Chapter 108: Chapter-108

“This is real,” she said, pressing it into his hands. “You’re staying. We’re getting married. And I’m going to make absolutely certain you never regret it.”

Larus took the rose with trembling fingers, cradling it like it was made of spun glass.

He stared at it for a long moment—at the perfect petals, the delicate stem, the dewdrops still clinging to it and catching the light.

Then he looked back up at her, and his smile—broken and tear-stained and radiant and absolutely, utterly ’real’—could have lit the entire empire.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Heena smiled back.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “You haven’t seen the contract negotiations. Or met my other five husbands sober. Or dealt with the Imperial Council when they’re in a bad mood.”

Larus laughed—loud and bright and completely, utterly joyful—and pulled her into another hug, the white rose carefully protected between them.

“I don’t care,” he said into her shoulder, voice muffled but clear. “I’ll handle all of it. I’ll sign whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you need. I just—”

He pulled back to look at her again.

“Thank you,” he said again, “for asking. For wanting me. For ’this’.” He gestured helplessly at the garden. “For making me feel like I matter.”

“You do matter,” Heena said firmly. “And I’m going to keep reminding you of that until you believe it.”

Larus’s smile widened even further, if that was possible.

And around them, the garden continued its celebration, music and laughter and flowers and light all blending together into something that felt less like a political alliance being formed and more like the beginning of something genuinely, impossibly good.

—

Back in her private quarters, Heena pulled off her elaborate coat—the heavy outer layer of the crimson and gold ensemble that had looked so stunning in the garden but was now starting to feel suffocating—and tossed it onto the sofa without ceremony.

She moved to the mirror and started working on the buttons of her sleeve, fingers moving methodically down the row of tiny gold fastenings.

System 427 suddenly materialized directly in front of her face, floating at eye level, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oh my god, Host!” he burst out, voice high and trembling with emotion. “You’ve fallen in love! Oh my ’god’! That was so romantic! There was so much genuine feeling! You looked like you were completely, utterly in love! The way you looked at him! The way you smiled! The flowers! The ’proposal’!”

He spun in a little circle, paws pressed to his face.

“Am I going to get a little host?!” he squeaked. “Oh god, oh god, this is happening, isn’t it?! You’re actually—”

’SPLASH.’

Heena threw the contents of her water glass directly at him.

The system sputtered, droplets flying through his incorporeal form and hitting the wall behind him, and stared at her in shock.

“What ’nonsense’ are you talking about?” Heena said, her tone shifting to something more practical.

She turned back to the mirror and continued undoing her cuffs, fingers working efficiently at the clasps.

System 427 floated there, completely bewildered, watching her remove the elaborate brooches that had secured parts of the gown, setting each one down on the vanity with precise little ’clinks’.

“Host…?” he said slowly, confusion bleeding through every syllable. “I… I don’t understand. Why the sudden change? You were just—in the garden you were so—”

Heena finished removing the last brooch and moved to the sofa, sitting down with one leg crossed over the other, letting out a long, tired sigh.

She looked at the system with something between exhaustion and amusement.

“You’re really young, aren’t you?” she said, not unkindly.

The system blinked. “What?”

“Did you really think this was about falling in love?” Heena asked, raising one eyebrow. “Is that what you thought the proposal was?”

System 427 opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“I… yes?” he said, sounding increasingly uncertain. “You organized that entire elaborate proposal! You spent the whole night arranging thousands of flowers! You looked at him like—like—”

Heena held up a hand, stopping him.

“System,” she said, her voice gentler now, “I’ve been doing this work for a long time. Across many worlds. If I fell in love with every person I had to form an alliance with, every person I treated kindly, every person who needed genuine care…”

She trailed off, shaking her head.

“I’d have more than ten thousand broken hearts across all the worlds I’ve visited. Including my own.”

The system’s jaw dropped.

“But—but then—” He floundered, trying to process this. “What was all that? The proposal? The flowers? The way you ’held’ him when he was crying? That wasn’t—”

“It was my job,” Heena said simply. “So I did it. And I did it ’well’.”

—

System 427 floated there in stunned silence.

Heena watched him process this, then sighed again—longer this time, wearier.

“Listen,” she said, starting to pull pins from her elaborate hairstyle. “Larus is a genuinely good person. Kind, honest, exactly what he appears to be. He’ll be a good consort. He won’t cause unnecessary problems. He has political value. And most importantly—” she pulled out another pin, “—he deserves to be happy.”

She paused, letting a section of hair fall loose.

“Everything I said to him was ’true’,” she continued. “He does deserve to be someone’s first choice. He does deserve grand gestures. He does deserve to be valued. I meant all of it.”

“Then…?” The system looked even more confused.

“Meaning something and ’feeling’ it romantically are two different things,” Heena explained patiently. “I care about him. I respect him. I will make sure he’s treated well, that he has influence, that he matters. I will be good to him. I will be ’kind’ to him.”

She pulled out more pins, methodically working through the complicated style.

“But love?” She shook her head slowly. “System, I’ve barely known him a week. We’ve had pleasant conversations. He’s interesting and sweet and deserves better than what his kingdom would give him. But that’s not love. That’s—” she searched for the word, “—compassionate strategy.”

“That sounds cold,” System 427 said quietly.

Heena looked at him with a long, tired sigh—the kind that carried the weight of years, of worlds, of experiences the small lion couldn’t begin to understand yet.

“It sounds cold, doesn’t it?” she said quietly. “I know it does.”

The system nodded hesitantly, still looking troubled.

Heena leaned back against the sofa, her expression thoughtful, choosing her words carefully.

“But have you ever considered,” she continued, “what would happen to me if I fell in love easily? If I let myself become deeply, romantically attached in every world I visit?”

System 427 tilted his head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve traveled to hundreds of worlds,” Heena said, her voice steady and matter-of-fact. “I’ve lived in them for ’years’. Sometimes decades. This world—this mission—I’ll be here as long as it takes to stabilize the empire. Could be five years. Could be twenty. Could be my entire natural lifespan in this body.”

She pulled out her handkerchief and gently wiped a stray droplet of water from the system’s face, her movements careful and almost motherly.

“During that time,” she continued, “of course I’ll care for Larus. Of course I’ll treat him well, respect him, build a genuine partnership with him. He’ll have everything I promised—influence, purpose, respect, a good life. And yes, I’ll care about him. Genuinely.”

She paused, meeting the system’s eyes.

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