The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort
Chapter 544 - 544: The Merchants and New Toys (1)

Mikhailis lounged deeper into the velvet cushions, letting the glow from the silver lamps paint soft highlights along the edges of his jaw. The private lounge never failed to impress: walls lined in deep plum silk, small framed mirrors catching the light, and an unobtrusive harp melody drifting in from somewhere overhead. He caught a faint flutter of rose-scented air every time the nearby ventilation rune exhaled, mingling with the warmth of fresh tea that rested on a side table.

Across from him, Estella sat upright, posture elegant but clearly expectant. Her glimmering gown, the color of deep ocean, hugged her figure, and the dangling topaz earrings at her ears shifted whenever she tilted her head. Beside her, Rhea leaned slightly forward, forearms resting on her knees in a stance that balanced poise and warrior alertness. Even in a simple silver-blue tunic she looked effortlessly regal; a strand of her short, light-green hair fell near her cheek, and she didn't bother pushing it back—evidence, perhaps, of how curious she already was.

" I have something for both of you," Mikhailis said, his voice carrying an almost conspiratorial warmth. He slipped a hand inside his long coat, fingers brushing the cool metal he'd tucked away earlier.

Estella's lashes fluttered, the corner of her mouth quirking. Rhea's brow lifted a single polite millimeter—her version of a gasp.

When the silver-framed glasses emerged, both women leaned closer. The ambient light rippled over the fine metalwork, revealing dainty vine engravings that shimmered like delicate frost. A pulse of blue light chased the etchings, humming softly before fading. Mikhailis enjoyed their mirrored expressions: intrigue from Estella, calculation from Rhea.

"Glasses?" Estella repeated, voice light with amusement yet coloring toward excitement.

"Not ordinary," Mikhailis answered, offering each a pair with reverence. The moment the frames touched their fingers, a gentle warmth seeped into the metal, responding to their mana signature.

They slid the glasses on. A pause—then both stiffened as translucent glyphs bloomed across the lenses.

<Welcome, Miss Estella. Welcome, Miss Rhea. I am Rodion, your designated assistant and information network.>

Estella's gasp broke free. One hand flew to her chest as if to still a racing heartbeat. Rhea blinked, pupils dilating in curiosity, then steadied her breathing with soldier-like control.

"It… it speaks directly?" Estella whispered, eyes darting as data panes floated before her sight—charts, names, stock figures updating in real time.

Rhea's lips parted. "Latency near zero," she murmured, voice half awed, half evaluating. "He's processing requests before I even finish the thought."

The lounge's lanterns caught fragments of holo-light reflecting from their lenses, bathing their faces in faint sapphire. Rodion continued without hesitation:

<I am currently monitoring staff efficiency: eighty-nine percent. Customer satisfaction: ninety-three percent. Shelf five needs restocking in four minutes. Would you like a prioritized to-do list?>

Estella exhaled a shaky breath, clutching the glasses. "I—yes—Rodion, show me the customer flow from the front entrance." Immediately, an overhead schematic blossomed, dotted with tiny light orbs representing guests, each orb labeled by dwell time and interest tags.

Rhea lifted two fingers, testing. "Security status? External threats within twenty-meter radius?" The schematic zoomed out, highlighting door wards, street traffic, and a green ring marking "No threats detected."

A laugh bubbled from Estella, bright and genuine. "I'm looking at a dream."

Mikhailis watched, satisfaction warming his chest. They're brilliant; they deserve every advantage. He reclined, crossing one ankle over the other, the very image of a magician showing off a favorite trick.

"Careful," he warned with a grin, "praise him too much and he'll start requesting a throne."

<Contrary to insinuation, my self-optimization routines are impervious to flattery,> Rodion replied, a faint electronic sigh coloring the words. <However, a more spacious docking station would be appreciated.>

Rhea allowed a small smile—rare and precious. "He even jokes."

Estella turned, excitement softening into something more tender. "Why give us something so… intimate? This feels like the heartbeat of your strategy."

Mikhailis leaned forward, elbows on knees. The playfulness in his eyes steadied into sincerity. "Because you've earned it. Lumine Étoile isn't just a storefront. You built a refuge where people leave feeling braver, brighter. I want that mission armed with the best I can offer."

He paused, studying their faces—the glow dancing across Estella's freckles, the slight quiver in Rhea's throat as she swallowed. "And yes, Serelith, Cerys, Elowen—they all wear versions of these. You stand with them in my eyes."

Estella's breath caught; her hand rose to her lips. "We're… we're in that circle?" Tears welled, turning her emerald gaze into liquid jewels.

Rhea tried for composure, but emotion cracked her voice. "You trust us that much?"

Mikhailis reached across the small table, placing a steadying hand over Estella's and sliding his other palm to rest atop Rhea's cool knuckles. "You've always been more than partners or allies." His smile softened, eyes bright yet solemn. "Elowen herself signed off on this gift because she knows how vital you are—to me, and to the realm."

For a heartbeat, silence reigned, thick and shimmering like spun glass. Estella's shoulders shook once, a fragile laugh slipping out as she wiped the corner of her eye. Rhea inhaled slowly, then exhaled, letting her hand turn so her fingers could intertwine with his.

"We're not just... business partners?" Rhea whispered, her words almost swallowed by the plush hush of the lounge. Her voice, usually cool steel, trembled like a string drawn too tight.

Mikhailis reached forward, covering her hand and Estella's with his own. The warmth of his palms drew both women closer in a small circle of shared heartbeat. "You never were."

A tender silence settled over them—like fresh snow muffling the world outside. The silver lamps flickered, catching the wet sheen in Estella's emerald eyes and turning it into tiny constellations. Rhea took a slow breath through parted lips, as though the room suddenly carried more oxygen than she knew how to hold.

Mikhailis cleared his throat, breaking the hush but not the closeness. Mischief danced back into his silver-blue gaze—moonlight rippling on a stream after a stone skips across it. "There's one more thing," he said, tone light but thrumming with backstage excitement. "Something… unconventional."

He snapped his fingers. The wall behind them rippled like a pond disturbed by a pebble. Velvet panels slid apart, revealing a recessed chamber. Out of the dim alcove poured a silent procession of bodies: twenty lithe Chimera Ant Workers no larger than housecats and ten gleaming Soldiers half Rhea's height, their armored carapaces catching the lantern light. Emerald faceted eyes glowed softly, reflecting curiosity but not menace.

Estella's hand flew to her chest. "Monsters…?" A faint tremor ran through her voice, turning the single word into a question, a fear, and a thrill all at once.

Rhea's chair creaked as she instinctively shifted into a guarded stance. Yet her eyes, sharpened by a strategist's discipline, tracked the creatures' measured movements. "Controlled monsters?" Her tone balanced caution with scientific intrigue; she was already dissecting possibilities.

<These are not mere monsters,> Rodion's voice interjected, echoing through their lenses with perfect calm. <They are the summoned brood of Mikhailis's familiar—the Chimera Ant Queen. Each possesses independent thought, collective empathy, and advanced tactical routines.>

The Workers fanned out, antennae twitching in disciplined formations. The Soldiers settled near door seams, their bladed forearms folding neatly as if awaiting orders. Despite their alien forms, nothing about them felt chaotic. If anything, their quiet precision echoed the boutique's own sense of order.

"They're loyal," Mikhailis explained, pride pricking every syllable. "The Workers can weave a shelf from scrap wood or etch runes into crystal if you feed them enough raw mana." He gestured to the bulkier Soldiers. "These big fellows handle patrol, scouting, and… persuasion, when necessary."

Estella's fear flickered out, replaced by entrepreneurial fire. She stood, running admiring fingers along one Worker's polished shell. The tiny creature chirped—almost a purr—and offered a small piece of broken glass it had already swept from beneath a chair. "We could finish the west storeroom expansion in half a day," she breathed, excitement pitching her tone higher than usual. "And reinforce the vault doors with secret bracing."

Rhea knelt, meeting a Soldier's emerald gaze. Its multi-faceted eyes met hers without blinking, waiting. She brushed her thumb across one segmented arm. The shell was warm—alive, not cold like metal. "Silent guardians indeed," she murmured, seeing the potential for invisible sentries on every balcony.

Mikhailis chuckled, rocking back in his seat. If they knew how much pride the Queen takes in each brood batch, they'd dote on these ants like jewellers do gemstones. "Exactly," he told them aloud. "But keep them hidden. Even inside the palace there are ears eager for secrets."

Estella's lips curved in a sly smile. "Our lips are sealed tighter than a dragon's hoard."

Rhea nodded once, crisp. "Operational security will be absolute."

Estella could not resist testing the new toys. She touched the side of her glasses—still marveling at how naturally that felt—and spoke softly, eyes flicking toward the ceiling. "Rodion, direct Soldiers to sweep every corridor between here and the front showroom. Mark any eavesdroppers."