Chapter 483 --483
She had easily gathered the initial threads. But if someone were to ask why she didn’t just order the Marcuset Vanguard to completely investigate the Su family directly, the answer was brutally simple: survival.
The Su family was the maternal family of the reigning Empress. They stood at the absolute zenith of Imperial power. The Marcuset household had only survived this long in the capital because they maintained strict, unyielding military neutrality. If the Imperial Court caught the Vanguard actively digging up dirt on the Empress’s bloodline, the Su faction would instantly twist the narrative, framing the Marcusets for treason and turning her grandparents into political prey.
Heena absolutely refused to put a target on her grandparents’ backs. ’Why dirty your own hands and risk your own family when you can just manipulate someone else into doing the dirty work for you?’
And this Pavilion was the greatest underground information hub in the capital. She was going to squeeze every last drop of intelligence out of it.
The Master sat in stunned silence, his mind racing as he processed the horrific revelation. Finally, he forced himself to speak, his voice trembling slightly.
"What guarantee do I have that my boys are even alive?" the Master asked, his hands gripping his knees. "And even if they are... what can I possibly do about it now?"
Heena leaned back in her chair, a dark, mocking smile curving her lips. "Looks like you don’t trust your own boys very much, huh?"
The Master frowned deeply, his eyes narrowing as he waited for her to elaborate.
"Do you really think the people who survived the absolute, cutthroat hell of rising to the top of your brothel wouldn’t be able to survive a political hell?" Heena asked smoothly. "I tracked the movements of the ’gifts’ the Su family sent out. Out of all the children you lost, none of them have died completely."
The Master’s face instantly turned to cold, hard stone.
"’Not died completely’?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous, terrified whisper. "What exactly does that mean?"
Heena just gave a casual, indifferent shrug of her shoulders. "Well. Some of them have been permanently crippled. Others sustained severe, agonizing injuries from their ’owners.’ A few of them are practically brain-dead—comatose, trapped in their own minds, or something along those lines. But technically? They are all still breathing."
The Master stared at her.
Every single trace of the seductive, charming, and playful brothel owner entirely vanished. He didn’t look at her with fear or amusement anymore. He looked at her with pure, unadulterated disgust.
"Do you not feel even a fraction of guilt or pity for them?" the Master spat out, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. "You are sitting there speaking about their horrific suffering as if you are talking about non-existent dust sweeping across the floor."
Heena met his furious gaze with absolute, chilling calm. She didn’t flinch.
"It is not that I view them as non-existent dust," Heena replied, her tone completely devoid of empathy. "I am simply stating the objective facts of their condition. Weeping over it will not change the reality."
The Master let out a harsh, bitter breath, shaking his head slowly as he looked at the monster sitting across from him.
"You really do not act like the Lady Seera I know," he murmured, his eyes filled with dark suspicion.
Heena let out a sharp, mocking sneer.
"Please," she scoffed, rising slowly from her chair. "It’s not like you ever truly knew me to begin with."
Heena looked at the Master’s disgusted face for a long moment. Then, she calmly stood up, casually raising her arms to stretch her shoulders, letting out a soft, completely unbothered yawn.
She looked down at him, her tone dropping into a deadly, serious register.
"Listen to me. I genuinely do not give a damn about your moral outrage," Heena stated coldly. "If you are not going to give me the intelligence, then don’t. It is not like I am going to lose any skin off my back. I can just dig it up on my own. But the problem for ’you’ is... if I have to do it myself, I will absolutely not help you."
She leaned in slightly, a dark shadow crossing her eyes. "And I don’t know if the truth about this underground network of yours can stay hidden for much longer. After all, do you honestly think the Emperor could control his wrath if he found out that Imperial Court secrets are being hoarded by a bunch of lowly courtesans?"
The Master’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Are you actively threatening me now, My Lady?"
"Enough with the nonsense," Heena scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "We have been talking in circles for a while now, and I am definitely tired. I don’t have time for this."
A sudden, violent throb pulsed behind her eyes. The adrenaline that had been keeping the tumor’s agony at bay was rapidly wearing off, and the crushing weight of her illness was clawing its way back to the surface. She discreetly pressed a knuckle against her temple, forcing her face to remain impassive.
"You know my home address," Heena said, her voice strained but steady. "If you still want to make the deal, send the information to the Marcuset estate by nightfall. If not, then it is on you. Either way, why would I care?"
With that, she turned her back on him and walked purposefully toward the heavy oak doors.
Just as her hand hovered over the brass handle, Heena paused. She didn’t look back, but her voice echoed clearly through the quiet, lavish room.
"In this world, absolutely no one is more important to me than my own life," Heena said slowly, letting the cold reality of her nature hang in the air. "There is no one in this empire for whom I would willingly destroy or endanger myself."
She finally turned her head, casting a chilling glance over her shoulder.
"But ’you’... you should really think about it. In the last ten years, they took exactly twelve of your children. Twelve. Just think about how many more will be gone in the next ten."
She let the silence stretch for a agonizing second before driving the psychological knife as deep as it would go.
"Have you ever stopped to think about what their lives became when they were treated as nothing more than disposable gift exchanges?" Heena whispered ruthlessly. "Have you ever thought about what they must have felt? Believing that they were finally freed from the mud of this brothel... only to realize they had been thrown into a far, far worse hell?"
The Master stood completely frozen.
His perfectly powdered face paled. For a second, he looked like a statue. Then, his hands began to tremble. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw visibly popped, and his fists clenched until his knuckles turned completely white.
"Do you think we didn’t know?" his voice cracked, a low, guttural sound of pure agony.
Heena was just about to push the door open when he completely snapped.
’’"Do you think we didn’t know?!"’’ the Master roared, his voice shattering the soundproofed walls.