novelraw Chapter 190 --190
Chapter 190 --190
She fixed the cuff on her sleeve carefully.
"But I will ask you one thing: if tomorrow you were to die suddenly, would you have regrets? Or would you be satisfied with how you lived?"
They bit their lips, unable to answer.
Kieran’s mother finally spoke: "Then what do you want us to do, Your Majesty? Should we just leave everything? Lose everything after fighting all these years?"
Heena looked at them and laughed—genuinely laughed.
"Who said you’d lose? Let me ask you: what do you even ’have’ right now? Fake names? Fake titles? You’re supposed to be the main wives, and yet you’re insulted in front of servants constantly."
She stood straighter.
"You are some of the most prominent women in this empire—women that even my mother respected. Do you really think your husbands gained ’nothing’ by marrying you? Do you think that even with all their white moonlights, they married you because they had no choice? Because they felt guilty? No. They married you because they knew what you ’possessed’. Your connections. Your bloodlines. Your value."
She fixed her clothes, preparing to leave.
"I’m not going to give you false promises. But I will say this: this empire still lacks advisors. However, I cannot have ’married’ people as my advisors."
With that, she turned and walked away.
The four women stood frozen in place.
---
As Heena walked down the corridor, the System floated beside her, confused.
"Host, I don’t understand. You said you were going to ’break houses,’ but all I heard was you lecturing them."
Heena smiled. "System, do you know how a silkworm dies?"
The System blinked. "Because they love someone too much and then they die?"
Heena shook her head. "No. They die because they give their threads too much attention, wrapping themselves tighter and tighter until they suffocate."
She looked at him.
"These women and these men—after so many years, do you really think they still have love left for their husbands?"
The System paused. "But they’re still living with them, aren’t they? Doesn’t that mean—"
"No," Heena interrupted. "They don’t have any love left. What they have is pride. Ego. The truth is, any woman who ’loves’ a man for such a long time in these circumstances only does so when there’s mutual benefit or when they have no other option."
She continued walking.
"These women stay with their husbands because they don’t want to ’lose’ to the mistresses. Kieran’s mother has nowhere to return to—her empire won’t take her back. And she refuses to lose to a ’maid’. Adrian’s mother doesn’t want to lose to her dead sister, and she knows her parents wouldn’t support her. Leaving would mean admitting defeat. Same for Lucian’s mother—after all those years of hard work, giving birth to a son, being treated poorly—how can she accept being ranked lower than a mistress?"
"And Damien’s stepmother is too prideful to let anyone walk over her."
The System processed this. "But Host, after love fades, isn’t it usually hatred? Or death? Or something dramatic?"
Heena bonked him on the head. "Where did you get your understanding from? Stop reading those nonsense romance cliches!"
She sighed.
"When you’re blindly in love, you have rose-tinted glasses. Everything looks beautiful. But when those glasses are removed, your mind becomes sharper. Clearer. That’s what’s happening with these women."
"But what if you guessed wrong?" the System asked.
"Give it three days," Heena said confidently. "Within three days, these women will come back and accept the advisor positions."
"But what do ’you’ gain from this? You’re already making the dukes abandon their sons. Why destroy their families too? Isn’t that what a homewrecker would—"
’SLAP!’
"You fucking moron!" Heena glared at him.
The System covered his head. "Host! If you keep hitting me like this, I’ll become dumb!"
"You’re already dumb, so it doesn’t make a difference."
She took a breath and explained:
"These women are tools for me right now. If they stay with the dukes, think about the consequences I’d have to suffer. But if they divorce, in this empire they’d take half the property. The dukes’ power would weaken significantly. Even if someday they wanted to recognize their sons again, they wouldn’t have the resources."
"Secondly, these women are smart. I don’t want to waste intelligent women. I like strong women, and I need good advisors."
She grinned.
"And third? It’s fun."
She laughed out loud.
The System stared at her. ’This woman is a devil.’
---
## Meanwhile: The Assassination Attempt
On the other side of the palace, Larus was sitting in his chambers eating pastries.
He’d sent the guards away, wanting some peace and quiet to enjoy the desserts that had been prepared for him.
He picked up his fork, cutting into a delicate fruit tart, bringing it toward his mouth—
’WHOOSH!’
A sword sliced through the air from behind, aimed directly at his neck.
Larus didn’t even blink.
In a split-second motion—without even standing from his chair—he tilted his body sideways, the blade passing so close to his ear he could feel the wind from it.
The pastry remained perfectly balanced on his fork.
The assassin, shocked at missing such an easy target, stumbled forward from the momentum of his attack.
Larus, still seated, calmly took the bite of pastry he’d been about to eat.
He chewed thoughtfully, then looked at the assassin with mild curiosity.
"Ah, an assassin," he said pleasantly. "How many of you are there?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if counting.
"Five, huh?"
And just like that, all five assassins emerged from the shadows—from behind curtains, from under furniture, from the ceiling rafters.
They surrounded him in a perfect circle, weapons drawn: two with swords, one with daggers, one with a chain-whip, one with throwing knives.
Larus slowly stood up, still holding his fork.
He didn’t reach for a weapon. Didn’t call for guards. Didn’t even look particularly concerned.
He just held his dessert fork like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Shall we begin?" he asked politely.
---
’’The assassin with the chain-whip attacked first.’’
The whip cracked through the air, wrapping toward Larus’s throat with deadly precision.
Larus spun—fluid and graceful as a dancer—the whip missing him by millimeters. In the same motion, he stepped ’into’ the attack rather than away, closing the distance.
His fork flashed forward, stabbing through the chain links and ’twisting’.
The chain tangled around the fork. Larus yanked hard, pulling the assassin off-balance.
As the man stumbled forward, Larus’s free hand came up, palm striking the assassin’s solar plexus with devastating force.
The man flew backward, crashing into the wall, unconscious before he hit the ground.
’’The two sword-wielders attacked simultaneously’’ from left and right.
Larus dropped into a crouch, both blades passing over his head where they would have decapitated him.
He spun on one foot, leg sweeping out in a low arc that caught both attackers at the ankles.
They fell.
Before they could recover, Larus was already moving—he stomped down on one man’s wrist, forcing him to drop his sword. The fork in his hand stabbed down, pinning the man’s sleeve to the wooden floor.
The second swordsman was scrambling up. His blade came slashing toward Larus’s exposed back.