Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 235

Chapter 235 The Great Minds of the Interstellar Era?

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Margaret walked over, checked that the crown was intact, then turned to Quentin. “Are you hurt?”

Quentin blinked. Something flickered in his crimson eyes and vanished just as fast. “No,” he said,

Margaret scanned him once over anyway. No blood. No wounds. She nodded. “Well done.”

Quentin lowered his gaze. His lips moved, but the only answer he gave was a short nod.

Tyrone watched from the side and raised an eyebrow. He took a sip of his coffee and hid the curve of his mouth behind the rim. In the black market, it was all about results. No one asked how much blood had been spilled getting there.

“Alright.” Margaret tapped the glass of the display case. “Get this inside. Find somewhere secure and figure out how to crack it open. We need it for the coronation in three days.”

Norman hopped down from the hovercar, padded across the grass, and circled the display case once before standing on tiptoe to peer inside.

“I’ve seen this before.” She stared through the glass, eyes wide. “On Mother’s head it was so small. Why is it so big?”

Quentin glanced down at her and, for once, bent over to tilt the case so she could get a better look.

Norman tilted her face up and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Quentin didn’t answer. The tips of his ears went faintly red.

Margaret had barely sat down inside when Timothy’s holographic feed popped up.

He was practically radiating triumph. In the background, a middle-aged man in military uniform was signing documents, wearing the look of a man being forced to swallow something utterly bitter.

“My Lady! The Royal Guards commander’s been handled!” He waved a stack of digital files. “The old man went weak in the knees the second he saw those debt markers. Signed the loyalty pledge on the spot.”

“Good,” Margaret smiled. “Nice work.”

Timothy grinned and cut the channel.

Margaret closed her eyes and let the coronation ceremony run through her head one more time.

Out in the courtyard, three males stood around a climate-controlled display case with a severed base, none of them speaking.

Cheiron tapped his Holo-bracelet and pulled up several sets of data, his gray eyes narrowing, “Thirty-six- digit dynamic passcode with biometric verification. If we try to force the glass, the micro-explosive layer embedded in the casing will activate and corrode the crown down to nothing. I’ll need to go back to the Academy of Sciences and bring a quantum decryption unit. It should take about three hours.”

Tyrone rubbed his chin, a glint of interest in his green eyes. “There’s a corrosive compound on the black market that can dissolve a thin layer of this kind of blast-proof glass with precision. But it takes time to

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14:08 Mon, 6 Jul M

Chapter 235 The Great Minds of the Interstellar Era?

mix. Two hours, give or take.”

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Quentin said nothing. He simply let his short blade slide from his sleeve and studied the case, calculating the best angle to cut in without triggering the explosive layer.

Margaret sat on the courtyard swing, a fresh cup of Cheiron’s coffee in her hand. She was watching three of the sharpest minds in the galaxy get stumped by a single locked box, none of them able to find a clean way in.

She sighed and was about to set her coffee down when a small voice piped up.

“Margaret?” Norman looked up at her.

She was short; her head barely cleared the base of the display case. She blinked her gold eyes, looked at the serious faces of the adults, looked at the case, then trotted around to the side.

When Quentin had cut the case free, he’d severed the base-but the angle had left a sizable irregular hole in the lower side. The adults, all standing tall, had been focused on the passcode panel and the blast-proof glass. None of them had noticed the gap.

Norman crouched down, peered into the hole, then shoved her small arm straight through and fumbled around inside.

“Oh, it’s heavy.” She wrinkled her nose, adjusted her stance, and shoved both hands in. With a determined grunt, she pulled.

Under the stunned stares of every adult present, Norman hauled the Thorn Crown-pigeon-blood rubies and all-clean out through the hole. She held it up with both hands, offering it to Margaret.

“Margaret, is this the piece of scrap metal?”

The courtyard went silent for three full seconds.

Tyrone’s hand froze mid-chin-rub. Cheiron’s Holo-bracelet still glowed with half-finished decryption equations, his fingers hovering motionless above the screen. Quentin quietly slid his short blade back into his sleeve.

In her head, Primo’s mechanical voice was absolutely howling. “Hahahahaha! I can’t- These are supposed to be the great minds of the Interstellar Era? The base was already cut wide open-what’s with all the lock- breaking drama!”

Margaret couldn’t help it. The corner of her mouth curved up.

She bent down and took the crown, testing its weight in her hands. Then she scooped Norman up with one arm and planted a kiss on the child’s cheek. “Our little Norman’s the smartest of them all.”

Norman giggled at the kiss and threw her arms around Margaret’s neck, kicking her short legs with deep satisfaction.

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