Chapter 454: Chapter-454
Ditching her dirty outer vest, she slipped the white tunic over her clothes and picked up the silver tray, balancing it perfectly on one hand. Her demeanor shifted instantly; the rowdy street thug vanished, replaced by a quiet, unobtrusive, perfectly trained palace attendant.
As she navigated the winding, luxurious corridors leading to the Grand Mirror Hall, the rough stone walls gradually transitioned into polished white marble and gold leaf. The distant sound of classical string music and the hum of aristocratic chatter began to echo down the hallways.
Suddenly, Heena paused, stepping back into the shadow of a grand arched pillar.
Two figures were walking down the adjacent corridor, their voices hushed but tense. One of them was a high-ranking Imperial guard wearing the crest of the Royal Shield. The other was a slender young man in a lavishly embroidered silk robe, his face pale and sickly, but his eyes burning with a sharp, unnatural intensity.
It was the Seventh Prince.
"Is everything prepared for the Marquisate’s arrival?" the Prince murmured, his voice cutting through the quiet hallway like a cold breeze.
"Yes, Your Highness," the guard whispered, bowing low. "The specific poison has been slipped into the wine cask reserved exclusively for the Marcuset family’s seating area. Once the toast is made, the blame will fall entirely on the kitchen staff’s negligence, just as you planned."
Heena, hidden completely in the shadows, felt her lips curl into a terrifying, razor-sharp smile. ’’Poisoning the entire family at an Imperial Banquet? Bold, little regressor. Very bold.’’
’[H-Host!]’ the System stammered in her head, its digital core trembling. ’[He’s going to poison your grandfather and the rest of the family! What are we going to do?!]’
’’Do?’’ Heena thought, her pitch-black eyes fixed on the Prince’s retreating back as he turned the corner toward the grand hall. ’’We’re going to make sure he drinks his own toast, of course.’’
The Seventh Prince and his compromised guard continued down the corridor, their footsteps fading into the hum of the gathering aristocracy.
Heena stepped out from behind the pillar, the silver tray balanced effortlessly on her fingertips. Her expression remained completely tranquil, but inside her mind, her thoughts were moving like a calculated algorithm. ’’A wine cask reserved exclusively for the Marcuset seating area,’’ she thought, her lips curving into a dangerous line. ’’He really likes to repeat his methods. When blades fail, use poison. When poison fails, use more poison.’’
’[Host!]’ the System chimed in, its digital lights flickering a panicked amber. ’[The Imperial Banquet is about to begin in less than twenty minutes! If that specific wine cask is already tapped and waiting in the service pantry, we don’t have time to find an antidote or clear the family area without causing a massive public scene!]’
’’Who said anything about clearing the area?’’ Heena replied, her stride smooth and entirely unbothered as she walked in the opposite direction of the main hall, heading straight toward the serving staging area. ’’If the Prince went to all the trouble of selecting a vintage for my family, it would be terribly rude not to share it with the rest of the royal pavilion.’’
She navigated the labyrinth of gold-trimmed hallways until she reached the Grand Banquet Service Pantry—a massive, high-ceilinged room bustling with elite attendants adjusting their silks and checking crystal goblets. Rows of heavy, polished wooden wine casks sat on elevated silver racks, each labeled with the crests of the high noble houses to ensure flawless service.
Heena blended in seamlessly, her posture perfectly submissive, her eyes scanning the room.
There it was. Near the far corner, a small, dark oak cask bore the silver griffin crest of the Marcuset family. Sitting right next to it on the adjacent rack was a much larger, lavishly gilded cask bearing the direct crest of the Imperial Royalty—the wine meant exclusively for the Emperor, the Empress, and the Princes.
Two high-ranking servers were currently cross-checking the labels, their backs turned to Heena as they debated the serving order.
Heena didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, pretending to adjust a stack of silver plates on a nearby counter. As she did, she let her elbow lightly "slip," knocking a heavy crystal decanter off the edge.
’Smash!’
The sharp, echoing shatter of glass instantly drew the attention of every servant in the immediate vicinity. The two servers checking the casks turned their heads in a flash, their faces tight with annoyance at the clumsy "errand boy."
"Hey! Watch what you’re doing, you idiot!" one of them hissed.
In that single second of absolute distraction, Heena’s hands moved with a fluid, terrifying speed that defied the human eye. She didn’t try to siphon the poison out, and she didn’t try to ruin the wine. Instead, her fingers gripped the small, intricate brass identifier plates hooked onto the front of the racks.
’Click. Click.’
With a seamless, silent twist of her wrists, she swapped the labels.
The dark oak cask containing the Regressor’s lethal brew was now officially marked with the Imperial Royal crest. The pristine, untouched royal vintage was now labeled with the Marcuset griffin.
"I’m deeply sorry, sirs! My hands slipped!" Heena stammered in her pitch-lowered, raspy servant voice, quickly dropping to her knees to gather the broken crystal shards, her head bowed in mock terror.
"Get out of here before the head steward sees you!" the server growled, waving her away in disgust before turning back to his station.
Heena picked up her tray, bowed deeply, and retreated through the service doors into the quiet outer corridor. The moment the doors clicked shut, her terrified servant persona melted away, replaced by a cold, victorious stillness.
’[Host...]’ the System whispered, its digital core practically vibrating with a mix of awe and absolute terror. ’[You just... you just redirected a lethal assassination plot meant for the highest military house straight into the throats of the Imperial Family.]’
’’The Seventh Prince wanted a tragic, sudden death to shake up the empire’s power dynamic,’’ Heena thought, walking toward the guest entrance of the Grand Mirror Hall as the heavy brass trumpets began to echo, signaling the start of the banquet. ’’Let’s see how well he regresses when his own cup is the one overflowing.’’
.
.
.
Five minutes later...
Heena practically sprinted back toward the estate’s secluded rear exit. If the actual guest of honor—the sole heir of the Marquisate—wasn’t present at the front gates when the family carriage rolled up, the entire plan would crumble into a chaotic mess.
She reached the designated back alley, out of breath. The novice driver’s carriage was long gone, but waiting right there in the shadows was a sleek, heavy carriage bearing the official Marcuset crest.
"You! Young boy!" a sharp, frantic shout cut through the alley.
Heena snapped her head around to see Naya standing by the carriage door, her knuckles white as she tightly gripped the frame, visibly vibrating with an intense effort to control her exploding temper.
Heena trotted forward, slipping instantly back into her raspy street voice. "Yes, my lady—"
Before she could finish the sentence, Naya lunged forward, grabbed Heena by the collar of her servant’s tunic, and violently hauled her inside the moving carriage, slamming the door shut.
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