Chapter 158: Chapter-158

“AAAHHH! MY HAIR! YOU—YOU—”

She collapsed to the ground, hands clutching her head, sobbing hysterically.

Heena looked at the clump of hair in her hand, shrugged, and casually dropped it on the floor.

“Well, I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “I thought I was grabbing your hand. My depth perception must be off today.”

’No one’ in the vicinity believed that for a second.

The guards who’d followed them were studiously examining the ceiling. The servants were finding the floor absolutely fascinating. Even System 427 was floating with his back turned, pretending he wasn’t there.

Because ’clearly’ no one with functional eyes could mistake a hand for a clump of hair on someone’s ’head’.

Heena ignored the sobbing Seraphina and turned her attention to the noblewoman in the reception room, who had frozen mid-rant when the Empress appeared.

Recognition dawned on Heena’s face.

’Oh.’

This was Lady Genevieve, daughter of Duke Remington. The same duke who’d protested during the gift ceremony. The same family that had been causing problems for weeks.

And standing beside her, looking nervous and guilty, was one of the guards who’d been on duty earlier today.

The guard who’d probably let Seraphina into the palace.

’Everything’ suddenly made sense.

Heena’s expression went from mildly annoyed to absolutely frigid.

“Lady Genevieve,” she said in a tone that could freeze molten lava. “What, exactly, are you shouting about?”

The noblewoman—who’d been in the middle of screaming at a servant for some perceived slight—went pale as she realized the Empress was standing right there, staring at her with eyes like ice.

“I—Your Majesty—I was just—this servant was impertinent and I was—”

“Teaching them manners?” Heena finished coldly. “By screaming at them in my palace? How thoughtful.”

Every person in the room bowed immediately except for Genevieve, who seemed frozen in shock, and Seraphina, who was still on the floor sobbing and holding her newly bald patch.

Heena’s gaze moved to the guard standing awkwardly to the side, clearly trying to look invisible.

“You,” she said, pointing at him. “You’re the one who was on duty at the east entrance this morning, aren’t you?”

The guard went white. “Y-Your Majesty, I—”

“Did you, or did you not, allow Lady Seraphina to enter the palace without proper authorization?”

The guard looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. “I—Lady Genevieve said she had permission to bring a guest—”

“Did ’I’ give that permission?” Heena asked sharply.

“N-no, Your Majesty, but—”

“Did the Duchess give that permission?”

“No, Your Majesty—”

“Did Emperor Consort Larus give that permission?”

“No, but—”

“Then by what authority,” Heena interrupted, her voice dropping to something dangerously quiet, “did you allow an unauthorized person into the imperial palace?”

The guard had no answer. He stood there, trembling, clearly realizing he was completely screwed.

Heena turned her attention to Lady Genevieve, who was now also looking pale and frightened.

“And you,” Heena said. “You told him to let her in. Why?”

“I—I thought—Lady Seraphina is nobility, and the wedding celebrations are—”

“The wedding was ’yesterday’,” Heena interrupted. “And even if it were still ongoing, that doesn’t give you the authority to invite whoever you want into ’my palace’.”

She took a step closer to Genevieve, and the woman actually backed up.

“It seems,” Heena said coldly, “that you’ve forgotten your manners, Lady Genevieve. Let me remind you of them.”

She gestured to the servants and guards in the room.

“Everyone, bow to your Empress. Now.”

Everyone dropped into bows immediately—servants, guards, even the ones who’d already been bowing went lower.

Everyone except Genevieve, who stood there looking like she wanted to protest, and Seraphina, who was still on the floor sobbing.

Heena looked at Genevieve with an expression that could have melted steel.

“You seem to think,” she said quietly, “that because your father is a duke, you have the right to do whatever you want in my palace. To scream at servants. To invite unauthorized guests. To disrespect imperial authority.”

Genevieve’s face flushed red. “Your Majesty, I never meant—”

Heena looked at the remaining guard and said crisply, “Go and summon Duke Remington. I want to see what type of daughter he’s raised.”

She paused, then added, “And also, make sure none of this reaches—”

But before she could finish her instruction that Larus should be kept blissfully unaware of this entire mess, a familiar voice came from behind her.

“Your Majesty? Is everything alright? I heard screaming.”

Heena’s entire body went rigid.

’No. No no no. Not now.’

She turned around slowly, and there he was.

Larus stood in the corridor, dressed in formal afternoon attire that made him look like a golden sculpture come to life. He wore ivory robes with intricate gold embroidery, and his jewelry caught the light from the corridor windows—gold chains at his neck, amber bracelets at his wrists, rings glinting on his fingers. His wheat-gold hair was perfectly styled, and against his sun-bronzed skin, the gold and ivory made him look absolutely radiant.

Like a prince from a fairy tale. A golden deity descended to walk among mortals.

Heena felt her brain short-circuit slightly.

’Focus. He’s here. He’s asking questions. Say something coherent.’

“Oh, honey!” she said brightly, her smile instant and possibly slightly manic. “What are you doing here?”

Larus looked at her, then at the scene around her—Seraphina on the floor with a noticeable bald patch, Lady Genevieve looking furious and humiliated, servants hovering nervously, guards at attention.

His expression remained pleasant, but his eyes sharpened with concern.

“I was taking a walk through the gardens,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “Getting to know the palace grounds. And then I heard someone screaming. It sounded… urgent. Is there something wrong?”

Heena waved her hand dismissively. “No, no! Nothing wrong at all. Just a dog that was barking inappropriately. I was thinking about having it… cleared up. Taken to the kennels. You know how it is.”

Both Seraphina and Lady Genevieve’s faces turned bright red with humiliation and rage.

’Did she just—did she just compare them to DOGS?!’

Larus, who had been in enough courts to understand coded language, paused. His eyes moved between Heena’s too-bright smile and the two furious noblewomen, and understanding dawned.

He walked forward gracefully, stopping beside Heena, and his expression shifted to something that looked like polite disgust as he took in the full scene—Seraphina’s tear-stained face and bald patch, Genevieve’s defensive posture.

He actually covered his mouth delicately with one hand, as if suppressing shock or revulsion.

“Sweetheart,” he said, and the endearment made several nearby servants’ eyes go wide, “I have to say, your people here are quite… different from what I’m used to.”

Heena’s smile became genuine. “Oh? You’re already using pet names? How sweet. What’s so different, honey?”

’Two could play at this game.’

Larus’s lips quirked in amusement, but he maintained his slightly scandalized expression as he looked at the two noblewomen.

“Well, in my empire,” he said, his tone perfectly pleasant but with steel underneath, “when you encounter the ruler, or even the ruler’s consort, you immediately drop to your knees and offer proper greetings. It’s basic respect.”

He tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes ice-cold despite his smile.

“But here, I’ve now witnessed the second person today who doesn’t even bother to greet the Emperor Consort. How… fascinating. I’m beginning to think proper manners aren’t taught in this empire’s noble houses.”

The insult was delivered so politely, wrapped in such pleasant tones, that it took a moment to land.

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