Chapter 617: Chapter-617
Heena slowly turned her eyes back to the Emperor, her expression as calm and detached as if she were sitting in a teahouse, rather than having a black-steel blade pressed against her carotid artery.
"Your Majesty," Heena said smoothly. "The poison I administered to the Prime Minister... you knew about it quite easily. The absolute chaos that happened last night? You expect me to believe you didn’t know?"
She let out a short, cynical scoff.
"Come on. Your shadow guards are everywhere. An Emperor who has covered this entire empire in a flawless web of informants and spies—how could it be that you don’t even have eyes in your own palace? I saw them last night. So please, don’t make excuses and feign ignorance with me."
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed slightly, a dangerous spark lighting up in the dark depths of his gaze.
"As for why I am talking like this," Heena continued, entirely unbothered. "If it is rude, I apologize. But it was you who ordered me to throw away the political nonsense. So, I am simply speaking clearly."
The Emperor rested his chin on his knuckles, studying her face. "Hmm. So what are you trying to say, Vanguard? Do you doubt me? Are you saying I am lying?"
"Of course you are lying, Your Majesty," Heena replied instantly, without a single shred of hesitation.
Shhhk.
The Black Feather guard’s hand twitched in anger at her blatant treason. The razor-sharp edge of the blade pressed a millimeter deeper into her skin.
Heena didn’t blink. She just tilted her head a fraction of an inch, looking down at the blade, and then back at the Emperor. "See? Even your dog is getting restless."
The Emperor’s gaze shifted to the knight. The amusement completely vanished from his face, replaced by the terrifying, blood-freezing aura of a tyrant.
"Back off," the Emperor commanded. His tone wasn’t loud, but it was so purely, intensely murderous that the temperature in the room plummeted.
The Black Feather immediately withdrew the sword, stepping backward and melting into the shadows without a single sound.
Heena raised her hand, lightly dabbing her neck. A single, tiny drop of blood smeared across her pale fingertip. She looked at it, then wiped it away with her thumb.
"See," Heena muttered, casting a cold side-eye at the shadow guard. "A dog left a bite, huh."
She turned her attention back to the Emperor, leaning her elbows on the table.
"Your Majesty," Heena began, her tone finally shifting into something resembling absolute sincerity. "Right now, you and I are sitting here talking, and it is only because of two reasons. First, it is not because you are my sovereign, or because of all that blind, patriotic loyalty my grandfather and the other generals spout."
She looked him dead in the eye.
"It is only because I literally respect you," Heena stated. "And second, it is because I genuinely like you as my master."
The Emperor completely froze. The Emperor of the realm, a man who had heard millions of empty flatteries and political lies, actually blinked in sheer surprise.
"Oh?" the Emperor raised an eyebrow, a skeptical smirk playing on his lips. "Are you trying to butter me up, little Vanguard?"
"Come on, Your Majesty," Heena sighed, rolling her eyes. "Do you honestly think I need to butter you up? If I were trying to flatter you, I would have bowed on the floor and spoken like a trembling scholar. I wouldn’t be talking to you like this."
The Emperor stared at her calmly, analyzing every micro-expression on her face. "So what exactly do you mean when you say you respect me? Every subject in this empire respects me."
"No, they don’t," Heena corrected sharply. "They respect the throne. They respect the crown on your head and the absolute power you hold. But I don’t care about the chair."
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping low.
"I respect the Seventh Prince who fought for it. The crown prince was supposed to be someone else. But it was you, the Seventh Prince, who rode out, fought war after bloody war, and then ruthlessly slaughtered his own brothers to take the throne he deserved. And despite all that blood on your hands... you still know the true value of your subjects."
The Emperor’s smirk slowly faded. The air in the room grew incredibly heavy as she brought up the darkest, bloodiest Chapter of his past—a taboo subject that would normally get a person executed on the spot.
"And why do you think that?" the Emperor asked quietly.
"Because the Vanguard family is the most powerful military force in the empire," Heena answered bluntly. "Historically, the moment an Emperor secures the throne, he purges his strongest generals to prevent a rebellion. If you wanted to, you could have killed my grandfather and wiped out my family a long time ago. It is incredibly easy for an Emperor to get rid of a loyal subject. But you didn’t. You let the Vanguard family live, acknowledging our sacrifices and our blood."
The Emperor stared at her for a long, agonizing silence.
Then, he smiled. It wasn’t the fake, polite smile he gave the civil officials, nor was it the terrifying smirk of a tyrant. It was the genuine, predatory smile of a man who had finally found someone in the capital who spoke his language.
"Hmm," the Emperor murmured, tracing the rim of his cracked teacup. "Quite a fantasy you have, Vanguard. Why do you think I actually care about your family’s sacrifices?"
He leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto hers, fully testing her absolute limit.
"It may be because I simply wanted to let the Vanguard dogs grow fat before I slaughtered them," the Emperor challenged, his voice laced with venomous amusement. "Or perhaps I was just waiting for the perfect, irrefutable excuse to wipe you all out."
Heena didn’t even flinch. She just stared right back at him, her lips curling into a knowing, entirely fearless smirk.
"If that were true," Heena countered smoothly, "you would have let the Prime Minister finish his petition this morning. You had your perfect excuse handed to you on a silver platter. But instead, you let me destroy him, and you threw the Prime Minister under the carriage."
The Emperor paused.
Then, he threw his head back and let out a booming, genuine laugh that rattled the thin wooden walls of the cheap hotel room.
The Emperor’s booming laughter echoed off the thin wooden walls, entirely shattering the suffocating, murderous tension in the small hotel room.
It was a genuine, chest-deep laugh that he hadn’t allowed himself to release in years. The three Black Feathers hidden in the shadows remained perfectly still, but even they seemed to collectively freeze in sheer disbelief at the sound.
The Emperor slowly leaned back in his rickety chair, raising a calloused finger to wipe a single, genuine tear of amusement from the corner of his eye. He let out a long breath, looking across the scarred wooden table at the young woman sitting perfectly relaxed before him.
"You know," the Emperor chuckled, the dangerous edge in his voice completely melting into profound, undeniable approval. "I really like you, girl."
He rested his forearms on the table, his dark, calculating eyes locking onto hers.
"You remind me of myself."
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