My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 81

Chapter : 161

She paused at the foot of the stairs, turning towards him. Her face, so achingly familiar, yet subtly different from the Jothi he remembered from his Earth-life memories of her childhood, was a perfect oval, her dark eyes, so like their father's, holding a spark of intelligence and a hint of that fierce Ferrum spirit. But as they settled on him, the spark seemed to dim slightly, replaced by a cool, almost guarded, neutrality.

"Brother," she acknowledged, her voice polite, perfectly modulated, yet carrying an unmistakable edge of something that felt like… impatience? Or perhaps just weary resignation. "You called?" There was a subtle emphasis on the 'you', as if his addressing her directly was an unexpected, perhaps even slightly unwelcome, event. The rudeness, though veiled in aristocratic courtesy, was palpable, a tiny, sharp icicle pricking at the eighty-three years of missed connection.

Lloyd felt a familiar ache, the ghost of old insecurities, but the eighty-year-old survivor within him pushed it aside. He couldn’t let her current teenage coolness, however much it stung, deter him. This was Jothi. His sister. Alive. Here. Not a fading memory, not a name etched on a memorial stone as she had become so tragically, so violently, in his first life’s brutal aftermath.

"I did," he replied, forcing a warmth he didn't entirely feel reciprocated into his tone, deliberately ignoring the subtle barb. He walked towards her, stopping a respectful distance away. He offered a small, tentative smile. "It’s… it’s good to see you, Jothi. It feels like… it’s been a while since we properly spoke." Understatement of several lifetimes, his internal monologue quipped dryly.

Jothi’s perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched slightly, a gesture so reminiscent of Rosa it was almost comical. "Has it, Brother?" she inquired, her tone flat, implying his perception of 'a while' might differ significantly from hers. "We last spoke at your wedding reception, did we not? A mere fortnight past. You inquired as to my comfort after the journey from Bathelham, and I believe I offered the customary congratulations. Standard pleasantries were exchanged." Her precision was almost surgical, designed, perhaps, to highlight the superficiality of their recent interactions.

Lloyd winced internally. Okay, so 'customary congratulations after a journey' doesn't count as 'properly speaking'. Fair enough. My bad. He pressed on, determined not to be derailed by her cool deflection. "Perhaps. But formal pleasantries are hardly a conversation." He tried again, shifting to safer, more neutral ground. "I just… I was wondering. How are you, Jothi? How are your studies progressing? At the Academy?"

He knew, from his first life, that Jothi had followed him to the prestigious Bathelham Royal Academy, the premier institution for noble scions in the Duchy, a place where academic rigor and martial prowess were equally valued. He also knew, with a fresh pang of shame that eighty years hadn't entirely erased, that his own tenure there had been… less than distinguished.

A flicker of genuine surprise, quickly masked, crossed Jothi’s face. Her dark eyes widened almost imperceptibly before her usual cool composure snapped back into place. "You… you are asking about my studies, Lloyd?" The question wasn't accusatory, but filled with a genuine, almost bewildered, curiosity. As if the concept of him expressing interest in her academic life was so alien, so unexpected, it required careful analysis. Subject Lloyd Ferrum exhibiting uncharacteristic fraternal concern. Data point anomalous. Requires further processing. He could almost hear her internal monologue, a disturbingly familiar echo of his wife’s. Were all the women in his life programmed with the same analytical, slightly disdainful operating system?

"Is that so surprising?" Lloyd asked, trying for a light, teasing tone, though the surprise in her eyes stung more than he cared to admit. "Am I not allowed to inquire after my own sister's well-being and academic endeavors?"

Jothi tilted her head, her gaze sharp, assessing. "It is… atypical," she stated finally, with the blunt honesty that was another Ferrum trait, albeit one usually wielded with more subtlety by their father. "Your usual inquiries, whenever you have graced the estate with your presence previously, tended to revolve more around the availability of Cook’s honey-glazed sausages or the precise location of your misplaced riding crop."

Ouch. Lloyd felt the barb land, a direct hit. So, that was his reputation, was it? The slightly dim, sausage-obsessed older brother with a penchant for losing things. Charming. He supposed, from her perspective, given his past lack of engagement, her assessment wasn't entirely unfair. He’d been a ghost in his own life, drifting, disconnected. Why should she expect anything different now?

He chose to ignore the jibe, focusing on the question. "Well, perhaps my interests are… broadening." He offered another small, hopeful smile. "So? The Academy? Are you finding it… stimulating? Challenging?"

Chapter : 162

Jothi’s expression shifted then. The cool neutrality, the faint surprise, coalesced into something else. Something harder. A flash of that fierce Ferrum pride, yes, but also something that looked disconcertingly like… contempt? Directed squarely at him.

She straightened to her full, surprisingly imposing, height, her chin lifting fractionally. "My studies at Bathelham, Brother," she replied, her voice losing its earlier, almost hesitant, curiosity, becoming crisp, precise, and undeniably cold, "are proceeding exceptionally well, thank you for your sudden, if rather belated, inquiry."

She paused, letting the implied rebuke hang in the air before delivering the final, devastating blow, her words sharp as honed steel, each one a perfectly aimed dart. "The… honor… that you so spectacularly managed to forfeit for the Ferrum name during your own rather brief and ignominious tenure at the Academy?" Her lip curled almost imperceptibly. "Rest assured, Lloyd. I have been diligently, and I might add, quite successfully, endeavoring to restore it. To demonstrate that not all of Arch Duke Roy Ferrum’s offspring are… disappointments."

The words, delivered with the cool, precise cruelty only a younger sibling truly secure in their own superiority can muster, struck Lloyd with the force of a physical blow. Disappointments. The word echoed in the sudden, ringing silence, a brutal, unvarnished assessment of his past self, a judgment he knew, deep down, he had probably deserved.

He remembered, with a fresh, vivid wave of shame that felt as raw as if it had happened yesterday, not eighty-three years ago. Bathelham. The hopes his father had placed in him. The tutors. The expectations. And his own… miserable failure. He hadn’t been stupid, not exactly. But he’d been unfocused, unmotivated, lost in a haze of adolescent awkwardness and a profound, gnawing sense of inadequacy. His Spirit Power had been weak, his Void control clumsy. He’d struggled with the complex theories of magic, found the martial drills exhausting and pointless. He hadn't been a troublemaker, just… mediocre. Average. A pale shadow against the brilliance of his peers, a constant, quiet embarrassment to the proud Ferrum name. He’d eventually, inevitably, been asked to… withdraw. Politely, of course. Nobles weren't ‘expelled’; they were 'encouraged to pursue alternative paths more suited to their unique talents'. Which, in his case, had meant returning to the estate in disgrace, to be quietly tutored in economics and estate management, the traditional consolation prize for heirs who couldn't cut it in the more glamorous arenas of magic or war.

Jothi, on the other hand, had apparently thrived. Excelled. Restored the family honor he had so carelessly tarnished. The pride in her voice was unmistakable, but so was the underlying accusation, the lingering resentment of a younger sibling forced to clean up her older brother’s mess, to carry the weight of his failures.

He looked at her, seeing not just the confident, accomplished young woman before him, but also the ghost of the small, adoring girl he vaguely remembered, the one whose bright eyes had once looked up to him. What had happened to that girl? Had his own failures, his own detachment, slowly eroded that childish admiration, replacing it with this cool, almost pitying, contempt? The thought was a cold stone in his chest.

He didn't try to defend himself. He didn't offer excuses. What could he say? ‘Actually, I died, got reincarnated on another planet, lived a full life as a brilliant engineer and military strategist, then came back with a magic shopping list and a plan to revolutionize the soap industry. So, you know, cut me some slack on the whole 'Academy dropout' thing?’ Yeah. That would go over well.

So, he just stood there, absorbing the blow, the shame a bitter taste in his mouth. He saw the flicker of something in Jothi’s eyes then – not triumph, perhaps, but a kind of weary confirmation. As if she had expected nothing less than his silent acceptance of her judgment. As if his lack of defense simply proved her point.

"If that is all, Brother?" Jothi said, her voice cool once more, the moment of overt condemnation passed, replaced by a brisk, dismissive efficiency. She clearly considered the conversation, such as it was, concluded. "The Summit will be commencing shortly. I wouldn't wish to be late. One of us, at least," she added, the parting shot delivered with exquisite, almost casual, precision, "should endeavor to represent the Ferrum name with appropriate dignity and preparedness."

Without waiting for a reply, without another glance, she turned, her dark hair swirling with the movement, and began to walk away, her stride confident, purposeful, leaving Lloyd standing alone in the echoing hallway, the weight of her words, the ghost of his past failures, settling around him like a shroud.