Chapter 244: Chapter-244

“And then I’m supposed to fight for favor with him? And then some woman—who is the FEMALE LEAD—is going to poison an innocent girl just because she can’t control her own husband’s wandering eyes? And you’re telling me this is supposed to be ROMANTIC?”

She literally grabbed the mop that had been thrown at her and swung it at the System, who disappeared and reappeared on the other side of the room.

Heena looked down at the rough cement floor, and literal tears of frustration welled up in her eyes.

“How the hell am I supposed to wipe a cement floor so clean I can see my face in it?” she muttered. “If this was polished marble, maybe! But this is ROUGH CONCRETE. My hands will literally get shredded if I scrub hard enough!”

Suddenly, from the other room, the old woman’s harsh voice rang out: “Are you doing the work or not?!”

Heena hurriedly called back, “Yes! Yes, I’m doing it right now!”

And she got down on her knees and started scrubbing the floor with the wet mop, feeling utterly defeated.

At least when an emperor becomes a beggar in stories, it takes years of misfortune. For me, it happened in one night.

After hours of scrubbing, Heena’s hands had turned raw and red—almost bleeding from the friction against the rough concrete. The pain in her wrists was unbearable.

In her real original life, she’d never done this kind of manual labor. But since starting these transmigration missions, she’d had to do all sorts of things she never imagined.

And just as she finished the floors, she was called again—this time to clean the chamber pots.

Chamber pots.

No matter how polite a term you used, it was basically a shit bowl.

Heena felt like vomiting at the thought.

But then she remembered: in this world and time period, servants could be beaten to death for disobedience. It wasn’t even illegal—they were considered property.

So between cleaning human waste and preserving her life, Heena chose survival.

She held her breath, tried not to think about what she was doing, and cleaned the disgusting chamber pots with shaking hands.

After cleaning all day—floors, chamber pots, washing clothes, scrubbing surfaces—she was absolutely exhausted.

But it still wasn’t done.

She was told she needed to clean the entire kitchen before she could rest.

“Where the hell are all the other maids?” Heena muttered under her breath.

And then she discovered something interesting: in this supposedly rich household, there were only TWO maids total. Herself—Seera, the cleaning maid—and that old harsh woman, who was apparently the personal attendant and confidante of the Mistress (the female lead).

Everyone else in the household were family members, not servants.

Heena suddenly understood why the original Seera had made the choices she did in the story. After one day of this brutal labor, Heena thought: instead of wiping someone else’s shit for the rest of my life, I’d rather marry an old man too. At least that would be an upgrade.

That evening, the Master of the household returned home.

Everyone in the household—including Heena—had to line up and greet him properly, bowing respectfully.

And of course, the Mistress came out to greet her husband as well.

*God damn it,* Heena thought as she saw the female lead for the first time. *There’s a reason heroines are called heroines.*

The Mistress was absolutely beautiful—like a porcelain doll come to life. She appeared to be in her early-to-mid twenties, with flawless fair skin, red lips, black hair tied in an elegant bun, and a slender waist accentuated by expensive silk robes.

Everything about her was polished, refined, perfect.

And when she looked at the Master—her husband—her eyes were literally *flowing* with love and devotion.

Heena nearly gagged. *It’s too much. This is nauseating.*

And when Heena looked at the Master himself? Nothing special. Not at all.

He wasn’t like those fantasy male leads who are described as being in their fifties but still looking like they’re in their thirties with distinguished silver hair and masculine charm.

No.

This was a genuinely old man who definitely looked every year of his fifty-plus age. Wrinkled skin. Thinning hair. A slight paunch. Tired eyes.

And Heena could not understand the appeal.

“He doesn’t even have thousands of tons of gold,” she muttered to herself while keeping her head bowed respectfully. “Yeah, he has money, but he’s not THAT rich. So what’s the attraction?”

In Heena’s private assessment, he was honestly the ugliest man she’d ever seen—and she’d seen a LOT of men across multiple worlds and lifetimes.

The Master walked past the line of bowing servants without even glancing at them, heading inside with his wife.

The old maid—the harsh woman from earlier—clapped her hands sharply and said, “Back to work! The Master’s dinner needs to be prepared!”

And Heena, her hands still raw and bleeding, her back aching, her entire body exhausted, went back to scrubbing pots in the kitchen.

*This is going to be a very, very long mission,* she thought grimly.

The System floated nearby, looking guilty but not offering any help.

“Host,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I really thought this would be easier than being an Empress—”

“Shut up,” Heena said without heat. “Just… shut up and let me figure out how to survive this.”

Because that’s what it came down to: survival.

She needed to figure out how to navigate this world, avoid the original Seera’s terrible fate, and somehow complete whatever mission objective the System had for her.

All while scrubbing floors and cleaning chamber pots.

*Great. Just great.*

She looked down at her bleeding hands and sighed deeply.

*Well, at least things can’t get worse than this, right?*

The universe, as if hearing that thought, seemed to laugh.

Because tomorrow, she would discover that yes, things absolutely could get worse.

Much, much worse.

It was not even three in the morning when Heena was jolted awake—not by her own choice, but by a terrifying shock of cold water splashing directly on her face.

She sputtered and gasped, sitting up abruptly as water dripped from her hair and soaked her thin sleeping clothes.

The old woman stood over her with an empty bucket, glaring down with pure contempt.

Water was dripping from Heena’s face as she looked up at the woman and said through gritted teeth, “What the hell—”

She controlled herself with enormous effort and asked more calmly, “What is the meaning of this?”

Hearing that, the old woman’s face twisted with rage. “You damn lazy bitch! Still sleeping at this hour? Do you think you’re some noble lady who can sleep until sunrise?”

She kicked at Heena’s thin sleeping mat.

“Get UP, you worthless thing! The whole household is waiting because of your laziness!”

Heena literally wanted to slap this woman senseless.

She had gone to sleep at 1 AM after finishing all her exhausting work. And right now—she glanced behind the old woman where the System was hovering with a small clock display visible only to her—it was only 3 AM.

Two hours of sleep. That was all she’d gotten.

She looked at the woman and said as calmly as she could manage, “It’s 3 in the morning, if I’m not wrong.”

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