Baby System: I'm the Beast World's Only Hope!-Chapter 145: Episode : You suck at Math.

The tension on the porch was thick enough to be cut with a dull knife.

On one side stood a snarling Wolf King, a Tiger King, a clam Dragon King, and a very pregnant, very calculating human Luna.

On the other side stood Ren.

The Fox King approached the porch. The last time Roxy saw him was at the girls’ party, when they went to the market, and he looked totally different.

Who knew he was actually the king of foxes?

His movements were fluid, almost choreographed. The crimson silk of his robes rippled around him, smelling of jasmine and expensive incense.

He stopped three steps, snapping his white feather fan shut with a sharp clack.

"Kings," Ren greeted, his voice a melodic purr that grated on their nerves. He looked at Kaelen with open distaste. "What an audience..."

Kaelen’s lip curled back, exposing lethal canines. "What brings you here, Ren?"

Ren chuckled, a light, airy sound. "I can see what my love has been up to...."

He turned his gaze to Torian. He looked the Tiger King up and down, eyeing the heavy gold chains around Torian’s neck.

"And you, Torian," Ren sighed, shaking his head. "Still wearing half a mine around your throat? It’s so... heavy. So tacky. Has no one told you that subtlety is the true sign of wealth?"

"What I wear is none of your concern," Torian hissed, his tail lashing behind him. "Your silk just buys prostitutes."

"Alright, that’s enough," Roxy interrupted, stepping forward before Torian could pounce. She placed a hand on her belly, looking Ren dead in the eye. "If you’re quite done measuring your egos, my feet are swelling. State your business, Ren."

Ren’s eyes shifted to her. His eyes, which were filled with mockery, were immediately replaced with genuine appreciation. He looked at her face, then down to her massive bump, and then, surprisingly, down to her ankle.

"You still wear it," Ren noted softly.

Roxy glanced down. Beneath the hem of her maternity skirt, the delicate silver anklet with the tiny bells, the gift he had given her.

"It jingles when I waddle," Roxy said dryly. "It entertains the children."

Ren smiled. It was a dazzling, practiced smile. "I remember the night I gave it to you. You were thinner then. Less... occupied. But I suppose beauty must serve its biological function eventually."

He gestured to her stomach with his fan.

"A shame," he mused. "To turn such a beautiful woman into a breeder. But I suppose these brutes need someone to incubate their litters."

Zarek let out a roar that shook the snow from the eaves. "Watch your tongue, Fox, or I will cut it out."

"Inside," Roxy commanded, cutting off Zarek’s murderous intent. "Now. Before I freeze or someone gets incinerated."

The interior of the cabin did not impress the guest.

Ren walked in, his nose wrinkled as if he had stepped into a stable. He looked at the rustic wooden beams, the piles of furs, and the scattered toys of the triplets.

"Quaint," Ren sneered, dusting off a chair with a silk handkerchief before sitting. "Very... rustic. Do you live here on purpose, or did you have no choice but to live here?"

"We like it," Roxy said, lowering herself painfully onto the couch. "It’s warm. Unlike your personality."

Ren ignored the jab. He gestured to one of his silent, masked guards. The guard stepped forward, carrying a lacquered wooden box.

"I did not come to critique your interior design, though Goddess knows it needs help," Ren said, crossing his legs elegantly. "I came because I heard rumors of a coin. Rumors of a market."

He looked at Roxy, his eyes gleaming with intelligence.

"I hear the Iron-Wood has become the bank of the forest. And the Fox Tribe... well, we enjoy profit."

Roxy leaned forward, her interest piqued. This was it. The negotiation. Anything that brought money, she was up for it.

[System Alert: Potential Mate Detected]

[Target: Ren, King of the Foxes.]

[Compatibility: High.]

[Status: Critical.]

Roxy nearly choked on her own spit.

What? she thought furiously.

No. Absolutely not. System, are you glitching?

I have a Dragon, a Tiger, a Wolf, and a Basilisk. My bed is full. My heart is full. I do not need a peacock with an attitude problem.

[You do not need him. He needs YOU.]

[SassyGoddess rolls her eyes. Look, honey, I know he’s annoying. He’s a diva. But look closer. He’s not just a pretty face. This one... this one is walking on the edge of a cliff. He needs the Harem energy more than any of the others ever did. Trust the algorithm. Collect the Fox.]

Why am I collecting him like his some rare treasure?

[He also has some good assets!]

I am not attracted to dicks!

[You sure about that?]

Roxy frowned, staring at Ren. He looked perfectly fine. Healthy. Arrogant. Rich. What did the System mean by "Critical Status"?

"Is something wrong, my dear?" Ren asked, noticing her stare. "Struck dumb by my radiance? It happens."

"I’m just wondering why you’re really here," Roxy said slowly, testing the waters. "You have your own trade routes. You have the Silk Road. Why come to us?"

"Diversity," Ren shrugged, popping his fan open again. "And curiosity. I wanted to see the woman who managed to leash a Dragon, and these three other beasts that don’t blend well together."

He snapped his fingers. The guard opened the lacquered box.

Inside, there were scrolls.

"Paper?" Syris, who had been lurking in the kitchen shadows, stepped forward. His eyes widened behind his spectacles. "You possess parchment technology?"

"Parchment technology." That’s what Roxy had told him when she brought out a paper to write the many times she taught him.

"Of course," Ren scoffed. "We are not savages. We write our history. We do not howl it at the moon."

Kaelen growled at the jab.

He pulled out a long scroll and unrolled it across the table. It was covered in intricate, flowing symbols, the Fox Language. It looked like art, swirling and complex.

"This," Ren announced, smoothing the paper, "is a trade agreement. A partnership."

Roxy leaned in. She couldn’t read the script. It looked like squiggles.

"I can’t read this," Roxy admitted.

"Oh, I know," Ren smiled, a condescending tilt to his lips. "It is High Foxian. Very complex. It takes years to master. But don’t worry..."

[System Translation Matrix: Activated.]

[Language Decoded: High Foxian.]

Suddenly, the squiggles on the paper rearranged themselves in Roxy’s vision. They turned into clear, bold English text.

Roxy’s eyes scanned the document.

Clause 1: The Coin-Bank will mint all Fox Gold.

Clause 2: The Fox Tribe retains 60% of the minted value.

Clause 3: The Fox Tribe sets the exchange rate for Silk and Spices.

Clause 4: An administrative fee of 15% will be deducted from Iron-Wood profits for ’Consultation Services’.

Roxy’s jaw tightened.

This wasn’t a partnership. It was a robbery.

He was asking them to do all the work, smelting, minting, and storing, and he wanted to keep the majority of the profit, plus charge them a fee for the privilege of trading with him.

"The terms are standard," Ren lied smoothly, watching her face. "We provide luxury goods, silk, spices, and paper. You provide the raw labor and the coins. We split the market."

"Split?" Torian growled, leaning over Roxy’s shoulder to look at the indecipherable markings. "It looks like a lot of ink for a simple split."

"Business is nuanced, Tiger," Ren dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Something a brute wouldn’t understand."

He looked back at Roxy. He saw a pretty, pregnant woman who had likely been overwhelmed by these powerful males.

’She would definitely cave.’ He thought internally with a smile.

"Look," Ren purred, leaning across the table. He smelled intoxicatingly good, "I know this is boring. Numbers, clauses, logistics... It’s not for you. You should be resting. Taking care of the baby in your stomach."

He picked up a quill from the box and dipped it in an ink pot.

"I have already calculated the projections," Ren said, tapping a specific line on the scroll (which Roxy could clearly read as ’Fox Tribe acquires majority voting rights in the Bank’). "It benefits everyone. You get pretty silks for the baby. We get coins."

Torian had already been given more than enough silks; who did he think he was for pulling that move?

He held the quill out to her.

"Don’t worry your pretty little head about the numbers, darling," Ren smirked, his violet eyes twinkling with manipulation. "Just sign at the bottom. Let the men handle the economy."

Roxy looked at the quill. Then she looked at the contract. Then she looked at Ren.

[Deal Analysis:]

[Projected Loss for Iron-Wood: 40% of Annual GDP.]

[Fox Profit Margin: 200%.]

[Verdict: He thinks you’re an idiot.]

Roxy didn’t take the quill. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, clasping her hands over her belly. She laughed before settling into a smile.

"You know, Ren," Roxy said, her voice dangerously calm. "For a smart man... You really suck at math."