Chapter 538: Chapter-538
She tilted her head back toward the open sky, letting out a long, deeply exhausted exhale. She reached a leather-gloved hand up to massage the back of her stiff neck, working out the knots that had formed from three agonizing hours of standing perfectly still.
For more than a hundred and eighty minutes, those ancient, silk-draped nobles had done absolutely nothing but argue in circles, bicker over useless semantics, and throw thinly veiled, poetic insults at each other. The actual, pressing problems of the empire were buried under mountains of bureaucratic nonsense.
The air beside her head shimmered, and the tiny, holographic blue lion popped into existence.
[Host, that was entirely exhausting to process,] the System grumbled, its digital voice laced with static. [I recorded the whole story of that courtroom session, and honestly... 90% of it was just passive-aggressive filler.]
Heena shrugged her stiff shoulders, rolling her neck until it gave a satisfying pop. "Well, yeah. What else did you expect? That is politics, System. What happened in there wasn’t exactly unexpected. The problem was already waiting for us. It’s there, so let’s just deal with it."
The System floated a little closer, looking at her with its big, pixelated eyes. It let out a soft, digital sigh.
[At the very least, Host... you have the absolute support of the Grandpa and Grandma in this world. That is a massive advantage!]
Heena paused, her hand dropping from her neck.
She looked out over the sprawling, golden-roofed capital city, her fox-like eyes softening just a fraction of a millimeter.
Actually, she thought the exact same thing. This world was incredibly, bizarrely lucky.
As a veteran transmigrator, Heena was not new to this game. She had traveled through hundreds of different worlds, possessing the bodies of countless tragic heroines, doomed villains, and forgotten side characters. And believe it or not, in almost every single one of those lifetimes, absolutely nobody had supported her.
Usually, the original host’s family was the very first obstacle she had to slaughter her way through. She was used to waking up in bodies surrounded by abusive stepmothers, treacherous siblings, or fathers who actively wished she were dead so they could steal her inheritance. She was entirely used to fighting the whole world completely alone.
So, to wake up in a world where the terrifying warlord grandfather would literally start a war to protect her honor, and the absentee grandmother was secretly planning massive financial crimes just to give her a tactical advantage?
It was a profound, shocking surprise. It was the first time in hundreds of lifetimes that someone genuinely supported her work without asking for anything in return.
"Yeah," Heena murmured softly, a rare, genuine warmth in her voice. "I suppose I am lucky this time."
She shook off the sentimental thoughts, her sharp, calculating demeanor instantly snapping back into place. She began descending the massive jade steps, her heavy boots clicking rhythmically against the stone.
[So, Host...] the System asked, hovering right by her shoulder. [What are we going to do about the Emperor’s edict? The Imperial Banquet is tomorrow night!]
Heena calmly shrugged her shoulders again, her face returning to its usual, deadly indifference.
"What do you mean, ’what are we going to do’?" Heena asked, raising a single eyebrow at the floating blue lion. "We are going to work. It is an absolute Imperial Edict issued directly from the golden throne. So, we are just going to obey it and bring Samuel to the banquet."
The System’s hologram glitched, its ears drooping in sheer confusion.
[But Host! Are you sure?!] the System panicked, flying in front of her face. [You just spent the entire morning explaining how dangerous it is to expose him! The Prime Minister and the civil scholars are going to eat him alive!]
Heena didn’t stop walking. She just looked at the System, her eyes cold and utterly pragmatic.
"System, we are here to complete a job," Heena stated flatly. "Even without Grandpa and Grandma acting as a shield, we are perfectly capable of doing the heavy lifting ourselves. I am not going to coddle him."
She looked toward the Vanguard estate in the distance, thinking of the brilliant, devastatingly handsome villain who was currently lounging in her courtyard, sipping expensive tea on her dime.
"Besides," Heena smirked, a dangerous, deeply highly entertained glint flashing in her eyes. "If Samuel truly wants to be the official husband of the strongest military heir of empire... then he needs to prove he can survive the crossfire. Let’s see if our little husband can actually work for his keep."
Before Heena could even finish her telepathic conversation with the System, a smooth, melodic voice called out from the jade terrace behind them, interrupting her thoughts.
"Lady Seera."
Heena paused mid-step. She took a slow, deep breath, mentally preparing herself for war, and turned around.
When she saw who it was, she had to suppress a highly inappropriate sigh. It was him. The Prime Minister in his pristine green-and-white silk robes.
’Okay,’ Heena admitted in the absolute privacy of her own mind. ’I am angry, I am stressed, and I know for a fact this man is a walking political death trap... but damn it, the bastard is gorgeous.’
She truly couldn’t deny it. Even with her murderous mood, her eyes easily recognized his ethereal, almost otherworldly handsomeness. But a handsome viper was still a viper, and Heena wasn’t about to let a pretty face drop her guard.
"Greetings to the Prime Minister," Heena said, her voice perfectly polite but completely devoid of warmth.
Instead of curtsying or bowing, she simply gave him a slight, brief tilt of her head.
Seeing this, the Prime Minister smiled back. However, if one looked closely, the corners of that brilliant, flawless smile were just slightly... stiff.
The reason for his stiffened smile was painfully clear. Heena had just blatantly refused to greet him the way a standard noble lady was expected to.
In this ancient, hyper-traditional society, the rules of etiquette were suffocating. When a normal noble lady met the Prime Minister—the highest-ranking official in the civil court—she was expected to bow deeply, practically folding herself in half to show deference. Those girls bowed so low because their noble families were weak, their fathers were trying to climb the political ladder, and the women themselves held no actual, functional titles.
But Heena was not going to do that nonsense.
She was the direct heiress of the empire’s strongest military family. If she bowed down like a submissive, uneducated idiot in front of the leader of the civil faction, she would be directly insulting the martial pride of the Vanguard.
And more importantly, she had the law on her side.
Decades ago, Grandpa Marcuset hadn’t just won battles; he had won the absolute favor of the previous Emperor. The late Emperor had personally bestowed a highly exclusive, ironclad imperial decree upon the Marcuset family:
Except for the Imperial Family and the Crown itself, no member of the Marcuset bloodline was ever required to bow to anyone.
So, while the Prime Minister might be used to the rest of the capital falling to their knees at the mere sight of his green robes, Heena merely looked him in the eye, fully utilizing her grandfather’s legal immunity.
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