Divorcing the Duke to Buy the World

Chapter 89: Target Has Low Standards

The entire northern textile trade would take a fatal hit before it even truly began.

Ace stared at her for a long moment. He tried to read her expression, looking for any signs of smoke inhalation or confusion in her brain.

But seeing the focus in her green eyes, he slowly sank back down onto the low wooden stool.

He moved with extreme caution though, as if any sudden gesture might affect her.

"Fine," Ace muttered, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. He sat rigidly, his massive shoulders slightly hunched forward, "What do you want to know about northern agriculture?"

"Tell me about the potato yields in the winter districts," Evelina leaned back against her pillows, crossing her arms, "Be specific about it."

The head of logistics, who was still standing by the open doorway with the pale face of a man facing execution, looked back and forth between the Duke and the Duchess.

He looked completely bewildered. The empire was on the verge of an economic civil war, and his masters were discussing root vegetables.

"The... potato yields?" Ace cleared his throat, his face deadpan.

He then took a deep breath and began speaking with the solemn tone of a general delivering a wartime briefing, "The northern frost usually ruins standard crops by November. However, the third and fourth districts utilize deep-soil insulation techniques.

We managed a surplus of forty thousand tons last season. The skin thickness increased by twelve percent due to the early freeze."

Ding!

A bright blue notification flashed directly over his serious face.

[System Notice: Primary Target is discussing thick-skinned potatoes with extreme, unnecessary passion. Host’s current strategy is highly confusing to the target.]

[Smiles Achieved: 0/3]

Great. No progress, Evelina thought, her mind racing.

Ace’s face didn’t have a single wrinkle of amusement.

In fact, he looked even more intense than before, his dark eyes burning with total concentration as he tried to satisfy her bizarre request.

"And what about crop rotation?" Evelina pressed on, trying to find a loophole, "How do you manage soil nutrients when the ground is frozen solid for four months of the year?"

"We alternate between cold-resistant barley and nitrogen-fixing legumes," Ace explained instantly. He leaned forward, his large hands gesturing sharply in the air as if he were drawing a battle map, "If the nitrogen levels drop below the optimal threshold, the spring harvest fails entirely.

I personally ordered the execution of three corrupt estate managers two years ago because they neglected the legume rotation in the eastern valley."

Evelina stared at him.

He had executed people over beans. This man was a literal human glacier. How on earth was she supposed to make him crack a smile?

[Time Remaining: 01:34:12]

The clock was ticking down ruthlessly. Evelina realized that standard business talk wasn’t going to cut it.

She needed to shake his internal emotional state.

Since the system was running entirely on his feelings now, she had to manipulate the output directly.

"Your Grace," Evelina interrupted his serious speech about nitrogen levels. "Do you know what I think about it?"

Ace stopped mid-sentence, "What?"

"I think your legumes are incredibly dry," Evelina said bluntly, her voice cutting through the room like ice, "Just like your conversation skills."

The head clerk by the door let out a tiny, choked squeak of terror. He looked like he wanted to dissolve into the floorboards.

No one spoke to the God of War like that and lived to see the next morning.

Ace, however, didn’t rage. He simply froze.

A deep flush of awkward embarrassment crept up his neck, contrasting sharply with the black soot on his cheeks.

He looked down at his own large hands, suddenly looking very small on his tiny wooden stool.

"I... I apologize," Ace mumbled, his voice dropping into a genuinely guilty note, "I know I am not a man of refined words, Evelina. I spent most of my life on the blood-soaked borders. I only know how to command soldiers and manage kingdom territories. I am... sorry for boring you."

Ding!

[Warning! Primary Target’s guilt levels are spiking! Heart-Wrecker battery overcharging!]

[Temporary Store Access: UNLOCKED]

[New Product Available: [High-Efficiency Imperial Textile Blueprint- Level 1]]

[Unlock Requirement: Satisfy the core mission entirely]

Evelina’s eyes widened slightly.

The bizarre conversation was actually working, but not in the way she expected.

The current System notifications meant that his emotional reactions were unlocking the store piecemeal, but she still needed the actual smiles to get the active skill.

"You aren’t boring me, Ace," Evelina whispered after a moment.

Ace’s head snapped up, his eyes widening a bit.

"What?" Evelina frowned.

"You called me Ace. I like it when you do that," he whispered.

[Duke’s Current Mood: Hopeful Panic. Internal Screaming.]

[Smiles Achieved: 0/3]

Evelina realized she had to try something completely ridiculous.

Because squeezing a smile out of this stony man wasn’t an easy job at all.

"Ace," Evelina said suddenly, "If Prince Elian’s three hundred guards are standing at the northern transit lines right now, do you think they would look better or worse if we dressed them entirely in our thick-skinned winter potatoes?"

Ace blinked once. Then twice.

"What?" he asked, completely derailed.

"I am asking a serious question," Evelina said, her face completely expressionless, "If we took your forty thousand tons of winter surplus potatoes, carved them into helmets, and forced Elian’s army to wear them, would it improve the empire’s national security?"

The room went completely silent.

The head clerk was now biting his own sleeve to keep from making a sound.

Ace stared at Evelina.

He looked at her serious, beautiful face, then at the utter gravity in her eyes.

His brain, which was hardwired for military strategy, tried to process the tactical advantages of potato armor.

The ludicrousness of the mental image finally hit him.

A tiny twitch occurred at the corner of his lips.

Ding!

[Smiles Achieved: 1/3]

[System Comment: Host’s sense of humor is highly questionable, but the target’s standards are incredibly low. Keep going!]