Chapter 72: Chapter-72

Right on cue, the door opened and one of her secretaries stepped in—a thin, sharp-eyed man with ink still drying on his cuffs, the type who lived on work and coffee and very little else.

Heena glanced at him. “Secretary,” she said, “write down what I’m about to say. Line by line.”

He bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

He pulled out a leather folder, set paper on the low table, uncapped his pen, and waited.

Heena leaned back slightly.

“Today,” she began, clearly and slowly, “I, Empress Celeste, in the presence of my secretary and the members of the Whitmore family, make the following decree.

“Lord Marcus Whitmore has served me for many years as a loyal vassal. However, his daughter has again and again tested and crossed the line. By strict law, the entire Whitmore family could be punished—stripped of rank, executed, or exiled—for her repeated offenses.

“However, this Empress is feeling especially ’benevolent’ tonight.” Her mouth curved faintly. “Therefore, I will not exterminate nor exile the Whitmore line. Instead, from this day onward, I demote House Whitmore by one rank, from Marquis to Count.”

The scratching of the secretary’s pen was the only sound in the room.

Everyone else went stiff.

“What?” Seraphina breathed.

Heena smiled pleasantly. “Once again, in case there is any confusion: I am demoting you to a ’Count’, Lord Whitmore. Congratulations, Marcus.”

He swayed.

In this empire, to rise from minor nobility to Earl, then Count, then finally Marquis, took ’generations’ of steady merit and imperial favor. And with a few sentences, Heena had collapsed that climb and sent them tumbling down in a single night.

But she wasn’t finished.

“And not only that,” she continued smoothly, “because Lord Whitmore is so very generous, he has decided to gift this Empress the gold mine and the diamond mine currently in his possession. I am, naturally, delighted to accept.”

Lord Whitmore went white.

Even the secretary’s hand twitched for a heartbeat before he kept writing, expression never leaving professional neutrality.

“Y-Your Majesty…” Lord Whitmore managed, voice thin, naked fear flickering in his eyes.

Heena raised a brow. “Oh? Did I say something incorrect, Lord Whitmore?”

He shook his head so fast his hair came loose. “No, no—Your Majesty is being so benevolent, so gracious. I am… truly honored. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

He bowed to the floor.

Heena’s smile brightened.

“There, that’s better.”

Then she turned her gaze to Seraphina.

“Lord Whitmore,” she said lightly, “your daughter doesn’t look very happy. How strange. I thought she would be overjoyed.”

Of course she wasn’t.

Seraphina stared at Heena in shocked disbelief. A Marquis house reduced to a Count in one night. Their richest mines stripped away as “gifts.” All ’because’ she had entered the palace at night? Because she had said the consort’s name out loud?

She had called Priest Rafael by name countless times before and no one had ever—

’Why is it different tonight?’ her mind screamed.

Lord Whitmore lurched to his feet, grabbed his daughter by the arm, and hissed, “You disgraceful girl! Why are you still standing there? Go and thank Her Majesty!”

Seraphina trembled, cheeks already swollen from earlier blows, still trying to catch up to what was happening, when her father forced her down. His hand clamped on the back of her head and ’slammed’ it to the floor in a full kowtow.

“Of course we are thankful, Your Majesty,” he said, forcing a smile into his voice as Seraphina’s forehead hit the ground. “My house is deeply grateful for Your Majesty’s mercy.”

Heena watched them for a heartbeat, then smiled, satisfied.

“Of course,” she said mildly. “Anything for my loyal subjects.”

She rose and stretched, the tension finally starting to leak from her muscles.

“Now,” she added, tone turning bored, “get out of my palace. I’m tired.”

Lord Whitmore nodded so fast it almost looked like he was bowing repeatedly. He dragged his daughter up and practically ran for the door as if a pack of wild dogs were nipping at his heels.

The door shut behind them with a solid thud.

Silence lingered for a beat.

Heena’s secretary, still standing near the table, looked at the closed door, then at the Empress, and just… stared.

Heena arched a brow. “What is it? Why is my secretary so shocked?”

He blinked, then, very quietly, raised his thumb in open admiration.

“You’re incredible, Your Majesty,” he said.

Heena preened a little. “Oh? Impressed with me?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said earnestly. “I’m completely overwhelmed. I used to think you were going to ruin this entire fucking empire, burn it down to dust, and then die alone in some cold palace room.” His eyes actually shone. “But now… to knock a Marquis house down to a Count in one night, and confiscate their mines on top of it—you are truly an Empress. A ’cruel’, tyrant Empress.”

Heena froze.

“Wait,” she said slowly, “are you insulting me or complimenting me?”

“I’m praising you, Your Majesty,” he replied without hesitation.

She really wanted to snap at him, but his face was so painfully honest that the words caught in her throat.

Even System 427 was speechless.

“Host,” it muttered weakly in the back of her mind, “you really have some crazy people working for you.”

Heena had no idea what to say to ’that’ either.

The secretary cleared his throat. “In that case, I’ll go and seize their properties immediately.”

Heena blinked. “Shouldn’t you at least wait until morning?”

He shook his head, eyes already alight with manic energy. “Of course not, Your Majesty. I was asleep when you summoned me. Since I’m awake anyway, this is the perfect time. I’m bored. I may as well go.”

Heena stared at him.

For a brief moment, she genuinely wanted to ask, ’Are you the emperor, or am I the emperor?’ The way he talked, so sure, so decisive—it was like ’she’ was the one getting dragged along.

But in the end, she just waved a hand.

“Go, then,” she said. “At least someone’s doing half my work so I can rest.”

The secretary bowed, clutching the fresh decree, and strode out, already planning exactly how to strip the Whitmores down to the bone.

Heena did not sleep.

She lay on the sofa for maybe ten minutes, eyes closed, body heavy, but her mind was too sharp and too loud. Every time she felt herself drifting, she saw Serafina’s tearful face, the Knight Commander’s shocked eyes, Lord Whitmore slamming his own daughter’s head into the floor.

Her headache pulsed.

“If I sleep now,” she muttered, “someone will wake me up again and I’ll actually commit murder.” [1]

System 427 floated a careful distance away. “Host…?”

“Schedule,” she said. “What’s first?”

“Morning court in two hours,” the lion answered. “Ministers, border reports, tax issues, noble petitions…”

“Perfect,” Heena said flatly. “I’m in the right mood.”

’’’

### Morning: court under a storm

News traveled fast.

By dawn, everyone in the imperial city knew three things:

– Lady Serafina had been slapped by the Empress. Multiple times.

– House Whitmore had fallen from Marquis to Count.

– Two very lucrative mines now belonged to the throne.

When Heena entered the throne hall, the air was already tight with fear.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep