Chapter 635: Chapter-635
Heena turned to look at the trembling scholars, her red lips curving into a dazzling, sociopathic smile.
"Oh my, why do you guys look so pale?" Heena taunted cheerfully. "It’s my wedding, not your funeral. Come on guys, drink!"
The Prime Minister’s eyes narrowed dangerously, the benevolent mask finally cracking. "My lady should control her words. After all, you are still a young noble lady, and I do not think you should speak to your elders like this."
"Come on, my Lord, why are you getting so angry?" Heena tilted her head innocently, playing the fool to absolute perfection. "Isn’t this just how we generals talk?" She looked back at her heavily armed uncles and lieutenants. "Am I saying anything wrong?"
"Not at all!" Kael grunted, crossing his arms and glaring at the scholars. "We talk exactly like this."
Heena turned back to the Prime Minister, her dark eyes completely flat and devoid of warmth. "See? In our culture, talking about death is actually a celebrated thing."
The Prime Minister opened his mouth to shoot back a sharp, venomous scholarly retort about her absolute lack of manners, but he never got the chance.
A servant suddenly sprinted into the courtyard, completely out of breath. Over the estate walls, the deafening clash of ceremonial gongs and the explosive pop of thousands of firecrackers echoed through the night sky.
"The groom is here!" the servant shouted at the top of his lungs, waving his arms frantically. "The groom is here!"
Heena paused. The cold, calculating Vanguard Madam instantly faltered for a split second as the drums grew louder.
"Oh my god," the System yelled in her mind, throwing digital confetti everywhere. "Host! The scholar is at the door! At least try to act like a girl for five minutes!"
’Why?’ Heena shot back in her mind, her internal voice completely deadpan as she smoothed out the front of her heavy red silk gown. ’If I suddenly start acting like a shy, blushing maiden, is your Lord going to raise my mission payout? No. I am still getting the exact same amount of points. So why the hell should I care about putting on a free performance?’
Hovering near the ceiling, the System opened its little digital mouth to argue, but then immediately shut it.
It couldn’t argue, because that was the absolute, undeniable truth. Heena was operating on a strictly fixed cosmic salary.
She was only getting paid for two specific objectives in this timeline: first, fulfilling the original Seera’s dying wish which she long achieved by taking care of grooms and her parents as for protecting the Vanguard family (which, by securing the Five Imperial Pardons and adopting a human shield, she had basically already achieved extra work for seera ), and second, stopping the unknown ’regressor’ who was messing up the timeline’s natural flow.
In reality, ninety percent of Heena’s mandated mission was already complete. The only thing left on her cosmic checklist was finding that elusive regressor and completely cleaning up their mess.
The System floated down, a deeply confused expression forming on its pixelated face. It looked at the staggering, rain-scented courtyard, the thousands of glowing diyas, the intricate rice patterns, and the political bloodbath Heena had orchestrated over the last week.
"Wait," the System realized, its blue eyes widening. "Host... if your mission is basically done... why are you doing all of this? The political war? Forcing the Emperor’s hand? This massive wedding? You could just sit back, find the regressor, and clock out!"
Heena didn’t answer immediately. She watched the heavy wooden gates of the estate slowly begin to open as the deafening sound of the wedding gongs reached a crescendo. The glow of the red lanterns caught the fierce, protective light in her dark eyes.
’Shut up,’ Heena commanded softly in her mind. ’Don’t disturb me right now. It’s my marriage.’
The System crossed its tiny paws, grumbling internally as it floated back up to the rafters to watch the procession.
"Yeah, yeah," the System muttered under its digital breath, rolling its eyes. "You act like this is so sacred. You’ve been married a thousand couple of times across a thousand different mission worlds..."
The System paused, looking down at Heena. Despite her cold, sociopathic exterior, and despite the fact that she was a seasoned world-hopper who had lived countless lives, there was a completely undeniable, genuine tension in her shoulders as she waited for the groom’s sedan chair to enter the courtyard.
"...but you are still acting like it’s brand new," the System finished quietly, a rare, soft smile touching its face.
The massive iron gates swung fully open.
The ceremonial drums hit their final, heart-pounding beat, and a heavy, incredibly opulent red sedan chair was carried into the Vanguard courtyard. The civil scholars held their breath. The Vanguard generals cheered loud enough to shake the stone walls.
The heavy wooden poles of the sedan chair were set down onto the stone courtyard with a synchronized, echoing thud.
The deafening drums and firecrackers instantly ceased, leaving a sudden, breathless silence in the air. The Vanguard generals crossed their massive arms, grinning from ear to ear, while the civil scholars leaned forward, clutching their silk sleeves in sheer, morbid curiosity.
Heena took a slow, steady step forward, the heavy gold of her phoenix crown catching the light of a thousand flickering diyas.
An elderly Vanguard attendant stepped up to the sedan chair and respectfully pulled back the heavy red velvet curtains.
A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped out into the glowing courtyard.
Samuel was dressed in magnificent, heavily layered red wedding robes. The silk was meticulously embroidered with silver and gold threads, matching the sheer opulence of Heena’s gown. He stood well over six feet tall, radiating the terrifying, untouchable aura of the capital’s most dangerous genius.
But it was what was on his head that nearly caused the entire civil court to have a collective, synchronized aneurysm.
Draped perfectly over Samuel’s head, completely covering his handsome face and cascading down past his shoulders, was a traditional, sheer red bridal veil.
The courtyard erupted into absolute, mind-breaking chaos.
The civil officials gasped out loud, some physically staggering backward as if they had just been slapped. A grown man—a brilliant scholar, no less—publicly wearing a bridal veil! It was the ultimate, humiliating symbol of a matrilocal marriage, a blatant display of submission to a woman’s household. In the patriarchal, fiercely proud society of the empire, it was an image so completely absurd and scandalous that several older scholars looked like they were genuinely about to faint.
Standing in the front row, the Prime Minister stared at the veiled groom. The crisp, elegant snap of his wooden fan breaking cleanly in half echoed in the silence, his flawless, angelic mask glitching entirely as his brain failed to process the sheer audacity of the scene.
Heena stopped right in front of him. She looked at this towering, lethal man wrapped in a delicate red veil, and a genuine, uncontainable laugh escaped her lips.
Through the sheer red silk, she could faintly see the sharp curve of his jaw and the brilliant, dangerous gleam of his golden eyes. He wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest. He was standing perfectly straight, completely owning the moment, practically radiating smug satisfaction at the absolute horror he was causing his political rivals.
"Mr. Son-in-law," Heena murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. "You actually wore it."
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