Return of Black Lotus system:Taming Cheating Male Leads

Chapter 422: Chapter-422

’Do you really want to kill me that fast?’ Heena snapped back mentally. ’Do you know how weak my heart is? You’re going to give me a heart attack!’

The system looked at her, its expression twisting into sheer disgust as if she were speaking utter gibberish. "Host, you wouldn’t even blink an eye after beating up an male lead back in the first world we worked together in. And you’re telling me you’re going to get a heart attack?"

It scoffed, shaking its head. "Believe me, Host, if anyone is going to die of a heart attack one day, it will either be me... or him."The system pointed a glowing finger straight at Samuel. "It will definitely not be you."

Heena glared at the floating entity, literally wanting nothing more than to strangle her own damn system.

It took an immense, Herculean amount of willpower for Heena to physically restrain herself .

As she forced down a few small bites of her meal, Heena’s voice echoed through her mind, completely cold and strictly business. System. Contact headquarters and apply for another host to be deployed to this world immediately.

Floating invisibly next to her, the little holographic lion was in the middle of munching on a digital rice cake. He dropped it in absolute shock, his glowing eyes wide.

"Why, Host?!"the System cried out, completely dumbfounded. "We are already deployed here and doing the work! Why call in another host?"

Because,Heena replied with an utterly absolute, non-negotiable tone, I am only going to do the work I am actually being paid for. I am not about to get dragged into some exhausting, unpaid nonsense about ’saving the world’ or fighting some rogue regressor.

She took a slow sip of her tea, her internal voice dripping with disdain.

I was paid to fulfill Seera’s final wish. Her wish was to take revenge on her abusers and crush them into the dirt. That is it. I am going to finish my specific job, and I do not care about the fate of this world, the overarching plotline, or whatever apocalyptic nonsense is brewing in the background. Throw some other host at that mess.

"But Host!"the System protested. "Aren’t you a legendary Black Lotus? The ultimate, ruthless professional? A top-tier Host should finish all the overarching quests they encounter, right?"

Heena actually scoffed out loud, startling Samuel slightly before she masked it as a cough.

Do I look like a cosmic trash collector to you? Heena snapped internally. If I agree to do this extra, unpaid world-saving work today, headquarters will just expect me to do it for free tomorrow. What if I die fighting this regressor? Do you honestly think I am crazy enough to jump into some highly dangerous, unknown business when I am not even getting any extra points for it? No thanks. Apply for a new host right now, and tell headquarters exactly what I just told you.

"...You mean, quote you word for word?" the System gulped.

Of course, word for word, Heena declared proudly. I am not scared of anyone at headquarters.

What Heena absolutely did not realize in that moment was that her System was a literal, unadulterated idiot.

He was such a naive, literal-minded fool that he actually transcribed her entire rant—complaining about unpaid overtime, calling the headquarters cheap, and referring to world-saving as "trash collection"—and sent it word for word to the central administrative network.

Naturally, this caused catastrophic damage to Heena’s professional reputation back at headquarters. Among her peers, Heena had always maintained the flawless facade of a perfectly disciplined, highly reputable, and stoic senior Host. When the transcript leaked, the entire network was utterly scandalized. *("I can’t believe the legendary Heena talks like a disgruntled mercenary!" "She really just refused a world-saving quest over overtime pay?!")*

Even though Heena genuinely didn’t care much about what other hosts thought of her, the sheer embarrassment of her System’s literal-minded stupidity would haunt her for cycles to come.

Back in the present, Heena pushed her bowl away. The food was objectively delicious, but the nauseous, heavy feeling in Seera’s failing body made it impossible to enjoy.

She and Samuel stepped out of the pavilion, finally ready to get some actual rest.

But of course, the universe refused to give her peace.

Her four grooms were exactly like stepping on a piece of sticky chewing gum on a hot day. No matter how hard you scraped your shoe against the pavement, the sticky, disgusting residue just stubbornly clung to you. These men were exactly the same. Heena was in absolutely no mood to deal with them, but they had somehow managed to intercept her in the courtyard.

Stepping forward from the pathetic lineup was the Fourth Groom.

His name was Soram—a name Heena didn’t even care enough to learn the meaning of. He stepped into her path, dressed in the scratchy, undyed linen clothes of a peasant, and offered a stiff, overly formal bow.

"Greetings, My Lady," Soram said, his voice trying desperately to maintain the deep, dignified cadence of an honorable swordsman.

Heena just stared at him, a dark, mocking sneer playing at the very edges of her lips.

She honestly wanted to laugh in his face. It was completely absurd. How could a man stand there, acting like an upright, fiercely proud warrior, when his entire existence relied entirely on leeching off a woman’s money? He was a glorified parasite wearing the mask of a righteous noble, completely oblivious to his own pathetic hypocrisy.

Soram stood tall, keeping his back entirely straight as he blocked the cobblestone path. His jaw was set tight, his hand resting instinctively where his expensive, jewel-encrusted sword ’used’ to hang—before Heena had ruthlessly confiscated everything they owned.

"My Lady," Soram began, his voice laced with tightly suppressed anger and deeply wounded pride. "I must speak with you. This... this ’punishment’ has gone on long enough. We are your designated grooms, chosen by the Marquis himself. Forcing us to wear these scratching rags, cutting off our stipends, and making us sleep in the drafty servant quarters—it is a grave insult to our dignity as noblemen."

Heena stopped walking. She didn’t look angry. She didn’t look upset.

Instead, a slow, incredibly bright, and absolutely terrifying smile spread across her pale face.

"Dignity?" Heena echoed, her voice light and entirely melodic. She tilted her head, looking at Soram from the top of his messy hair down to the cheap straw sandals on his feet.

She let out a soft, highly amused chuckle. It was the kind of laugh one might give a toddler who had just boldly claimed they could fight a dragon.

"Tell me, Soram," Heena purred, taking a single, leisurely step forward. "What exactly is this ’dignity’ you are talking about? Is it the dignity of an upright, honorable swordsman?"

Soram lifted his chin, his eyes flashing with stubborn pride. "I have trained in the blade since I was a child. I have the pride of a warrior, My Lady. I am not some street beggar to be tossed into the dirt."

"Ah, right. A warrior," Heena nodded slowly, tapping her chin in mock realization. "But tell me... that beautiful, custom-forged steel sword you used to parade around the courtyard with—who paid for that?"

Soram stiffened. His mouth opened, but no words came out.