Chapter 61: Chapter-61

“Second, keep those seven noble houses under quiet observation. No public censure yet—I don’t want to make martyrs out of idiots. No approval of any divorces without my direct signature and personal review. I want full, detailed reports on this ’certain man’ they’ve all fallen for—where he came from, what he looks like, what he wears, who he talks to, where he goes, how he breathes, what he eats for breakfast.”

She smiled thinly, the expression not reaching her eyes at all.

“And if any of those descriptions happen to include silver hair, fox-like features, and a smile that could melt ice, you will send me that report first. Before anyone else sees it. Directly to my hands. Understood?”

The ministers bowed so low their foreheads nearly touched their knees. “As you command, Your Majesty. It will be done exactly as you say.”

“Good. Dismissed. All of you. Go.”

They scattered like startled birds, relief and fear mingling on their faces as they hurried away.

As they dispersed into the lengthening shadows, stood alone in the corridor for a moment, the foreign prince’s portrait still tucked under her arm like an unwanted gift.

Northern surrender after generations of war.

Mass noble “love sickness” affecting seven houses simultaneously.

SerapHeena support bleeding away to a mysterious, beautiful male who appeared from nowhere.

She didn’t need a investigation to know who was behind it. The fingerprints were all over this mess.

“Green tea, huh,” she muttered under her breath, turning toward the palace with renewed energy despite her exhaustion. “Let’s see just ’how’ green you dare to get, Estov. And whether you’re prepared for what happens when you succeed too well.”

System 427, who had been mercifully quiet during the meeting, finally spoke up in a small voice. “Host… are you angry?”

“Angry?” laughed, the sound sharp and bright. “I told him to cause chaos. He’s causing chaos. I should be pleased.”

“Then why do you look like you want to strangle someone?”

“Because,” said sweetly, “I’m going to have to clean up this mess. And I’m very, very tired. And when I’m tired, I get creative about revenge.”

The system wisely said nothing else.

Heenaheard the system’s voice buzzing faintly in her ear like an annoying mosquito.

System 427 spoke up hesitantly. “Host, about Estov—”

“Shut. Up.” Heena voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough venom to make the system flinch visibly in midair. “If you say one more word about that silver-haired disaster right now, I will find a way to delete you. I don’t care if it’s possible or not. I will ’make’ it possible.”

The system’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

Somewhere across the city, in Estov’s elegant mansion, there was a sudden, tremendous crash followed by a roar of absolute fury that could be heard two streets away.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SEVEN?! I SAID MAYBE ONE OR TWO! SUBTLY! ’SUBTLY!’”

Furniture shattered. Glass exploded. Servants dove for cover.

But Heenaknew nothing of this yet. She was too busy trying not to collapse from exhaustion.

As she walked through the palace corridors in what she hoped was the general direction of her chambers, her head throbbed with a headache that felt like someone was driving nails directly into her skull. She just wanted to reach her room, strip off all these suffocating layers of formal clothing, and sleep for approximately three days straight.

She was almost there—so close she could practically feel her bed calling to her—when she rounded a corner and stopped dead.

Raphael stood in the hallway outside her quarters, still dressed in the simple robes the palace had provided him. He looked… different. Thinner, maybe. His hair was immaculate, his skin clean, but there was something hollow in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

Heenastared at him. Then, very deliberately, she put one hand in her pants pocket—yes, she’d switched to comfortable pants at some point during her five-day nightmare tour—and said flatly, “What are you doing here?”

Raphael’s reaction was immediate and bizarre.

He walked toward her with measured steps, then stopped at a respectful distance and ’bowed’. Not the casual nod he usually gave her. A real, formal, proper bow with his head lowered and everything.

Heena eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down, her expression clearly asking: ’What nonsense are you doing?’

This bastard never bowed to her properly unless he wanted something or was trying to manipulate the situation. Her gaze automatically swept the corridor, checking for witnesses or hidden observers. Empty. Completely empty.

She looked back at Raphael and raised one eyebrow slowly, her entire face radiating skepticism.

“I greet Your Majesty,” Raphael said formally, his voice steady.

“What nonsense is this?” Heena voice was sharp with exhaustion and suspicion. “What do you want? And make it quick because I’m about five seconds from walking past you like you don’t exist.”

Raphael lifted his head to meet her eyes. “I want to ask a favor of you, Your Majesty.”

Heena let out a short, disbelieving laugh that was more sneer than actual amusement. “Oh my ’God’. Look at this. The holy priest is begging for favors now. Is anyone else seeing this? Someone should write this down for the history books.”

“Your Majesty,” Raphael’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice level. “Why did you not come to see me after locking me in that room? Why five days of silence?”

Heena expression went from mocking to genuinely annoyed in an instant.

“First thing,” she held up one finger, her voice taking on the tone of someone explaining something to a particularly slow child, “I did ’not’ lock you anywhere. I had you properly cared for in guest quarters. There’s a difference.”

She held up a second finger. “Secondly, I had you released the moment the five days were complete. Door unbolted. You were free to leave. So don’t act like I ’captured’ you or held you prisoner.”

A third finger joined the other two. “Thirdly, and most importantly—’you’ entered ’my’ private chambers without permission. You tried to irritate me . So I think being bathed, fed excellent food, and left alone for five days is not exactly a harsh punishment, considering.”

She lowered her hand, her eyes cold. “Honestly, I was being quite merciful with you. If you were a another person who’d tried the same thing, your head would be hanging from the palace walls by nightfall, and your family would be begging me not to execute the rest of them for your crimes.”

Raphael flinched slightly at that, but didn’t back down. “Then… why didn’t you punish me? Why didn’t you even ’touch’ me while I was confined?”

Heena lip curled in something between disgust and amusement.

“I don’t touch things that have been touched by others,” she said simply, her voice cutting. “You reek of Seraphina influence, even if you’ve started questioning her. You’re contaminated. Tainted by association. Why would I waste my time on something secondhand?”

With that, she walked right past him without a backward glance, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

Raphael stood frozen, staring at her retreating back, her words hitting him like physical blows. ’Contaminated. Tainted. Secondhand.’

Heena reached her chambers, pushed open the door, and disappeared inside. The door closed behind her with a decisive click, and she immediately headed for her wardrobe room—a smaller chamber attached to her bedroom where she could change in private.

The moment the wardrobe door closed behind her, Heena let out a long, shuddering sigh and sagged against the wall.

Then, with sharp, angry movements born of pure exhaustion and frustration, she started ripping off her formal accessories.

Bracelets clattered to the floor. She tore at the clasps, not caring about damage, just wanting them *off*. Hairpins followed, scattering across the tiles with musical chimes. The elaborate brooch at her collar—she yanked it free and threw it. The ceremonial cape that added weight to her shoulders—she shrugged it off and let it fall in a heap. The outer jacket with its stiff, formal structure—off, gone, discarded.

Her boots came next, kicked off with enough force that one hit the opposite wall.

Now she stood in just her undershirt and pants, breathing hard, surrounded by a circle of discarded imperial regalia like some kind of exhausted warrior after battle.

“Damn it,” she muttered, running both hands through her hair, destroying what was left of the formal style. “Damn it all.”

She stumbled toward her bedroom, pushed open the door, and face-planted diagonally across her enormous bed without even bothering to get under the covers. Her body hit the silk sheets and simply stopped functioning, every muscle giving up at once.

System 427’s voice piped up tentatively from somewhere above her. “Host, about the northern marriage proposal—”

“If you say one more word,” Heena’s voice was muffled by the pillow but still managed to sound threatening, “I will kill you right now. I’m serious. I’m already tired. Damn tired. Exhausted beyond human endurance. And I *still* have work left to do tomorrow. So don’t you *dare* try to talk to me about politics, marriages, Estov’s disasters, or anything else that requires me to think.”

“But—”

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