The system’s face crumpled. "But host—"
"No buts!"
What Heena ’didn’t’ know—and what System 427 desperately prayed she’d ’never’ discover—was that he’d been betting against her.
With other systems watching this world.
Every ti a noble confronted her, he’d bet she’d lose her temper, snap publicly, show her "Black Lotus" side. And every ti, the other systems bet she’d maintain perfect grace and composure.
He’d lost. Again. And again. ’And again.’
Because this insane woman sohow managed to act like a completely different person in public. Poised, regal, controlled—’nothing’ like the maniac who’d tied five n to a bed and calmly discussed waxing while they scread.
The other systems raked in his points every single ti, convinced Heena was a model Empress.
’If she ever finds out,’ System 427 thought, trembling, ’she’ll delete . Permanently.’
Heena, oblivious to his internal panic, finally collapsed back into her chair with a long sigh. The popcorn sat on her desk, half-eaten. She stared at it for a long mont, then grabbed a handful and shoved it in her mouth.
"Damn bureaucracy," she muttered through the kernels. "Damn nobles. Damn this whole world."
System 427 watched her nervously. "Host... are you okay?"
Heena laughed—sharp, exhausted, a little unhinged. "Do I ’look’ okay? I’ve been awake for thirty hours. I’ve imprisoned two nobles, audited six domains, drafted constitutional reforms, and apparently announced I’m looking for another husband. All while one High Priest is tied to my bed recovering from a waxing trauma."
She ate another handful of popcorn.
"But sure. I’m ’great’."
The system wisely said nothing.
Outside, dawn broke over the capital. Sowhere in the palace, Raphael was probably still screaming. The other four consorts were scattered across the empire, blissfully unaware their world was about to shift under their feet.
And Heena sat in her study, surrounded by ledgers and flickering candles, eating stolen popcorn and plotting the systematic dismantling of centuries of corruption.
Just another day as Empress.
Another knock. The clerk’s voice, now trembling: "Your Majesty? Lord Ashton requests entry. He says it’s urgent."
Heena’s expression shifted—annoyance mixed with curiosity. "Send him in."
Estov—no, Ashton—swept through the door with his characteristic dramatic flair, silver hair slightly disheveled, grey eyes dancing with mischief. He took one look at the stacks of docunts, the scattered evidence of noble corruption, and let out a low whistle.
"My, my. Soone’s been busy. Should I co back later, or is it safe to assu you haven’t started murdering people in here yet?"
Heena pointed her quill at him. "You’re interrupting my systematic dismantling of corrupt nobility. This better be important."
Ashton’s grin widened. "Oh, it is. You rember that little problem we discussed? The white lotus’s criminal system?" He pulled a sealed envelope from his coat. "I found him."
Heena’s eyes sharpened. "You found the system?"
"Better." Ashton dropped the envelope on her desk. "I found where he’s been hiding. And more importantly..." His smile turned vicious. "I found his weakness."
Heena stared at Ashton like he had just grown a second head.
"Wow," she drawled, leaning back in her chair. "So after spending so many days dripping in ’pleasure’, now you rember you actually have a job?" Her eyes narrowed. "And what grand discovery did you make, oh great spy? Where the system is hiding?" She snorted. "Of course I know where it is. What the hell are you even bragging about?"
Ashton’s confident grin twitched.
"And this ’weakness’ you’re so proud of," she continued, voice turning sugar-sweet. "May I ask what exactly that is? Because unless you’re holding the system’s soul in a jar, I’m not in the mood to clap for you."
Truthfully, she ’was’ interested. This was the most important piece of the puzzle. But there was no way in any world she would admit that to this bastard. The last ti she acknowledged he’d done sothing impressive, he’d ridden on her head for an entire year.
She still rembered it.
Different world. Different mission. New male lead acting like a complete dog-blood drama king. She’d barely arrived, still figuring out the plot, still getting used to a male lead who threw tantrums like a diva on her period—when Ashton sauntered in, glanced at a few lines of data, and announced the guy’s favorite food in ’seven seconds’.
Heena, who had crossed more worlds than she could count and prided herself on reading n like open books, had been impressed for a whole five seconds.
Biggest mistake of her life.
Because the mont she said, "Not bad," this lunatic spent the ’entire year’ making her run his errands. Every disgusting mission, every slimy backdoor deal, every "small favor" that sohow turned into a three-month undercover operation—dumped on her. And because the world setting was twisted, half of those "missions" involved her, a very straight woman, having to flirt and romance another woman for intel.
Only she knew how much ntal bleach she’d needed afterward.
Never again.
So when Ashton stood there now, eyes shining, clearly waiting for praise, all he got was her deadpan stare.
He clicked his tongue, offended. "You really are heartless. I hand-deliver you critical intel and you can’t even ’please’ soone a little?"
Heena arched a brow. "I already gave it to two male models. I’m fresh out of charity. So shut the hell up and start talking."
His pretty smile cracked into a fuming one, but he straightened and finally got to the point.
"Well," he said, dropping into the chair opposite her, "I found that the system is still continuously sucking from its ’source’."
Heena blinked once. "I know that," she said flatly. "He’s a criminal system piggybacking off a white lotus. Of course he’s leeching her favorability. If you don’t have anything ’new’, get out."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Ashton leaned forward, hands raised. "You might not know ’this’ part."
She folded her arms, unimpressed but listening.
"You know that vein between them," he said, searching for words. "The connection. Every ti the white lotus—your dear opponent—loses the main leads’ favorability, it drains that vein."
Heena’s eyes sharpened, but she didn’t speak.
"If their favor drops even a little—say, to ten percent—she starts getting sick," Ashton continued. "Fevers, weakness, random illnesses. The lower it goes, the worse she gets. And when it hits zero?" He tapped the desk. "She dies. And when ’she’ dies, the system shares the pain. He doesn’t just lose the host; he gets dragged through her death with her. Agony, overload—he can’t work properly at all. That’s his biggest weak point."
Now Heena paused.
’That’ was interesting.
She went still, gaze fixing on Ashton, silently ordering him to go on.
Encouraged, he smirked. "And you know what else I found? That damn system didn’t just go rogue. He actually ’ran away’ from the Bureau."
She knew that much—an unregistered, illegal system attached to Seraphina—but she let him talk.
"The Bureau tried to arrest him," Ashton said, tone turning mocking. "Couldn’t. Because behind him there’s a very strong gangster-type system backing him. You know, the kind of shady one that deals under the table—black markets, unregistered contracts, all that."
He waved his hand vaguely. "A black system. The kind they use to act like they’re above the rules or outside them. I don’t even know its real na, so I just called it ’Black’ in my notes."
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