Chương 214: Chapter : 214

Jenny's composure was starting to show cracks. She had expected negotiation. She had expected a counteroffer. She had not expected this level of raw, emotional rejection. The 2nd Princess's household operated on logic, efficiency, and the cold calculus of political advantage. The idea that someone would refuse a generous trade offer purely out of emotional attachment was not something that Jenny's training had prepared her for. Risa, sitting on the floor near Iris, looked up at Jenny with wide, worried eyes.

"You cannot take Ken away," she said softly, clutching her teddy bear tighter.

"He makes me laugh. And he builds funny sandcastles. Who will make me laugh if he goes?" Even Laxmi, who was usually the first to crack a joke in any tense situation, was not smiling. She stood with her arms crossed, tiny sparks flickering around her fists, her expression uncharacteristically serious. Zinia cracked her knuckles slowly, the sound echoing in the quiet room like a warning.

Sayma pushed her glasses up and said nothing, but the look in her eyes was cold and analytical in a way that suggested she was already calculating all the ways this contract could be legally dismantled. Luna opened both eyes for the first time in days, which was perhaps the most alarming reaction of all. The entire 13th Unit, every single one of them, was standing against the trade. Not one person in the room was even considering it. The message was clear and unanimous: Ken Eliot was not for sale.

Through all of this, Ken had not said a word. He was still leaning against the wall near the window, his posture lazy and unhurried, as if he was watching a mildly interesting television show rather than a tense negotiation about his own future. He had not drawn any weapons. He had not made any dramatic speeches. He had not even stood up straight. He just stood there, with sand still in his hair from the park, his shirt untucked, and a look of complete, serene disinterest on his sleepy face.

But he had heard everything. He had heard Iris's fierce declaration that he was family. He had heard Naomi's trembling voice as she drew her daggers in his defense. He had heard Risa's quiet, worried plea. And somewhere deep inside, underneath all the laziness and the goofiness and the carefully constructed mask of not caring, something warm and genuine flickered to life. It was a feeling he did not have a name for, because Ken Eliot was not the kind of person who spent time naming his feelings.

But if he had to describe it, he would say it felt like coming home after a very long walk and finding out that someone had left the light on for you. Of course, he was not about to say any of that out loud. That would require emotional vulnerability, and emotional vulnerability required energy, and Ken was fresh out of energy. Jenny turned to face him, having exhausted her attempts with Iris. She straightened her posture, adjusted her uniform, and addressed him directly.

"Mr. Eliot, the 2nd Princess offers you a position in one of the most prestigious households in the Empire. You would have access to the finest training facilities, the best equipment, and the most powerful resources available to any servant in the Belmontia Royal Family. Your career advancement would be virtually guaranteed. I urge you to consider this opportunity rationally." This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Ken looked at her.

Then he yawned. It was not a small, polite yawn. It was a big, wide, jaw-cracking yawn that made him close his eyes and stretch his neck slightly. It lasted a full three seconds, which was three seconds longer than anyone in the room thought was appropriate given the gravity of the situation. When he finished, he blinked sleepily at Jenny and scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah, no thanks," Ken said simply. Jenny blinked. She had not expected such a blunt, casual rejection.

"Mr. Eliot, if I may, the 2nd Princess is offering you a life of prestige and opportunity that most servants can only dream of. The resources alone would transform your capabilities as a combatant. I strongly recommend that you reconsider before making a hasty decision."

"I have thought about it very carefully," Ken said, and the seriousness of his tone almost made it sound like he was about to say something profound.

"And I have come to a very well-reasoned, logical conclusion." He paused for effect.

"The 2nd Princess probably bans afternoon naps." The room went silent. Jenny stared at him. Iris stared at him. Naomi stared at him. Even Ira's eyebrow twitched, which for her was the equivalent of jumping up and down in disbelief.

"And she probably makes her servants wear uncomfortable shoes," Ken continued, nodding wisely.

"You know the kind. Shiny, stiff, the kind that pinch your toes and make you walk like a penguin. I can tell just by looking at your boots, Jenny. Those are toe-pinching boots. My toes are very sensitive. They need room to breathe. And there is no way the 2nd Princess allows her servants to walk around in slippers. That alone disqualifies the offer."

"Furthermore," Ken said, holding up a finger as if presenting a scholarly argument, "I have it on very good authority that fancy households have lots of rules. Rules about standing up straight. Rules about tucking in your shirt. Rules about not falling asleep during important meetings. I already have a hard enough time following the very basic rules here, and Iris is nice about it. You know what happens when I fall asleep in a meeting at the 2nd Princess's house? I get yelled at.

Probably with a very proper, very dignified voice that somehow makes it worse. No thank you." He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, looking genuinely satisfied with his analysis.

"The 2nd Princess sounds like the worst boss imaginable. No naps, no slippers, no sleeping in meetings. That is not a career opportunity. That is a nightmare. I would rather stay here where I can sleep on the couch and nobody judges me for it. Well, Naomi judges me, but she judges me in a friendly way." Naomi's face was doing something complicated. It was trying to be angry, because he had just reduced a serious, emotional defense of his worth to a complaint about shoes and naps.

But it was also trying to smile, because he was an absolute idiot, and he was their absolute idiot, and the sheer ridiculousness of his reasoning was somehow the most Ken Eliot response possible. In the end, her face settled on a look of exasperated fondness, which she quickly tried to hide by crossing her arms and looking away.

"Friendly judging," Naomi muttered.

"I will show him friendly judging."