Return of Black Lotus system:Taming Cheating Male Leads-Chapter 149 --

The Duchess looked at her niece’s expression, recognized the genuine exhaustion and fraying patience, and wisely retreated.

"Sleep well, Your Majesties," she said, and mercifully closed the door behind her.

The moment they were alone, Heena and Larus looked at each other.

And burst out laughing.

Not polite laughter. Not diplomatic chuckles. Full, unrestrained, slightly hysterical laughter born of exhaustion and relief and the sheer absurdity of the day they’d just survived.

"We did it," Heena gasped between laughs. "We actually survived."

"I can’t feel my face from smiling," Larus managed, leaning against the wall for support. "I think I permanently damaged my smile muscles."

"My feet are going to fall off," Heena said, kicking off her ceremonial shoes with such force that one flew across the room. "Whoever invented those shoes hated women."

"Everything hurts," Larus agreed, slumping into a chair. "But we’re married now. Officially. Legally. Irrevocably."

"We are," Heena confirmed, and despite everything—the exhaustion, the aching feet, the sore knees, the smile-fatigue—she felt genuinely happy about that.

She walked over to where Larus sat and, without thinking about it too hard, settled into his lap.

He made a surprised sound but his arms immediately came around her, holding her steady.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice warm with amusement.

"Very," Heena said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Don’t read anything into this. I’m just too tired to find another chair."

"Of course," Larus agreed solemnly. "Purely practical."

They sat like that for a while, neither speaking, just breathing together and letting the chaos of the day finally fade into peaceful quiet.

"Thank you," Heena said eventually.

"For what?"

"For being there. For the hand-holding, and the secret smiles, and the under-table foot nudges. For making it bearable."

Larus’s arms tightened slightly around her. "Always. That’s what partners do."

"Partners," Heena repeated, testing the word. "I like that."

"Good," Larus said. "Because you’re stuck with me now."

"I am," Heena agreed. "And surprisingly, I don’t hate it."

"High praise," Larus laughed.

"Don’t get used to it," Heena warned, but her tone was fond.

They sat together in the quiet of the imperial chambers, exhausted and happy and finally, ’finally’ alone.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new politics, new complications.

But tonight—tonight they were just two people who’d survived the most elaborate wedding in imperial history.

And that felt like an accomplishment worth celebrating.

Even if celebrating meant sitting in exhausted silence, too tired to move but too content to care.

It was perfect.

.

.

.

Thirty minutes later in corridor .

"Enough," Heena said firmly, grabbing Larus’s hand. "Let’s go to sleep."

They took exactly one step forward when suddenly Heena was pulled backward sharply.

Larus’s hand was yanked from hers, and he stumbled back as the Duchess materialized between them like some kind of tradition-enforcing demon, a serene smile on her face.

"Where do you think you’re going, Your Majesty?" the Duchess asked pleasantly.

Heena stared at her aunt with exhausted disbelief. "Aunt, all the rituals are already done. Now we’re going to sleep. Come on, Larus, let’s—"

She reached for his hand again, but the Duchess intercepted, physically placing herself as a barrier between them. She gently but firmly pulled Heena’s hand away from Larus’s reaching fingers.

"Your Majesty," the Duchess said with that same pleasant, completely immovable smile, "you seem to have forgotten. The rituals are ’not’ complete."

Heena looked at her with a bewildered, slightly wild-eyed expression. "Come on, Aunt! Who the hell even ’made’ these rituals?! We’ve been doing ceremonies for literally twelve hours straight! What do you ’mean’ they’re not complete?! What’s left?! Do we need to sacrifice a goat?! Climb a mountain?! What?!"

The Duchess’s smile never wavered. "Until all the post-wedding purification rituals are completed—which will take approximately three days—you and Emperor Consort Larus must remain separated."

"’What?!’" both Heena and Larus said simultaneously.

"You may see each other," the Duchess continued calmly, as if she weren’t delivering devastating news. "You may speak to each other from a respectful distance. But you absolutely may ’not’ touch, nor may you stay in the same private quarters."

Heena’s eye twitched dangerously. "I will kill whoever made this ritual. I will hunt down their spirit and murder them again in the afterlife."

"Oh my," the Duchess said with mock concern. "You must have gone completely senile from exhaustion, dear. The people who established these traditions died ’centuries’ ago."

"Then if they died centuries ago," Heena said through gritted teeth, "why the hell are we still following these stupid rules?! Come on, Larus, we’re going to bed—"

She reached for him again, but the Duchess was faster. She grabbed Larus’s wrist and pulled him back, placing herself firmly between the newly married couple.

"Your Majesty," she said, her tone turning just slightly sharper, "if we’re abandoning traditions simply because they’re old, then by that logic, shouldn’t we also just burn down the entire empire? After all, it was also established by ’those people’ centuries ago. Should we discard imperial law? The monarchy itself? Where exactly do you draw the line?"

Heena stared at her aunt, recognizing the rhetorical trap and hating it.

"Aunt," she said, her voice dropping to something tired and pleading, "’please’. I don’t have the energy to argue philosophy with you right now. I’ve been awake for nineteen hours. I’ve smiled at approximately ten thousand people. My feet hurt. Everything hurts. Can we ’please’ just skip this one stupid tradition?"

"Then don’t argue," the Duchess replied serenely. "Just go and rest, like I’m telling you to do."

"You’re telling me to go rest ’alone’!" Heena’s voice rose in frustration. "Aunt, this is my wedding day! It’s my wedding ’night’! And you’re seriously telling me that I have to go sleep in an empty bed while my husband—my ’husband’ who I just married in front of the entire empire—sleeps in a completely different wing of the palace?!"

"That is precisely what I’m telling you, yes," the Duchess confirmed.

"This is insane!" Heena said. "This is absolutely—"

"Your Majesty," the Duchess interrupted, her voice taking on that particular tone that meant the discussion was over, "it is entirely your choice. You can stand here in this corridor arguing with me all night if you wish. I have nowhere else to be."

She turned to Larus, her expression softening.

"Your Highness, let’s go. You need proper rest. Tomorrow there will be several more purification ceremonies before the three-day period is complete. After that—" she shot a pointed look at Heena, "—you two may stay together however you wish. But the traditions ’will’ be observed."

Larus looked at Heena with such heartbroken sympathy that it made her chest ache.

"Your Majesty..." he started, clearly wanting to protest, to stay, to argue.

But he was also swaying slightly on his feet from exhaustion, his face pale with fatigue.

The Duchess noticed. "Come along, Your Highness. We have a lovely suite prepared for you. Hot bath, comfortable bed, breakfast brought to you in the morning."

She began gently but firmly guiding him away from Heena.

Larus looked back over his shoulder, his expression miserable. "I’m sorry—"

"Don’t apologize," Heena said quickly, even though she wanted to scream. "It’s not your fault. Just... just go rest. You look like you’re about to collapse."

"So do you," Larus pointed out.