Chapter 62: Chapter-62

“’System.’” The single word was spoken with such quiet, dangerous intensity that 427 actually shivered.

“…I’ll just be quiet then.”

“Good choice.”

Heena closed her eyes, her face still pressed into the pillow, and willed unconsciousness to come quickly.

Outside her door, Raphael still stood in the hallway, staring at the closed entrance to her chambers.

’I don’t touch things that have been touched by others.’

’Contaminated.’

’Secondhand.’

He’d thought five days of silence was punishment. He’d been wrong. Those words were the real punishment, and they cut deeper than any physical confinement ever could.

Slowly, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor, his mind churning with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate.

Behind her closed door, Heena was already half-asleep, her body finally getting the rest it had been screaming for.

Tomorrow she’d deal with the northern proposal. Tomorrow she’d hunt down Estov and demand an explanation for his excessive success. Tomorrow she’d figure out what to do about seven lovesick nobles and a crumbling heroine.

Tomorrow.

But tonight, for just a few hours, she was going to sleep like the dead and let the empire run itself.

The system hovered silently in the corner, not daring to make a sound, already composing prayers for Estov’s continued survival once Heena woke up and had energy to be properly angry.

It was going to be an interesting few days.

Heena had slept for exactly three hours.

Not two-and-a-half. Not three-and-a-half.

Three.

Her skull felt like someone had split it with an axe and stuffed thunder inside. There was one rule in Heena’s life: if you wanted her to stay awake all night, fine. She could work straight through till dawn without a single complaint, no whining, no snapping. But if she ’slept’ and you dared to drag her out of that sleep midway?

You were personally inviting the God of War to your doorstep.

Duke Robinson had apparently decided to send that invitation.

He “suddenly” remembered, in the middle of the night, that he absolutely, desperately needed an audience with Her Majesty. So the guards knocked. And knocked. And knocked, until Heena’s eyes snapped open, bloodshot and murderous.

Ten minutes later, she walked into the throne hall.

The entire court went quiet.

Heena’s eyes were ’cold’—not her usual lazy, mocking chill, but that flat, dead cold that made even System 427 shrink back into the corner of her consciousness and pretend he didn’t exist. Even the floating golden lion didn’t dare appear.

She climbed the steps to the throne, cape thrown on in a hurry, hair slightly mussed, and sat down with a slow, dangerous grace. Her gaze swept the room, taking in every bowed head, every trembling shoulder.

“I,” she said, voice soft and razor-sharp, “hope that whatever you dragged me here for is so important that it was worth disturbing a ’priceless’ sleep in the middle of the night.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Because if it isn’t… I promise you, I will ’personally’ make sure you never sleep again.”

No one breathed.

Duke Robinson stepped forward. Even from the throne, she could see his legs shaking. He bowed so low his forehead nearly kissed the floor.

“Y-Your Majesty,” he stammered, “the… the Northern Empire has sent word. They wish to dispatch an embassy and sign a new treaty with us—”

Heena stared at him.

“That’s it?” she asked blankly. “That’s the reason you woke me up? A diplomatic ’greeting’?”

Robinson swallowed. “Th-they said, Your Majesty, that their delegation will arrive in seven days…”

Seven days.

On paper it sounded like time.

But Heena’s brain, even half-sedated with sleep-rage, flicked through the list: housing arrangements, security, route clearing, welcoming ceremony, gift lists, banquets, seating charts, translators, allied factions, enemy spies, northern army posture, dress code, treasury allocations—

Seven days wasn’t long at all.

She exhaled slowly through her nose, pinching the bridge of it with two fingers.

“Fine,” she said at last. “Prepare. Logistics, security, guest lists—handle it. I’ll review the final plan ’once’.” Her glare swept the hall. “Is there anything else that is so life-or-death you just ’had’ to rip me out of my bed for it?”

Her expression made the rest of the nobles want to sink into the marble.

There ’were’ other matters—a broken dam in the east, a grain dispute, a minor border skirmish—but every lord who’d been mentally lining up to speak took one good look at her face and swallowed their words.

Heena’s eyes said it very clearly: ’If you open your mouth for anything less than the empire actually exploding, I’ll kill you myself.’

Silence.

No one moved.

Heena gave a short, humorless laugh. “So you woke me up for ’this’ little message? Not even a fire, not a rebellion, not a dragon falling from the sky—just ’they’re coming in seven days’?”

Down in her mind, System 427 whispered nervously, “Host, persona, persona… you’re scaring them…”

She cut her gaze sideways—’shut up’—and he instantly clamped his metaphorical paws over his mouth.

She rose from the throne in one fluid, angry motion.

“I see,” she said coldly. “Next time you drag me out of my sleep for something that can be written on paper and sent to my desk, start writing your wills in advance.”

Her cape snapped behind her as she turned and stalked out of the hall, ministers parting like the sea in front of her.

The God of War was awake.

And everyone in the palace had just been reminded why that was a terrible idea.

make the next scene

The moment Heena’s footsteps faded down the corridor, the entire throne hall exhaled at once, like someone had lifted a mountain off their chests.

Several ministers’ legs gave out; they half‑sat, half‑collapsed on the nearest benches. Duke Robinson’s back was soaked in sweat under his formal robes. No one dared complain out loud, but the same thought flashed through every mind.

’We woke her up. We survived. Barely.’

One junior official, poor soul, whispered, “S‑Shall we bring the dam issue up now—”

Three older ministers simultaneously elbowed him silent.

“Write. A. Report,” one hissed. “And pray she reads it when she’s ’already’ awake.”

On the other side of the doors, Heena stalked down the corridor like a storm in human form.

Her cape swished, boots striking the marble too sharply. Shadow guards standing along the way snapped even straighter, eyes glued to the floor. Even they knew better than to breathe too loudly near her right now.

“Host…” System 427’s tiny lion form materialized at the edge of her vision, hovering nervously beside her head. “Maybe you should go back to bed? You only slept three hours, your blood pressure is—”

“If you say ’blood pressure’ one more time,” Heena muttered, not slowing, “I’ll use you as a paperweight.”

The lion’s wings folded instantly. “Understood.”

She was heading toward her rooms, each step a promise of violence to anyone else who dared block her way—

Which, naturally, meant someone blocked her way.

A familiar figure lounged against a pillar near the turn to her private wing, arms crossed, silver hair loose over his shoulders. Estov glanced up as she approached, took one look at her face… and actually straightened like a decent human being for once.

“Oh ho,” he said softly. “The God of War mode. Who was the idiot this time?”

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