Return of Black Lotus system:Taming Cheating Male Leads

Chapter 362 --362

Samuel’s breath caught. He found himself staring, completely still, drawn in by that rare, unguarded expression.

But it vanished just as quickly.

Heena blinked, and the walls slammed back into place.

"Well," she added quickly, clearing her throat, "my mother used to say that when I was a child. I think."

Samuel didn’t press. He simply smiled.

"Maybe the night cat won’t come," he said, nudging the tray closer to her, "but your stomach definitely will complain."

Heena glanced down—and whatever resistance she had left dissolved instantly.

After weeks of surviving on bland, rationed leftovers in his village, this looked like a feast sent from heaven.

A steaming bowl of white rice sat at the center, surrounded by vibrant dishes: a rich vegetable stew, a thick chicken curry, a fragrant fish broth. There was a perfectly boiled egg, a soft omelette, and a bright red serving of spicy, fermented kimchi.

She picked up her chopsticks and took a bite.

Warmth spread through her immediately—sharp ginger, garlic, roasted onions melting into deep, rich flavors. It was overwhelming in the best way.

She took another bite. Then another.

Within seconds, all pretense of manners vanished as she shoveled food into her mouth with unapologetic focus.

Mid-bite, she paused.

Her chopsticks hovered as her eyes narrowed at Samuel.

"Have you eaten yet?"

Samuel’s lips twitched. "You’re asking rather late into your meal. Why?"

Heena immediately pulled the rice bowl closer to her chest, glaring. "Just making sure you’re not planning to steal my food. If you’re hungry, go get your own."

A low laugh escaped him. "It’s fine. I’ve already eaten. I knew you wouldn’t share."

She relaxed slightly, rolling her shoulders. "Well. Good."

Samuel rested his chin on his hand, watching her quietly for a moment.

"You look different right now," he said.

She paused again. "Different how?"

"Your aura," he said thoughtfully. "The air around you. It feels... lighter."

Heena smirked, chewing before replying. "Before, I was an abused servant. Then I became a poor scholar’s wife. Now I’m a murdered Marquis’s daughter out for revenge."

She shrugged. "Of course I feel different."

Samuel smiled faintly. "Maybe."

"But do you know what hasn’t changed?" she continued, picking up a piece of kimchi. "What’s common in every one of those lives?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"In every life, someone wants me dead," she said casually. "As a servant, they wanted me gone. As your wife, your family wanted me gone. Even now, my own blood tried to kill me."

She smiled faintly, almost amused. "So it’s safe to say no one in this world actually wants me alive."

She lifted the kimchi—

—but stopped.

Samuel wasn’t smiling.

The air shifted.

His gaze locked onto hers, dark and intense, burning with something fierce and unyielding.

"I want you to live."

The words weren’t gentle.

They landed like a command.

Heena froze, her hand suspended midair. Her heart stumbled under the weight of his stare.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, looking away.

"Look at me."

His voice dropped—firm, impossible to ignore.

Her eyes flicked back to his, and he held them there.

"I want you to live, wife," he said, each word steady, absolute. "I want you to be happy. I want you to stay alive—always."

Her throat tightened.

"Yeah... me too."

But he didn’t stop.

He leaned forward slightly, and something in his gaze shifted—less like affection, more like devotion pushed too far.

"I want you to be my wife in every life you have," he said quietly. "I want you alive. Always."

Heat rushed to her face.

She quickly shoved the kimchi into her mouth, wincing at the spice as she grabbed onto it like an excuse.

"Well, I want to live too," she shot back, waving her chopsticks dismissively. "But being your wife in every life? That’s questionable. I’d like some options."

Samuel stared at her, utterly offended. "What do you mean, options?!"

And just like that, the tension snapped.

Their voices rose, slipping into familiar, rapid-fire bickering that carried on late into the night.

The exhaustion faded. The heaviness lifted.

And for the first time in a long while—

Heena smiled without holding anything back.

.

.

.

The Fifth day....

When you are thick in the middle of espionage and plotting, days do not merely pass; they fly by in a chaotic blur of exhaustion and relentless heat. Before Heena even fully registered the passage of time, it was already their fifth day in the capital.

And today, Heena had made an executive decision: she was going to stay inside the inn and sleep. All day.

Part of this decision was highly practical—once she infiltrated the Marquis’s estate, a full night of uninterrupted sleep would become an impossible luxury. But the other part of her decision was born from a sudden, alarming realization she’d had about her husband’s finances.

A day prior, Heena had noticed how effortlessly Samuel tossed heavy silver coins around. He didn’t look like a man hoarding a limited supply of stolen wealth; he spent money like water. Suspicious, Heena had finally cornered him.

"Where exactly are you getting all this money?" she had demanded.

Samuel had answered with the calm, casual demeanor of a man discussing the weather. "I sold all the properties and lands the old man left behind."

Heena had stared at him in utter shock. "Are you crazy?! Why the hell would you liquidate a stable estate in times like these?"

Samuel’s answer was so comically straightforward it almost gave her an aneurysm. He had looked at her, completely serious, and explained that it would be a literal embarrassment to his pride as a husband if he couldn’t even allow his wife to shop freely in the capital.

"You sold an entire estate just so I could buy silk and tea?!" Heena had yelled. "We haven’t even known each other that long! If the old man knew what you’ve done with his life’s work, he would crawl out of his grave just to strangle you!"

And that was when Samuel had delivered a line so unhinged, it genuinely left Heena speechless.

Smiling pleasantly, Samuel had replied, "Well, he can’t. I cremated him."

"What the heck are you talking about?" Heena asked, horrified. "I was there! We buried him in a coffin in front of all the village relatives!"

Samuel had nodded agreeably. "Of course. We buried him for the relatives to see. But later that night, I had my men dig the coffin back up. We poured kerosene over it, burned it to cinders, and then I had his ashes scattered across the wind and rivers in entirely different regions."

Heena had just stared at him. "Why... why would you go through all that trouble?" She assumed he was going to say something poetic about returning the man to nature.

She was completely wrong.

"Because I didn’t want him remaining intact, even as a ghost," Samuel had answered, his eyes dark and entirely serious. "I heard that if a body is completely destroyed and scattered, the soul cannot return to haunt the living. I couldn’t risk him coming back for us. So, I took precautions."

Recalling that conversation, Heena felt a complicated mix of exasperation and a tiny, begrudging sliver of guilt.