Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 24
The situation started that night two days ago, which was why Eugene, still haunted by what happened, was instinctively drawn to the content loudly read by the newsboy on the street.
“The shopkeeper wanted to avoid going out during the day and asked me to gather information after sunset, but two days ago, I encountered something he hoped to understand from another angle. So I rushed to get the first batch of newspapers printed this morning…” Eugene held the tea cup with both hands, the tea inside already cold.
Finally, surrendering his dignity, Dwight left his room and sat on the only armchair in the room, legs crossed with an air of authority. “‘That incident’?”
Shivers handed the freshly ironed newspaper to the Duke, who skimmed it quickly, throwing it aside afterward, and looked expectantly at Eugene, signaling him to continue.
Eugene took a deep breath.
“I saw it,” he said. “I saw the process of the woman’s death that was written about in the newspaper.”
Strictly speaking, he didn’t “see” it fully, but he was involved to some extent in the murder case that had spread throughout the streets and alleys.
At the time, Eugene had left the small tavern in the chill of midnight, chasing after the kid who stole his wallet, completely unprepared to stumble upon a murder in the dark alley infested with vermin.
When it happened, Eugene and the kid were in a delicate position, close enough to almost hear the murderers’ vague conversations, yet hidden from their view, even in the light of their lanterns, where Eugene could see their shadows cast on the wall across from him.
The pickpocket, thinking himself worldly, was just a naive kid who nearly bolted out upon smelling a hint of blood, thinking his dog was harmed. So Eugene had to firmly grasp him—he had spent most of his life dealing with schemes and dangers, and the reason he could still sit and drink tea unharmed was his acute sense of crisis, which was better than anyone else’s.
Almost instantly, he realized the sticky stench in the air couldn’t possibly come from a dog. If the smell was this horrifying, the victim was undoubtedly human and beyond saving.
His judgment proved correct. The nauseating smell of blood grew thicker by the minute, as if solidifying in the stagnant air, accompanied by coarse whispers. Without making any significant movements or casting shadows, Eugene silently leaned against the wall, his heart racing, feeling the kid he held trembling.
He couldn’t make out the whispers clearly, but they differed from the local dialect, spoken quickly and abruptly, more akin to the northern highland style. Just by those muffled, grumbling conversations, he could visualize at least two burly men standing there, ready to snap the neck of even a passing crow if spotted.
For nearly an hour, the two real bystanders stood against the wall until they were certain the people beyond wouldn’t return. Only then did Eugene release the kid’s hand.
Then he did the second right thing.
He stopped the kid who wanted to circle around to see what had happened, commanding him in harsh tones to wait there while he cautiously peered out himself.
Even years later, after countless brushes with death and personal experiences on battlefields, the memory of what Eugene saw in that alley would involuntarily make him shudder.
It wasn’t the fear of the disfigured limbs or unrecognizable face, visible even in the darkness, nor the chunks of flesh, blood, and unknown organs scattered around. It was the terror, shock, and tragedy of the scene.
It wasn’t the result of a fight or a swift murder, but a thorough, torturous, human-made hell.
The Duke, after hearing Eugene’s account, slowly said, “So, a woman was killed in an alley. And Charlie wanted you to tell me specifically, hoping we could report this atrocity to the city guard?”
In Doran’s current state of royal conflicts, countless lives were claimed under various circumstances, and as stowaways, they were powerless to do anything for the woman.
The Duke’s reaction was entirely within the shopkeeper’s expectations.
Eugene struggled to delve back into the memories of that horrific night, forced to relive the distressing recollections whenever he closed his eyes.
“That woman’s abdomen was cut open,” Eugene added. “I thought the murderers took pleasure in torturing her, but the shopkeeper suspects they might have had other motives.”
Dwight’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Given the mess… ‘they’ seemed almost to be searching for something inside the woman’s body.”
A woman’s abdomen split open.
Unless she had swallowed something not meant for her, what else could be hidden inside a human’s body cavity?
Only an unborn life—also a human.
Shivers frowned deeply, and Columbus was stunned. Reading about a murder in the newspaper was different from hearing a witness account. Eugene’s description made his hair stand on end—if he had any.
Before the Duke could ponder further, Eugene added, “There’s another problem.”
All eyes in the room turned to him. Columbus sat tensely on his armchair, leaning forward with anticipation.
“The accent of those speaking was quite distinctive.” Eugene paused, then uttered a phrase in a somewhat awkward manner.
His life of constant turmoil had honed many practical skills in him, and learning dialects was the best and fastest way to blend into the local underclass. Eugene had a bit of a knack for it. He could roughly mimic any language he had heard—not by truly learning it immediately, but by mimicking its intonation, speed, and phrase breaks to achieve a sound that, at first listen, was very similar.
Hearing this accent, the faces of Dwight and Shivers almost changed at the same time. The Duke seemed thoughtful, while the Knight Commander’s expression turned cold.
“It’s the Lion’s men,” Shivers said with some disgust.
Columbus: “??? What, what?”
But no one paid him any attention.
Dwight said, “Where is that rabbit head? Have him come see me.”
Eugene was almost impressed by Charlie’s masterful planning. He had almost guessed the Duke’s reaction perfectly!
“The shopkeeper told me to give this to you if I found you.” Eugene struggled to pull a tightly rolled tube of paper from the innermost pocket of his coat.
“What’s this?” Shivers took it, puzzled.
“If you’re caught with this, you’d be beheaded immediately.” Eugene immediately recalled what the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said when he handed this to him—the terrible thing was the other person’s expression was extremely solemn.
“I don’t know,” Eugene said dejectedly. He had never dared to open it.
Back on his old turf in Dogus, who hadn’t heard of “Eugene the Dirk“? He considered himself a seasoned tough character, having briefly mingled in the underworld and then turned into a freewheeling thief, familiar with plenty of double-dealing and danger. But compared to engaging in fierce battles, the way Duke Dwight and the rabbit-headed shopkeeper dealt with murder and death threats—with an air of casual seriousness, but clearly not joking—was even more terrifying to him.
Had he unwittingly boarded a tremendously dangerous ship?
Lately, Eugene couldn’t help thinking this.
Shivers unrolled the cylinder. The ink was bent, and before it was fully unfolded, anyone could see it was a hand-drawn map.
“This is…” Shivers said incredulously, “A map of the palace? Where did he get this?”
Dwight scanned it quickly. The map’s succinct strokes outlined all the entrances, exits, rooms, and courtyards of the palace—a military-grade map if there ever was one.
In a small room in the northwest corner of the palace, a particular pattern was drawn with red ink. It was tiny, but its simplicity made the contours of the long ears and high-top hat easily recognizable.
The message was clear: I’ll be waiting for you here.
The young Duke’s face showed no emotion, but his mind was in turmoil.
He knows my plan.
He knows if Priscilla comes to the capital with her husband, I plan to infiltrate King Tifa’s palace to find her.
While logically this was the most efficient approach, and it wasn’t surprising that Charlie could guess this, the Duke still felt uncomfortable about the other calculating his behavior patterns.
This was already quite a mild thought. At this time, those in power cherished being seen as dignified and inscrutable, especially influential nobles, who rarely showed their true characteristics, lest their opponents deduce their styles of action.
But oddly, the Duke’s primary concern wasn’t that the rabbit-headed shopkeeper had presumed to deduce his actions. What bothered him more was that the rabbit seemed to have been observing and understanding him all along. Conversely, for the Duke, Charlie remained much of a mystery, with each of his actions often puzzling.
Being studied and analyzed was upsetting to the Duke, although he couldn’t pinpoint the source of this irritation.
The author has something to say:
Indeed, Eugene lacked the Duke’s noble birth and the shopkeeper’s worldly experience, but even the little guys have their strengths and can improve.
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