Chapter 33: Chapter-33

“Gentlemen,” Heena said, her voice echoing off stone walls heavy with the scent of jasmine and suffering. “We need to have a conversation.”

She gestured, and the shadow guards began removing gags one by one.

Kieran’s came out first. “Go to hell,” he rasped immediately, his voice raw from three days of muffled screaming.

“I’ve been there. It’s overrated.” Heena walked closer, hands clasped behind her back. “Here’s your situation: in three hours, I have to face a council full of nobles demanding to see you. To confirm you’re safe and willing participants in this ’spiritual retreat.’”

“We’ll tell them everything,” Adrian managed, his voice a broken whisper. “Every torture, every—”

“No, you won’t.” Heena’s smile was sharp. “You’ll walk into that council chamber looking healthy and composed. You’ll confirm every word of my story. You’ll assure everyone you chose this path voluntarily.”

“Why the fuck would we do that?” Lucian snarled.

Heena pulled out a small crystal orb from her pocket—the recording device that had captured every moment of their degradation. “Because if you don’t, this goes public. Every noble family, every soldier in your commands, every citizen in the empire will see their great heroes reduced to this.” She let that sink in. “Your reputations, your legacies, your families’ honors—all destroyed.”

“You’re bluffing,” Damien said, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Am I?” Heena activated the orb briefly. Their own voices filled the chamber—desperate pleas, humiliated cries, the wet sounds of forced pleasure. “I have seventy-two hours of footage. Every angle. Every moment. The shadow guards are very thorough.”

She deactivated it. “But I’m not unreasonable. I’m offering you a choice.”

“What choice?” Kieran spat.

“Cooperate today, and this footage stays private. Walk into that council, play your parts perfectly, convince everyone you’re fine—and your secrets remain secrets.” Heena’s voice hardened. “Refuse, and I’ll ensure every citizen sees exactly what their heroes became. I’ll make it required viewing in military training: ’This is what happens when warriors grow too proud.’”

Raphael let out a broken sob. “Please… no more…”

“Then cooperate.” Heena gestured to the shadow guards. “My people will give you drugs—enhancement cocktails that will mask your symptoms for about four hours. Pain suppressants, muscle stimulants, cognitive enhancers. You’ll look and act completely normal for the duration of the council meeting.”

“And after?” Adrian asked.

“After, you return here to finish your ’spiritual retreat.’ Two more days until the tournament.” She smiled coldly. “Unless you’d prefer I release you now, weakened and humiliated, and let the empire see how their mighty consorts can barely stand?”

“This is blackmail,” Damien said flatly.

“This is consequences.” Heena’s eyes were hard. “You tried to murder me. You failed. Now you’ll play by my rules until I decide otherwise.” She looked at each of them in turn. “So what will it be? Cooperate and preserve your dignity? Or refuse and become the empire’s cautionary tale?”

Silence. Heavy and thick.

Finally, Kieran spoke, his voice filled with venom. “We’ll do it. But when this is over—”

“When this is over, we’ll see who’s left standing.” Heena turned to the shadow guards. “Administer the drugs. Get them cleaned up, dressed appropriately, and ready to perform. They have three hours.”

As the guards approached with their vials, Heena paused at the door.

“Oh, and gentlemen? If any of you try to deviate from the script—if you hint at the truth, if you try to signal for help, if you do anything except confirm my story—the footage goes live immediately. My shadow guards are already positioned in the council chamber with copies. One wrong word, and your humiliation becomes public spectacle.”

She smiled. “So choose your words very carefully.”

The door closed, leaving them with the shadow guards and their chemical salvation—temporary, humiliating, but better than the alternative.

## Present – The Empty Council Chamber

“You blackmailed us,” Adrian said, his voice shaking with exhaustion and rage. “Used our pride against us.”

“I used your choices against you,” Heena corrected. “You’re the ones who care so much about reputation that you’ll endure anything to protect it. I simply provided… motivation.”

“When these drugs wear off—” Kieran started.

“You’ll return to the chamber for two more days,” Heena finished. “As originally planned. The Grand Tournament is in three days. You’ll be released the evening before to allow your bodies to recover just enough to compete.” She stood, walking down to their level. “And you’ll compete. Weakened, but functional. A poor showing, perhaps, but not suspicious.”

“You’re destroying us,” Raphael whispered.

“I’m teaching you.” Heena stopped before them, looking at each broken man. “You tried to kill me with poison. I’m killing your pride instead. Which is crueler? I honestly can’t decide.”

Damien laughed—a bitter, broken sound. “You’ve won this round, Your Majesty. But Seraphina saw through it. She knows something’s wrong.”

“Seraphina suspects. She doesn’t know.” Heena’s smile was cold. “And suspicion without proof is just paranoia. You all confirmed my story perfectly. The council believes you. That’s all that matters.”

She turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and the footage? It’s very secure. Even if something happens to me, it will be released automatically. So don’t get any ideas about permanent solutions to your empress problem.”

As she walked toward the door, five sets of eyes burned into her back—hatred, humiliation, and grudging respect mixed together.

“The shadow guards will return you to the chamber shortly,” Heena said without looking back. “Enjoy the next two days. Think of it as… advanced meditation.”

The door closed behind her.

And five broken men were left in the vast empty chamber, their temporary strength already fading, knowing they had to walk back into their prison and endure two more days of torment.

All because they’d been too proud to let the empire see them weak.

Heena had counted on that pride.

And she’d been right.

..

.

.

On the other side of the noble mansion.

Lady Seraphina Whitmore slammed the door to her chambers so hard the hinges rattled. The moment the lock clicked, her serene expression shattered like dropped glass.

“FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE!”

The scream tore from her throat—raw, furious, nothing like the gentle saint voice she used in public. She grabbed the nearest object—a delicate porcelain vase—and hurled it against the wall. It exploded into white shards scattering across marble floor.

Her System materialized immediately, the gentle golden glow sharp and alert. [Host emotional state: critical. Recommend immediate calming protocols—]

“Don’t you DARE tell me to calm down!” Seraphina whirled on it, her beautiful face twisted with rage. Golden hair flew wild around her shoulders. “They were TORTURED! For three days! I know it! And they walked into that council looking like they’d spent a week at a spa!”

She paced like a caged predator, her white dress whipping around her legs. “This doesn’t happen! It CAN’T happen! I’ve conquered seventy-three worlds! SEVENTY-THREE! I know how broken men look! I know what torture does to the body, to the mind!”

Her hands clenched into fists. “Those five should have been wrecks. Trembling, pale, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. Instead they were…” She stopped, breathing hard. “They were PERFECT. Composed. Coherent. Backing up every word she said.”

[Unable to scan non-host entities. This unit can only monitor Host vitals, favorability ratings, and immediate environmental threats to Host. The consorts’ physical state is beyond scanning parameters.]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep