My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 76

Chapter : 151

He must have made some sound, a grunt of surprise or perhaps just the creak of abused floorboards beneath his feet, because her head turned slowly, those unnerving obsidian eyes fixing on him. Her expression was, as usual, a perfect mask of cool indifference. But there was no denying it. The scent of rosemary, clean and distinct, clung to her like a subtle, almost defiant, statement.

"You… you smell like a herb garden," Lloyd managed, the words out before he could stop them. Smooth, Lloyd, real smooth. Top-tier conversational skills right there. Probably why he was still sleeping on the sofa. Or, you know, the rug.

Rosa’s eyebrow, that perfectly sculpted arch of disdain, rose a fraction of an millimeter. "An astute olfactory observation, Lloyd," she replied, her voice the usual cool, crisp monotone. "Perhaps your time spent communing with nature in… questionable locales… has sharpened your senses." The faintest, almost imperceptible emphasis on 'questionable locales' was the only hint that she was aware of his Galla Forest escapade. Or perhaps just disapproving of his current, rather disreputable, appearance.

Lloyd chose to ignore the implied critique. He was too focused on the rosemary. "So, the soap," he pressed, unable to contain his curiosity. "The dispenser. You… tried it?"

"The cleansing agent provided appeared… adequate for its intended purpose," Rosa stated, her gaze returning to the window, dismissing the topic with her usual infuriatingly detached efficiency. Adequate. That was it. After everything – the dung, the pump, the rich lather, the Duchess's near-swoon of delight – her verdict was 'adequate'. Lloyd almost laughed. It was so perfectly, frustratingly, Rosa.

But he saw it. The slight flush on her cheeks, perhaps from the warmth of the morning sun, or perhaps from the uncharacteristic admission, however understated. And the scent. The undeniable, lingering scent of rosemary. She hadn't just used it; she was wearing it. A small, almost invisible victory, but a victory nonetheless. The Ice Princess had, however reluctantly, embraced the Ferrum Family Finest (Prototype) Cleansing Elixir. His soap empire had claimed its first, most formidable, convert.

Buoyed by this unexpected, if subtle, triumph, Lloyd’s thoughts immediately, eagerly, turned to the other, more pressing victory: the System Coins. One hundred and three of them, burning a metaphorical hole in his mental pocket. The Maternal Bloodline Awakening. Power. Progress.

"Right," he muttered to himself, already turning away from Rosa, the scent of rosemary now a pleasant, almost triumphant backdrop. "System. Show me the goods. Time to cash in those well-earned, nearly-got-me-eaten-by-a-pantheon-of-mythological-nightmares, trauma-inducing reward points."

He closed his eyes, focusing inwards, ready to access the pulsating notification, to finally initiate the awakening ritual, to feel the surge of new, untapped power coursing through his veins…

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound, sharp and insistent, cut through his anticipation like a well-aimed dagger. Lloyd’s eyes snapped open, a groan of pure frustration escaping him. Seriously? Now? Could he not get five minutes of peace to engage in a bit of clandestine, system-fueled, bloodline-enhancing self-improvement? Was that too much to ask?

"Young Lord Ferrum?" a timid voice called from beyond the heavy oak door. A maid. "Apologies for the disturbance, Young Lord, but… the Arch Duke. He requests your immediate presence in his study."

Lloyd stared at the door, then glanced towards Rosa, who was now observing him with that unnervingly calm, analytical gaze, as if cataloging his reaction to this new interruption. His father? Summoning him? Again? This was… unusual. Roy Ferrum was not a man given to casual chats or frequent, impromptu meetings. His summons were usually reserved for matters of state, significant transgressions, or the thrice-daily ritual of family dining, which often felt like a combination of the first two. To be called to the study twice in such short succession, especially after the dramatic events of the Galla Forest incident (which Ken had undoubtedly reported in excruciating, deadpan detail by now), felt… ominous. Or perhaps, just deeply inconvenient.

"Of course," Lloyd called back, forcing a calmness he didn't feel into his voice. "Inform His Grace I will attend him presently." He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair, his plans for immediate power-ups dissolving like mist. "Well, so much for a quiet morning of mystical bloodline awakenings and existential contemplation," he muttered under his breath, shooting a wry, exasperated look towards Rosa, who merely blinked, her expression unchanging. "Duty calls. Or, you know, paternal interrogation. Probably the latter."

He quickly splashed some water on his face in the washroom – pointedly not using the rosemary soap this time, the irony would be too much – and changed into a slightly less battle-scarred, more presentable tunic. He needed to look like the responsible, if somewhat adventurous, heir, not like someone who had recently been using giant mythological creatures for target practice.

Chapter : 152

The walk to his father’s study felt longer, heavier, than usual. His mind raced, replaying the events in Galla Forest. Ken’s intervention. The sheer, overwhelming power. His father knew everything by now. What would the verdict be? Approval for his initiative? Fury at his recklessness? A lecture on the proper protocols for engaging (or, more accurately, fleeing from) creatures that could level small towns?

He reached the familiar, imposing oak door and knocked, bracing himself.

"Enter."

Lloyd pushed the door open and stepped inside. The study was its usual bastion of ordered, intimidating power. Arch Duke Roy Ferrum sat behind his massive mahogany desk, quill poised over a stack of documents, his face an unreadable mask of stern authority. But it was the other figure in the room that made Lloyd pause, a flicker of surprise, quickly suppressed, running through him.

Ken Park. Standing silently, impeccably, near the bookshelves, his presence a subtle counterpoint to Roy’s overt authority. Ken, not in his battle-merged, Demon Lord butler glory, but in his usual discreet, dark livery, radiating quiet competence and the faint, lingering scent of… well, nothing. Ken always smelled of nothing. Which, Lloyd supposed, was a talent in itself. His presence here, in the study, during a summons that clearly pertained to Lloyd, was significant. Witness? Corroborator? Or simply… reinforcement?

"Father. Ken," Lloyd greeted, bowing respectfully, his gaze steady.

"Lloyd," Roy acknowledged, his voice flat, devoid of inflection. He set his quill down with deliberate precision, the small sound echoing in the sudden silence. He didn't invite Lloyd to sit. This wasn't a discussion; it was a judgment. "I have received Colonel Park’s report." (Colonel was Ken’s official military rank within the Ferrum household guard, a title rarely used in daily interactions but invoked now to lend weight to his testimony). "A… comprehensive account of your recent unsanctioned expedition to the periphery of Galla Forest. And your subsequent, rather dramatic, incursion into its depths."

Roy’s dark eyes, sharp and penetrating, fixed on Lloyd. "He detailed the… ecological survey. The unexpected and uncatalogued hostile entity encountered in the Sunken Fen Mire. Your commendable, if ultimately futile, attempts to engage it. Your strategic, if desperate, retreat into Galla proper. The subsequent encounter with the… indigenous serpentine guardian. And," his voice dropped almost imperceptibly, a dangerous quiet, "Colonel Park’s necessary, decisive intervention to ensure your survival and that of Lady Faria Kruts and her retinue."

He paused, letting the summary, stripped of all its terrifying, chaotic emotion and reduced to a series of cold, tactical facts, hang heavy in the air. "Colonel Park also informs me," Roy continued, his gaze unwavering, "that the initial Guild assessment of the region was… catastrophically inaccurate. That the creature encountered in the Mire was far beyond the parameters of a 'moderate risk' assignment. That its presence so close to the forest edge, barely a kilometer from established pathways, is a severe anomaly, indicative of either gross incompetence on the part of the Guild scriveners or," his eyes narrowed slightly, "something more… deliberate. An investigation into the Guild’s intelligence gathering and contract vetting protocols for that sector has already commenced. Heads, I assure you, will roll if negligence or malfeasance is discovered."

Lloyd nodded slowly, appreciating the thoroughness, the immediate action. His father, whatever his faults, was a ruthlessly efficient ruler when roused. "That is… reassuring, Father."

"Reassuring is not the point, Lloyd," Roy cut in sharply, his voice losing its flat neutrality, gaining an edge of steel. "The point is your conduct." He leaned forward, his gaze hardening, the full weight of his ducal authority pressing down. "Venturing into known hazardous territories, even on a Guild-sanctioned task, is one thing. It demonstrates a certain… initiative. A willingness to engage with the world beyond these estate walls. Which, I will concede," a flicker of something unreadable, perhaps grudging approval, crossed his face for a fraction of a second, "is a recent development I find… noteworthy, if occasionally perplexing."

The 'perplexing' was undoubtedly a nod to the soap, the dung, and his son’s generally bizarre recent behavior.

"However," Roy’s voice rose again, sharp, commanding, "to do so without prior consultation, without seeking permission, without informing your commanding officer – myself – of your intentions, your destination, the potential risks involved… that, Lloyd, is not initiative. That is recklessness. That is insubordination. That is a dereliction of your duty as heir to this house, a house that relies on your continued existence and sound judgment for its future stability!"