My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 16

Chapter : 31

Seven coins! Lloyd felt a surge of satisfaction. Almost there. Two more points for this lesson than for slapping the bully. Apparently, constructive economic theory paid slightly better than street justice.

Master Elmsworth cleared his throat, addressing the class but his eyes lingering on Lloyd for a moment longer. "An… insightful perspective, Lord Ferrum. Efficiency, as you say, is indeed a worthy goal, though fraught with practical challenges in implementation." He seemed to gather himself. "We shall ponder these points. For next time, review the chapter on Guild arbitration processes. Class dismissed."

As the students began shuffling out, murmuring amongst themselves, Master Elmsworth caught Lloyd’s eye one last time. He gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod. Not deference, not quite approval, but acknowledgment. Recognition. A silent message passing between two minds that had unexpectedly, productively, clashed.

Walking out into the bright afternoon sun, Ken Park falling into his customary silent step behind him, Lloyd felt a distinct sense of accomplishment that had nothing to do with System Coins. He had challenged established thought, offered viable alternatives, and earned the grudging respect of a learned man.

Maybe this second life wouldn't just be about surviving. Maybe, just maybe, it could be about building something better. Starting with more efficient warehouses. And a wolf that seemed determined to outgrow its own mythology.

The fifth dawn arrived not with gentle persuasion, but with the insistent chill seeping through the thin blanket covering Lloyd Ferrum on his now-familiar purgatory, the sofa. He surfaced from sleep like a diver breaching cold water, gasping slightly against the ingrained discomfort. The opulent ceiling swam into view, its carved details a mocking testament to the luxury he couldn't fully access. Five days. Five days back in a life he thought long finished, five days sleeping on furniture designed more for aesthetic appeal than spinal support. The faint, cloying scent of lavender potpourri felt like a personal insult this morning.

He pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side, the cool floorboards a stark contrast to the itchy velvet. A sigh escaped him, involuntary, weary. It wasn't just the physical discomfort; it was the mental weight, the constant juggling act between nineteen-year-old hormones and eighty-year-old cynicism, the simmering tension with the room’s other occupant, and the ever-present knowledge of the power coiled within him, waiting.

Before anything else, before facing the day's potential landmines – be it parental scrutiny, academic boredom, or spousal frostbite – there was the ritual. Operation: Canine Cuisine Upgrade.

Reaching for the smooth Spirit Stone nestled in his tunic, Lloyd pushed a thread of energy into it, a connection now feeling less like a tentative flicker and more like flipping a switch. Beside the sofa, the air didn't just shimmer; it seemed to condense, gathering light before solidifying into the form of Fang.

Lloyd froze mid-motion, the prepared platter of roasted chicken momentarily forgotten. He simply stared, absorbing the changes. Four days. It defied all logical biological principles he knew from Earth. Fang wasn't just healthier; he was magnificent, almost unnervingly so. His grey coat possessed a depth, a sheen like polished graphite, rippling over lean, powerful muscles that moved with a predator's silent grace. He held his head high, alert ears constantly sampling the air, capturing sounds Lloyd couldn't even register. The tentative uncertainty was gone, replaced by an aura of contained power, a quiet intensity that seemed to vibrate in the air around him.

And those eyes… they met Lloyd’s, not with the simple affection of a pet or the bewildered loyalty of a lesser spirit, but with a startling, piercing intelligence. There was an ancient awareness in their brown depths, a knowing that felt far older than the mere five days Lloyd had been actively tending to him in this timeline. It was the gaze of something that understood far more than it let on.

Five days, Lloyd thought, his mind racing through calculations. Even with optimal protein synthesis, metabolic acceleration… this rate of change is ludicrous. It’s like watching a time-lapse film of evolution compressed into less than a week. What are you, Fang? Was the original assessment of 'weak wolf spirit' just… wrong? Fundamentally flawed? Or is the System doing something passively? Buffing him somehow beyond just rewarding me?

He crouched, extending his hand slowly. Fang leaned into the touch instantly, a deep, resonant rumble vibrating through Lloyd’s fingertips as he scratched the thick fur behind the wolf’s ears. This wasn't just a spirit manifesting; this felt like reconnecting with a powerful, sentient partner whose true nature had been dormant, starved, neglected for far too long. The density of Fang's spiritual signature felt palpable now, a solid core of energy pressing right against the upper boundaries of the Manifestation stage, eager, perhaps, to ascend.

Chapter : 32

Definitely need that shop, Lloyd reaffirmed mentally, the urgency sharper now. If Fang’s hiding this kind of potential, what else am I missing? What other threats or allies are operating on levels I completely misjudged in my first life?

"Breakfast," Lloyd murmured, finally offering the platter. Fang ate with focused efficiency, each bite precise, powerful. No wasted motion. When finished, he looked up, gave that unnerving, almost human-like nod, and dissolved back into shimmering motes of light at Lloyd’s silent command. The platter was spotless.

Breakfast with Arch Duke Roy Ferrum was, as anticipated, an exercise in navigating unspoken tensions. Roy ate with his usual focused precision, but Lloyd felt his father's gaze linger on him more often today, sharp and analytical. Had Ken reported yesterday's display of unexpected logistical insight? Or perhaps Master Elmsworth himself had conveyed his… surprise? Roy said nothing beyond curt inquiries about the day’s schedule, but the weight of his scrutiny felt heavier. Lloyd ate quickly, kept his answers brief and respectful, and escaped the dining hall as soon as politely possible.

Outside the main doors, Ken Park waited, impassive as ever, ready to assume his duties. The morning air was crisp, carrying the sounds and smells of the awakening capital city – merchants shouting, wheels clattering, the aroma of baking bread mingling with less pleasant odors.

"Ken," Lloyd stopped just beyond the massive estate gates, pitching his voice low, ensuring privacy amidst the gathering bustle.

The butler-bodyguard paused instantly, his gaze steady. "Young Lord?"

"A change in protocol for today's escort," Lloyd stated, meeting Ken's eyes directly. He needed to project confidence, command. "I require you to follow, yes. But maintain distance. Remain unseen. Become a shadow." He let the instruction hang for a moment. "Observe only. Do not, under any circumstances, reveal yourself or intervene." He paused, adding the crucial caveat, "Unless you assess my life to be in immediate, mortal peril with no other possible outcome."

He watched Ken closely. No outward reaction, of course. The man's face was a masterclass in stoicism. But Lloyd saw the faintest tightening around his eyes, the fractional hesitation before he responded. Ken wasn't just muscle; he was intelligent, fiercely loyal to Roy, and constantly assessing threats. This deviation from standard protective detail was significant. It signaled… something. Trust? A test? Recklessness? Ken would analyze the implications.

"Understood, Young Lord," Ken replied after that briefest pause, his voice the usual flat monotone. "Shadow protocol engaged." He executed a shallow, precise bow. Then, with disconcerting fluidity, he stepped back, seeming to merge with the deep shade cast by the high stone wall. One blink, he was a solid presence; the next, he was simply… gone. Utterly vanished from sight, yet Lloyd felt the unwavering certainty of his hidden presence, an invisible guardian angel armed with lethal proficiency.

Alright then, Lloyd thought, taking a deep breath and stepping out into the flow of the city. A flicker of cold resolve settled within him. He wasn't just testing himself; he was sending a message, both to Ken and, through him, to his father. He wasn't a child needing constant, overt protection. And he suspected today might provide an opportunity to demonstrate that. He deliberately adjusted his route, veering away from the wider thoroughfares, choosing instead a winding path through a tangle of narrower, less reputable alleyways. The kind of place respectable folk avoided, where shadows lingered long after sunrise, and trouble often brewed undisturbed.

He walked with purpose, his senses heightened, scanning doorways, rooftops, the deeper pockets of gloom. He felt the pulse of the city around him – the distant shouts, the rumble of carts – but his focus was narrower, sharper. He felt Ken’s presence like a faint pressure at the edge of his awareness, a ghost flitting through parallel shadows. He was alone, yet not alone. A perfect setup.

It happened as he turned into a narrow passage between a leaning tenement and a boarded-up butcher shop. The smell of refuse, damp stone, and stale desperation hung heavy in the air. Three figures emerged from the gloom ahead, deliberately blocking his path, their postures radiating hostility.

Them. As expected. The leader stood front and center, his face a mask of ugly fury, the lingering bruise from Lloyd's slap a dark counterpoint to the sneer twisting his lips. His two companions fanned out slightly, cutting off any easy retreat, knuckles white as they clenched their fists. They looked jumpier today, less swagger, more raw aggression fueled by humiliation.

"Well, well," the leader spat, his voice rough, echoing slightly in the confined space. "Lookie what the cat dragged in! All by your lonesome today, little lord?"