Sylvara's Rebirth A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 322

Chapter 322 Black-Hearted Little Padded Jacket

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9%

+5 Pearls

Blake jumped right in, slapped her thigh, and scolded him, “Agares, didn’t you promise His Majesty you wouldn’t divorce the princess consort? Why are you still thinking about divorce every single day?”

The moment she finished scolding him, her tone flipped into wounded outrage. “Where, exactly, did my teaching go wrong? As a soldier, you’re loyal to your Empire, loyal to your country-but as a husband, you’re this irresponsible.

“Because of that irresponsibility, the fish rots from the head. Your subordinates copy you and learn to dodge responsibility. My poor baby is about to carry the ‘second marriage’ label because of you. Does that sound okay to you? Does it?”

Agares’s expression didn’t flicker. His left index finger sped up its silent tapping on the back of his right hand; his body tilted slightly as his gaze cut to Sylvie. “Ms. Sylvie, did my wife tell you I spend every day thinking about divorcing her?”

“She didn’t?” Sylvara’s big, round eyes blinked once, and she tattled at Blake with pure innocence. “During military training, you fought me, hit me, kicked me, set me up-just so you could win and make me talk her into divorcing you. Did my memory regress? Did I imagine that?”

Agares answered calmly and solemnly. “No, you didn’t imagine it. I even prepared durian, planning to make my wife stand on it the next time she did something wrong.”

Sylvara was momentarily at a loss for words.

Why was the whole vibe getting more and more twisted?

What exactly was he implying?

What was he hinting at?

Wasn’t he supposed to be stripping Blake’s disguise?

“Pff!” Blake couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Exactly—do something wrong, and you stand on durian. Durian doesn’t hurt your mental energy or your physical stats, but the punishment is very, very real.

“It doesn’t hurt much, but it’s humiliating as hell. Works for all ages. Stand on the durian first, then use the durian shells for chicken stew and the flesh for chicken too. Two birds, one stone. Agares, that’s good. That’s really good.”

Her bargain-bin daughter standing on durian!

Just imagining it was wildly satisfying.

Delicious, really-beyond words.

Perfect, Ten out of ten.

Sylvara was speechless again.

The vibe was getting more and more off.

Wrong enough that Sylvara’s heart started pounding a litle too fast.

Was her bargain-bin husband testing her?

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15:19 Thu, Jan 1 FICA

Chapter 322 Black-Hearted Little Padded Jacket

Taking some roundabout route to get what he wanted?

Going after Blake in the open….

But actually trying to peel off her disguise?

9%

+5 Pearls

Weren’t straight-laced guys supposed to have zero emotional intelligence, with even his intestines in a straight line?

So, why did she faintly feel that her bargain-bin husban was actually a little dark?

Agares’s mouth curved by the tiniest fraction. “General Renobia, if you agree this much, it seems that little experiment during the palace dinner with my wife worked pretty well. What do you think, Ms. Sylvie?”

“Me?” Sylvara pointed at herself, internal alarms screaming as she reacted on instinct. “How would I know? I’ve never even been to the palace. I don’t know anything about my Daddy standing on durian.”

Hadn’t that bastard, Blake, said she’d blocked Agares?

Wasn’t he supposed to be unable to see her account?

So, how did he know that Blake had knelt on durian?

Had he used someone else’s ID to stalk the pictures on her Xyvracorpse account?

Zoomed in on that one knee pic in the nine-grid, finding clues

Blake drew in a long breath, clinging to the last shreds of her pride as she denied everything. “Agares, I’ve eaten durian chicken stew, sure. But I’ve never tried what standing on durian feels like. So, you’re asking the wrong person.”

Agares arched a brow, tapped his optical computer, and projected a holo of a pair of knees in black military pants, pressed down on a bed of durian.

“Really? I’d assumed the guest my wife entertained at the palace a couple of days ago—other than His Majesty and Her Majesty—could only be you, General Kenobia. So, it wasn’t you; it was someone else. I truly didn’t see that coming.”

Blake was stumped by that.

Wicked brat.

No one told him to dig into the details so hard it slappe her in the face.

Standing on durian was humiliating enough.

Did he have to bring it up and flay her alive?

Flip him over and fry both sides? Overkill.

Sylvara copied the exact little snort Blake had made when she first heard her bargain-bin husband tell her to stand on durian, pointed at the hovering image, and xclaimed, “Daddy, that person standing on durian really isn’t you? If it is, just admit it. I won’t laugh at you You must’ve done it for your one true love, right?”

Blake didn’t say anything at first.

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15:19 Thu, Jan 1

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