My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode-160

Chapter : 319

He then delivered the final, crucial part of his proposal. “I do not ask you to rescind their punishment entirely, Father. An act of such gravity cannot go unanswered. Their fines should stand, a steep price for their folly. Their leadership of the Guilds should be forfeit, a consequence of their failed judgment. But their businesses… their right to work, to trade, to provide for their families… let that be their path to redemption. A path that now, is inextricably linked to our own success.”

He paused, then addressed the eight men directly, his voice ringing with the authority of a true captain of industry. “I invite you all to a formal business summit. Here. At the manufactory. Tomorrow at noon. We will not meet as lord and criminals. We will meet as potential business partners. We will discuss terms. We will draft contracts. We will build a new, cleaner, and far more profitable, future. Together.”

He had taken their desperate, pathetic act of sabotage and transformed it into a new foundation for his empire. He hadn’t just won the battle; he had just recruited the enemy’s entire army. And in doing so, he had shown his father, his family, and a watching King, a new kind of power. Not the power to crush, but the power to build.

The heavy oak doors of the ducal bedroom closed with a soft, final click, shutting out the echoing grandeur of the estate and sealing Arch Duke Roy Ferrum within the quiet intimacy of his private chambers. The air here was different, free from the lingering scents of political tension and public judgment. It smelled of aged wood, leather-bound books, and the faint, familiar perfume of his wife, a scent of quiet strength and subtle power that was a constant, grounding force in his often-chaotic world.

He let out a slow, weary sigh, the sound a stark admission of the day’s immense strain. The granite mask of the Arch Duke, the unyielding facade he presented to the world, finally, infinitesimally, began to soften. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the deep lines of fatigue etched around his eyes. It had been a long, trying, and utterly, comprehensively, bewildering day.

He walked over to the large, mullioned window that overlooked the moon-drenched western gardens. He stood there for a long moment, staring out into the darkness, his mind replaying the events of the afternoon with a kind of detached, almost clinical, wonder. The desperate confessions of the merchants. The cold, righteous fury he had felt, the calculated, brutal punishment he had been ready to dispense. And then… Lloyd. His son. Stepping from the shadows with that strange, new, unnerving confidence, and single-handedly hijacking the entire proceedings with a vision so audacious, so radical, it had left him, the Arch Duke, momentarily speechless.

A partnership. An invitation to revolution. He had taken a simple matter of treason and transformed it into a complex, brilliant, and potentially incredibly profitable, exercise in economic re-engineering.

A slow, almost invisible smile touched Roy’s lips as he stood there in the darkness. It was a private smile, one he would never allow the world, or even his son, to see. A smile of pure, unadulterated, almost stunned, paternal pride. He picked up a book from a nearby table, its leather cover worn smooth with age, and settled into a large, comfortable armchair by the unlit hearth. He didn't open the book. He just held it, its familiar weight a comforting anchor as he let his thoughts drift, a rare indulgence in quiet contemplation.

He was so lost in his thoughts, in the memory of his son’s unexpected brilliance, that he didn't hear the soft rustle of silk behind him.

“You look like a cat that has not only just eaten the canary, but has also successfully negotiated a controlling interest in the entire global canary market.”

The voice, cool, melodic, and laced with a dry, familiar amusement, made him start. He turned to see his wife, Milody, standing in the doorway to her adjoining dressing room, a silken robe of deep indigo draped over her shoulders. Her silver-blonde hair was unbound, cascading over her shoulders, and her face, free from the formal composure she wore in public, was soft in the moonlight, her intelligent eyes holding a spark of knowing, affectionate mockery.

“Milody,” he said, his own voice losing some of its ducal rumble, becoming simply the voice of a husband. “I did not hear you.”

Chapter : 320

“Clearly,” she replied, gliding into the room with her usual effortless grace. She came to stand behind his chair, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “You were a thousand miles away. Contemplating your son’s latest foray into… whatever it is he does now. Is it soap-making? Or social revolution? I confess, I am beginning to lose track.”

Roy chuckled, a low, rare sound. “Perhaps both. The boy is… a paradox.”

“He is your son,” Milody said simply, as if that explained everything. She began to gently massage the tense muscles in his shoulders, her touch firm, knowing, a familiar comfort that eased some of the day's accumulated weight. “Though I confess,” she continued, her voice a low murmur near his ear, “your performance in the Grand Hall today was almost as perplexing as his.”

Roy frowned slightly, turning his head to look up at her. “My performance?”

“Indeed,” she confirmed, a teasing lilt in her voice. “The righteous fury. The thunderous pronouncements. The ‘cold, implacable judgment’.” She mimicked his earlier ducal tone with an accuracy that was both impressive and slightly infuriating. “It was a masterful display of ducal wrath. I almost believed you were truly going to have those pathetic merchants drawn and quartered on the spot.” She paused, then leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “I almost thought to break your head. After all,” she whispered, her voice a mixture of fond exasperation and genuine affection, “you are not the man I fell in love with twenty-one years ago. That man… that man would never have been so blind as to let the situation escalate to such a public, chaotic spectacle. That man was a strategist, not just a brute-force ruler.”

Roy let out another, deeper chuckle, turning in his chair to take her hand, pulling her around to face him. He looked up at her, his dark eyes holding a deep, abiding affection that few in the world ever saw. “And you, my love,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “are still the only person in this entire Duchy who can call me a blind fool and make it sound like a compliment.”

He sobered, his expression becoming more serious, the strategist re-emerging. “You are right, of course. I was not blind. Far from it.” He squeezed her hand gently. “The truth, my dear, which you and you alone will ever hear, is that I knew. I knew about their plot before the woman ever set foot in the market square.”

Milody’s eyebrows arched in genuine surprise. “You knew? How?”

“Ken,” Roy replied simply. “His network is… thorough. One of his informants, a man who owes a life-debt to the Park Barony, works as a bouncer in a tavern frequented by the junior members of the Washerman’s Guild. He overheard them, drunk and boastful, discussing a ‘plan to teach the young lord a lesson he’ll never forget’. He heard whispers of a paid accuser, of a child, of a public scene.” Roy’s expression hardened. “Ken brought the intelligence to me the morning of the incident. I could have had them all arrested before sunrise. I could have crushed the entire conspiracy in the dark, without a single whisper reaching the public ear.”

“Then why?” Milody asked, her eyes searching his, her sharp mind already beginning to see the shape of his deeper game. “Why allow it to happen? Why allow our son, our house, to be subjected to such a public, humiliating accusation?”

Roy’s gaze became distant again, a flicker of that same quiet, almost stunned, pride in his eyes. “Because, my love,” he said softly, “it was a test. Not for them. But for him. For Lloyd.”

He looked up at his wife, his voice filled with a profound, almost awed, sincerity. “For weeks, I have seen these… changes in him. This newfound confidence, this strange, brilliant mind. But I did not know its depth. I did not know its resilience. I wanted to see what he would do. I wanted to see how he would react when faced with a true crisis, a public attack on everything he has built. Would he panic? Would he crumble? Would he come running to me, his father, to solve his problems for him?”

He shook his head slowly, a look of genuine wonder on his face. “But he did none of those things. He was calm. He was analytical. He saw through the deception, diagnosed the truth, and then… then he did something I never would have conceived of. He did not just seek justice. He sought… a solution. He took his enemies, the very people who had tried to destroy him, and he turned them into his greatest assets. He built a partnership from the ashes of a conspiracy.”