My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 80

Chapter : 159

Lloyd stared. "Whoa." That was… surprisingly effective. And remarkably precise. No overt force, no flashy explosions, just silent, focused, irresistible pressure. This was different from the Ferrum Steel. Steel was about shaping, about heat, about tangible, metallic force. This… this felt more like pure will given form, a tool of subtle, inescapable control. It was an entirely new dimension to his capabilities. "Okay, that's more than 'vaguely menacing'. That's 'quietly terrifying'. The Austin family clearly didn't mess around when it came to ancestral eye-powers. I wonder if Great-Aunt Mildred used this to win arguments at tea parties. 'Oh, Beatrice, you think my scones are dry? Ring. How about now, Beatrice? Still think they're dry when your teacup is slowly imploding?'"

Restrain. Constrict. Crush. The possibilities were… intriguing. And potentially quite useful for dealing with overly enthusiastic assassins, aggressive mythological creatures, or perhaps even just particularly annoying political opponents during a tedious debate. A well-aimed energy ring around the throat could certainly curtail a long-winded speech. He made a mental note to practice discretion with that particular application. "Definitely need to work on the control though. Don't want to accidentally give someone a metaphysical tracheotomy when I just meant to, you know, strongly encourage them to shut up."

One hundred and three System Coins. He still had them. The bloodline awakening, as promised, had been a freebie. A very cool, slightly demonic-looking freebie. But the shop… He still needed to access the main shop interface, which would cost ten SC. He had more than enough now, but a familiar caution, the ingrained frugality of someone who had scraped by on a meager allowance and then faced interdimensional resource scarcity, held him back. What if the first items offered were useless? What if he needed those ten coins for something more immediately pressing? "Ten coins for shop access," he mused, tapping his chin. "It's like a cover charge for the cosmic superpower nightclub. And what if the bouncer looks at my three remaining coins and says, 'Sorry, pal, that's not enough for a single watered-down Void Power, let alone the VIP Spirit section'? The indignity!"

Patience, the eighty-year-old pragmatist advised. You have 103 coins. You need the shop. But you also need a buffer. Another seven coins, just to be safe. Max out one more day of Gold Coin conversion. Then, when you have 110, spend the ten to open the shop. That leaves a hundred, a nice round number. Sound fiscal strategy. Even in a world of magic and monsters. "Seven more coins," he sighed. "That's almost another full day of not being eaten by something terrifying. Or, you know, seventy percent of a day. The life of an interdimensional power-gamer is fraught with tedious financial planning. Who knew?"

He nodded to himself, the decision made. The shop could wait one more day. His new, slightly terrifying, Black Ring Eyes, however, were here to stay. He wondered if Rosa would notice. Or if she’d just file it under 'Lloyd's ongoing descent into increasingly bizarre and visually alarming personal aesthetics'. "Probably the latter," he conceded. "She's probably got a whole spreadsheet dedicated to my 'atypical behaviors'. Column G, subheading 'Questionable Eye Fashion Choices'."

He deactivated the eye effect with a thought, feeling the familiar sensation of his normal vision return, the world looking slightly less sharp, less defined, but also less… intense. He needed to practice controlling the visual manifestation. Turning up to the Family Summit looking like a summoned demon probably wasn't the best way to inspire confidence in the future stability of the Ferrum line. "Note to self: practice 'subtle demonic stare' versus 'full-blown abyss-gazer'. There's a fine line between 'intriguingly powerful' and 'please call an exorcist, preferably one with a very large stick'."

He glanced towards the main estate, a new thought, lighter, almost whimsical, surfacing amidst the strategic calculations and power assessments. The rosemary scent. Rosa. She had used his soap. The Ice Princess had thawed, just a fraction, just enough to smell like a well-maintained herb garden. It was a small thing, almost insignificant in the grand scheme of things – certainly less dramatic than vaporizing giant snakes or awakening ancestral eye-powers – but it brought a strange, unexpected warmth to his chest. A flicker of… something. Connection? Amusement? The faint, ridiculous hope that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be sleeping on the sofa (or the rug) forever? "Okay, maybe not 'thawed'," he corrected himself. "More like… 'ambient temperature slightly less sub-arctic'. Progress is progress, however glacial. And she smells nice. That's definitely an improvement over 'essence of perpetual disapproval and expensive potpourri'."

Chapter : 160

He pushed himself up from the bench, Fang rising silently beside him. The gardens felt peaceful, the sun warm on his face. The weight of the upcoming Summit, the pressure of his father’s expectations, the looming threat of unknown enemies – they were all still there. But for now, in this quiet moment, with new power thrumming faintly within him and the memory of a rosemary-scented Ice Queen surprisingly fresh in his mind, Lloyd Ferrum felt… almost optimistic. "Alright, world," he declared under his breath, a spark of his old humor returning. "You've thrown giant snakes, abyss monsters, family drama, and questionable interior decorating choices at me. And I'm still here. Still vaguely solvent in the System Coin department. Still smelling faintly of success and experimental rosemary soap. Bring on the Ferrum Family Summit. I've got new eyes, a slightly less pathetic wolf, and a business plan that might just make us all stink less. What could possibly go wrong?" He paused. "Don't answer that, Fang. Just… don't."

He decided to take a stroll. Past the rose bushes, towards the wing of the estate where his suite – their suite – was located. Not to confront Rosa, not to discuss demonic eyes or impending political doom. Just… to walk. To breathe. And maybe, just maybe, to catch another faint, intriguing whiff of rosemary on the afternoon breeze. The small victories, he was learning, were sometimes the most satisfying. Especially when they smelled this good.

The morning of the Ferrum Family Summit dawned with an air of palpable tension, a low hum of anticipation and anxiety that seemed to permeate the very stones of the estate. Sunlight, usually a cheerful intruder, felt sharp, almost accusatory, as it slanted through the high arched windows, illuminating dust motes dancing like tiny, nervous sprites. Lloyd, having forgone his usual lumpy sofa purgatory for a restless night pacing the confines of his side of the suite (Rosa, a silent statue of icy composure on her distant bed, had offered no comment on his nocturnal wanderings), felt the weight of expectation pressing down like a physical burden.

Today, the ‘accidental prodigy’, the ‘true Ferrum’, the ‘heir who might not actually be a complete disappointment after all’, was on display. No pressure.

He’d dressed with meticulous care, not in ostentatious finery, but in a dark, impeccably tailored tunic of the finest Ferrum wool, cinched with a simple leather belt, his only adornment the small, discreetly polished steel signet ring of his house. He needed to project quiet confidence, sober authority, a stark contrast to the flamboyant arrogance favored by some of the more… colorful… branch family members. His new Black Ring Eyes were carefully suppressed, his gaze normal, if perhaps a little more intense, a little more focused than usual. He’d practiced in the birdbath reflection again – ‘subtle intensity’ was the goal, not ‘I just stared into the abyss and the abyss politely offered me tea and existential dread’.

As he was making his way from his suite towards the Grand Hall where the Summit would convene, a familiar, yet strangely distant, figure caught his eye. She was descending the main staircase, her movements fluid and graceful, her dark hair, so like his own, adorned with simple silver clasps. Jothi. His younger sister.

A pang, sharp and unexpected, shot through Lloyd’s chest, a complex cocktail of emotions that had been brewing for eighty-three years – the lifetime he’d lived on Earth, plus the three years after she died on his first life. Eighty-three years since he’d last seen her as this vibrant, sixteen-year-old girl, full of youthful fire and a fierce Ferrum pride that had, in his first life, often made him feel even more inadequate.

In these past two years, since his inexplicable reawakening, Jothi had become… distant. He remembered her as a child, bright, curious, perhaps a little awed by her older brother. But that Jothi was gone, replaced by a young woman who viewed him with a cool, almost appraising detachment, her interactions with him brief, formal, tinged with a subtle undercurrent of disappointment he couldn't quite decipher, but suspected was linked to his own less-than-stellar reputation. She spoke to him, yes, when protocol demanded, but the warmth, the easy camaraderie of their early childhood, had vanished, leaving behind a polite, almost brittle, distance.

"Jothi!" he called out, his voice perhaps a fraction louder, a touch more eager, than he intended. The sound echoed slightly in the cavernous hallway.