Chapter 647 --647

Chapter 647: Chapter-647

Samuel’s entire demeanor shifted in a fraction of a second. The embarrassment and anger of being a father to a bearded thirty-year-old completely vanished, instantly replaced by a deep, terrifying pride.

He stood up, walking over to Chijen. He looked at the grown man holding the bunny satchel, then gently, almost affectionately, adjusted the collar of Chijen’s robes.

"Son," Samuel said, his golden eyes gleaming with pure, unadulterated malice. "When you go to school today, I want you to find the Prime Minister’s youngest son. I want you to mathematically prove to him that his family is fundamentally useless. If he cries, I will double your monthly allowance."

Chijen looked at his new mother, who was nodding encouragingly, and then at his new father, who was actively instructing him to psychologically destroy a teenager.

"I understand, Father," Chijen sighed, slinging the bunny satchel over his broad shoulder and walking out the door to go terrorize the youth of the empire.

How will the arrogant young masters of the Imperial Academy react when their newest classmate walks through the door?

"Actually, I hate to throw cold water on your brilliant tactical thoughts," Heena interrupted smoothly, crossing her arms. "But the Prime Minister doesn’t have a child."

Samuel completely froze. The terrifying, murderous grin slowly slid off his face.

He slowly turned his head to look at Heena, his golden eyes filled with a sudden, accusing, and deeply betrayed glare.

"Yes," Samuel’s voice cracked slightly, the sheer injustice of the universe crashing down upon him. "That old, venomous fox is well over thirty, and he doesn’t have a child to deal with! Meanwhile, I just got married yesterday! I am in the prime of my youth! I want a romance! I want a honeymoon! Why the heck do I suddenly have a fully bearded child?!"

Unable to handle the sheer emotional whiplash of his ruined wedding night and sudden fatherhood, Samuel dramatically collapsed back into his heavy mahogany chair, buried his face in his large hands, and let out a highly theatrical, frustrated sob.

The dynamic in the room had violently, hilariously flipped.

With Samuel sitting in the chair, crying like a tragic damsel whose youth had been stolen, and Heena standing over him in her crisp, dark military robes with a completely unbothered expression, the gender roles were entirely reversed. Heena looked exactly like a deranged, scummy jerk of a husband who had just deceitfully trapped a pitiful, elegant beauty into a miserable marriage.

Even the old Marquis and Marchioness turned their heads, giving Heena deeply judgmental glares.

"You did wrong, child," the grandfather scolded, shaking his head at Heena’s absolute lack of morals. "Look at what you’ve done to the poor boy."

Heena did not look guilty in the slightest. Instead, she looked at her weeping husband with utmost cheerfulness.

"Just think about it practically, Mr. Son-in-law," Heena reasoned calmly, walking over and patting his heaving shoulder. "We actually cannot have a biological child."

Samuel peeked out from between his fingers. "But I want some."

"Idiot," Heena sighed, her voice dropping into a dark, pragmatic honesty. "If I have a baby, and then I die on the battlefield, what exactly would you do? Raise a wailing infant by yourself while fighting the entire civil court?"

Samuel sniffled, his hyper-analytical brain processing the absolute nightmare scenario of changing diapers while dodging political assassinations. He slowly lowered his hands. "Well... that is logically correct."

"Exactly," Heena continued, a brilliant, sociopathic gleam lighting up her dark eyes. "Now, look at the absolute goldmine I have given you! He is already thirty years old! In a few days, he will take over the official estate duties. He can marry a wife immediately. He can have his own children right away!"

Samuel sat up slightly, the gears in his head beginning to turn.

"Do you see the vision?" Heena grinned, waving her hands in the air. "All the grueling aristocratic work will fall entirely onto him and his future wife! We just get to sit back and reap the ultimate benefits. We do not need to go to war. We do not need to fight in the Imperial Court. Our ’child’ will do all the heavy lifting, and we can just travel the world!"

Samuel stood up from the chair. The theatrical tears were instantly, miraculously gone.

The genius scholar stared at his wife, absolutely mesmerized by the sheer, unadulterated laziness and evil brilliance of her master plan. He had married a visionary.

"You are right," Samuel whispered, his golden eyes flaring with dangerous excitement. He turned to look at the thirty-year-old man standing near the door with the bunny satchel. "He is technically a minor under imperial inheritance laws now. We could order him to publicly slap the Prime Minister across the face, and then legally defend him by saying he is just an innocent child who doesn’t know any better!"

"Exactly!" Heena cheered, high-fiving her unhinged scholar. "What is the civil court going to do? Execute a ’child’ for a temper tantrum? The Censors would have a stroke!"

On the sidelines, the grandfather and grandmother stared at the young couple in absolute, horrified silence.

And standing near the doorway, holding his bright yellow school bag, Chijen looked at his new, terrifyingly coordinated parents. He realized, with a deep sense of existential dread, that he hadn’t just been adopted into the Vanguard military family. He had been drafted into a sociopathic syndicate.

’Both of them,’ Chijen thought, closing his tired eyes as he questioned every decision that led him to this point, ’are completely, hopelessly crazy.’

After all the chaotic nonsense of planning their early retirement on the back of a thirty-year-old man, Heena glanced at the bronze water clock in the corner of the main hall. The heavy, rhythmic dripping indicated that the morning assembly at the Imperial Palace was about to commence.

Heena smoothed down the front of her crisp, dark Vanguard military court robes, entirely discarding her identity as a newlywed bride. She looked at Samuel, who was still sitting in his mahogany chair, aggressively rubbing his temples as he stared at Chijen’s yellow bunny satchel.

"Baby, I am going to court," Heena announced cheerfully, using the affectionate term with the absolute casualness of a seasoned warlord giving a morning report. She leaned down, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a quick, firm hug. "Please take good care of our son."

Samuel stiffened, his golden eyes widening slightly at the sudden physical affection and the terrifying responsibility attached to it. Before he could even formulate a scholarly rebuttal about how he was completely unqualified to parent a man with a full beard, Heena had already spun around and marched out the door.

"Let’s go, Grandpa!" Heena called out over her shoulder. "It is fun time!"

The old Marquis, who had already donned his heavy, imposing armor, let out a booming laugh that shook the dust from the rafters. "Coming, child! Let’s go give those old civil foxes a proper morning greeting!"

Left behind in the grand hall, Samuel stared at the empty doorway. He slowly turned his head to look at Chijen, who was standing awkwardly by the pillar. The genius scholar and the thirty-year-old student stared at each other in profound, existential silence.

"Father," Chijen finally said, his voice entirely deadpan. "Do you want me to pack an apple for my lunch?"

Samuel closed his eyes. "Get out of my sight before I physically throw you into the lotus pond."