Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 2

Dwight didn’t believe that there was anyone in the world who could truly fulfill all wishes. If the legends were true, Maplewood would have been turned into a grand temple by devout and fervent believers long ago.

However, the legend of this mysterious little shop wasn’t entirely baseless. Dwight tended to think that the shop owner might be adept in some form of obscure black magic, a hidden master of white magic, or perhaps just a cunning swindler from the streets, the latter being more likely.

But…

None of the rumors had ever mentioned that the shopkeeper of this wishing fountain-like store was a rabbit.

“I’m not a rabbit.” As if knowing what the guests were thinking, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper shoved a clinking strange scale under the counter. “So, what brings you here?”

Dwight didn’t answer immediately but asked arrogantly and slowly, “What are you?”

The question was a bit too much.

Shivers uncomfortably pulled the door closed, blocking the eager gaze of the little tin soldier who had been bouncing outside.

“I’m obviously human,” the rabbit stated matter-of-factly.

The young Duke stroked the gem on the top of his cane, barely holding back a sarcastic remark.

“Assuming you’re human.” Dwight looked again at the shopkeeper, who seemed utterly unconcerned about his appearance, his fuzzy, long ears proudly upright. “From what I see, your reputation exceeds reality.”

This non-human appearance was nothing more than the result of magical transformation, whether voluntary or not, and it inevitably made one question this guy’s capabilities.

No matter how much magic and gold coins were used to equip the carriage and travel gear, the Duke was just an ordinary person, and traveling in this weather wasn’t a pleasant affair.

He petulantly blamed all this on the peculiar rabbit before him.

“Oh, do tell.” The shopkeeper stretched leisurely, indifferent to the strange looks from everyone. “Perhaps my overrated abilities are just enough for you.”

‘Great, here we go,’ Shivers thought expressionlessly.

His master had inherited his title early and was always the most noble and autocratic person in his domain, usually not allowing anyone to speak to him in such a tone.

Especially since that sounded more like a tit-for-tat mockery.

Dwight indeed frowned, and just when the other two in the room thought he was about to explode in anger, he turned to look outside instead.

The porch light had gone out at some unknown point, and it was pitch black outside.

Something clicked in his mind, and he suddenly remembered something.

On the night Priscilla left Brandenburg, he had stood on the highest tower of the castle looking out, but the ground was pitch black, and the occasional dim stars in the sky didn’t illuminate her path at all.

Charlie saw the Duke lift his head, his eyes devoid of emotion.

‘He’s really beautiful,’ the rabbit-headed shopkeeper thought inappropriately.

“Assuming you adhere to human customs,” the Duke slowly said, “could you at least make some tea for your guest?”

Just as he’s quirky and sarcastic.

The shopkeeper thought to himself again.

Ten minutes later, Dwight, ever so picky, had settled himself into a black walnut armchair, while Shivers was given a patchwork cotton-backed chair—which Dwight glanced at and quickly looked away from, convinced that bad taste could be contagious through the air.

But at least everyone was comfortable now. Even the two knights who had been waiting outside were resting in a small living room with a fireplace, and Charlie had considerately taken the two white horses to his warm stable as well.

Charlie brewed a large pot of milk, seemingly determined to prove he wasn’t just a carrot-eating rabbit, and he specially brought out almond cake and butter cookies.

Dwight didn’t touch the butter cookies.

Charlie seemed not to mind his arrogance at all, smiling and gesturing for him to please help himself.

Shivers pulled out a slender velvet box, unadorned except for the pure gold clasp that clicked pleasingly when opened.

A delicate pink rose lay quietly inside the box, which, despite its understated appearance, must have been enchanted in some way, as the fragile petals still bore morning dew.

It was a fresh and tender flower that inevitably evoked pity.

But Charlie only glanced at it before looking away.

“What?” Dwight asked nonchalantly, noticing that the other’s flippant, long ears had stopped moving.

“Regrettably,” Charlie said softly, “its life force is rapidly fading.”

He could guess why the young Duke had come to Elmwood Street.

Shivers, holding the box, moved his hand almost imperceptibly, slightly incredulous. Had this ridiculous rabbit guessed their purpose without the Duke even saying a word?

The room suddenly fell eerily quiet, and Dwight glanced out the window, noticing that the snow had stopped.

“My mother once told me about Priscilla’s birth,” he said softly.

His sister, Priscilla, was the first child of the Duke and Duchess. She was also born in winter, but it wasn’t very cold. When the news of her safe birth and a tax break spread from the castle, everyone in the domain celebrated the Duke’s benevolence and the birth of a new life. Gifts from all over were continuously brought into the castle. Fairies from the woods personally came to bless her and planted a cluster of pink roses in the Duchess’s greenhouse, telling her that her daughter would have a face as delicate and beautiful as a flower, and if she was willing to smile, even the most hard-hearted person in the world couldn’t bear to hurt her with even a finger.

That cluster of roses grew up with Priscilla, and by the time Priscilla was fifteen, it had taken over the entire greenhouse.

“The rose was mostly vibrant—only twice in my memory was that not the case.”

Dwight unconsciously stroked the gem on his cane, his drooping eyelashes casting a shadow under his eyes.

The first time was when he was still very young, Priscilla fell seriously ill, and every day different doctors came and went from the castle. The Duke and Duchess, exhausted, stood vigil by their daughter’s bedside, but didn’t allow Dwight to come near his sister’s room.

So little Dwight visited the greenhouse daily to see his “sister’s roses”, and although the maids still took great care of it, the roses wilted day by day, causing the anxious and capricious Dwight to lose his temper several times.

He couldn’t remember which doctor cured Priscilla, but he remembered the day when his mother allowed him to look at Priscilla from a distance in her bedroom, and the lackluster rose began to sprout new shoots again.

The second time was when they lost their parents at the same time. Priscilla locked herself in her room and cried for days, her tears causing the petals of the rose to fall, but they eventually perked up again—when the castle was shrouded in gloom, Priscilla put on her grandest dress, walked out of her room, took Dwight’s hand, and announced that Brandenburg was about to welcome its youngest master ever.

“Forgive my bluntness, but you probably already have an answer in mind,” Charlie said softly.

Dwight looked up. “So I’m seeking a solution.”

Doing nothing or resigning himself to fate wasn’t his style.

“So, what do you want from me?” Charlie asked.

A smiley-faced rabbit was certainly odd, but a serious expression was equally unsuited to a rabbit.

As Dwight pondered absentmindedly, he said, “That depends on what you can do.”

“What I can do is probably more than you think,” Charlie said, relaxing in the armchair and contentedly slurping down half a glass of milk. “In my shop, this has never been an issue.”

“So what’s the problem?” Dwight keenly sensed his implication.

The rabbit shopkeeper didn’t answer immediately but first stretched lazily, then turned to look at the arrogant Duke.

“The price.”

He said.

Of course, there were no people who could solve everything by snapping their fingers. Rather than saying he “grants wishes”, Charlie preferred to say he sold “directions for solving problems” to customers.

Priscilla had married at seventeen into the distant Southern Continent of Doran, where her partner was also a noble holding power and wealth. Both parties, in such positions and standings, meant that Dwight couldn’t rashly set foot on the other’s territory without correspondence or invitation beforehand.

And a duke shouldn’t travel alone to any unfamiliar places, but if accompanied by armed forces, then the moment he arrived at the destination, the other party could take it as a declaration of war.

The cunning shopkeeper knew what the young Duke cared about most.

“Even the most powerful mage’s crystal ball can’t always be clear, and human eyes are easily deceived,” Charlie said. “But the stars don’t lie.”

“You know astrology?” Dwight stared at him, his tone a bit dangerous, as if to say, “Admit it, and you die right here.”

Astrology was an extremely rare talent, and across several continents, there were no more than five astrologers who could read the trajectories of the stars and interpret the future—and those five were either controlled by empires or had disappeared.

As far as Dwight knew, two astrologers belonged to different empires, and one, though of pure blood and ability, was too old to get out of bed, effectively non-existent.

Other astrologers almost only lived in rumors.

“Of course not.” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper shrugged. “But I can give you results.”

Dwight narrowed his eyes at him for a moment. “How do I know you’re not just spouting nonsense to trick me?”

“It’s simple,” the shopkeeper said. “You might not believe me, but no one would doubt Astrologer Kurt.”

Astrologer Kurt, one of the three remaining famous astrologers and precisely the one known to Dwight as “missing”.

“Do you know where Kurt is?” Dwight immediately asked.

If it was Kurt’s astrological results, indeed, there was little to doubt, and it would be far more effective than hiring a hundred pretentious fortune tellers.

Charlie wagged his finger. “I can arrange a meeting for you.”

Dwight, seeing his confident demeanor, felt somewhat displeased.

But the noble upbringing he had received from childhood wouldn’t allow him to show too much emotion, so he suppressed his impatience and said indifferently, “Deal.”

Charlie laughed. “Not just yet, Your Lordship.”

Dwight looked at him.

“You missed the most important part of doing business,” he said softly. “We haven’t negotiated a price yet.”

“What do you want?” Dwight asked nonchalantly, knowing that if he really could bring in an astrologer, ordinary compensation would hardly suffice to sway this peculiar rabbit.

Charlie’s long ears stood up, annoyingly twitching.

“Two things.” Charlie put the teacup back on the tray, crossed his hands on his lap, and leaned back comfortably in the chair. “First, I want a promise, in your name, Duke Dwight, that when I ask, you must fulfill my request to the fullest extent, without reservation. I won’t cash this in immediately. Until then, please take care.”

Shivers looked at Charlie with an unfriendly gaze. “What do you mean by ‘please take care’?”

It’s almost as if the rabbit was saying, “Don’t you dare die or lose your title and wealth before you’ve paid me.”

What kind of remark is that!

Dwight ignored Charlie’s provocation and calmly signaled for him to continue.

“The second,” Charlie said with a smile, drawing out his tone, “is for you to beg me.”

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