CH 162

Unreasonable Request (3)

Unlike Arcadia, where new shoots were just emerging, it was a rough early summer in the central lands.

Under the sun, dozens of sweaty gardeners with their sleeves rolled up were trimming the arborvitae.

A small shadow fell behind the servant who was overseeing the worker under the tree. “Hey there, hello.”

The servant turned around at the familiar voice from behind him. He took off his hat and bowed. “Oh my! You came out after a long time, Young Master.”

The slender red-haired boy glanced down.

A boy who carefully fastened the buttons on his sleeves and collar to make sure he was not exposed. Red hair, green eyes, and cool features made him look similar to someone else. He looked as if Rocus was raised in a study room instead of a training ground. However, he was different from his first brother in terms of his delicate body type and a good-natured personality.

The boy blinked. “Where did you plant marigolds this year? I want to enclose some in a letter to my sister.”

The servant responded cautiously, “I’m sorry. The owner has reduced the overall scale of the landscape… No sowing this year.”

He blinked a few times more, sadness hanging over him. Still, he did not want to waste the opportunity, so he closed his eyes and licked his lips. “Is there any other way? I think she will send me a reply only if I send her something that she likes. I have no idea what she likes other than flowers.”

Still, the man was a mere garden servant, he did not know the young lady whom he had only seen a few times. There was no point in asking…

“No one knows what my sister likes. Why doesn’t she reply to my letter… It is said that when a woman gets married, she is no longer a member of the family. Even my father told me not to talk about useless things…” Although he spoke quite slowly, the young master coughed as he was out of breath.

When the young master was about to collapse, the gardener stretched out his hand as if he had made up his mind. At hat moment, hands like the front paws of a beast grabbed his back and threw him away.

“Ugh, hey!”

The servant curled up on the grass. He was hit on the back by a stone, but he didn’t feel the pain.

The mercenary escorting the young master looked down at him with his eyes wide open.

Shylock’s long legs strode past the frightened servant. He grabbed the young master’s shoulder with his white gloved hand and stood up.

The young master opened his wide eyes and looked up at Shylock. “Father…”

He was a man of cynicism, sensitivity, and compulsion. Long, slit-like eyes stared at his son under the silver hair that was tied up tightly to reveal the shape of his head. His facial features were generally sharp as if drawn with a thin nib, and even his lips were thin and long.

As his son’s breathing calmed, Shylock slowly removed his hand from his shoulder.

The butler, who followed after a beat, handed an ebony staff covered in gold leaf to his master, who took it without even looking at him.

“Who let you go, Anton?”

“I said that I would come out because it wasn’t cold… He just let me go.”

Shylock’s eyes narrowed. “Fire the mercenary who guarded Anton today. Impose a penalty for negligence and claim damages for endangering my son’s health.”

“Yes, my lord.” The butler bowed politely.

The gardeners, who were watching the scene, hurriedly devoted themselves to caring for the garden again.

Anton looked up at his father cautiously. “Father. Why are you reducing the size of the flower land this year? Has there been any problems with management?”

The corners of Shylock’s lips twitched. The Isles mansion only expanded every year. It had never been stagnant or reduced to anything.

Instead of answering, the man, who was staring at his son, slowly opened his mouth. “After all, you are a smart child, Anton.”

Anton’s pale face flushed once more as if he had heard the shocking news. “It’s really about our family…”

“You must hone that brilliant brain and become a top-tier master in the future after me. So for now, just focus on not ruining your health any further.”

The child nodded his head sullenly. “I will keep that in mind, Father.”

Shylock looked at him with satisfaction. He gently stroked his son’s head with his gloved hand. “Now go to your room.” He tapped his calf with the tip of his staff as if urging his son.

Anton nodded again, swallowing dry saliva instead of answering.

* * *

Shylock picked up his staff and slowly trampled the dirt road in the garden. As he circled the garden, his stride and pace were uninterrupted. The flower garden was desolate. Still, he went one more lap.