Let's start over, Your Majesty.

Chapter 86 Are you spies?
After seeing Clorin off, Caesar returned to his room and sighed softly.

He truly lives up to his intelligence work reputation; he's got a lot on his mind. To prevent him from losing sight of priorities again, I need to give him a good talking-to.

As he stepped out of the room, a rich aroma of meat wafted from the kitchen, and he knew that Yumilia had started cooking.

The broth had a rather unique flavor today, seemingly a bit stronger.

The petite figure stood on a footstool, tiptoeing, stirring the steaming tomato and beef soup in the pot.

When she saw Caesar come out, she immediately waved to him.

"Caesar, come quickly! I bought some new spices to make soup today. Why don't you try it and see how it tastes?"

Caesar walked over, and Yumilia scooped up a spoonful of soup with a small dish, gently blew on it to cool it, and handed it to Caesar.

Caesar took a sip and couldn't taste anything special, just a strong aroma.

“It feels like nothing has changed,” he said.

"Huh? No way, they said this spice is imported from the Southern Ocean, with a unique tropical flavor, and it smells really good to me."

Yumilia scratched her head, took the small dish from Caesar's hand, drank the remaining soup, and then stuck out her tongue.

"It's so hot!"

“You didn’t buy any of those spices advertised, did you?” Caesar said.

Yumilia looked at him and nodded.

"It really is"

"Oh, this is it. It's not cheap either, after all, it's an imported product."

She picked up a small bottle of gray powder from the kitchen counter. Caesar took it and smelled it; it smelled like artificial fragrance.

How much is this bottle?

"Ten Golden Gems"

Caesar covered his forehead; this money was enough to buy a whole box of bags of fine salt.

"Don't believe these fancy advertisements. Most of them are false advertising. They're just making up a powdered fragrance and calling it a high-end perfume," Caesar said helplessly.

"I just wanted Caesar to have a change of pace sometimes," Yumilia pouted slightly.

“No need. Your cooking is already delicious enough. I wouldn’t be used to a sudden change in taste,” Caesar said.

Upon hearing this, Yumili blushed slightly, and the corners of her mouth involuntarily turned up, but she still pouted slightly and turned her head away.

"With Caesar's smooth talk, who knows how many girls he'll win over in the future."

"No, I'm only eleven years old, what are you thinking?" Caesar said, rubbing his forehead.

“Alright, I won’t use this spice anymore. Dinner won’t be ready for a while. If Caesar is hungry, have some biscuits first,” Yumilia said.

Caesar was clearing the table outside when Yumilia suddenly remembered something and said, "Oh, right, I heard the landlady is coming over today, probably sometime after dinner."

"Landlady? Isn't our landlord an old man?" Caesar said as he set out the cutlery.

"That's her husband. The landlord of this apartment is still Mrs. Rowling. She went to her hometown when we rented the apartment and only came back a couple of days ago. She came today to check on the apartment rental situation."

In the kitchen, Yumilia clenched her fist at Caesar and said earnestly, "Today is also the first time I'm meeting the landlady. Although I've heard that Mrs. Rowling has a very strong personality, I still need to make a good impression on her."

“But Caesar, don’t worry, leave everything to me,” she said, tilting her head back and patting her chest.

"Yes, yes, then I'll trouble you."

Caesar said that he went to the living room and was about to take out the box of pastries he had bought last week when he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs outside the door, and there was a loud knocking on the door of the house at the far end of the corridor.

"It must be the landlady arriving. Let's get ready."

Yumilia had just wiped her hands on her apron, preparing to greet her landlady, when the shouting and cursing coming from outside made her freeze:
"Are you using my apartment rules as a napkin to wipe your cheap lipstick, Miss White?! My grandma's ass is cleaner than your face! And what's that hanging on your balcony? You're drying your stockings on my balcony?! Are you trying to open a brothel in my apartment?!"

The cursing made Yumilia's lips twitch, and she stood there stunned in the kitchen, a look of panic unconsciously appearing in her eyes.

Another knock came at the door, followed by more scathing shouts: "Open the door! Haerchuan! I know you're in here! This is the fourth month already! If you don't pay your back rent, you and your easel are getting out of my apartment! You're just as bad as your paintings! I'm warning you, if you ever bring a bunch of naked men to my place for your so-called sketching classes again, I'll call the police and have you arrested!"

The sound of high heels grew closer, and Mrs. Rowling had already knocked on the door of their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Winnie, a gentle lady who, though mild-mannered, couldn't escape her scolding either.

"How many times have I told you! No cooking anything with a strong smell in the kitchen! Are you trying to turn my house into a pig farm?!" Mrs. Winnie's apologetic voice could be faintly heard from outside the door.

"Hmm," Yumilia shrank her neck. Coincidentally, the spices she was using today had a very strong smell.

She had previously said she wanted to make a good impression on the landlady, but now the little elf was cowering in the kitchen, too afraid to go out. Hearing the footsteps approaching them, she pursed her lips, gripped the hem of her apron tightly, and decided to bite the bullet and face the fierce landlady.

But Caesar stepped forward and opened the door.

At the door stood a woman in her forties wearing frameless glasses, with short curly hair, deep crow's feet, high cheekbones, and two deep nasolabial folds on either side of her nose. She looked like a vicious witch from a stage play who had stepped into reality.

“Good evening, Mrs. Rowling. Yumilia and I just moved here last month. Our surname is Thranduil. We hope you will take care of us from now on.” Caesar gave her a gentle smile.

Rowling stared at the handsome, dark-haired boy in front of her, who was about ten years old but almost as tall as her. Her expression remained unchanged. She raised her hand, pushed up her glasses, and gave a cold snort.
"So you think you don't have to follow the rules just because you've moved in?" She was clearly referring to the strong artificial fragrance in the room, and her face turned fierce, like a fiery chili pepper ready to explode.

But Caesar simply smiled apologetically without batting an eye: "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Rowling, but I have to finish my home economics assignment today, and I have to hand in my reflections tomorrow."

He scratched his head and said helplessly, "If I don't finish my homework, the punishment at St. Yaro Academy is too severe, and I can't handle it."

"Saint-Yaro?" Upon hearing this name, Rowling's anger immediately subsided.

After all, most of Saint Yaro's students will become the kingdom's elite in the future, and in the capital, this status is the best face.

Rowling's expression softened considerably, but she still said:
Do you think that doing homework is an excuse to break the apartment rules?

“It was my oversight, I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make sure to get rid of the smell properly afterward,” Caesar said, then picked up a beautifully packaged box of pastries.

"Also, here's a little gift for you. These are cookies that Yumilia and I baked together. Please don't find them too tacky."

Actually, these are the cookies that Yumilia bought at the pastry shop last week. The box is still unopened; Caesar just found it.

Rowling accepted it expressionlessly.
"Where is Yumilia?" she asked casually.

"Hello, Mrs. Rowling."

Yumilia poked half her body out of the kitchen and said weakly.

Caesar smiled helplessly: "I'm sorry, she's an elf, and she's a little shy. Please don't take offense."

Mrs. Rowling snorted: "You look more mature than her."

“Hehe, we’ve all just come from the countryside and arrived in this city. There are many things we don’t understand, so please give us your guidance in the future,” Caesar said.

After receiving such compliments, especially from a handsome young man from St. Illustrious Academy, Rowling's expression softened considerably. Holding the box of cookies Caesar had given her, she said calmly:
"Remember to get rid of the smell. If you can't remember the apartment rules, just go to the guard room downstairs and get a copy. That shouldn't be difficult for you, right?"

"Okay, I'll be more careful in the future."

Rowling stared at him for a moment, then suddenly asked out of the blue, "Are you spies?"

"?"

Caesar's lips tightened, somewhat bewildered: "...Spies? Us?"

Rowling looked at him, still expressionless, and said, "It was a joke."

“Really? You have a good sense of humor.” Caesar’s lips twitched.

"I also want to remind you that if you see any other tenants behaving strangely in the apartment, remember to let me know. I don't want those Surna rats hiding in my apartment," Rowling said.

“Of course,” Caesar said.

Rowling glanced again at Yumilia, who was huddled in the back:

“Tell Yumilia that the bellflowers on her windowsill are growing well.”

After seeing off the fierce landlady, Caesar closed the door and his smile vanished.

"Speaking of which, the Kingdom has really put in a lot of effort this time. Even a landlord has this kind of counter-espionage awareness."

He shook his head, turned to look at Yumilia, who was leaning halfway out and blinking her big eyes, and gave her an OK sign:
"nailed it."

"Oh, Caesar!" Yumilia ran over crying and hugged him tightly.

"Thanks so much this time, you really helped me a lot. *sobs*"

(End of this chapter)