Chapter 864: Date With Martha [I / Bonus - ]

Chapter 864: Date With Martha [I / Bonus Chapter]

Martha loaded the last crate of winter squash onto the third cart with a satisfied nod, dusting off her palms against her indigo pencil skirt.

“That should do it, Master Silas,” she announced, her brown eyes sweeping across the three overflowing carts with the calm satisfaction of a general surveying her fortifications. “The cold cellar will be fully stocked through the next month or so, and we have enough flour and yeast to bake daily bread for the entire household without a single market run…”

“Great,” Silas said, straightening up from the cereal shelf he’d been leaning against for the past forty minutes. “Let’s pay and get out of here before you find another aisle.”

Martha blushed faintly, pressing a hand to her cheek.

“I… I apologize, Master Silas. I may have been a bit thorough…”

“A bit,” he repeated flatly, glancing at the three linked carts… There was enough food in there to feed a small garrison.

They made their way toward the checkout.

Martha insisted on placing every item onto the conveyor belt herself, arranging them by category with meticulous precision while the cashier scanned them through with a growing look of disbelief.

Silas stood at the end of the lane with his hands in his jacket pockets, watching the total climb on the register screen.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Your total comes to thirty thousand, seven hundred and twelve credits, sir,” the cashier said, blinking at the screen.

Martha’s face went chalk white.

She opened her mouth to protest, but Silas was already tapping his card against the reader.

BWIP!

“M-Master Silas, I can pay for the groceries from the household budget,” Martha stammered with her fingers clutching the strap of her leather handbag. “This is far too much for you to spend personally on potatoes and pickled garlic…”

“Martha, you don’t have to worry…” Silas said, pocketing the card. “I think I can handle some squash.”

She pressed her lips together with her cheeks glowing but the protest died in her throat then Silas turned to face the three massive, overloaded shopping carts sitting in the bagging area.

The cashier was already eyeing them nervously, probably wondering how they planned to fit all of this into a single car.

Silas smiled.

He raised his right hand with his fingers spread and his eyes flickered with the faintest pulse of gold behind the dark blue.

FWOOMP!

In a single silent heartbeat, every crate, every sack, every jar and jug vanished from all three carts simultaneously, absorbed into the bottomless void of his Inventory like water into dry sand.

The carts sat empty with not a crumb or a stray onion skin left behind.

The cashier’s jaw dropped and a stock boy two aisles over fumbled the box he was carrying.

’Why are you surprised…? Don’t Lords come here everytime?’ Silas blinked.

Martha stood frozen beside the conveyor belt, her small hands hovering in the air where she’d been reaching for a bag of oats that no longer existed.

She stared at the empty carts.

“The… the crates…” she whispered, her voice rising in horrified bewilderment. “Master Silas, the potatoes… the flour… where did three full carts of groceries just… go?!”

In her surprise, she had once again forgotten that Lords had inventories.

Silas was already walking toward the exit with his boots clicking on the polished floor.

He tossed a casual glance over his shoulder and that wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“They’ll be waiting in the cold cellar when we get home,” he called back. “Come on, Martha… The night’s not getting any younger.”

Martha’s mouth opened and closed several times as she looked at the cashier for help but the cashier looked at her with the same expression.

“He used his Inventory… H-have a good evening,” the cashier managed.

Martha curtseyed to the poor girl on reflex, then hurried after Silas with quick clicking steps.

’Ah I forgot…’ she thought, clutching her handbag to her chest. ’Inventories, Lords have Inventories… I can’t believe I forgot about it.’

Martha caught up to him in the parking lot, falling into step beside him as the cool night settled around them.

The air smelled of roasting chestnuts from a vendor’s cart at the corner of the lot, and the distant hum of the city felt muted up here on the northern boulevard, where the residential towers thinned and the sky opened up above the treeline.

The Zenith IVR sat gleaming under the amber lot lights with its obsidian body catching reflections like dark water.

“…Excuse me?”

A woman’s voice called out behind them.

Silas and Martha both turned.

A young couple was walking past, the woman tugging her partner’s sleeve.

She had a warm friendly smile as her eyes swept over Martha’s outfit and then up to Silas.

“Sorry, I just had to say, you two look so lovely together,” the woman said brightly. “That sweater is gorgeous on you, miss and your boyfriend is…”

She glanced at Silas and let out a soft appreciative laugh. “Well… Lucky girl.”

’Your boyfriend’s right there…’

Her partner nodded with a good-natured grin.

“Seriously, Sharp couple.”

Martha’s entire central nervous system short-circuited.

The word boyfriend hit her like a cannonball to the sternum.

A volcanic blush erupted from her collarbones, roared up her neck, and detonated across both cheeks in a shade of crimson so vivid it practically glowed in the parking lot lights.

“W-we’re not… he’s my… I’m his…” she stammered, her hands fluttering in frantic little circles, her voice climbing into a tone only bats could comfortably follow. “I’m his maid! His housekeeper! This is merely a… a professional outing…!”

Silas didn’t correct her.

He just leaned his shoulder against the car, crossed his arms, and watched her spiral with an expression of pure, undiluted entertainment.

“Thank you,” he said to the couple with a warm nod, his deep voice sounding smooth and unhurried. “I’ll pass the compliment along once she reboots…”

The couple laughed and walked on, waving over their shoulders.

Martha stood in the middle of the parking lot, both hands pressed flat over her burning face, breathing in short panicked little gasps.

’Professional outing…?!’ Her thoughts shrieked. ’You’re wearing a pencil skirt and a boat-neck sweater at ten o’clock at night in a supermarket parking lot with the most handsome man in Valoria City! You are standing next to a supercar that costs more than a house! There is absolutely nothing professional about any of this, Martha, and you know it…!’

“Get in the car, Martha,” Silas laughed softly, opening the passenger door for her.

She practically dove into the seat.

The scissor doors sealed shut with their airtight whisper, and the Zenith IVR purred to life with its hybrid core vibrating through the carbon-fiber frame.

Silas guided it out of the lot and onto the commercial boulevard as the streetlights sliding over the windshield in steady amber ribbons.

Martha sat rigidly upright with her handbag clutched in her lap, the blush still smoldering across her cheekbones and her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her wrists.

Silas glanced at her, then back at the road with his expression shifting into a gentler expression.

“Hey, Martha,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you enjoyed the shopping. I really am. Seeing you stock our kitchen like that… it’s obvious how much you care about this family.”

Martha’s grip on her handbag softened, and a shy sweet warmth replaced the mortification on her face.

“It’s my duty, Master Silas and my joy.”

“I know it is,” Silas said, and he meant it.

He’d seen the look on her face when she’d found those perfect red mountain potatoes, the way her whole body had lit up.

Martha loved feeding people… It was written into her bones.

“But tonight wasn’t really meant for buying fifty pounds of potatoes.”

Martha blinked.

“It… wasn’t?”

“No,” Silas said, his dark blue eyes steady on the road. “Tonight was supposed to be about you. It’s not the pantry and not the house but you.”

Martha went very still.

The gentle authority in his voice, the way he said it without a trace of scolding made her chest ache with a feeling that was warm and overwhelming.

“I… I’m sorry, Master Silas,” she murmured, ducking her head. “I didn’t mean to waste the evening on groceries…”

“You didn’t waste anything,” he cut in smoothly. “But the night’s still young, and I’ve got somewhere else in mind…”

Martha looked up through her lashes, her brown eyes cautious and curious.

“Where are we going, Master Silas?”

Silas didn’t answer, instead he just gave her that infuriating half-smile that told her absolutely nothing.

“Just watch…”

He just turned the wheel and merged onto the elevated boulevard heading south, away from the northern ridge.

Martha watched the road signs pass overhead and felt a quiet flutter of confusion.

’This isn’t the way home…’

The Zenith IVR was heading toward the Silverleaf Commercial District, where the high-end boutiques and luxury shops lined clean tree-shaded avenues under soft golden awnings.

Silas was quiet behind the wheel with his jaw set with that relaxed confidence that told her he already knew exactly where they were going and there was no point in arguing.

’I’ll just take Lord Silas’s word for it.’ Martha thought.

Silas on the other hand grimaced inwardly.

’I could take her somewhere high-tier… but that place Sera and Harper dragged me to last month would give Martha a heart attack,’ Silas thought, drumming his fingers on the leather. ’The prices alone would put her in the emergency ward. She’d spend the whole dinner calculating the bill in her head instead of eating. No… I need somewhere that’ll treat her well without making her feel like she doesn’t belong.’

His mind landed on the answer.

The Zenith IVR glided to a stop along a quiet lamplit avenue and through the tinted glass, a familiar gold-leaf sign gleamed above a pair of tall glass doors, framed by polished stone columns.

…Weaver’s Spire.

Martha stared at the boutique through the passenger window, and the blood drained from her face so fast she felt dizzy.

She knew what this place was as she’d walked past it once while running errands in the district, and the price on a single scarf in the window display had made her walk a little faster.

Silas stepped out, circled the car, and opened her door but Martha didn’t move.

“Master Silas…” she said in a very small voice, her knuckles white on her handbag. “I’ll… I’ll wait in the car. I can keep the seat warm.”

“No, you won’t,” Silas said pleasantly, and before she could protest further, his hands landed gently on her shoulders and steered her out of the car and toward the front doors calmly. “This is our day~”

The glass doors parted with a soft chime.

The interior of Weaver’s Spire was warm, softly lit, and smelled of clean linen.

Gentle piano music played from hidden speakers, and the lighting made everything look expensive, because everything was… Polished oak floors, high mirrors, and racks of meticulously curated garments filled the space with quiet elegance.

Behind the white marble counter, three women in crisp black-and-gold uniforms looked up at the sound of the door chime.

The lead clerk, a woman with perfectly styled blonde hair and sharp, professional eyes, froze mid-step.

Recognition flashed across her face like lightning.

“Lord Graves!” she breathed, and then her professional composure snapped back into place, replaced by a radiant and delighted smile. “What a wonderful surprise! Welcome back… How are the outfits fitting?”

“Perfectly,” Silas said, guiding Martha forward with a hand on the small of her back. “The girls love them… though it’s been a while.”

The two clerks behind the counter exchanged quick, excited glances… The last time this man had walked in, he’d dropped a small fortune on an entire wardrobe without blinking.

The blonde clerk’s gaze shifted to Martha, who was standing half a step behind Silas with her handbag pressed against her stomach like a shield, her brown eyes darting across the displays with barely contained terror.

“And who is this lovely lady?” the clerk asked warmly, tilting her head with genuine curiosity.

Silas’s hand remained resting at the small of Martha’s back as he grinned.

’I wonder how she’ll react…’ Silas thought but he smiled regardless.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Silas said easily, his hand still resting warm and steady at the small of her back. “Dress her for her age… She’s been wearing work clothes for too long.”

The words landed in the boutique like a thunderclap in a library as Martha’s spine locked rigid and her eyes blew wide.

The handbag slipped from her frozen fingers and hit the polished oak floor with a dull thud.

A blush erupted across her face so ferociously that her vision went spotty at the edges, and a strangled breathless squeak tore from her throat as every single coherent thought in her thirty-one-year-old head caught fire simultaneously.

’G-G-G-GIRLFRIEND?!’

The three clerks behind the counter stared at her with sparkling delighted eyes and Silas stood beside her with his hand still resting casually on her back, looking as unbothered as a man commenting on the weather.