The Glow Up No One Saw Coming

The Reed Flower Disaster

Chapter 9: The Reed Flower Disasters

Lord Grant stared down his daughter, his jaw clenched tight enough to grind stone. Claire stood her ground, buffered only by her mother, who hovered between them like a fragile shield against the gathering storm.

"If she steps one foot inside the Imperial Hall," Lord Grant rasped, throwing his hands up in utter disbelief, "who knows what kind of catastrophic disaster she'll inflict upon us all!"

Claire swept her silk sleeves back, bowing with dramatic flair before looking her father dead in the eye. A brilliant, fearless spark lit up her gaze. "Father, answering the royal decree wasn't some foolish whim or reckless stunt," she insisted, her voice ringing out with supreme confidence. "I intend to use my brilliant talents to single-handedly restore the glorious legacy of the Grant family!"

Lord Grant let out a harsh, barking laugh that echoed across the stone pavers. "Talent? What talent?" He pointed a accusatory finger at her, his face twisting in theatrical agony. "Have you forgotten the Flower Banquet last year? Your infamous poem about the reed flowers?" He began mocking her recital in a high-pitched drawl: "One, two, three, four petals... four, five, six, seven petals... You turned our entire bloodline into the laughingstock of Avalon! Do you remember that?!"

Claire cringed, wincing as the memory hit. Her bold front faltered for a split second, replaced by a sheepish, guilty grin as she nervously tugged at her sash. "Uh... well..." she offered, letting out a weak, airy giggle. "That was

Before Lord Grant could unleash another tirade, the heavy oak doors at the grand entrance groaned open. The sharp clatter of leather boots broke the tension as a tall, impeccably groomed young man stepped into the sunlit courtyard. Dressed in fine sky-blue robes, he brought his hands together in a crisp, rehearsed bow of ultimate nobility.

"Uncle Grant," the young man announced smoothly, his tone coated in calculated warmth. "Forgive my uninvited visit. I deeply apologize for intruding upon your household."

Claire slowly turned toward the grand entrance, her polite expression souring in a fraction of a second. She crossed her arms, watching him with a cold, piercing glare that could melt steel. A dark, sarcastic smirk pulled at the corner of her lips as she muttered beneath her breath, Well, look what the cat dragged in. Here comes the scumbag.

Lord Grant’s fierce scowl vanished instantly, replaced by a beaming, welcoming smile. Lowering his heavy staff to the ground, he offered a cordial wave of his hand, completely oblivious to the frost in the air.

"Ah, Ed!" Lord Grant beamed, practically glowing with approval. "Nonsense, my boy. You and Claire are engaged! We're practically family already—there's no need for such stiff formalities under this roof."

Ed remained rooted to the spot, his posture stiff and his expression deadpan. Not a single trace of warmth returned Lord Grant's enthusiastic welcome. The silence in the courtyard grew thick, heavy, and uncomfortably tense as Ed slowly lifted his head, locking eyes with Lord Grant.

"Uncle," Ed delivered the words softly, every syllable dripping with cold, calculated finality. "I came here today... to officially break off the engagement."