Episode-779
Chapter : 1557
"Assessment: Emotional instability due to stress," Rosa said from her chair. She was looking at the back of Lloyd's head. "Lloyd, you should sit down. Arguments increase cortisol levels."
Faria whipped around to glare at Rosa. "Stop analyzing me! And stop telling him what to do! You don't even talk to him!"
Rosa didn't blink. She didn't look at Faria. She continued to stare at Lloyd's back.
"Your breathing is shallow, Lloyd," Rosa observed. "You are still injured. The mana drain from the summoning has not fully regenerated."
"I am fine!" Lloyd snapped, spinning around to glare... at the bookshelf behind Rosa. "Everyone stop diagnosing me! I am not a patient. I am the Lord of this house!"
"Then act like one," Amina said calmly. "Sit down, Lloyd. We need to talk about the future. Specifically, the geopolitical mess you have created."
Lloyd sighed. He dragged his heavy office chair around the desk and collapsed into it. He felt the exhaustion seep into his bones.
"Fine," Lloyd said. "Let's talk. But keep it short. I plan on being unconscious in ten minutes."
"Ten minutes is insufficient for a strategic debriefing," Rosa stated.
Lloyd gripped the armrests of his chair. "Amina. Please begin."
Amina smiled. She enjoyed the chaos. It gave her leverage.
"The Treaty of the North," Amina said. "You allied with Queen Seraphina. You committed Bethelham resources to a technology-sharing pact. Does your father know you gave away state secrets?"
"He will know tomorrow," Lloyd said. "It was the price of the alliance. And it's not secrets. It's... obsolete tech. We have better things now."
"And the marriage?" Amina asked. Her eyes glittered. "The rumor is that she offered you the crown."
"She did," Lloyd said.
"And?" Faria asked, holding her breath.
"I said no," Lloyd said.
"Why?" Rosa asked.
The question cut through the room. It was simple. Direct.
Lloyd looked at his desk. He looked at the grain of the wood.
"Because I have responsibilities here," Lloyd said to the desk. "Unfinished business."
"Is that what we are?" Faria asked quietly. "Business?"
"You are... complications," Lloyd said, rubbing his temples. "Vital, loud, headache-inducing complications."
"Correction," Rosa said. "We are variables. And you are bad at math."
Lloyd’s head snapped up. He looked directly at her for the first time. Her eyes were cool, deep, and unreadable. She held his gaze. She didn't look away.
"I am excellent at math," Lloyd hissed. "I calculated exactly what it would take to survive. And part of that calculation involved removing negative integers."
It was a direct insult. A reference to the divorce. To her betrayal.
Rosa didn't flinch. She didn't look hurt. She just nodded, as if he had confirmed a theory.
"Calculations can be revised," Rosa said. "New data requires new formulas."
"My formula is fine," Lloyd said icily. "It equals zero."
"Zero is a starting point," Rosa countered.
Faria looked between them. "Okay, stop it! Stop talking in math! It's weird and it's making my head hurt! Lloyd, are you staying or not?"
"I am staying," Lloyd said. "I am home. This is my house. I'm not going anywhere."
"Good," Faria said. "Then you have to deal with us. All of us."
"I am aware," Lloyd groaned.
"I have a proposal," Amina said, stepping into the breach. "Since Lloyd is clearly incapable of managing his own life, and since we all have... investments... in his future, I suggest a council."
"A council?" Lloyd asked warily.
"A Regency Council," Amina smiled. "For your heart. Until you are stable enough to make a rational decision."
"I am perfectly rational!" Lloyd protested.
"You tried to fight a demon god with a stick," Rosa said.
"It was a sword!" Lloyd argued. "A magic sword!"
"It was a sharp stick," Rosa maintained. "Inefficient."
"She has a point," Faria admitted grudgingly. "You do stupid things when you're alone."
"So," Amina concluded. "We will watch you. We will ensure you do not run away again. We will ensure you do not die. And we will ensure..." she glanced at the other two women, "...that no one takes an unfair advantage."
"I agree," Faria said, crossing her arms. "No more secret trips."
"Agreed," Rosa said to Lloyd. "I will monitor your perimeter."
Lloyd looked at them. The Fire Artist. The Shadow Strategist. The Ice Queen.
They had formed a union. A union dedicated to managing him.
"This is my nightmare," Lloyd whispered. "I survived the Orchid House for this?"
"You survived so you could come home," Jasmin’s voice came from the hallway. She had been listening at the door.
Chapter : 1558
Lloyd slumped in his chair. "Traitor."
"Go to sleep, Lloyd," Amina said, standing up. "You look like you are about to pass out. We will discuss the details of your surrender tomorrow."
"It's not a surrender," Lloyd mumbled, his eyes already drooping. "It's a... tactical pause."
Faria walked over and kissed him on the forehead. It was quick, fierce. "I'm glad you're not dead, you idiot."
Amina patted his shoulder. "Rest well, my political asset."
They walked to the door.
Rosa didn't move. She waited until the others were out.
She walked to the desk. She reached out and adjusted the collar of his shirt, which was crooked. Her fingers brushed his neck. They were cold, but not freezing.
"Sleep," Rosa commanded softly.
"I'm not talking to you," Lloyd mumbled, his eyes closed.
"I know," Rosa said. "You are listening. That is sufficient."
She turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind her.
Lloyd sat in the silence. He was home. He was safe. And he was completely, utterly surrounded.
----
The silence in the study after the women left was heavy, but it was no longer charged with the electricity of confrontation. It was the heavy, suffocating silence of exhaustion. Lloyd remained in his chair, staring at the closed door. The wood grain seemed to swirl before his eyes.
He was back. He had done the impossible. He had saved the children. He had secured the alliance.
But the war in this room... the war of glances and silences and sharp words... that was a different kind of battlefield. One he wasn't equipped for.
"I need a drink," Lloyd muttered.
He stood up, his joints popping. His body remembered every bruise, every strain of the mana burnout. The adrenaline that had sustained him for days was gone, leaving him feeling like a hollow shell made of cracked porcelain.
He walked to the side table where the decanter of brandy sat. He poured a glass. His hand shook slightly.
He downed it. The burn was grounding.
He thought about Rosa.
She hadn't looked at the others. She hadn't engaged in their bickering. She had just looked at him. Like he was the only thing in the room that mattered.
It was infuriating.
"Why?" Lloyd asked the empty room. "Why now? After everything?"
She had betrayed him. In his first life, she had killed him. In this life, she had sold him out to the devils. She had admitted it.
And yet...
He remembered the feeling of her hand on his neck. Cold. Steady. Possessive.
"Zero is a starting point," she had said.
"Zero is nothing," Lloyd argued with the ghost of her voice in his head. "Zero is the end."
But was it?
He poured another drink.
He thought about Faria. Her fire. Her honesty. She was simple in a way that was refreshing. She liked him. She wanted him. She yelled at him because she was scared for him. There was no 4D chess with Faria. Just heat.
And Amina. The partner. The equal. She saw the world the way he did—as a board to be played. She didn't want to save him; she wanted to use him, and she wanted him to use her. It was a cold, transactional kind of intimacy, but it was safe.
"Three queens," Lloyd muttered. "And I'm the joker."
He walked to the window. The estate was dark. He could see the lights of the barracks where Ken was likely cleaning his guns and pretending not to have feelings. He could see the faint glow from the East Wing, where Jasmin was tucking the children into real beds.
He had built this. This safety. This sanctuary.
But he felt like an intruder in his own home.
"I should go to bed," he thought.
But the idea of walking to his bedroom, the bedroom he had once shared with Rosa, felt impossible. It was too charged. Too full of memories of the cold war they had fought across the invisible line in the center of the room.
He looked at the sofa in the corner of the study. It was velvet. It was lumpy. It was perfect.
He grabbed a throw blanket from the chair. He kicked off his boots.
He lay down on the sofa. It was too short for him. His feet hung off the end.
"Fitting," he thought. "The Lord of Ferrum, sleeping on a couch."
He closed his eyes.
Sleep didn't come immediately. His mind kept replaying the events of the last month. The Orchid House. The Chimera. The King's death. Seraphina’s proposal.