Chapter 195: Chapter-195

“I’m going to let them think they’re winning. Let the Dukes scramble to prove their innocence. Let the Church think I’m too distracted to notice their movements. And then—”

She opened the door to her chambers.

“—when they’re confident and exposed, I’ll crush them completely.”

The System looked at his Host with a mixture of admiration and concern.

“Host… you’re really scary sometimes.”

“Thank you,” Heena said pleasantly. “Now, I need to bathe. Blood is sticky and annoying.”

She walked into her bathing chamber, leaving the System floating in the main room, processing everything he’d just learned.

In the distance, church bells rang for the midday prayers.

And Heena smiled to herself as she began removing her blood-stained clothes.

Soon the System sighed and went to work. This was his assigned task—Heena had given him the job of monitoring the female lead’s movements and activities. So he left to do his surveillance.

And as he disappeared from her sight, Heena suddenly felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her temple.

She grabbed her head and rubbed it vigorously, trying to massage away the agony. It hurt ’so much’—like knives were being driven into her skull from the inside.

She’d been about to take a bath, but now she sat down heavily on the nearby sofa, leaning completely back against the cushions. She closed her eyes and waited for the pain to subside.

This was one of the major disadvantages of transmigrating into someone else’s body—especially when that person belonged to an ancient world with limited medical knowledge.

The problem was, if Heena wasn’t wrong, Celeste’s body was fundamentally ’flawed’. This headache, these symptoms… if she was correct, the original Celeste had some type of chronic disease.

Heena ’could’ use her System to scan the body and identify the exact illness, but that cost points. A lot of points. Money she didn’t want to waste.

The ten years she’d given herself to complete this mission? That wasn’t arbitrary. From her calculations, in approximately ten years, this body wouldn’t be able to sustain itself anymore. That was the maximum lifespan she could reasonably count on.

The pain was rising slowly—really, painfully slowly—spreading from her temples through her entire head.

Heena gradually started to stand up. At first, she felt dizzy and nauseous. Her vision swam. But she tried to control it, gripping her head with one hand and using the other to support herself on the firm armrest.

After a few deep breaths, she slowly started walking toward the bathroom.

—

One hour later—yes, it literally took an entire hour—Heena finally finished bathing.

As she emerged from the bath chamber, her head was hurting less. Not gone, but manageable.

She was in the middle of towel-drying her hair when she heard a knock.

’Knock knock.’

Heena paused, looking at the door, then at the towel in her hands.

If she’d known someone was coming, she would have just used magic to dry her hair with the golden air-blower. (Yes, in this world, what Heena knew as a “hair dryer” was called an “air-blower.” Whatever.)

She looked at the door and said tiredly, “Yes?”

The guard’s voice came through: “Your Majesty, His Majesty Emperor Consort Larus has come. He requests permission to enter.”

Heena paused, took a deep breath, and said in her normal, slightly weary tone, “Yes, let him come inside.”

The door opened, and Larus entered.

He was holding a small tray with two ceramic pots on it. Heena couldn’t see what was in them from where she sat.

Since marrying Larus, Heena had noticed he was always carrying something—tea, pastries, books, now these mysterious pots. It really was like the saying: ’a beautiful husband brings gifts’.

Heena looked at him and asked, “What is it?”

She turned around and continued wiping her hair as Larus placed the containers on the nearby table.

Now Heena could get a better look. They appeared to be oils of some kind, but there was no strong scent she could immediately identify.

Curious, Heena walked closer and smelled one of the pots.

A slight mustard scent.

Heena looked at the oil, then at Larus, and asked, “This is what?”

Larus didn’t answer verbally. Instead, he walked over to her, gently took her by the shoulders, and guided her toward the sofa. He made her sit down carefully.

Then he took one pot of oil and slowly began pouring it onto Heena’s head, his fingers starting to massage it into her scalp.

The smell made Heena scrunch her nose. “What ’is’ this?”

Larus spoke as his hands worked the oil through her hair with practiced, gentle movements: “In my kingdom, we use mustard oil for long, thick hair. Not only that, it’s quite good for headaches and eye strain. After massaging your head with this oil, you’ll feel much better.”

Heena protested weakly, “I just washed my hair. And it smells bad.”

Larus looked at her without pausing his massage and said calmly, “Yes, the smell isn’t pleasant. But it’s really excellent for your head, your eyes, and even your skin. So please, be quiet for a few moments and let me finish.”

Heena wanted to retort, wanted to argue—but slowly, gradually, her eyes started closing.

The massage felt ’so good’. His fingers worked through her hair with firm but gentle pressure, finding tension points she didn’t even know existed and releasing them.

She didn’t even realize when she started to doze off.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

By the tenth minute, Larus noticed that Heena had literally fallen asleep while sitting upright, her breathing deep and even.

He sighed quietly and slowly moved to stand in front of her, bending down to look at the sleeping woman.

His hand moved toward her face—toward her lips—but he stopped just short of touching her. His fingers hovered millimeters away, not quite making contact with her skin, like he was touching her shadow instead.

He looked at her peaceful sleeping face and felt something complicated twist in his chest.

When he’d woken up three hours ago, he’d found that Heena wasn’t in bed. He’d remembered she’d gone to court that morning for some important matter.

As he was eating the breakfast the maids had brought, he’d heard the rumors.

Actually, not rumors—confirmed reports. That Her Majesty, in her anger, had executed a noble. Right there in open court. Beheaded him without hesitation.

Larus had been surprised.

He’d known Heena would punish the people involved in the assassination attempt. He’d expected arrests, investigations, maybe exile or imprisonment.

He had ’never’ thought she would outright kill someone in front of the entire court.

It was… shocking. And also telling.

She’d done that for him. To protect him. To send a message that attacking him meant death.

Looking at her now—sleeping peacefully, her face relaxed, the tension finally gone from her features—he could see how exhausted she was. How much she was carrying. How much she was hiding.

“You work too hard,” he whispered, so quietly she couldn’t possibly hear. “You carry too much alone.”

He finally, carefully, touched her cheek—just the barest brush of his fingertips.

She didn’t wake, too deeply asleep.

Larus stood and looked around the room. He couldn’t leave her sleeping upright on the sofa—that would give her a terrible backache.

But he also couldn’t carry her to bed with oil still in her hair. It would stain everything.

He compromised by carefully arranging cushions around her so she could sleep more comfortably in a reclining position. Then he found a light blanket and draped it over her.

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