Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 34

Eugene was nearly frozen to death.

People of their status as servants weren’t privileged enough to enter the nobles’ villas or take shelter in the masters’ carriages. They could only huddle in the corners of stables for warmth alongside the animals. But they had arrived too late, and the better spots were already taken by others. Not wanting to cause trouble, Eugene simply left the stable to stroll in the garden—it was uncertain whether Lady Holly would even let Shivers return to the carriage after the party anyway.

The conservatory, known as the Miracle of Winter Nights, was made of glass, a style that was quite popular in the elite castles of Pennigra and had begun to spread to Doran in recent years. The garden outside the conservatory wasn’t as warm as inside. Most of the flowers and plants were lifeless from the cold. Only the honeysuckle bushes used as decorative barriers retained some greenery.

Stomping his feet, Eugene walked past several clusters of bare rose bushes and was stretching his back when he looked up to see a pair of legs dangling not far ahead.

Eugene rubbed his eyes in confusion. “???”

He thought he was seeing things—a person was hanging from the second-floor outer wall. On closer inspection, it was clearly the Knight Commander, who should have been inside, making polite conversation beside the sofa.

Shivers was desperately clutching at the decorative carvings on the outer wall, trying to balance himself—he had forgotten that the nighttime dew made these stone walls ten times slicker than usual, and his outfit today was entirely unsuitable for climbing walls and jumping through windows.

“What are you doing?” Eugene approached close enough to ask in a lowered voice.

“Give me a hand,” Shivers said through gritted teeth. His luck wasn’t too bad. If Eugene had come five minutes later, he might have broken his ankle.

Fortunately, not many were wandering outside in the cold night. Otherwise, this situation would be hard to explain.

Thanks to the ladies’ extravagant tastes, which left the exterior walls unnecessarily covered with complex carvings, a few minutes later, Shivers finally landed safely on his target balcony.

He turned and waved down at Eugene to indicate he was alright.

Eugene gestured silently from below. “What—are—you—doing?”

Shivers gestured to his ears and then pointed inside. “The Fox—is—inside—”

The young man named Yitzfa was indeed very spoiled. He appeared in the conservatory for less than fifteen minutes and left, giving Shivers no chance to speak with him privately. Such a brief appearance was undoubtedly rude, but even Countess Donna could do nothing about him.

Thus, the Knight Commander decided to greet him in an unconventional way. Who knew that the dewy, mossy stone wall would nearly spoil his plans. He signaled Eugene to return to the carriage before turning to examine the balcony’s glass doors.

The lock was probably latched from the inside. With a curtain in between, the noise of picking the lock shouldn’t disturb anyone inside.

But just as Shivers placed his hand on the window frame, the curtains inside were suddenly pulled back with a “whooshed”, and a beautiful face unexpectedly met the Knight Commander’s astonished eyes.

Yitzfa was dressed in soft satin pajamas, with a long-haired white cat lying at his feet, staring unblinkingly at Shivers.

The Knight Commander wasn’t new to nocturnal escapades, but usually he climbed rose terraces, and the person waiting for him in the room was typically not a man with a smile that was both mocking and amused.

This made him a bit embarrassed.

However, Yitzfa himself seemed unconcerned, calmly opening the French doors to let the Knight Commander inside. The warm air made Shivers shiver.

“Your friend is still downstairs.” Yitzfa asked politely, “Would you like another cup of tea brewed? It’s very cold outside.”

Great, even Eugene had seen him.

The Knight Commander turned and signaled to Eugene, who was still waiting below, to go back and get warm.

Yitzfa stepped back onto the carpet and sat on the edge of the bed, as Shivers surveyed the femininely delicate bedroom and decided to get straight to the point.

“My name is Green, sent by my master to pay respects.” He took a square envelope from his pocket, sealed with dark green wax. The center was embossed with an ornate capital ‘D’.

A letter crest, proof of nobility, but without a border emblem—it didn’t belong to the royal family. Just a crest couldn’t fully reveal the sender’s identity, as families beginning with ‘D’ on the two old continents weren’t countless but indeed numerous. Unless absolutely necessary, one wouldn’t fully expose their identity and demands, a reticence typical of nobility.

Yitzfa seemed not at all surprised by Shivers’s act of climbing the balcony, likely because Martina had informed him through internal channels about Shivers, which was probably why he was unshaken by the presence of an illegal intruder.

Yet, he didn’t seem to care about Shivers’s identity or that of his master. He took the envelope, his gaze not lingering on the wax seal for more than a second, before quickly tearing it open.

The next moment, he raised an eyebrow and whistled softly.

“‘Healing fruit’, something only found in the elven forests.” Yitzfa looked at the small fruit that slid into his palm from the envelope, so light it seemed weightless. Even removed from its branch, the jewel-like red fruit, the size of a knuckle, didn’t dim. Its glossy surface revealed juicy flesh and its distinctive cross-shaped pattern at the base, making it instantly recognizable for its uniqueness.

“It can be taken directly or squeezed into a potion to heal any visible wound, but it is ineffective against magic and curses,” Shivers said. “Even if you searched all the pharmacies in Doran, you’d probably not find five such things. My master doesn’t like to haggle. He hopes this will prove our sincerity.”

To place such a rare and expensive item in an ordinary envelope as a reward was somewhat arrogant, but including Shivers, no one thought there was anything wrong with this attitude.

The Black Gold Families might be powerful, but the nobility who truly held power didn’t need to lower their stance towards them—not even if they needed to act discreetly now. The Duke’s pride was firm on this point.

Yitzfa put the healing fruit back in the envelope, kicked the drowsy white cat with his toe, and the cat reluctantly got up, twisting its plump backside towards the door.

“Donna will be back in at least half an hour,” Yitzfa said, his lips naturally curved upwards, giving him the appearance of always smiling. “So, what do you want to know?”

“The background of the woman who died in Tifa’s room, and the relationships among the main members of the Mokwen royal family.”

Yitzfa laughed. “I thought you were generous enough, but now I think you’re being quite stingy.”

Implying that a single elf-grown fruit wasn’t worth much.

Shivers smiled subtly. “The stakes can, of course, be increased.”

“Alright.” Yitzfa rolled his eyes as his fingers touched a bone china cup. “That woman was a prostitute, not a local—and not from the Fox family.” He met Shivers’s gaze and shrugged. “Don’t think that we manage all the women in the world.”

“Blonde, brown eyes, delicate skin. That’s the mark of a high-class prostitute, available only in royal cities or major trading metropolises. If she wasn’t from Syriacochi, then she must have come from a neighboring country or further away—no signs of living in Syriacochi, relying on magic or witchcraft to travel between places, but the spell caster was someone else.”

“Evidence?” Shivers asked.

Yitzfa blinked. “I guessed.”

Knight Commander: “……”

Shivers didn’t seem offended by his seemingly joking manner—actually, he was somewhat surprised. Yitzfa’s deductions were spot on. Apart from Tifa and the caster, probably only the Duke and his few men knew about the existence of that flying box. Yitzfa’s ability to deduce facts from scant clues was something Shivers had only seen in the Duke.

Seeing Shivers silent, Yitzfa chuckled. “Just kidding, the Fox family doesn’t deal with uncertain information. Our sources are confidential, but indeed, that woman appeared in the palace using some unsavory magic. Everyone blames Queen Christine as the murderer, but there’s no direct evidence, and the elders can’t convict her. And Tifa himself is well aware that his Queen isn’t a murderous fiend.”

“Tifa has many mistresses?” Shivers immediately caught the hidden information in Yitzfa’s words.

Yitzfa snapped his fingers. “To my knowledge, she’s the third.”

As he spoke, a flash of lightning unexpectedly streaked across the cold night sky, illuminating his beautiful, expressionless face.

“She’s not the first mistress of Tifa’s to be killed.” Dwight sat in an armchair, watching the sudden downpour fiercely beating against the windowpane, crackling loudly.

And the rabbit-headed shopkeeper watched Shivers with interest. “So, how did you get back?”

It was still dark outside, and he had assumed that, given Lady Holly’s style, Shivers wouldn’t be able to extricate himself for three or five days. He hadn’t expected the Knight Commander to be so efficient, cleanly cutting off his connection with the “sponsor” after meeting with the Fox.

Eugene laughed loudly. Shivers somewhat embarrassedly said, “Because I was in a hurry to come back, I used some methods… Lady Holly probably isn’t too pleased.”

Dwight didn’t care about their peachy encounters in the Countess’ mansion. He impatiently glared at Charlie, accusing him of straying off-topic.

Charlie coughed. “If Yitzfa’s information is accurate, then being ‘the King’s mistress’ is indeed a risky job in Mokwen. The question is, why?”

“The same thing happens not only in Mokwen,” the young Duke said coldly. “Her death wasn’t really news anymore.”

The word “news” unexpectedly struck a nerve in Charlie, reminding him of something.

Not long ago, in a small town near the border, by a blazing fireplace, the air still carried a hint of dessert after a meal. Everyone was exhausted after a long journey, drowsily listening to him read a newspaper that Columbus and Eugene had bought.

What did the newspaper say? A wealthy prostitute died somewhere. The paper spent considerable space detailing the beauty of this voluptuous, blonde woman, and her visitors were all captivated by her…

“Wilken,” Charlie murmured softly. “That day’s paper mentioned that a prostitute in Wilken died mysteriously in her own room.”

Shivers’s already stiff back straightened even more as he quickly calculated in his mind. “That’s not close to Syriacochi.”

“The strangeness of the news was that her maid had blown out the candle and closed the door for her, but the next morning she was found dead in her room,” Charlie said.

“Dead in the room, not on the bed.” Shivers pondered for a moment. “If using that flying box, crossing the continent overnight would be possible.”

“Even if Tifa himself isn’t the murderer, this matter can’t be unrelated to him. Any sane person’s reaction to finding a stranger suddenly in their bedroom would be shocked, not flirtation,” Shivers said. “According to Yitzfa, Tifa’s affairs and neglect of Christine only started after he became King. When he was still Prince Tifa, his focus was mostly on academia. He reportedly had talent in literature and painting and wasn’t very close to girls.”

“That kind of child doesn’t sound like the old King’s favorite,” Charlie mused thoughtfully.

Mokwen’s tradition of valuing martial prowess was well known. The former King spent his life fervently expanding the kingdom’s territories, and the heir he favored, though not necessarily the most like him, would at least be the bravest in battle.

Many knew that the King’s favored heir was his beloved fifth son, Ramore, and Christine was originally Ramore’s fiancée.

But compared to her fiancé, who was fully committed to the military, young Christine preferred the thoughtful and courteous third prince, Lestrop, with whom she had secret meetings for a while. Coincidentally, at that time, border conflicts erupted, and the old King and Prince Ramore died unexpectedly in war. With the support of Christine’s kingdom behind him, Lestrop could have replaced Ramore, but in the end, Christine married the somewhat marginalized seventh prince Tifa, and Tifa thus ascended the throne.

The Fox family’s ability to infiltrate was terrifying because such royal secrets were usually prohibited from discussion, not out of a desire to curb gossip, but because the informed could deduce much from these affairs. Yitzfa’s ability to casually sell this information to Shivers at least showed that Fox’s infiltration into Mokwen was deeper than they imagined.

“In many eyes, Tifa’s kingship isn’t legitimate. Lestrop’s existence poses a threat to him, so after ascending the throne, the still-young ninth prince, Baylor, was made a Duke, but Lestrop was only an Earl,” Dwight said gravely. “Although he married Christine, he doesn’t trust her.”

One his brother, the other his wife. For what reasons did Tifa so distrust these two?

In the distance, the sky gradually brightened with the foggy light of dawn, and the Duke of Brandenburg watched the break of day, his light-colored pupils colder than the ice of winter.

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