My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 10

Chapter : 19

That familiar, translucent blue screen shimmered into existence in his vision, hovering benignly before his closed eyelids.

[Congratulations, User Lloyd Ferrum!]

[System Notification: Exceptional Performance Detected!]

[Analysis: User withstood significant targeted spiritual pressure (Estimated Level: High Manifestation/Near Ascension) through sheer force of will and maintained psychological composure.]

[Further Analysis: User executed a successful counter-demonstration of latent Void Power (Classification: Steel/Fire Manipulation - Highly Concealed), effectively disrupting opponent's assumptions and altering the established interpersonal dynamic.]

[Conclusion: Unbelievable counter-attack and resilience confirmed! Calculated risk deemed successful!]

[Reward Issued: 3 System Coins (SC)]

[Current Balance: 3 SC]

[Note: System approves of proactive problem-solving and asserting dominance. Furniture destruction costs not deducted… this time.]

Lloyd’s eyes snapped open. He stared at the notification, reading it twice. Three coins. Three. For getting spiritually squashed like a bug, nearly having a panic attack while pretending he wasn't, and then slicing up a perfectly innocent (if slightly ostentatious) piece of furniture? And a cheeky note about it too?

A slow, wry smile spread across his face, finally chasing away the last vestiges of weariness and replacing them with a spark of genuine amusement. It wasn't much – still seven shy of even unlocking the damn shop menu. But it was something. Tangible proof. The System, his bizarre, slightly sarcastic cosmic shopping list, had recognized his defiance. It had rewarded him for not being the pathetic, apologetic doormat his first-timeline self had been.

"Well, I'll be," he muttered under his breath, a soft chuckle escaping him. He leaned his head back against the oak again, the smile lingering. "Getting paid actual magical currency for surviving my wife's temper tantrum and engaging in minor vandalism. Maybe this arranged marriage isn't entirely without its perks after all." He paused, considering. "Though I suspect the cost of replacing that cabinet might exceed three System Coins if Mother finds out."

Three coins closer. It felt absurdly small, yet monumentally significant. It validated his decision, his change in approach. Changing the script wasn't just about survival; it was, apparently, profitable.

Now, if only 'feeding a wolf chicken' offered slightly better returns… Seven days for five coins felt distinctly like minimum wage work in the grand scheme of cosmic power acquisition. Seven more coins to go just to open the shop. He had a long way to go.

The first slivers of dawn, pale and tentative, painted the high arched windows of the Ferrum estate with streaks of grey and rose. Lloyd Ferrum cracked open an eye. Yup. Still the sofa. Still lumpy. Still smelling faintly of expensive potpourri and, now, possibly residual roast chicken molecules absorbed from his clothes the previous day. Progress? Debatable.

He swung his legs over the side, the familiar protest of youthful muscles less pronounced today. Habit, perhaps. Or maybe just the lingering adrenaline from yesterday’s… encounter. Rosa’s shocked face swam briefly in his memory. Worth it. Probably.

First things first. Operation: Canine Cuisine Upgrade, Day Two.

He summoned Fang with a practiced flicker of intent into the small Spirit Stone. The grey wolf materialized beside the sofa, looking marginally less like a moth-eaten rug and marginally more like an actual predator. It blinked intelligent brown eyes up at him, tail giving a hopeful, almost enthusiastic wag. Clearly, the memory of yesterday's poultry feast remained vivid.

"Alright, buddy," Lloyd murmured, retrieving a pre-arranged, slightly smaller (but still generous) portion of cooked chicken he'd charmed out of Martha the Head Cook late last night with promises of… well, mostly just leaving her alone. "Breakfast is served."

Fang devoured it with gusto, the crunching sounds echoing slightly in the pre-dawn stillness. Lloyd watched, ticking off Day 2 mentally. Five more days, five System Coins. Plus the three he'd earned yesterday… eight total. Almost there. Almost able to peek behind the curtain of the cosmic shopping list.

After quickly dispatching his own breakfast – a solitary affair this early, thankfully free of parental interrogation or icy spousal glares – Lloyd found himself summoned to the main dining hall slightly later. The full breakfast spread was laid out, sunlight now streaming brightly, illuminating the constipated lion butter sculpture in all its glory.

His father, Arch Duke Roy Ferrum, was already seated, impeccably dressed, radiating his usual 'minor kingdoms tremble before my paperwork' aura. He acknowledged Lloyd’s entrance with a curt nod, eyes fixed on a ledger that looked complex enough to map troop movements across the continent.

"Lloyd," Roy stated without preamble, his voice crisp. "Master Elmsworth awaits. Your tutelage continues today. Do not be late." He made a minute gesture with his pen towards a figure standing silently near the doorway. "Ken will escort you."

Chapter : 20

Lloyd glanced over. Ken Park. Tall, broad-shouldered, impassive face, dressed in the discreetly expensive livery of the Arch Duke’s personal staff. Ken wasn't just a butler; he was Roy Ferrum's shadow, his long-serving right hand, and, as rumour and occasional quiet demonstrations had it, a Void user of terrifying proficiency. His presence was less 'escort', more 'mobile security detail with extreme prejudice'.

"Yes, Father," Lloyd replied dutifully, sliding into his seat and tackling the eggs with newfound purpose. Business studies. Master Elmsworth (or 'Master Elm' as the staff sometimes called him). Maybe today’s lesson on tariff arbitrage (or whatever dusty topic Elm dredged up) could count as a 'Normal Task' for the System? Every coin counted.

He ate quickly, keenly aware of his father's silent, assessing presence and Ken Park's unnervingly still watchfulness from the doorway. No repeat of yesterday's Professor Grumbaldi fiasco. Stick to the facts. Nod politely. Look engaged. Maybe even ask an intelligent question about export duties on griffin feathers.

Soon enough, breakfast concluded, Roy disappeared back into his study with a mountain of documents, and Lloyd found himself walking through the bustling outer courtyards and towards the city proper, Ken Park gliding silently half a step behind him. The transition from the gilded cage of the estate to the vibrant, noisy reality of the capital was always slightly jarring. Merchants hawked wares, carriages clattered over cobblestones, the air thick with the smell of baking bread, horse dung, and a hundred competing perfumes.

As they walked, Lloyd couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversation from passersby who recognized the Ferrum heir and his formidable shadow.

"...see him? Young Lord Ferrum."

"Looks pale, doesn't he? Always does."

"Shame about his powers, they say. Not like the Arch Duke…"

"And married to Viscount Siddik's girl! Rosa, wasn't it? Cold beauty, that one."

A sharp female voice cut through. "Beauty, yes, but matched with him? Like pairing a swan with… well, a rather drab duckling, wouldn't you say?"

A snort of laughter followed. "Harsh, Elara, but not wrong…"

Lloyd kept walking, his expression neutral. Drab duckling, huh? He chuckled internally. If they only knew about the potentially lethal steel waterfowl lurking beneath the surface. The eighty-year-old in him found the petty gossip amusing rather than hurtful. Let them talk. Perception was a tool, and right now, being underestimated might even be an advantage. Besides, he had more pressing matters. Like finding Master Elmsworth’s lecture hall without getting lost. And maybe earning some quick cash.

As they turned onto a slightly less crowded side street, lined with artisan shops and smaller residences, a commotion ahead caught Lloyd's attention. Three youths, lounging against a wall with swaggering arrogance, were blocking the path of two younger girls, clearly students by their simple dresses and satchels. The girls looked frightened, trying to edge past, while the tallest of the youths – presumably the leader, judging by his sneering expression and the way the other two flanked him – leaned in, blocking their way, saying something crude Lloyd couldn't quite make out. Classic bully behaviour. Pathetic.

Just as a surge of annoyance, the ingrained 'don't be a bystander' instinct drilled into him during his Earth life, pricked at Lloyd, a familiar blue screen flickered into view.

[New Task Available!]

[Task: Public Nuisance Correction]

[Description: Three local hoodlums are engaging in unsavory behaviour, harassing innocents. Deliver a swift, corrective slap to the designated leader's face.]

[Reward: 2 System Coins (SC)]

[Bonus Objective (Optional, No Extra Reward): Deliver a brief lecture on social decorum. Because someone has to.]

Lloyd blinked. Two coins? For a slap? And a lecture? The System had a strange sense of justice. And apparently, a fondness for public service announcements.

He glanced back slightly. Ken Park hadn't reacted, his expression as impassive as ever, but Lloyd knew the bodyguard missed nothing. Ken wouldn't interfere unless Lloyd was directly threatened, but his mere presence was a significant deterrent. These street toughs, while bold enough to bother young girls, wouldn't dare lay a hand on the Arch Duke's heir, especially not with Ken looming nearby. They might posture, they might bluster, but physical retaliation? Not a chance. The consequences would be swift and severe.

Well, Lloyd thought, a slow grin touching his lips. Free slap, free coins. Don't mind if I do.

He changed direction abruptly, striding purposefully towards the group. Ken adjusted his position seamlessly, remaining just behind and to the right, a silent, imposing shadow. The hoodlums looked up as Lloyd approached, their sneers faltering slightly as they recognized the crest on his tunic, their eyes flicking nervously towards Ken. The leader straightened up, trying to regain his swagger.

"Well, well," the leader began, puffing out his chest. "If it isn't young Lord Ferrum slumming it. What brings nobility-"

SMACK!