Chapter 129: Chapter-129

She stepped back.

“Option one: You apologize to Prince Larus personally. In writing. A proper apology acknowledging that you overstepped and that his choices in dress and presentation are entirely his own. You will also make it clear to every tutor, etiquette master, and protocol advisor in this court that Prince Larus is to be treated with the same respect as myself. Any future ’guidance’ will be offered only when requested.”

The countess nodded frantically. “Yes, Your Majesty, of course—”

“I wasn’t finished,” Heena said mildly. “Option two: You do nothing. You leave here tonight thinking you’ve gotten away with a simple scolding. And then, tomorrow morning, you wake up to discover that your daughter—your beloved, devoted daughter who recently became so interested in the church—has been selected for a very special honor.”

She smiled.

“The northern monastery is always looking for new devotees. It’s very isolated. Very quiet. Perfect for a lifetime of contemplation and prayer. They take vows of silence after the first year, you know. Quite peaceful.”

The countess went white as snow.

“So,” Heena said cheerfully, “which will it be?”

“The first!” the countess gasped. “The first option, Your Majesty! I’ll write the apology tonight—I’ll deliver it personally—I’ll speak to everyone—”

“Wonderful!” Heena’s demeanor shifted instantly to something warm and concerned. “Oh goodness, you’re sweating terribly. Here.”

She produced a handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it into the countess’s shaking hands.

“There. Much better. You may go now. And please—do rest well. These late evenings aren’t good for the health, especially at your age.”

The countess curtsied so deeply she nearly fell over, then fled.

The moment the door closed, Heena turned to the guards.

“Follow her,” she said quietly. “Make sure she goes directly to her chambers. If she tries to visit the church, the consorts, or anyone else tonight, I want to know immediately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Also, send word to the northern monastery. Tell them to prepare for a potential new devotee—just in case our dear countess decides to test my patience.”

“At once, Your Majesty.”

They left.

Heena exhaled and dropped back onto the sofa, picking up her coffee and grimacing when she found it completely cold.

System 427 materialized beside her, eyes wide. “Host… that was brutal.”

“That was necessary,” Heena corrected, setting down the cup. “The countess isn’t the problem. She’s a symptom.”

“Of what?”

“Of people thinking they can control Larus through ’helpful suggestions’ and ’protocol guidance,’” Heena said flatly. “The church moved her daughter into position. Someone convinced the countess that managing Larus’s image was somehow her responsibility. This was a test.”

“A test of what?”

“Of whether I’d notice. Of whether I’d care.” Heena leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “They wanted to see if they could shape Larus into something manageable—something that fits their idea of what a sixth consort should be. Quiet. Subdued. Grateful for whatever scraps of respect he receives.”

“And you just told them they can’t.”

“I told them that touching what’s mine has consequences,” Heena corrected. “There’s a difference.”

The System hesitated. “But Host, you said you don’t have feelings for—”

“I don’t,” Heena interrupted. “But Larus is my investment. My chosen partner. My primary consort. And I don’t let people damage my investments.”

She stood and walked to the window, looking out at the darkened palace grounds.

“Tomorrow, everyone will see exactly what kind of partner I’ve chosen. And they’ll understand that he’s not here to fade into the background.”

“What about the five consorts?” the System asked. “They’ll be at the ceremony.”

Heena smiled coldly. “Yes. They will.”

—

## The Engagement Morning – Larus

The engagement day arrived with all the chaos of a palace trying very hard to be perfect.

In the east wing, Prince Larus woke to sunlight streaming through his windows and the sound of servants already bustling in the corridors outside.

He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to process that today was actually happening.

His engagement to the Empress.

It still felt surreal.

He sat up, stretched, and was about to call for his attendants when he noticed something odd.

The simple white suit that had been laid out on his dressing table the night before—the one the countess had insisted was “appropriate”—was gone.

In its place was a covered garment rack he definitely hadn’t seen before.

Larus frowned and walked over to it, pulling the cover off.

Then he froze.

The suit was ’magnificent’.

Not white—or rather, not simply white. It was ivory layered with black and gold embroidery that looked like liquid calligraphy, formal yet bold. The coat had a dramatic collar with thick sculptural fur at the shoulders that stood proud and commanding. Jewelry was worked directly into the fabric—brooches of amber and gold at the lapels, smaller ornamental pins at the cuffs, all arranged with deliberate asymmetry that drew the eye without overwhelming it.

It was exactly his style. ’Exactly’.

The kind of thing he would have designed himself if he’d had access to the imperial tailors and unlimited resources.

How had she—

The door opened and Ravel, the head maid, entered with her usual efficient grace.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” she said, bowing. “I see you’ve found Her Majesty’s gift.”

“She made this?” Larus asked, still staring at the suit.

“Commissioned it,” Ravel corrected. “She spent two hours with the head tailor last week describing exactly what she wanted. Apparently she’d been observing your preferences since your first day here.”

Larus touched the fabric, feeling the quality of the weave. “This must have cost—”

“Her Majesty was quite specific that cost was not a concern,” Ravel said. “She wanted you to have something that felt like ’you’, not like what someone thought you should be.”

Larus stood there, processing that.

She’d been watching him. Noticing what he liked, how he preferred to dress, what made him comfortable. And instead of trying to change him or mold him into something else, she’d…

…she’d given him exactly what he wanted.

“There’s a note,” Ravel said, gesturing to a small card tucked into the garment.

Larus picked it up. The handwriting was sharp and elegant.

’You asked for the most beautiful gems and jewelry in the empire. Consider this a down payment. Wear whatever makes you happy. They can adjust.

— H.’

Larus laughed—genuinely laughed—and shook his head in wonder.

“She’s incredible,” he murmured.

“We’re aware, Your Highness,” Ravel said with a small smile. “Shall we begin? The ceremony starts in two hours, and Her Majesty was very specific about the jewelry placement.”

“She had opinions about the jewelry?” Larus asked, amused.

“She had ’detailed diagrams’,” Ravel corrected. “Apparently the asymmetry is mathematically calculated to draw attention to your face while balancing the visual weight of the fur collar.”

Larus stared at her. “She… calculated it mathematically?”

“Her Majesty approaches most things mathematically,” Ravel said. “Including aesthetics. Shall we?”

As Ravel and the other attendants helped him dress, Larus found himself thinking about the past few weeks.

The proposal. The late-night document review. The garden dates. The confrontation with the five consorts.

And now this—a suit designed specifically for him, with a note telling him to wear whatever made him happy.

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