Chapter 309 - 3 Girls and 1 Rubber Duck

Cherry placed the stolen crown on my head when we got home, then informed me that ruling the apartment included carrying the fruit bowl without dropping anything on the clean sheets.

I accepted the responsibility with the seriousness it deserved and immediately discovered the crown slid over one eye whenever I moved. Lyra removed it before I could blame the bowl for challenging my authority.

Bridget watched from the bed, laughing at the way three women could reduce my royal career to a short argument about furniture. I enjoyed the sound enough to let the crown go without stealing it back.

The club downstairs had closed for the evening. The cow lady handled the last staff payments from the business account, while the mermaid’s returned frame stood secured in its proper place instead of making another unauthorized charity appearance.

Lukas left with the food-truck lady after promising to keep his date within the physical limits his doctor had given him. She replied that she had more interesting plans than asking him to move a refrigerator, which made him grin and me decide not to request details.

[System: Good on the spider, mate. Finally found a woman who knows the difference between a romantic evening and unpaid fucking removals.]

We had literally spent the afternoon stealing back a performance frame, so I thought you were aiming that one at the wrong household.

The girls wanted an evening that belonged to us. I checked Dazza’s green holding display, confirmed the next feeding and set the phone aside after sending the depot my morning availability.

Bridget noticed. She didn’t make a speech about responsibility, but the little smile she gave me was better than being told I had successfully completed the world’s lowest bar for pet ownership.

We shared dinner upstairs. Lyra asked about the deepbell, Cherry wanted to know whether the plastic cow had survived its royal appearance and Bridget corrected the part where I claimed the gala audience had begged me to return.

"They’d looked emotional, sweetheart. I felt confident some of that emotion could have been interpreted as longing."

"They were mostly looking at the stolen crown," she said. "You had put it on a cow and announced her succession in front of the refreshments."

Cherry nearly lost her drink laughing. Lyra told me the casino had paid the locksmith from its own maintenance funds, with the new key list secured and the old cylinders removed, so at least one business in the relationship had enjoyed a useful day.

I thanked her properly rather than making a joke carry the whole conversation. She had protected a place that mattered to all of us while I went looking for another way to upset my uncle, and I didn’t want that effort to become invisible because she made it look easy.

She touched my cheek and told me I could show appreciation by eating before the food went cold. I followed instructions, which Old Mate treated as a rare wildlife event worth preserving for future study.

After dinner, we moved the plates, checked that the door was locked and settled together without pretending every quiet moment needed to become a contest for my attention.

Bridget chose where she wanted to sit. Cherry made a shameless comment about my talent for collecting expensive problems, and Lyra reminded her that she had personally moved a sofa before breakfast simply because the option existed.

I was outnumbered by people who knew me well enough to be specific. It felt far better than winning an argument with strangers, although I intended to deny that if anybody quoted me later.

The teasing softened into affection. I listened, asked rather than assumed and let the evening move at a pace that suited the people sharing it, especially while several parts of me still objected to being treated like brand-new equipment.

We kept the rest private. Whatever the next day planned to throw at us could wait outside while we enjoyed the room, each other and the unusual luxury of having nowhere else to be.

Later, I coiled beneath a blanket with my head resting near Bridget’s hand while Lyra and Cherry shared the last of the fruit. I enjoyed their company without waiting for a reward notification, which was probably the closest I had come to sensible priorities all week.

My phone stayed quiet until an ordinary business message arrived from the anonymous buyer. Lyra checked the sender through the casino’s contact record before showing me the reply.

They had accepted the idea of bringing four matching rubber ducks and wanted an exact deposit amount for a meeting. Apparently Old Mate had been right about rich people interpreting nonsense as exclusivity, which was deeply irritating given how often I preferred him wrong.

I set the amount at one million held in verified escrow, refundable if no purchase agreement followed. It was a meeting condition, not a sale, and I wrote that plainly because being an idiot didn’t require giving away the casino by accident.

The appointment token I sent only allowed the buyer into the public reception area after staff checks. No keys, no private-room access and no authority over anyone else’s property went with it.

[System: A million for a chat and four bath ducks, mate. You’ve either scared the bastard off or accidentally founded the world’s least respectable financial institution.]

If they actually brought the ducks, I intended to name one after you and keep it somewhere embarrassing.

Lyra saved the terms with the token, then put the phone away before the discussion could eat the rest of the night. Bridget drew me closer, and for a while I managed to leave tomorrow where it belonged.

By morning, the collection chest’s scheduled transfer had been confirmed. The security photo showed the eel boss beside the marked crate, with armed staff and a route passing the freight exchange outside our district.

I looked from the sleeping women to the stolen crown on the table and quietly decided that breakfast should probably include robbing my uncle before he found another use for the money.