir, we’re ready,” a guard said.
Julian nodded. He scanned the perimeter, searching the darkness for me. I stayed perfectly still. As the truck pulled away, Julian walked toward my hiding spot. He didn’t look at me directly, but he stopped just beside the crates.
“The route is through the Old Forest Road,” he whispered, his lips barely moving. “There is a blind spot in the GPS tracking near the bridge. Three minutes of silence.”
With that, he walked away toward the East Wing.
I was left shivering in the dark. Julian had given me the location, the time, and the method. Why? Was it out of love for the memory of Margo, or was this a grander trap by Viveca?
It didn’t matter.
I had three minutes of silence. Three minutes to take back my brother.
I looked down at my hands—the hands that were scrubbing filth hours ago were now ready to draw blood. I slipped into the security storage room, using the access code I’d memorized from Julian’s file: 11-24-95. The date of my father’s arrest. It worked.
I grabbed two tactical knives, a suppressed pistol, and a flashbang.
“Hold on, Leo,” I whispered, tucking the gun into my waistband. “The wait is over. Big sister is coming for you.”
I slipped through the perimeter fence, merging with the black forest surrounding Ivy Heights. For the first time in three years, I wasn’t Margo the victim or Eris the protege.
I was the storm.