Chapter 12: Chapter-12

“Then why did you—” the system started, confused.

Heena smiled wider. “Well, who said we need to break them right now? There’s another way, darling.” She looked at the system with fond exasperation. “You’ve stayed with me for so many years. Yet it looks like you haven’t learned anything.”

System 427 looked affronted. “I’ve learned plenty!”

“Have you?” Heena walked back to the mirror, examining her reflection. “Do you know what I love most about this world?”

The system thought for a moment. “The… modernization?”

“Exactly.” Heena’s smile turned predatory. “This world is a perfect combination of modern and old western style. You see? There’s running water—even though the pipes are made of steel and metal instead of plastic, it works beautifully. And there are even cameras.”

System 427’s eyes widened. “Cameras? But this is a fantasy empire world—”

“Not like cameras in the modern world, no. But video globes—magical recording devices that capture moving images and sound. Quite reliable, actually. The original Celeste had them installed in various palace locations for security.” Heena reached into her pocket and pulled out a small crystal sphere that glowed faintly. “Like this one.”

The system stared at the globe.

“Now,” Heena continued, voice dropping to something dangerous, “what do you think would happen if I told those five men that I’ve made videos of them? That the same five video globes like this one were positioned in that torture room the entire time?”

System 427’s jaw dropped. “You recorded everything?”

“Every. Single. Second.” Heena tossed the globe up and caught it. “Think about it. Really steamy videos of five powerful men—the Prince, the Duke, the General, the High Priest, the Spy Master—all naked, bound, tortured, making all those desperate sounds. Some of them begging. All of them completely vulnerable and compromised.”

She sat on the bed, still holding the globe. “So what do you think they’ll do when I show them these recordings? What choices do they have?”

System 427 began counting on his paws. “They could… let their heroine see them?”

“Choice one,” Heena nodded. “Let Seraphina—their pure, innocent love—watch them in the most humiliating, compromising situations imaginable. Watch them scream and sob and lose all dignity. Think they want that?”

“Probably not,” the system admitted.

“Choice two: let their people see it. Release the videos to their armies, their courts, their subjects. Let everyone know that the mighty Prince Kieran cried like a child. That scholarly Duke Adrian begged incoherently. That unbreakable General Lucian couldn’t even stand. That holy High Priest Raphael made sounds no priest should make. That clever Spy Master Damien was reduced to a twitching, broken mess.” Heena’s smile was cold. “What do you think happens to their authority then?”

“It would be destroyed,” System 427 whispered.

“Completely obliterated. They’d never command respect again. Their political power would crumble overnight.” Heena held up three fingers. “Choice three: they try to kill me to destroy the evidence.”

“But that won’t work,” the system said.

“Exactly. The Empress controls the largest military force in the empire. She has loyal commanders, strategic positions, complete control over palace security. And I’ve already made copies of the recordings, stored in secure locations. Killing me accomplishes nothing except guaranteeing the videos get released.” Heena’s expression turned smug. “Which leaves them with choice four.”

“Compromise,” System 427 breathed, understanding dawning.

Heena just gave him a bright smile..

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Ten minutes later.

Heena paused at the door to the side room, one hand on the frame. She turned back, leaning against the doorway casually, and let her gaze sweep across all five men.

Kieran hung limply against his pillar, silver hair matted with sweat, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His eyes were half-closed but still burning with that warrior’s defiance. The clamps still bit into his skin, but he wasn’t begging.

Adrian slumped forward, golden skin flushed, glasses gone. The restraints and toys still worked on him relentlessly, yet his jaw remained clenched. Stubborn even now.

Lucian’s scarred body trembled violently, the weights and plugs torturing him endlessly. But the general’s dark eyes tracked her movement with hatred, not surrender.

Damien twitched sporadically, the electrical torture continuing its work. Blood spotted his olive skin where the barbed devices pierced. Yet even unconscious, his face held a grimace of resistance rather than defeat.

Only Raphael looked truly broken—the priest’s pale body shaking harder than the others, violet eyes rolled back, soft whimpers escaping his lips. His condition was noticeably worse, closer to genuine collapse.

Heena assessed them all with a clinical eye. Even with the strong aphrodisiacs coursing through their systems, even with the most vicious toys still actively tormenting them, they were surviving. Their bodies held up remarkably well—trained for endurance, built for pain tolerance.

She’d known from the start that she couldn’t completely tame them. Not in three days. Not with torture alone. These weren’t ordinary men. If someone else had been in their position—most people—they’d already be on all fours, crawling, begging incoherently for mercy.

But these five? They were different. Better. Stronger.

A smile flashed across Heena’s face—genuine appreciation mixed with dark satisfaction. They’d earned her respect, in a twisted way. Their resistance made the eventual compromise so much sweeter. They’d remember this suffering, remember their helplessness, but they’d also remember that they hadn’t completely broken.

That would make them useful. Broken men were worthless, but proud men forced to compromise? Those could rebuild an empire.

“Sleep well, husbands,” she murmured, though they probably couldn’t hear her over their own ragged breathing and the sounds of the toys. “Tomorrow we negotiate.”

She stepped into the side room and closed the door, leaving them to their torment. The smile remained on her face as she walked to the bed.

Perfect. Everything was going exactly as planned.

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Dawn broke cold and gray. Heena woke at 4 AM sharp, eyes clear, body rested. She rose from the simple bed and walked straight to the torture chamber door without hesitation.

The moment she pushed it open, the smell hit her—sweat, desperation, the metallic tang of blood. Five men hung from their pillars like broken marionettes, strings cut but still suspended.

Kieran’s silver hair stuck to his face in wet clumps. Adrian’s scholarly composure had melted into hollow-eyed exhaustion. Lucian’s battle-scarred body trembled despite his legendary endurance. Damien’s olive skin had taken on an unhealthy gray pallor, sparks still occasionally crackling from the devices tormenting him.

And Raphael—the holy priest looked genuinely wrecked. Violet eyes rolled back, showing mostly whites. His pale body shook continuously, lips moving soundlessly. He was the closest to complete breakdown.

But here’s what impressed Heena: none of them were dying. After a full night of maximum aphrodisiac, sensitivity potion, and brutal mechanical torture, they still breathed. Still held on. Normal men would’ve hemorrhaged internally by now, coughed blood, collapsed into comas.

These five bastards were ’strong’.

“System,” Heena murmured. “Candles.”

A thick beeswax candle materialized in her raised hand—golden, dripping, radiating warmth. The antidote flame that could burn away aphrodisiac effects, give them relief from the chemical hell in their veins.

System 427 floated beside her, tail swishing irritably. “Why bother with antidote? Just use ’yourself’ as relief. Speed things up.”

Heena’s face flushed. “Let this ’trash’ touch me? Absolutely not.” Her voice dropped ice-cold. “I tame them first, ’properly’, then maybe. We’ve got two-three more days before their people panic. Until then?” She smiled darkly. “Let’s traumatize them thoroughly.”

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