Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 32
“Things really are a bit strange, aren’t they?” Columbus sat on an armchair, his short legs happily kicking up. “That dead woman must have used that flying box to enter and exit the palace, but who was she? The King’s mistress?”
Shivers frowned. “If that’s the case, why be so secretive?” In most marriages, which were formed for benefit, the so-called “love” of married noble men was often bestowed upon other women. Honestly, most Kings had several well-known mistresses, and the Queens didn’t really care about such things.
“That woman probably isn’t just any mistress. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be that hypnotic music box in the box.” Shivers frowned. “I guess it was to conceal the destination of the flying box or Tifa’s identity.”
“It’s hard to deduce the identity of the deceased with the clues we have. We can start elsewhere,” Charlie said calmly. “After all, a box that can carry people isn’t something you see every day.”
“Who cares who the dead person was? As long as she wasn’t killed by Priscilla, I have no interest in her,” Dwight said arrogantly. “Compared to—”
He cared more about the name Priscilla had blurted out in that situation…
Ceylon.
But he stopped himself, pretending he had never said a word.
“I just think the more clues we know about at the moment, the better, since we are quite passive right now. Besides, I don’t think the events in the palace have nothing to do with Miss Priscilla,” Charlie said, seemingly oblivious to the Duke’s stern gaze. “As far as I know, Queen Christine had a sincere love affair with the Earl before she married the King, but now—”
Earl Lestrop’s wife was Priscilla.
Just this past alone, one could imagine a lot.
“What do you want to do?” Dwight asked unhappily.
“Gather as many facts as possible.” Charlie suddenly smiled. “If I may say so, My Lord has indeed attracted some fine talent.”
Columbus bounced excitedly in his chair. “You mean Eugene! Is he coming back?”
“Probably not yet.” Charlie thought for a moment, looking at the Knight Commander. “He might need a little extra help.”
Shivers: “?”
The city of Syriacochi in the Mokwen Kingdom was undoubtedly the most prosperous, but just as the shadow always clung under the light, the flip side of fragrance and beauty also bred decadence, poverty, and hunger. The lower classes naturally kept away from the city center, but they were also an essential part of the city, like a black spider quietly weaving its web of life and spreading it year by year. Occasionally, unsuspecting insects would fly into it and often have its life snuffed out before it could react.
Only creatures that shun the light could survive in such a place.
Low and dense houses squeezed the narrow paths so tightly that one could hardly breathe. The city’s drainage system seemed to fail here. Long-standing water caused floors and walls to grow patchy mold, and occasional unknown plants sprouted, mostly twisted and wilted.
The residents here seemed to dislike the sunlight. They were either draped haphazardly in scarves and cloaks or kept their heads very low. Shivers tightened his coat and squinted, trying to discern the house numbers that almost blended in with the filthy walls.
13…16…56… Definitely not right.
The paths here could drive one mad. He turned around restlessly, trying his luck at the other end, but nearly stepped on an old woman beside him—the hunched woman was half his height with sparse, spiky hair. She screamed and fell on him, grabbing his calf.
Shivers almost kicked her reflexively but immediately suppressed the impulse. He grabbed the old woman’s arm, trying to help her stand, but she clung to him like a poisonous vine, still harshly scolding in a language he couldn’t understand. The noise buzzed on the cold, damp stone walls, nearly piercing his eardrums.
The Knight Commander had never encountered such a woman before. The older women he dealt with were the noblewomen’s housekeepers, who, even if icy and mean, were at least polite and never so unreasonably noisy. His character also didn’t allow him to be rough with women, and as he was hesitating, something flew through the air and hit the old woman’s back.
It was a sturdy loaf of coarse bread, which rolled on the ground a couple of times. The old woman immediately released his arm and dove to pick it up. Shivers looked up just in time to see a man nearly clinging to the wall, sliding past the old woman. He grabbed Shivers and whispered sharply, “Let’s go!”
The alley was so narrow that two men walking side by side seemed cramped. Shivers was led through twists and turns, quickly leaving that alley.
“E—Eugene?”
The man in a local linen jacket looked back and winked at him.
“Don’t talk,” he said in a low voice.
The Knight Commander had no choice but to follow him hurriedly along the slippery cobblestone path deeper into the area, where the house numbers seemed to have no logic. They stopped next to a low stone wall covered with grapevines.
Shivers noticed a hint of black iron behind the grape leaves, pulled it aside, and sure enough, a wobbly house number hung there.
Fallen Leaf Lane.
24.
“This is—” Shivers looked at Eugene, who glanced around and gently pushed open the wooden door beside the wall, but only opened it a crack, barely enough for the two of them to squeeze through sideways.
“This door is too old. It makes noise when opened, creating too much disturbance,” Eugene explained. “In this godforsaken place, it’s best we don’t wake anyone up… or anything.”
“Where is this?” Shivers found himself standing in a surprisingly small courtyard, with a gloomy two-story stone house silently sitting in front of them.
“Let’s talk inside,” Eugene urged him.
Shivers watched as Eugene, like returning to his own home, opened the door and entered a living room not much bigger than a stable—there was no foyer, no fireplace, and every visible space was cluttered with things like umbrellas, pipes, men’s boots, and wicker travel trunks, all haphazardly piled against the walls, covered in dust and in disrepair.
“Martina’s house,” Eugene pulled over a somewhat wobbly willow chair for him to sit. “It was quite an effort to—”
“Who is Martina?” Shivers asked.
Martina was a prostitute.
In her youth, she had been quite glamorous—at that time, she could even afford to hire two maids to serve her, never getting up before three in the afternoon, with a carriage waiting at her door at five to take her to the theater. But the lavish lifestyle obviously didn’t last long. Otherwise, she wouldn’t now be living in a cold stone building on Fallen Leaf Lane, where even streetlights were absent.
However, Martina didn’t consider her life miserable. After all, most prostitutes in Syriacochi didn’t even have their own rooms, let alone their own houses.
“Eugene told me his friend was a handsome man. I thought he was deceiving me.” Martina came down the stairs, her eyes lighting up when she saw Shivers.
“I never lie,” Eugene said with a grin.
Martina rolled her eyes at him and brushed her hair back.
Shivers stood up and bent down to kiss the back of her hand.
Martina giggled uncontrollably, looking at him with affection.
“I’m Martina. Usually men come here for this name.” Her gaze traveled around the tall Knight Commander. “But you’re here for a ‘Fox’.”
Shivers glanced at Eugene and said nothing.
Eugene nodded. “We need to inquire about something, and the renowned information family on the continent is the best choice.”
Martina nodded. “The Fox family’s ‘web’ in the Doran continent isn’t very extensive, but it’s sufficient. You’re in luck. There’s a ‘Fox’ here in Syriacochi right now.”
Shivers immediately thought of the pretty child, Cici, they met in Pennigra. But it was unlikely. Cici was still a child, and Doran wasn’t a stronghold of the Fox family. The Black Gold family wouldn’t let such a young, important member stray far from their protection.
Thinking this, the Knight Commander sighed internally. If it were Cici, it would be easy. Dealing with an adult and astute ‘Fox’, the Duke might not know what price he’d have to pay to get satisfactory information.
“How can we meet them?” Eugene asked.
Martina looked at Shivers again, hesitating. “Maybe you don’t need to meet them. The Fox’s information classification system is very strict. You could first try finding the manager of Syriacochi. His decryption authority should suffice for most guests’ needs.”
“Our issue is a bit complex,” Shivers said gently.
“Alright.” If it were Eugene, Martina might have hesitated a bit longer, but Shivers’s innate noble demeanor and his gentle, yet firm attitude made her realize that haggling would only waste time.
“If you insist, then I know of a dinner happening soon. You might try there.” Martina compromised.
Eugene interjected, “There’s a dinner every night here in Syriacochi.” Nobles were always both the busiest and the idlest people. In Pennigra, there was a joke that if you put two nobles of different surnames together, the excuses for gatherings they came up with could fill a whole tablecloth. The royal city was the same. Although it wasn’t the social season, since they gathered for the King’s birthday, the large and small nobles wouldn’t be satisfied with just palace banquets. In fact, influential nobles might receive several invitations from different circles on the same day.
“We’re foreigners.” Shivers also raised a concern. “It might not be easy to blend into the local nobility circles.”
To enter any high-class social circle, having money and power were the most basic conditions, but most importantly, one needed a guide. Simply put, if the person introducing you had enough clout, even if you plucked a girl from a rural sheep pen and dressed her up as a politically persecuted princess from an obscure country for a few rounds, by the next year she might become a socialite sought after by young nobles—this was the theory, though due to superstitions about bloodlines and arrogance, no respectable noble would actually do this.
“Oh, no, this dinner is quite special.” Martina giggled again. “No invitation is needed. Just make sure this gentleman,” she looked straight at Shivers, “dresses up nicely.”
The author has something to say:
The Knight Commander is going to be busy.
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