Interstellar Beast World: All My Husbands Are Powerful and Rich!-Chapter 82: An idea

A radiant, almost dazzling smile spread across Rory’s face as she lifted her camera and angled it toward the cozy living room behind her.

Soft afternoon light spilled across the space, illuminating the couch where Nix lay stretched out in utter contentment. His chest rose and fell slowly, limbs splayed in the unmistakable posture of someone completely worn out after play.

Nearby, Burnt Dumpling sat proudly on the floor, looking just as pleased with himself, though his round body wobbled slightly whenever he shifted.

"Look, look!" Rory exclaimed, her voice bright and bubbling with excitement as she zoomed in.

"I’ve been feeding Nix really well these past few days—so well that he’s gained an entire layer of thutt!" She laughed softly. "And Burnt Dumpling has grown too! I think. It’s a little hard to tell, but he feels heavier."

After enthusiastically showcasing her two companions to Jasper, she hurried into the bedroom, barely containing her excitement. With a few taps, she switched the camera’s view, revealing the Crescent Divine Tree resting in its pot near the window. Its bark glimmered faintly, alive with quiet power.

"Jasper, look!" she said eagerly. "I layered beast cores beneath the roots—and it already sprouted its second leaf!"

Just days earlier, during one of their calls, Rory had told Jasper about the strange, mysterious branch that had begun to grow. What she hadn’t told him—what she deliberately kept to herself—was that she had been feeding it with a single drop of her blood each day.

She didn’t want him worrying, didn’t want to add to the burdens he already carried. Instead, she’d casually explained that a few beast cores had fallen into the pot by accident and that the branch had absorbed their energy.

One drop a day was harmless. At least, that was what she told herself.

Rory smiled softly at the projection of the man she missed every single day, her eyes glowing with affection as she leaned a little closer to the screen. The image flickered faintly, but to her, it felt achingly real.

"I looked it up," she continued, her voice threaded with wonder and discovery. "The records say that for every six leaves the Divine Tree grows, it will eventually bloom a flower."

As she spoke, something warm and heavy unfurled in Jasper’s chest. Her excitement, her gentle devotion—it reached him even through the cold divide of the screen. It wrapped around him like sunlight after a long winter, filling him with longing, gratitude, and a quiet, aching joy he hadn’t known how to name.

"When it grows its very first flower," Rory said firmly, resolve brightening her tone, her eyes shining with anticipation, "I’ll pick it and send it to you."

She had no idea what the flower might look like—its color, its shape, its scent—but she could already imagine the moment clearly. Carefully preserving it. Sending it across the stars. Wondering what expression would cross his face when he received it.

"I wonder what kind of flower it’ll be..." she murmured dreamily, her voice soft with possibility.

"Rory..." Jasper’s voice broke in, low and weighted with emotion. "I’m sorry."

The sudden apology startled her. Her heart skipped.

"Sorry?" she asked quickly. "Why? What happened? Are you hurt?"

"No—no, I’m fine," he said immediately, realizing the panic in her eyes. "That’s not what I meant."

He hesitated, then sighed.

"I just... feel like I haven’t done enough for you. I can’t stay by your side, and now you can’t even leave the Alliance freely."

The bitterness in his thoughts deepened. Other females could go wherever they wished once bonded. But Rory—his Rory—had lost her freedom the moment she chose him.

Rory almost laughed in relief. For a brief, terrifying second, she’d thought something truly awful had happened. But when she saw the guilt clouding his expression, she understood immediately.

Ah... he’s stuck in his own head again.

Comforting words alone wouldn’t untangle that knot. What he needed wasn’t reassurance—it was a distraction.

Determined, Rory discreetly pinched her thigh beneath the table.

Ow—damn, that hurts.

She blinked rapidly until tears welled up, then leaned toward the camera, her expression suddenly fragile and wounded.

"So..." she said softly, voice trembling just enough, "are you saying you want a dissolution, Jasper? You don’t want me anymore?"

"Rory! No—no!" Jasper froze in sheer panic. "That’s not what I meant at all!"

Seeing her slump forward, tears streaking down her face, obliterated every trace of guilt or self-blame he’d been clinging to.

What am I saying?

"Please don’t cry," he blurted out desperately. "I’ll never say anything like that again. Never."

She sniffled and looked up at him, eyes shimmering with hurt.

"You might not say it," she replied stubbornly, "but you were still thinking it."

"No! I swear I won’t think that way ever again," he said hastily. "I swear on the Beast God!"

That oath shattered him. The Beast God was real—sacred. A male might lie to anyone else, but never to that divine presence.

"...Since you swore," Rory said softly, wiping her cheeks, "I’ll believe you this time."

Then she crossed her arms.

"But I’m still mad. You’re not forgiven that easily."

Just like that, every trace of guilt vanished from Jasper’s mind—replaced with urgency.

"Rory," he asked earnestly, "what do I need to do for you to forgive me?"

Good, she thought. Now he’s focused on something else.

Her gaze drifted to Burnt Dumpling, who had waddled into the room at the worst possible moment.

An idea sparked.

"You once said you wanted to find Burnt Dumpling a female, didn’t you?" she said innocently. "That’s your punishment."

"Chirp!" Burnt Dumpling protested indignantly.

Rory swiftly pinched his tiny mouth shut before he could continue.

"You’re going to find him a beautiful, intelligent female," she declared firmly. Then she leaned closer to the screen. "And you’d better finish whatever you’re doing and come back soon."

She smiled, soft but unmistakably determined.

"There are so many things I want to eat—but I don’t feel like cooking. So you’ll come home and learn with me. That way, next time I crave something, you’ll make it for me."

And on the other end of the call, Jasper could only nod—already planning how to do exactly as she asked.