Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 66

“Keep quiet.” A small hand tightly covered his mouth, and from his angle, all he could see was the other’s slightly chubby round cheeks and long, curled eyelashes—those lashes were trembling slightly, betraying the owner’s hidden nervousness and fear.

He dared not speak, so he reached out too, covering the other’s eyes. Don’t look.

He thought to himself, If you can’t see, you won’t be afraid.

The two children huddled close together, breathing so softly that the silence around them almost amplified the pounding of their hearts.

Besides this, they also heard their usually very strict teacher speaking in an unusually humble tone, offering compliments, but most of the time, this was met with silence. Occasionally, a deep, slightly muffled voice would respond in a northern language that they had just started learning.

They needed to learn many languages, but the language they heard today was particularly important… Why was it important?

Ah, he remembered.

The child curled up in the cramped space and recalled the day they had first received the textbook for that language. Someone had warned them in a strange tone that they must master this language well.

Why?

His sibling lifted their face to ask.

Because they were so small, they both had to sit on cushions to reach the desk.

Because, that’s the language of lions.

That person had said softly. Lions are the fiercest, most brutal animals. They mercilessly tear apart all prey that appears before them, break necks, rip out hearts… Ah, don’t cry. I’m just joking.

But you really must study seriously, because in their eyes, anyone not of their kind is prey, without any exceptions.

The young him couldn’t remember the first word they learned in that class, but every word the teacher had said about the language was etched in his memory.

Why must they study seriously?

Because, you surely wouldn’t want to fail to recognize Death when it stands before you, right?

Thunk. Charlie’s head hit the wooden board, and he blinked open his eyes, somewhat unsure if he was still dreaming or not.

He was surrounded by stacks of crates and some bulging bags at his feet, likely containing some type of hard-skinned vegetable or fruit, judging by the protruding shapes.

He was sitting amid these objects, leaning against a crate about half his height, having dozed off. The jostling of the carriage had caused his head to slip backwards, bumping into the wall.

It was indeed a dream.

He straightened up and took a moment to inspect his limbs.

Still the lean and trim figure of an adult male without a trace of baby fat, completely incongruous with his dream self.

This carriage couldn’t compare to the standard Brandenburg carriages he had ridden in Lemena. Even the light two-person carriages of the Dwight household would be lined with the finest, softest leather, never jarring enough to cause a bump.

But when traveling, even a young Duke couldn’t be too picky. In order to leave Ropappas as quickly as possible, they had left the inn almost as soon as the guards’ knights reached the city outskirts. It was past seven in the evening by then. The sun had already set, and the knights with a small contingent of mercenaries turned around without a break, traveling through the night.

The shopkeeper, who positioned himself as a civilian member of the group, had no intention of marching with everyone and shamelessly squeezed into the luggage carriage to sleep.

Perhaps influenced by his last conversation with the Knight Commander before departure, he unusually dreamed about things long past, so distant he wasn’t sure whether they had really happened or were merely fictitious memories he conjured up.

But the part about the lion was probably true.

Charlie leaned against the carriage wall, nudging the window open slightly.

It was still dark outside, and there were points of light like giant fireflies—those were the wind lamps commonly used by travelers.

The roads on the outskirts of the city weren’t as smooth as in the city, lacking streetlights, so they weren’t moving very fast. The mercenaries with them were relaxed, unfazed by the prospect of staying up for a day or two as long as they had warming liquor.

Two men were close to Charlie’s carriage, occasionally speaking in low voices—in the common tongue of Doran.

The content was somewhat dull, discussing either the spoiled cured meat from last night or calculating how long it would take to reach their destination.

Charlie listened for a while, then closed the window again.

Their command of the common tongue was fluent, indicating they were likely mercenaries who lived in the area year-round.

Aside from Miss Priscilla, their true identities hadn’t been discovered by anyone yet, and they only needed to guard against ordinary bandits and robbers. By such safety standards, the mercenaries Erica hired were unlikely to be actual members of the Lion family.

If real Lions were involved, that would be a headache… No, Lions didn’t matter.

As long as it wasn’t a real Lioness in power appearing, there would be no real trouble.

Charlie adjusted his silk top hat.

As a rabbit-headed individual, everyone in Pennigra knew him for his long ears when they thought of 22 Paulownia Street.

But in Doran, it was the opposite. Aside from Elena, no one had really seen him like this, and Elena—

Charlie forced himself to stop the train of thought.

Because whenever he thought of Elena, he couldn’t help but think of Columbus.

Back in Maplewood, Columbus had a premonition about the end of his life. Even if Elena changed her temper and complied with Charlie to lift the curse successfully, Columbus’ life was already near its end.

This adventure back to Doran was less about lifting the little tin soldier’s curse and more about giving him and his family one last chance to reunite, and incidentally… if he could die as a human, that would be for the best.

Now that Columbus had left, he no longer had a reason to look for Elena.

With Elena’s pride as a witch, even if she continued to search for him, she wouldn’t do so overtly or involve others.

So, as long as he didn’t face Elena directly, his presence in Doran wouldn’t be compromised.

The shopkeeper subconsciously touched his chest.

Nobody knew how many tracking-disrupting gadgets were hidden under his meticulous outfit.

Just the anti-tracking pendants he designed himself numbered two. He also wore a brooch that could conceal magical powers, and the top hat that could confuse others’ perceptions was never far from his head.

Even if Elena appeared outside the carriage at that moment, unless she opened the door and they faced each other, she wouldn’t discover him…

Charlie, reassured, leaned back to take another nap when suddenly, the carriage stopped.

Charlie: ???

He opened his eyes, not hearing any noise outside, and was about to reach for the window when the carriage door suddenly burst open from the outside.

Charlie: ?!?!

The blonde Knight Commander, still in the posture of opening the door, looked puzzled at the shopkeeper, who had taken a defensive stance inside the carriage.

Shivers: “What are you doing?”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper put down his hand, holding a very small palm crossbow.

“It’s okay.” Charlie cleared his throat and put away the crossbow.

Shivers glanced at his frizzed hair and considerately changed the topic. “Nice item.” But it’s too small, only good for shooting rabbits.

“Yes.” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper genuinely accepted the compliment. Despite its small size, the palm crossbow was very powerful, capable of piercing an elephant’s skin, and he had coated the arrow with a paralyzing potion he formulated himself, which could instantly turn a person into an unfeeling stone.

“What happened?” He straightened his clothes before asking.

“His Grace would like you to come and have a look,” Shivers said tactfully.

Now that they were no longer surrounded solely by their own people, the Knight Commander prudently changed his address.

The rabbit-head shopkeeper adjusted his hat and followed him off the vehicle.

Dawn was just breaking, the air laden with the cold mist of morning—it was the coldest time.

Charlie’s leather boots hit the ground, the chill seeping through the soles to his feet.

Shivers, however, appeared as unfazed by the cold as the robust men beside him, making Charlie too embarrassed to shiver alone. He braced himself and walked the short distance before stepping up into the Duke’s carriage with a large stride.

Upon entering, he felt the warm air inside the carriage permeate every pore, so comforting that he wanted to get closer to the heat source—but that wasn’t possible.

The Duke of Brandenburg was half-sitting inside with his indispensable cane by his right hand, and a palm-sized sheepskin-covered notebook by his left. The notebook, open on his lap, continuously emitted heat.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper consciously sat down on another cushion, taking an extra glance at the notebook.

The notebook appeared thin—Charlie suspected it had only four pages, corresponding to the four seasons.

The page currently open was dazzling gold in color, devoid of any writing. Although it didn’t glow, the evident heat made it seem as though a small sun was placed inside the carriage.

What a luxurious magical item.

It was also a book. While that woman used hers to control the space and life within the castle, in the hands of the Duke, it was merely a thermostat. Judging by the Duke’s indifferent attitude, it probably wasn’t considered a precious item in Brandenburg.

Although covetous, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper restrained himself from paying too much attention to the rich man’s treasure, coughing lightly and maintaining a composed demeanor.

Dwight, as if just snapping out of a trance, gestured for Shivers to close the door after getting off, then, without speaking, pulled out a drawer from the partition, inside which was something familiar to Charlie.

The elf’s box, containing Priscilla’s rose.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper opened the box. The rose, already slowly withering, seemed to have rapidly lost life within just a few days, not only shedding several petals but also showing ominous brown edges on the remaining petals on the stem.

No wonder he was hurriedly called over.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper put the box back in the drawer and fell silent for a moment.

“Although I can offer advice and help, I’m not omnipotent,” he said softly. “What do you hope to gain from me this time?”

In fact, Dwight’s first request regarding the rose had already been fulfilled by him—meeting with the astrologer and revealing the omen behind it.

And this time?

At those words, Dwight glanced at him, his shallow, glass-like pupils reflecting the image of the rabbit-headed shopkeeper.

It was the first time Charlie saw an almost bewildered look on his face.

“I don’t know.”

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