Chapter 80: Chapter-80

System 427 was, of course, still hovering beside Heena—invisible to everyone else in the room. He looked at her terrified expression with undisguised glee. It wasn’t every day you saw the Black Lotus herself trembling like a scolded child.

Heena hurriedly stood up, took five full steps away from the male dancers, and plastered on the brightest, most innocent smile she could manage.

“Aunt!” she greeted, voice pitched just a little too high. “I didn’t know you were here!”

The Duchess raised one hand.

Her eyes were so strict, so cold, that even Heena—who had faced down emperors, assassins, and cosmic backlash—’trembled’.

The woman looked at Heena’s bandaged wrist, then swept her gaze across the room once more: the dancers, the grapes, the incense, the sheer audacity of it all.

“I heard,” she said, voice like ice, “that you were injured.”

She paused.

“But now that I see you,” she continued, “it seems the Empress has forgotten her duties entirely and is simply ’enjoying life’.” Her eyes narrowed. “I did not expect this from you.”

Heena opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. “I was resting—”

“Resting,” the Duchess repeated flatly.

For anyone else—ministers, nobles, even her five husbands—Heena could have fought back. She could beat those so-called heroes into pulp if she wanted. She could flip the entire court upside down, rewrite laws, even dig up the previous Emperor’s coffin if it suited her purposes.

But this woman?

This woman was ’different’.

For those who didn’t know: Duchess Marianne was the ’only’ person who had stood by the original Celeste when the war broke out. She had tried to guide her back to the right path, yes, but when that failed—when everyone else abandoned Celeste to save themselves—’she’ was the one who picked up a sword and fought beside her, even at the risk of her own death. [1]

To Heena, this person was a ticking time bomb. Dangerous. Untouchable. The kind of person you couldn’t fight, couldn’t manipulate, and couldn’t escape because she ’cared’. And people who cared were the scariest kind.

System 427 watched Heena’s terrified expression and grinned so hard his whiskers twitched. ’It’s not every day you see a villainess this scared.’

Heena forced a smile. “Aunt, you see, I was injured, and my hand hurt ’so much’. So I thought I’d take a rest—”

“A rest,” the Duchess said, nodding slowly. “Yes. I can see that.”

Then her tone turned glacial.

“Tell me, Your Majesty,” she said, emphasizing the title like a blade, “if I’m not mistaken, I told you to take ballet lessons when you were a child. If you had actually ’taken’ those lessons, perhaps you wouldn’t have fallen on flat ground in the first place.”

Heena blinked. “Aunt, what does falling on the ground have to do with ’ballet’?”

The Duchess looked at her with the patience of a teacher dealing with a particularly slow student.

“The same connection,” she said, “as watching half-naked men dance having anything to do with ’healing your hand’.”

Heena lowered her head like a scolded child.

She ’knew’ better than to argue. If she pushed back, she’d only get lectured harder—or worse, actually hit with something. So why waste the energy?

The Duchess let the silence sit for a moment, then spoke again, voice calm and absolute.

“You will write a ten-thousand-word letter of apology to the previous Emperor.”

Heena’s head snapped up. “What?!”

“You heard me.”

“Aunt, I’m the ’Empress’ of this empire!” Heena protested. “I’m sitting on the throne right now! It wouldn’t look good if I—”

“Oh, is that so, Your Majesty?” the Duchess interrupted smoothly. “But the things you’ve been doing lately don’t look like the actions of a ’sane’ person either.”

Heena tried to rally. “I haven’t done anything wrong—”

“Oh, ’really’?” The Duchess’s eyebrow arched. “Marrying five idiots when I ’explicitly’ told you not to—is that not wrong? And after marrying them, you even gave them positions of power. If you’re not foolish, then who is?”

Heena winced.

“And even before that,” the Duchess continued relentlessly, “you acted like a saint, helping everyone while making sure no one knew it was you. So tell me, Your Majesty—if ’you’ shouldn’t write a letter of self-reflection, should my brother, the previous Emperor, crawl out of his grave and write it for you?”

Heena covered her face with her good hand.

Normally, her aunt lived in a distant province, acting as a diplomatic envoy. Her work took her to other empires year-round to negotiate treaties and handle foreign relations. Heena had assumed that as long as she stayed away, she’d be free.

But of course, she had to come back ’now’. At the worst possible time.

“I didn’t mean—” Heena started weakly.

“Of course you didn’t mean it, Your Majesty,” the Duchess said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why would you? Forget it. It’s my fault. ’I’ should write the apology. Two thousand words of self-reflection ought to be enough.”

Heena wanted to retort—’I write ten thousand and you only write two thousand?!’—but she didn’t dare. She did ’not’ want to get hit with a bamboo stick right now.

So she just raised her hand in surrender. “I’ll write it. I’ll write it.”

The Duchess nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

Then her gaze sharpened again.

“And where,” she asked, “are those five bastards, anyway?”

Heena smiled weakly. “Oh, those five? They’re probably somewhere in the palace. Or maybe visiting their so-called little lover.”

The Duchess looked at her, unimpressed.

“You can’t even control five men,” she said. “How do you expect to control an entire empire, Your Majesty?”

Heena’s smile turned sharp despite herself. “Because I have people to help me control the empire. I don’t have people to control ’them’.”

For a moment, the Duchess just stared at her.

Then, to Heena’s shock, she let out a short, reluctant laugh.

“Fine,” she said. “I Go take care of them. And you—” she pointed at Heena “—write that ten-thousand-word apology. I’ll come check it later.”

Heena nodded quickly. “Of course, Aunt.”

The Duchess turned on her heel and swept out of the room, leaving behind a trail of intimidation and a very shaken Empress.

The moment the door closed, Heena collapsed back into her chair.

System 427 floated down, tail swishing. “Host… that was—”

“Terrifying,” Heena finished. “That was absolutely terrifying.”

She looked at her bandaged wrist, then at the frozen dancers still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Dismissed,” she said weakly. “All of you. And take the grapes.”

They fled.

System 427 settled on the armrest beside her. “Ten thousand words, huh?”

Heena groaned and covered her face again.

“I hate this world,” she muttered.

Half an hour later, Heena was hunched over her desk, writing ’”I am sorry, Father”’ for the two hundredth time, when she suddenly paused.

She looked up at System 427.

“Wait,” she said. “Where is that bastard?”

The system blinked. “Which bastard do you mean, Host?”

Heena’s eye twitched. “That ’fake’ one. The so-called fiancé. That grim reaper bitch. Where the hell is he? Is he even ’helping’ me? All this time he’s been running around doing god knows what. Where the ’fuck’ is he?”

As if summoned by sheer irritation, there was a knock at the door.

A moment later, the exact person she’d been cursing walked in.

Heena really, ’really’ wanted to ask if he had planted some kind of voice recorder or surveillance spell in her room. How did this bastard always show up the ’second’ she thought about him?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep