Chapter 55: Chapter-55

System 427 made a considering sound. “Host… she might actually be genuine. Or she’s the best liar you’ve met yet.”

Heena drummed her fingers once more, then reached for a fresh sheet of parchment. “Here’s my counter-offer, Duchess. You’ll manage Damon’s territory—under imperial oversight. Monthly reports. Random audits. Any hint of corruption, and you lose both domains.”

Carlisle nodded. “Acceptable.”

“In exchange, you’ll provide detailed intelligence on every noble in Seraphina’s circle. Names, donations, meetings, connections. Everything.”

“Done.”

“And your son will be… re-educated. I have people who specialize in breaking unwanted enchantments. If Seraphina has a sys- i mean magic behind her—and I believe she does—your son may be under more than just natural infatuation.”

The duchess’s eyes widened slightly. “A magic? You mean—”

“I mean exactly what you think I mean.” Heena’s tone turned ice-cold. “This empire has a parasite problem. I intend to cut it out. Your son can either be saved or be collateral damage. Choose.”

Carlisle didn’t hesitate. “Save him. Please.”

Heena nodded once, making notations on the parchment. “Then we have an accord. Report back in three days with your intelligence. And Duchess?” She looked up, eyes hard. “If you betray me, there won’t be enough left of House Carlisle to fill a grave. Understood?”

“Perfectly, Your Majesty.” The duchess rose, bowed—deeper this time, genuine—and swept toward the door. She paused at the threshold, glancing back. “For what it’s worth… it’s about time someone with a spine sat on that throne.”

The door closed.

System 427 materialized fully, looking drained. “Host, are you sure about this? She could be playing you.”

“She could be,” Heena agreed, sealing the documents with her imperial stamp. “But even if she is, I just turned one of Seraphina’s potential allies into a spy. And if she’s genuine?” She smiled coldly. “Then I just gained a competent administrator and detailed intelligence on the white lotus’s entire network.”

“Win-win?” the system ventured.

“Win-win,” Heena confirmed.

The world felt like it was collapsing in on Heena, wave after wave, nobles arriving like an endless siege. She didn’t even have time to take a deep breath before the next ledger landed on her desk, the next complaint, the next corrupt bastard trying to justify their greed with honeyed words and fake smiles.

System 427 worked frantically beside her—processing reports, cross-referencing records, flagging inconsistencies. He nearly went offline twice from sheer overload, his golden form flickering like a dying lamp.

And Heena? She just kept writing.

Sometimes she thought bitterly that if this were the modern world, she’d have spreadsheets, databases, automated audits. But here? Everything was quill, parchment, and her own burning determination not to let these parasites bleed her empire dry another day longer.

She glanced up briefly. The study had become a war room—clerks and advisors clustered around tables, arguing over tax reforms, trade regulations, district budgets. Half of them she couldn’t even understand; they spoke in circular noble logic designed to ’sound’ productive while accomplishing nothing.

The real problem, she knew, was structural.

The empire was built like a house of cards, entirely dependent on five consorts holding regional power. If all five suddenly stepped back—rebelled, died, vanished—the economy would collapse overnight. Every trade route, every military garrison, every temple tithe flowed through their hands. It was efficient in theory. In practice? It was a ’nightmare’.

Heena had been thinking about this for weeks now, turning the problem over in her mind between poisonings and political maneuvering.

’I need to divide the power,’ she thought, tapping her quill against the desk. ’Distribute it. Like modern governments—checks, balances, multiple hands on the wheel.’

The idea was sound. Dangerous, but sound. If power wasn’t concentrated in five men who ’literally tried to murder her’, maybe—just maybe—she could build something that wouldn’t collapse the moment she turned her back.

But decentralization meant bureaucracy. Slow decisions. Endless councils arguing over minutiae.

And if she died tomorrow—on some idiotic battlefield charge like the original Celeste, throwing herself at enemy lines for glory—what then? The whole empire would fragment.

’No. I can’t let that happen. But I also can’t leave all this power in their hands.’

She’d considered giving more authority to Duke Robbinston, but then remembered with a grimace that the criminal White Lotus system and its host, SerapHeena, were still operating in this world. If Robbinston gained too much influence and they got to him…

’Divide the power,’ she decided firmly. ’But keep ultimate control. I need new people. Young blood. Loyal administrators who owe me everything and them nothing.’

Her quill scratched across fresh parchment, drafting the framework: district governors, independent tax collectors, civilian councils to check military authority. It would take years to implement fully, but she could start now. Create new positions. Promote from below, not from the corrupt nobility.

’And to stabilize it legally, I need legitimacy. Marriage.’

The thought made her want to throw something.

She already had five ’expensive’ husbands who’d tried to poison her. The last thing she wanted was to add more complications. But politically? An imperial marriage to someone ’outside’ the current power structure could shift the balance. Give her an ally not tied to the consorts’ web of alliances.

’At least ten candidates,’ she calculated coldly. ’Run them through evaluations. Loyalty tests. Background checks. Find someone useful.’

It wasn’t about love—’gods’, love was the last thing she needed. It was about chess. Moving pieces. Securing her position.

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. The candles had burned low; she’d been at this for hours. ’All night,’ she realized, glancing at the window where pre-dawn gray was creeping in.

“Send word,” she told a waiting clerk. “I’m accepting marriage proposals. Noble houses may submit candidates for evaluation. Approved applicants will be assessed for… suitability.”

The clerk’s eyes went wide. “Y-Your Majesty? Marriage proposals?”

“Did I stutter?”

“N-no, Your Majesty!” He fled to spread the word.

System 427 materialized, munching on popcorn—’where did he even get that?’—and watching her with bemused curiosity. “Host, you’re really going to marry someone ’else’? You already have five who want you dead.”

Heena shot him a look. “It’s strategic. Not romantic.”

“Sure,” the system said, unconvinced.

Then Heena’s eyes narrowed, locking onto the popcorn. “Wait. How the hell did you buy that?”

System 427 froze mid-chew, ears flattening. “Uh… from the points shop?”

“Points shop.” Heena’s voice went dangerously soft. “And may I ask, ’where’ did those points come from? Aren’t you still in debt from that gambling binge last month?”

The system’s eyes darted around like he was looking for an escape route. “You know, host, we’re partners! What’s yours is mine—”

“’Partners?!’” Heena stood, chair scraping back. “I’m here ’dying’ from overwork while you snack on popcorn bought with ’my’ points?! How much did that cost?”

The system gulped. “F-five hundred…”

Heena’s smile turned devilish. “Five. Hundred. Points.”

“It was on sale—”

“Do you know how many reports I had to file to earn that?! Do you know how much those ’thieves’ in the system shop overcharge for snacks?!”

System 427 squeaked, floating backward. “I-it’s not that bad—”

“Not that bad?!” Heena snatched the popcorn bag out of the air. “This is ’confiscated’. And you—” she jabbed a finger at him, “—are grounded. No shop access for a month.”

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