**Chapter 135: The Line She Won’t Cross**
Agares was utterly unhinged, his words tumbling out in a wild torrent that sent a chill down Sylvara’s spine.
Finishe.
From the way he spoke, it was clear that if he ever discovered Sylvara was his wife and learned her fertility value was a staggering 10, he would not hesitate for a moment. He would divorce her without a second thought and drag her off to the breeding center, selecting potential mates for her as if she were nothing more than livestock, destined to produce offspring like an overworked sow.
The very idea was terrifying—no, it was beyond terrifying.
It was a nightmare made flesh.
Sylvara had already decided that revealing her status as a Level-7 Plant Healer was the absolute limit of her disclosures. Anything beyond that, particularly concerning her fertility, was a closely guarded secret she would take to her grave.
The thought of telling the man standing before her that she was, in fact, his wife was inconceivable. And revealing that her fertility value was a staggering 100? Absolutely out of the question.
If, by some twist of fate, her secrets were ever uncovered, she would ensure that Blake was dragged down with her. She wanted to see if this staunch, empire-first man would truly be willing to select mates for his own wife and the woman who could potentially be his sister-in-law.
Sylvara inhaled deeply, forcing a dry laugh as she attempted to mask her rising anxiety. “Your Highness, it seems you live and breathe for the Troya Empire.”
With a hint of defiance, she continued, “Then tell me, Your Highness—how can you be so certain that I’m a Level-7 Plant Healer? Is it because of this little vine?”
As she spoke, the green vine that was suspending the winged serpent suddenly sprouted another branch, darting towards her with the agility of a small snake, its movements fluid and precise.
“No,” Agares replied, his dark eyes narrowing as they focused on the vine. “It was your hand.” His gaze shifted, resting on the green tendril—the same kind he had seen at the gates of The Fifth Military Academy, the very vine he had painstakingly uprooted to plant on his warship. He recalled how the mental energy it emitted helped mend the mental strains and genetic breakdowns of soldiers who suffered from such afflictions. They would often sit beneath it, finding solace and healing in its presence.
“My hand?” Sylvara echoed, bewilderment flooding her thoughts. There was nothing remarkable about her hands. They were ordinary, just like countless others at The Fifth Military Academy.
Agares’s gaze dropped from the vine to her left hand, and he continued, “There’s a tiny mole at the base of your left index finger. I remember you once posted a photo of your hand holding a lemon tree. When you handed me the winged serpent’s gallbladder just now, that mole was clearly visible. But when you press your index and middle fingers together, it disappears.”
In her mind, Sylvara screamed, Holy crap.
She immediately lifted her left hand, examining it closely. She had never noticed that mole before, and just as he had stated, when her index and middle fingers pressed together, it vanished from sight.
Wait a minute.
He had noticed all that fine detail?


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