Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 238

Chapter 238 He’d Lost

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So the vault had been robbed. So what? So Margaret had somehow hauled away an entire display case, base and all. What did it matter?

The cabinet vault was protected by the Academy of Sciences’ best security tech. Without his biometrics and the thirty-six-digit dynamic passcode, forcing the case open would trigger the explosive compound layered inside the glass. The crown would dissolve into toxic sludge.

As long as Margaret showed up empty-handed, he could rip her legitimacy to shreds in front of the entire galaxy.

Under the weight of every stare in the hall, Margaret took her time setting the metal case down on the tray beside her.

The latches snapped open, the sound sharp and clear in the silence.

She lifted the lid and pulled out a crown woven from dark gold vines, studded with pigeon-blood rubies.

No passcodes. No alarms. She held the supreme symbol of Imperial power in one hand like it was a cheap

toy,

Darien’s wine glass dropped from his fingers and shattered on the floor, red wine splashing across his shoes. He shot to his feet, eyes locked on the object in Margaret’s hand.

How did she open the case?

Margaret didn’t even glance his way. She turned to face Norman, and for once her expression settled into something almost solemn.

Norman looked up, the heavy crown reflected in her gold eyes.

“Lord Hall need not trouble himself. As guardian of the new sovereign, I am equally qualified to place the Thorn Crown upon his head.”

Margaret lifted the crown in both hands and set it firmly onto Norman’s red hair. It was a little too large, but the rubies blazed against the deep crimson of her hair all the same.

Victor let out a long, shaky breath. The knot in his chest finally loosened.

“Wait-” Craig burst out from behind Darien, his mouth already opening to shout.

“Let the ceremony be complete!” Victor’s voice cut across the hall, sharp and resounding, slamming the door on Craig before the objection could leave his throat,

The hall hung suspended for a single breath,

Then a sharp burst of applause broke the silence from the front left section, and every head turned.

Gideon Veyra, Commander of the Royal Guards, stood rigid, his hands clapping with stiff, mechanical rhythm.

Gideon’s heart was heavy with bitterness. Timothy had his embezzlement records. He’d made it clear-if

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Chapter 238 He’d Lost

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Gideon didn’t play along, the entire galaxy would be reading about his finances by morning. He wouldn’t have dared hold back applause even with a gun pressed to his head.

The moment Gideon-the man who held the Empire’s military in his grip-showed his hand, the wavering nobles scrambled to follow. The applause spread like a wave, sweeping through the hall.

Darien stood frozen, his face cycling through red, white, and finally a sickly gray. He’d lost. Lost without ever understanding how, without even a chance to hit back.

Margaret. Norman’s hand in hers, looked down at the assembly from the dais. She turned her head and met Cheiron’s eyes.

The cold edge in his gray gaze had long since melted away, replaced by something warm and steady.

This damn crown is really heavy. But starting today, no one will pry it off Norman’s head.

The endless coronation formalities finally dragged to a close. The moment Victor declared the ceremony over. Darien turned and strode out without a single parting word. Craig stumbled after him, his cane jabbing uneven holes into the red carpet.

Margaret led Norman back to the side hall. The moment the door shut, the child let out a long, deep exhale and reached up with both hands to pull at the Thorn Crown.

“It’s so heavy.” Norman set the crown on the vanity and rubbed her forehead, pink from the pressure. The rigid posture she’d held throughout the ceremony dissolved, and she sank into the chair in a small, tired heap.

Margaret gave her cheek a light squeeze and pressed a glass of warm milk into her hands. “You did well. No slip-ups. Drink something.”

Cheiron took the crown and set it aside on a cushioned stand. Whoever touched this thing next would be asking for trouble, but Darien wouldn’t dare use it as a weapon again anytime soon.

Cheiron’s fingers brushed over the pigeon-blood rubies, his gray eyes narrowing. The Royal Guards commander had flipped. The crown had been stolen. The Cabinet had taken a beating.

Inside her head, Primo’s mechanical voice spiked, loud enough to make her temples throb. “Host! We’re loaded! Loaded! A massive points deposit just hit the account out of nowhere! Every last bit of our debt is paid off, and we’ve still got a surplus of 1,350!”

Margaret’s hand paused midair. “Where did it come from?”

“No idea. Primo pulled up the transaction log. It showed nothing but garbled code. “No source listed. Direct deposit. Maybe the main system took pity on us and sent a welfare check?”

Margaret set her glass down. She never trusted free handouts, and this one was too strange to ignore. But the points were already in the account. No sense letting them sit idle. With over a thousand points as a cushion, she could finally start eyeing the life-saving items in the System Mall.

“Keep trying to reach the main system,” she ordered. “Ping it once a day until it responds.”

“On it!” Primo hugged its new points and scuttled off, thoroughly delighted with itself.

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