Chapter 623: Chapter-623
The System drooped slightly, its digital ears flattening. "Then... what about sending your husband away? What was the real reason? Couldn’t he protect you while you do this?"
’I sent him away because I value my peace,’ Heena scoffed coldly. ’And because having a literal villain here would only cause massive trouble. That idiot scholar would instantly jump into the work, hijack my plans, and make everything ten times harder. So, no thank you.’
"But he always protects you!" the System argued.
’He protects me by throwing the entire capital into absolute chaos,’ Heena corrected flatly. ’I am trying to safely navigate the Imperial family so my grandfather survives. Do you honestly think I would let an arrogant sociopath—who wanders into the Imperial Palace with heavily armed guards and doesn’t give a single damn about the Emperor’s authority—stay by my side during a treasonous mission? What if he decides to just assassinate the Emperor for looking at me wrong? No. He stays in the mountains.’
The System grumbled, crossing its tiny paws. "Fine. But Host, you still have to find the regressor. The one who messed up the timeline."
’Oh, don’t worry about it,’ Heena said casually, picking up a brush to start forging the ledgers. ’I will find them soon. I already have an idea.’
"Huh?!" The System zipped right in front of her face. "Who?! Tell me! I am your partner! You have to tell me all the information!"
’Shut up and move,’ Heena swatted her hand through the hologram. ’If I tell you, you will completely jinx it.’
"Are you calling me unlucky?!" the System demanded, forming a deeply exaggerated, pixelated pout on its face.
’I am not calling you unlucky, I am saying you are a liability,’ Heena deadpanned. ’If I tell you who I suspect, you will immediately write it down in your little digital reports. Then your ’higher-ups’ will just use it as another excuse to interfere, talk to me, and cause me more trouble. So, thank you, but no thank you. Just shut up and let me finish my work.’
On the completely opposite side of the capital, the Prime Minister was enjoying a remarkably productive afternoon.
Sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, dressed in flawless white robes, he gently unrolled the highly detailed intelligence dossier his shadow guards had just delivered. His dark, melancholic eyes scanned the elegant calligraphy, absorbing every single detail about the fiery, ink-stained woman from the stationery pavilion.
He didn’t just find her name; he found her entire life.
Identity: Miss Luo, legitimate daughter of the Vice Minister of Works.
Status: Currently unmarried. Not betrothed. No secret lovers.
Reputation: Outwardly, a proper, well-mannered young lady of high noble birth. Inwardly, notoriously sharp-tongued and fiercely intelligent.
Family: She has a twin brother. At the time of their birth, a highly respected monk prophesied that her destiny was tied to immense fortune.
The Prophecy: It is a fiercely guarded capital secret that whoever marries Miss Luo is destined to inherit the highest fortune and absolute prosperity.
The Prime Minister lightly tapped his long, elegant finger against the parchment.
"High fortune, huh," he murmured softly, a dark, deeply amused smile curling his lips.
He continued reading. The dossier detailed her intense love for heavy architectural books, her habit of sneaking out to buy structural engineering manuals, and her complete lack of interest in poetry or high-society tea parties.
Most importantly, there was absolutely no dark history.
In a capital filled with scheming noblewomen, hidden scandals, and poisoned tea cups, Miss Luo was entirely clean. She was a brilliant, unfiltered anomaly who spent her time studying river dams instead of political sabotage.
The Prime Minister leaned back in his chair, folding his wooden fan with a sharp snap. The humiliation of his defeat at the hands of the Vanguard Madam was completely forgotten, replaced entirely by a thrilling, dangerous new obsession. He had found his target.
The Prime Minister continued to gaze down at the intelligence dossier, a dark, genuinely fascinated smile playing on his lips.
Standing in the heavy shadows near the mahogany door, the commander of his personal shadow guards—one of his most lethal and fanatically loyal servants—watched his master’s expression carefully.
"Master," the shadow guard spoke up, his voice barely more than a rough whisper in the quiet study. "Are you interested in her?"
The Prime Minister didn’t look up from the parchment. He gently traced the characters of Miss Luo’s name with his fingertip.
"Interested, huh?" the Prime Minister murmured, his voice incredibly soft, thrumming with a dark, obsessive cadence. "Well... quite."
In the shadows, the commander’s internal circuits completely froze. A cold realization ran down the hardened assassin’s spine.
He had served the Prime Minister for over a decade. He knew exactly what that specific, terrifyingly gentle tone meant. The last time the Prime Minister had used those exact words, he had been looking at a portrait of the Second Wife. And the time before that, he had been observing the First Wife. Both of those women had met sudden, highly tragic, and completely untraceable "accidental" deaths the absolute second the Prime Minister decided he wanted a new toy.
To be the object of the Prime Minister’s profound interest was a guaranteed death sentence for whoever currently occupied the seat beside him.
The guard stepped slightly out of the shadows, bowing his head respectfully.
"So," the guard asked with horrifying, bureaucratic casualness, fully prepared to draw his blade and walk to the inner courtyard. "Should we take care of the current Madam tonight?"
The Prime Minister paused. He finally lifted his dark, melancholic eyes from the dossier, looking out the lattice window toward the locked courtyard where the Third Wife was currently recovering from the brutal, fever-inducing beating he had given her the day before.
For a brief second, there was absolutely no human emotion in his eyes. Just the cold, pragmatic calculation of a man assessing a broken piece of furniture.
"Okay, wait," the Prime Minister commanded smoothly, raising his wooden folding fan and tapping it rhythmically against his chin. "Do not touch her just yet. Let me get to know this brilliant little girl first. Miss Luo is a sharp, feral bird; if she senses blood and scandal too early, she might fly away."
He leaned back in his luxurious chair, an incredibly dark, callous smirk spreading across his flawless, angelic face.
"After all," the Prime Minister sighed, sounding genuinely inconvenienced by the entire ordeal. "It looks like I will need to get rid of my doll soon anyway. She is very beautiful... but lately, she has simply gotten so boring."
.
.
.
The night was pitch black, and the freezing capital wind howled through the cracks of an abandoned, damp warehouse on the far outskirts of the city.
Inside, the atmosphere was suffocatingly heavy.
Lord Jin, the Vice Minister of Revenue’s most beloved, arrogant, and notoriously spoiled eldest son, woke up with a violently gasping breath. A bucket of freezing, dirty well water had just been dumped entirely over his head.
He blinked, his vision blurry and his head throbbing from whatever heavy object had knocked him unconscious outside his favorite brothel an hour ago. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering lantern light, panic instantly set in. He was tied to a heavy wooden chair with thick, coarse ropes that dug painfully into his expensive silk robes.
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