Chapter 135: Chapter-135

Heena took a slow breath, set down her empty plate, and looked out at the room she’d built and the evening she’d engineered and the five complicated men who were somewhere in the middle of deciding something.

And the sixth one standing beside her, eating a second pastry, who had somehow already become the easiest part of all of it.

’Fifteen years’, she reminded herself. ’Fifteen years to raise an heir to the throne and complete the mission and leave this world.’

She had a plan.

The plan was fine.

Everything was completely fine.

The ring was still warm.

She was absolutely, entirely, one hundred percent fine.

But Heena celebrated too soon.

As they walked down the aisle, still basking in the applause and the successful ceremony, Heena’s eyes swept across the crowd in the grand ballroom they were approaching—and then she froze internally.

’System!’ she shouted in her mind.

System 427 appeared beside her instantly, though he’d been busy gawking at the elaborate decorations of the reception hall. The ballroom was even more magnificent than the ceremonial hall—massive crystal chandeliers, tables laden with delicacies from across the empire, musicians preparing in the corner, servants moving with practiced efficiency.

The System looked around with wide eyes, clearly not getting many chances to witness events like this.

“What happened, Host?” he asked, still distracted by a particularly elaborate ice sculpture.

Heena’s eyes pointed sharply toward a specific figure in the crowd.

The System followed her gaze and his entire demeanor changed. “Wait—is that—”

’Seraphina.’

Even the System was bewildered. He couldn’t understand it, and neither could Heena.

She had given a ’royal order’ that Seraphina was not allowed to enter the palace. She had stripped the Whitmore family’s status, demoted them from Marquis to Count, taken away their mines. Yet here this woman stood, in the imperial palace, at Heena’s engagement reception, wearing an elegant dress and looking completely unbothered.

Sometimes Heena really wanted to ask: was Seraphina’s system really that strong, or was her own system just completely useless?

The System looked at her, clearly reading her thoughts, and said defensively, “Host, I am a ’legitimate’ system, not like hers! I don’t know how she got in here. This shouldn’t be possible—there were guards, invitation lists, security protocols—”

Heena just sighed. ’Okay. I’ll figure it out soon enough.’

Because that bitch Seraphina had spotted her, was smiling that sweet, innocent smile, and was walking directly toward them.

Heena’s face maintained its serene, pleasant expression, but internally she wanted to stab this woman. She really, ’really’ hated this type of protagonist—the kind who showed up where they weren’t wanted, ignored every consequence, and acted like the world owed them forgiveness.

Seraphina stopped in front of them and curtsied gracefully. “Greetings, Your Majesty. Congratulations on your engagement. What a beautiful ceremony.”

Her voice was sweet, her expression demure, her eyes sparkling with that characteristic protagonist innocence.

Heena nodded politely, but her eyes were slightly glancing sideways at Larus, genuinely curious.

Would the heroine’s halo work on him too? Would he suddenly become enchanted, sympathetic, protective like male leads always did around protagonists?

If it did, then Heena would need to reconsider this entire marriage immediately.

Larus looked at Seraphina for a long moment.

Seraphina made a shy expression, a delicate blush forming on her cheeks, her eyes downcast in that practiced way that usually made men want to protect her.

Then Larus turned to look at Heena and said in a genuinely confused tone, “Your Majesty, who is this rude woman who doesn’t even know how to greet properly?”

The ballroom went silent.

Like someone had flipped a switch.

Every conversation stopped mid-sentence. Every head turned toward them. The musicians, who had been tuning their instruments, froze.

Everyone stared at Larus.

Even Heena was surprised.

Larus’s voice hadn’t been loud or impolite. He’d said it in a genuinely confused, almost innocent tone—like he was really puzzled about basic etiquette.

Heena turned to look at him. “Oh, why do you—”

Before she could finish asking, Larus grabbed her hand gently and leaned slightly on her shoulder, his voice carrying clearly through the silent ballroom:

“Well, Your Majesty, right now we were speaking with the Duke of Ashford and the Duchess of Remington—” he gestured to the nobles they’d been approaching, “—and suddenly this lady interrupts us without being announced or invited into the conversation. So she must be… unaware of proper protocol, yes? Because I haven’t heard of any noble with this lady’s description who belongs to a position high enough to interrupt an Empress and her consort mid-conversation.”

His tone was perfectly polite, genuinely confused, and absolutely devastating.

Seraphina’s face turned red. She spoke quickly, her voice carrying that slight tremor that usually made people feel guilty for upsetting her:

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I only wanted to offer my congratulations to Her Majesty.”

There was a defiant expression beneath her humility—like she’d suffered utter humiliation but wouldn’t back down. The classic protagonist move: appear wronged, appear vulnerable, make everyone else feel like the villain.

And Heena could see it working. Several nobles nearby were already looking uncomfortable, clearly thinking Larus had been too harsh.

But Larus looked at Seraphina with those vivid blue eyes and said pleasantly, “Well, my lady, I apologize if you misunderstood—”

Seraphina was already opening her mouth to say “No, it’s okay, Your Highness—”

But Larus’s voice cut through hers, turning flat and cold:

“—but may I ask how you ’dare’ to speak in the Empress’s presence without her explicit permission?”

The temperature in the ballroom dropped.

Larus continued, his pleasant expression never wavering but his voice turning to ice:

“Not only did you approach without being summoned, but your eyes are not downcast. You’re looking ’up’ at me. Looking me directly in the eyes. Did you forget who I am?”

Seraphina looked flustered. “No, Your Highness, I know who you are—”

“Oh really?” Larus tilted his head. “Then tell me, my lady—besides the Empress herself, my wife, my beloved—who in this empire has permission to look me directly in the eyes?”

Silence.

“Before today, I was a prince of another country,” Larus continued, his voice carrying through the silent ballroom. “You still would have had to show deference. But now I am the Empress’s chosen consort. Her betrothed. Her future Emperor Consort. In that regard, I am your *superior*.”

He paused, letting that sink in.

“And I don’t recall giving you permission to look at me. Furthermore, in the Marus Kingdom, it is common knowledge—basic courtesy—that one does not look at another person’s spouse with such… *familiar* regard.”

The implication was clear and damning.

Seraphina’s face flushed darker. She spoke with barely controlled anger:

“Enough, Your Highness! You’re insulting me again and again, and I haven’t even done anything wrong!”

Some people in the crowd started to murmur—”Yeah, she didn’t really do anything…” “Isn’t he being a bit harsh?” “She was just offering congratulations…”

The protagonist halo was working on the crowd, making them sympathetic to her.

Larus took a step back, his expression shifting to something colder, harder.

“You didn’t do anything?” he repeated. “Do you understand that it’s only because Her Majesty is *extraordinarily* benevolent that you’re standing here speaking at all? If you were in *my* empire, exhibiting such insolence, such disrespect, you would have already been removed from the palace. Possibly from the capital.”

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