Chapter 543: Chapter-543
Heena let out a long, exhausted breath. She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, her phantom glasses practically manifesting from the sheer stress of having to explain basic narrative pacing to an AI.
"System," Heena said, her voice dropping into the cold, calculated tone of someone analyzing a complex logic puzzle. "This entire world is heavily infested with people exactly like him. Corrupt ministers, abusive husbands, warmongering generals... they are everywhere. Should I really go out of my way to wage a bloody war against every single one of them?"
[Well... yes!] the System argued stubbornly. [He is evil!]
"I do not have the time," Heena stated bluntly, crushing the AI’s heroic fantasy in a single sentence.
She leaned forward, her fox-like eyes completely pragmatic. She wasn’t acting on emotion; she was acting on pure, structural logic.
"If you waste all your energy hunting down every corrupt villain that crosses your path, you completely derail the main objective. It is a simple matter of resource management," Heena explained, her mindset ruthlessly efficient. "I am here to complete a specific mission. I need to secure the Vanguard’s authority, survive the Emperor’s political traps, and figure out what to do with Samuel. I am a transmigrator, not a divine savior sent to cleanse the capital’s moral rot."
She poured the last drop of water from the porcelain pitcher into her cup, her expression turning terrifyingly indifferent.
"Unless the Prime Minister actively steps into my lane and tries to block my path, his punishment is not my problem," Heena finalized. "We stick to the mission."
The System stared at her, its glowing blue eyes wide with profound, unadulterated confusion.
[But... isn’t that fundamentally wrong, Host?] the System asked, its voice trembling slightly. [You can clearly see the horrific wrongdoing happening right in front of you, and you are just going to do absolutely nothing? Are you... are you just like the rest of them?]
Heena slowly turned her head from the window.
When she looked at the hologram, her expression was not her usual mix of sarcasm and predatory amusement. It was grave. Her eyes were impossibly cold, carrying the immense, exhausting weight of countless lifetimes. The System physically recoiled; it had never seen her look quite so ancient.
"Just because we transmigrate from one body to another," Heena said, her voice dropping into a chilling, absolute calm, "do you truly think we are invincible, System?"
The blue lion fell silent.
"If those people cannot find the courage to fight for themselves, what do you want me to do?" Heena asked bluntly. "Do you want them to just passively receive a rebirth chance again and again, waiting for a savior? Or should I just abandon my own life to do all the bleeding for them? Cannot these women use their own hands? Cannot they use their own brains? If they are perfectly fine with being beaten, sidelined, and treated as nonsense, then let them be."
[But Host!] the System argued desperately. [They are raised in a toxic environment! It is not their fault they turned out this way!]
"You are right," Heena agreed smoothly, her gaze unflinching. "It is absolutely not their fault how they were raised. But do you not think they could do something to change it once they realize they are trapped? Why must I always be the one to cross the battlefield for them?"
She leaned forward, her presence suddenly dominating the small carriage.
"Do you know what happens if I die in this world without completing my mission?" Heena demanded. "I die for real. My soul shatters. I endure this immense pain, I fight these wars, and I bleed for my hosts because they deserved it. Because the original Seera actively called for me to save the Vanguard. I do not fight just because the world is filled with pitiful people."
The System floated downward, mumbling miserably to itself.
[But Host... those women are so pitiful...]
"The women of the Empress’s palace are pitiful," Heena stated coldly. "The ministers’ wives are pitiful. Almost every single girl and woman in this entire era is pitiful. So what? Should I go on a bloody rampage and slaughter every single man in the empire?"
The System hesitated, still deeply unsatisfied with her cruel pragmatism.
[You have the power. You should help them.]
"System," Heena sighed, the coldness in her voice giving way to a deep, philosophical frustration. "Yes, these women are pitiful. But you are missing the most tragic part of this era. It is the women themselves who ensure they remain pitiful."
She tapped her finger against the carriage table, laying out the political reality of the empire.
"Do you know the laws of this land? The previous Emperor and the current Emperor actually instituted the Women’s Imperial Exams. They legally opened official government positions to women." Heena scoffed. "The door is unlocked. But it is the women themselves who refuse to step out of their courtyards. And why? Because of their parents. Because a mother in this era meticulously teaches her daughter how to be a ’better, more submissive wife.’ They teach them how to embroider, how to serve tea, and how to tolerate a cheating husband. What they actively forget to teach their daughters... is how to survive on their own two feet."
[But Host,] the System protested gently. [These women just want to be the ideal wife for their families. What is so fundamentally wrong with that?]
Heena let out a sharp, mocking laugh that held absolutely zero humor.
"The ideal wife?" Heena sneered. "What exactly is the ’ideal,’ System? Is it a woman who stays locked inside a beautifully decorated courtyard her entire life, desperately waiting for her husband to show her some pitiful, fleeting affection? Is it a woman who tolerates a dozen concubines, praying she has a son so she can use that child as a weapon to secure her status?"
She looked at the AI, dismantling the ancient romantic fantasy piece by piece.
"And then, when that precious son finally grows up and becomes the master of the house, she becomes the ’powerful’ matriarch. And do you know what she does with that power?" Heena asked bitterly. "Just like how her own mother-in-law tortured and abused her... she turns around and inflicts that exact same trauma onto her new daughter-in-law. She enforces the very same rules that ruined her own youth. Is that what you call the ideal?"
[They are just trying their best with the traditions they were given...] the System murmured weakly.
"A tradition of suffering that is passed from ancestor to generation is only popular because mothers willingly teach it to their own children," Heena stated ruthlessly. "Yes, the scars left by the previous generation are deep. But it is ultimately decided by the individual whether they want to let their own children suffer through that exact same pain."
Heena leaned back, her expression softening just a fraction as she thought of the fortified mansion in the South.
"Take Grandma Marcuset, for example," Heena said, her voice turning respectful. "Her mother was raised as a deeply traditional woman. She taught Grandma how to read elegant poetry and how to manage a household. But... she also taught her daughter how to stand on her own two feet."
Heena smiled faintly.
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