Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 31

Before opening the door, Charlie had already mentally prepared himself, knowing that this matter might not be so easily dealt with.

Columbus tiptoed next to him, trying to peek into the room through the keyhole.

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh at his comical appearance. He patted the little tin soldier on the head, and whispered, “Wait for me outside now. It’s okay.”

He was the master of 22 Paulownia Street. In his brief yet remarkable earlier life, he had faced countless more agonizing situations. What was it to face a capricious but honest (though he might be reluctant to admit it) nobleman? And a good-looking one at that.

The rabbit-headed manager withdrew his hand, grasped the brass doorknob, and opened the door in one go.

Despite being mentally prepared, he still sighed inwardly when he saw the Duke sitting in the center of the room, seemingly carelessly crossing his legs and idly playing with his cane.

The Duke looked hard to please.

Eugene and Shivers were nowhere to be seen; there was no one to buffer the situation.

Charlie walked into the room and gently closed the door behind him.

Dwight didn’t look up at him, his fingertips lightly grazing the emerald at the top of his cane. This action slightly distracted Charlie—even in a room that was not particularly bright, the color of the gem remained clear and verdant, not to mention its rare size and craftsmanship. It was a quality so unique that even the imperial treasury would struggle to find a second gem to match it—cool, elegant, unattainable.

Charlie looked away, took off his top hat, and bowed to the Duke. “I’ve heard about the incident at the palace, and I’m relieved to see you unharmed.”

The Duke stopped fidgeting with the gem, raised his eyes mockingly at Charlie, and said nothing.

The shopkeeper unbuttoned his coat and casually pulled over a birch wood high-backed chair, sitting opposite the Duke.

This seemed to further displease the Duke. He slightly raised his chin, his fingers sliding over the handle of his cane—a sword was hidden inside. Charlie raised his hands in surrender and said helplessly, “Alright, I admit I didn’t investigate enough beforehand…”

“Oh, I think you investigated quite thoroughly.” Dwight pressed down his anger. “So you knew this was an adventure with no return.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Charlie calmly said. “I didn’t know such an incident would happen in the King’s room, nor did I know that the palace would be put under martial law, exposing your whereabouts. The Mokwen dynasty has been declining since the death of the first king, Frederic I; the royal administration has long been as decayed as driftwood in a swamp, and the tight security is just for show. With the current rulers’ incompetence, getting in and out of the palace with the right map should be no problem for you and the Knight Commander.”

Dwight didn’t speak, just silently stared at Charlie’s furry rabbit face. A storm was brewing in his eyes, making them almost transparently shallow.

“I can’t undo the accidents that have happened, but I’ve done what I can to remedy them.” Charlie placed his hand on the armrest, leaning slightly forward. “I have reliable information that this time, Tifa and his Queen—”

He hadn’t finished speaking when the enraged Duke suddenly stood up, closing in on him with a speed that left no time to react. He planted his hands on either side of the birch chair, pushing the back of the chair sharply backwards. The chair legs immediately left the floor, forming a dangerous angle with the ground. They were so close they could feel each other’s breath.

“Who asked you that?” The Duke’s words seemed squeezed out of his throat one by one.

Trapped in the chair, the shopkeeper struggled to activate his brain. The Duke seemed not angry about the murder case that had caused him great trouble, so there must be something else infuriating him, but what? Pacifying him required a targeted approach, yet this guy’s temper was so fickle that any minor detail could upset this fastidious brat…

Meanwhile, the proximity of the other’s face momentarily distracted him, as from any angle the features were stunningly beautiful, especially when viewed up close, more impactful. Those who had seen the Duke of Brandenburg said he had a face nearly that of an angel or elf, but Charlie thought otherwise—such a face suited a demon better, because with such looks, any act seemed forgivable.

Though distracted only momentarily, it was enough to further infuriate Dwight, who then grabbed Charlie by the collar with such force it nearly lifted him out of the chair.

“Am I asking about Tifa?” Dwight asked word by word. “Where were you last night?”

Charlie was startled.

Last night, he was actually involved in that absurd flight for survival as well. If not for Columbus’ cooperation, the Duke could have personally verified this on the stone bridge at sunrise.

However, the shopkeeper wasn’t yet ready to reveal his unsavory little secret to the public. He seemed to have found the reason for Dwight’s great anger. Was the other party annoyed because he didn’t act together with them? Although the Duke was known to be capricious, he had always shown an attitude of “I am the best. All you riffraff stay out of my way”. 

It was absurd that now he seemed to be saying, “How could you not share life and death with us, you traitor.”

Moreover, the other party didn’t seem to realize how childish this action looked.

Realizing this, the shopkeeper almost laughed out loud, but he restrained himself in time.

“Um… you didn’t specify beforehand that this was a collective action.”

Dwight was taken aback, and when Charlie thought he would become furiously embarrassed, the Duke instead laughed it off.

“‘Specify’? Aren’t you always one to take matters into your own hands? I thought you considered any opinion insignificant. What, do you need guidance when it’s time to take risks?”

‘Great, blaming others is always the Duke’s style,’ Charlie thought expressionlessly.

“I am really, truly sorry.” The shopkeeper, always knowing his place, admitted. “It was my mistake.”

The apology came so straightforwardly that Dwight paused for a moment.

“Actually, I did try, but as you know, my appearance greatly limits my ability to infiltrate, and we are already close to the magical radiation area of Elena, so I must be cautious.”

Seeing the Duke’s expression soften slightly, he quickly added, “But I am indeed trying to make up for it. After dark, Eugene will bring back new news, and Miss Priscilla—you met her last night.”

Dwight wasn’t surprised by the declarative sentence.

Although royal news didn’t spread in the streets, news of the Queen involved in a murder case and a Countess being held hostage by criminals spread overnight among the high society, like early spring ice breaking on a stream’s surface. With the passing of time, the ripples would continue to expand the cracks. Intelligence was Charlie’s forte, and it wasn’t unusual for him to grasp the inside information so quickly. But speaking of which, the Duke’s previously relaxed hands tensed up again.

“Speaking of intelligence, I now have doubts about your competence,” Dwight said coldly. “About Priscilla.”

“Are you referring to Kurt’s prophecy? Which part made you think this way?” Charlie asked politely.

The Duke looked at him for a while longer, finally letting go of his collar and sitting back down.

“Priscilla looks fine,” he said. “I see none of the danger the astrologer predicted.”

Charlie blinked. “Some dangers cannot be seen with the eyes.”

Dwight’s expression darkened, and he remained silent.

“Even if you don’t believe Kurt, you should believe in that rose, right?” Charlie added.

Although he hadn’t seen the velvet box since leaving Pennigra, based on the last time, if the rose was really connected to Priscilla’s life, then the petals would have likely fallen off by now.

“You’re right. That’s also why I haven’t strangled you immediately,” Dwight said sarcastically.

He remembered every word that came out of the astrologer. “Her spirit is increasingly declining, and it can no longer support her thoughts”… It wasn’t vague, but depending on how it was interpreted, different understandings could indeed arise.

During their brief meeting, Priscilla didn’t show the sickness or languor Dwight expected. Although she was a bit thin, it wasn’t to the extent that it affected her health, and her mind was clear.

Compared to that, the astrologer’s words seemed almost alarmist. If not for the rose still declining, the Duke might almost conclude that the so-called astrologer was just a charlatan who had fooled him across continents.

The perceptive shopkeeper quickly figured out the Duke’s dilemma. He was certain that the other party thought the issue of not joining the royal adventure had passed, and his shoulders relaxed. He leisurely poured himself a cup of tea.

“Kurt’s astrology is never wrong,” the shopkeeper said quietly but firmly as he watched the steam rise from the cup. “But I think it’s unnecessary to narrowly interpret that Miss Priscilla has experienced some physical trauma or illness from the prophecy’s literal text. Perhaps we should focus more on her spirit. Spiritual decline can sometimes be more fatal than physical blows, especially for a sensitive woman.”

In other words, perhaps it was the rose that misled Dwight.

Dwight frowned. “Does that mean Priscilla is dissatisfied with her current life?”

Charlie said, “Perhaps she has discovered that the reality of life is different from what she imagined… But then again, the essence of life is hard to satisfy.”

Dwight scoffed. “She’s not that kind of person.”

If Priscilla was a capricious, freedom-loving noble lady who only wanted to do as she pleased, she wouldn’t have agreed to marry far away to Mokwen in the first place.

Dwight was willing to risk his safety to confirm his sister’s safety by sneaking into another continent, but he wouldn’t advise her to give up her marriage and even bring her back to Lemena. Even if he was willing, Priscilla wouldn’t accept such a proposal.

In the education the Dwight siblings received from childhood, dignity was sometimes indeed above all else. Although Priscilla was far from home, her marriage had to some extent solidified her family’s power, allowing Brandenburg to pass through turbulent times without danger, a result of multifaceted negotiations and entirely her own decision. Now her husband was noble and wealthy, she was a Countess with countless jewels and servants, with nothing in her life requiring her to bend.

In a world where small wars were constant and slaves and civilians lived day to day, this was an advantageous life most women couldn’t imagine, and any sane noble lady wouldn’t make an undignified complaint about her husband’s lack of consideration or coldness—nobility’s marriages were rarely for love, and not having unrealistic expectations of each other was the norm in current society.

Charlie didn’t continue speaking, fully understanding Dwight’s point. The sharp and complex edges of human nature were repeatedly polished until smooth and rigid in noble education, and while it seemed cold, this was the survival wisdom summed up by ancient families through turbulent times. He… had no say in such matters.

He looked at the handsome Duke sitting in the chair, his shoulders always erect like a textbook of etiquette, but at this moment, they seemed somewhat stiff. Sunlight passed through the gaps in the curtains, and the dust in the air slowly swirled in the slender beams of light. Charlie’s gaze gradually became somewhat lost.

Through the young Duke, he seemed to see many years ago, in a similar room covered with shaggy carpet, he and a little boy sat behind a desk, grimacing as they wrote endless poetry appreciations, while listening to the movements outside the door, immediately straightening their backs at the sound of heels clicking on the corridor floor.

Otherwise, the stern woman would scold them. “A gentleman never loses his composure! Only the lowly riffraff sits like that in chairs—”

The little boy across from him had a stern face, only exchanging a quick glance with him when the tutor turned away. Although silent, they always understood each other best.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper retracted his gaze. The tea in his teacup had gradually cooled. He suddenly smiled, draining the cold tea in one gulp.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>