Chapter 532: Chapter-532
She thought of her extended family for a brief moment—the distant branches of the Marcuset clan—and immediately dismissed the idea.
"And as for my cousins from the branch families? I highly doubt any of them would agree to be thrown into that snake pit. They haven’t agreed on a single political stance for years, and I am certainly not going to force them to become royal hostages now. The imperial family is a toxic wasteland, System. I don’t want to take the chance. We survive by staying independent, even if it means fighting a cold war with the Emperor."
Hearing her absolute refusal, the System smartly clamped its digital mouth shut.
However, behind its glowing blue eyes, its artificial processing core was working overtime, entirely unconvinced. ’Who the hell refuses a marriage alliance with the Emperor?!’ the System thought indignantly. ’It is the ultimate honor! In every single data file I possess, noble families practically kill each other to send their daughters into the inner palace to secure power!’
But what the System completely failed to understand was that the Marcuset family was not a normal noble family. They didn’t just dislike the royal palace; they actively despised it.
If the System had actually analyzed the original Seera’s cousins, its mechanical brain would have short-circuited.
The women of the Marcuset bloodline were practically exact replicas of Grandma Marcuset. They were headstrong, ruthlessly pragmatic, and didn’t give a single damn about imperial prestige.
And they weren’t just brainless muscle, either. While the capital loved to stereotype the Marcuset family as uncultured brutes who only knew how to swing swords, the reality was terrifyingly different. The female cousins were multi-talented monsters. Some were martial arts prodigies, yes, but others were highly established poets whose verses made civil scholars weep, and others were cutthroat businesswomen who monopolized trade routes with an iron fist.
But no matter their individual talents, every single woman in the Marcuset bloodline shared exactly two unbreakable common traits: an absolute, undying love for money, and a fierce obsession with their own freedom.
Because of this, the traditional marriage market simply did not apply to them.
Most of the Marcuset women had bluntly refused to marry out. Instead, they took matrilocal husbands—handsome, submissive sons-in-law who were married directly into the Marcuset household, effectively becoming members of the wife’s domain. And as for the few cousins who actually did marry out into other families? They remained terrifyingly independent, often completely overshadowing their husbands and running their new households like military encampments.
You could clearly say that in the entire, terrifyingly competent bloodline, the original Seera was the absolute weakest link.
Why? Well, sometimes genetics just play a very cruel, ironic joke. The direct heir to the most aggressive military family in the empire had been born timid, easily manipulated, and emotionally fragile.
So, what Heena had just told the System was not an excuse. It was a simple, geographical fact: there was actually not a single Marcuset woman available, or willing, to be sent to the royal palace.
And honestly, this was highly likely the exact reason the Emperor hated the Marcuset family with such a burning, venomous passion.
For the Emperor, a marriage alliance wasn’t about romance; it was about putting a leash on a dangerous dog. By keeping a high-ranking family’s daughter in his harem, he held a permanent, entirely legal hostage. If the family stepped out of line, the daughter suffered.
But the Marcuset family had given him absolutely nothing to hold onto. There was no daughter in the palace. There was no leash. There was absolutely nothing the throne could use to naturally control them from the inside.
As for Seera, the only direct heir and the most viable hostage? She had been entirely missing for the last few years, scrubbing floors in a distant village with a head injury. The Emperor literally never got the chance to exploit her weakness or force a royal marriage upon her before she returned as the cold, entirely unhinged "Heena" who extorted his children and threw his economy into chaos.
Without a hostage, the Marcuset family was a wild, untethered beast sitting right on the Emperor’s doorstep, and it drove the imperial vipers absolutely insane.
.
.
.
Morning came far too easily.
When your body is dead tired, your mind is overflowing with political tension, and your blood pressure has been completely redlined by your idiot husband, sleep doesn’t feel like rest. It just feels like a brief, heavy blink before the sun aggressively rudely assaults your eyes again.
Heena woke up with a lingering headache, still deeply regretting the fact that she hadn’t just buried Samuel under the carriage floorboards when she had the chance.
Before she could even finish her morning tea, a booming voice echoed through the estate halls. Grandpa Marcuset was standing in the courtyard, fully strapped in his terrifying, heavy battle armor, waiting for her.
Today, Heena was going to the Imperial Court.
"An heir must know the faces of the court, Seera!" Grandpa had declared loudly, slapping his armored chest. "You are the future of the Marcuset bloodline. It is high time you stood in the grand hall and observed how the empire is truly run!"
Heena had just stared at him over the rim of her teacup.
She knew the absolute truth. Grandpa Marcuset didn’t give a single damn about her "civic education." He just wanted to physically drag her into the highest political arena in the empire to aggressively show her off. After her total domination of the capital’s gossip the day before, the old warlord was practically vibrating with the urge to parade his terrifying granddaughter in front of his political rivals.
An hour later, Heena stepped over the high wooden threshold of the grand Imperial Courtroom.
She was dressed impeccably in her signature dark leather and deep crimson robes, her hair pulled back into a strict, severe high ponytail. The heavy silver Marcuset crest rested proudly on her chest.
The Emperor had not yet arrived. The golden dragon throne sitting at the far end of the massive, echoing hall was completely empty.
But the courtroom itself was packed.
The moment Heena’s heavy boots clicked against the polished jade floor, the ambient, buzzing chatter of the capital’s most powerful men instantly died. The silence that swept through the hall was absolute and deafening.
Dozens of heads snapped toward the entrance.
Heena paused, sweeping her cold, fox-like eyes over the assembly. The civil scholars in their green and blue robes, the rival military officials, the wealthy Marquis faction—they were all staring at her.
It was exactly like watching a flock of starving vultures instantly spotting fresh prey.
Because of yesterday’s unhinged newspaper articles, every single man in this room firmly believed they knew exactly who she was. They didn’t see the terrifying, blood-soaked Vanguard Madam; they saw the ’Desperate Brick Wall’—an insecure, love-crazed woman who bought her husband’s affection.
Heena could practically read their minds just by looking at the distinct gleam in their eyes:
The Distaste: The elderly, strictly traditional scholars were looking at her as if she were a literal pile of garbage that had been tracked in on someone’s shoe. Their noses were wrinkled in sheer, aristocratic disgust at the presence of a woman who caused public, financial spectacles in the market district.
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