Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 74

It was as if they had agreed to bring bad news together. Erica also didn’t bring any good news.

Before the return journey, Dwight had resolved to arrange a private meeting with Priscilla, and Erica had hurried back to Syriacochi specifically to personally arrange this matter.

But it was a step too late. By the time Erica arrived in Syriacochi, Count Lestrop had already left the capital.

The suspicion of murder against Queen Christine hadn’t yet been cleared, and the palace, where the murder had occurred, was not a suitable venue for grandly celebrating the King’s birthday. The annual celebration was hastily concluded, and it seemed reasonable for the nobles, ostensibly unrelated to this incident, to leave the capital one after another.

Interestingly, not many people left the capital at this time.

Since it was already spring, the social season in Mokwen was about to begin. Until the unbearable heat of midsummer arrived, the nobility would usually gather in several major cities within the country, passing this pleasant time with various balls, dinners, competitions, and concerts.

The excuse of the Earl’s manor was that the “Countess was unwell” and they needed to return to the south.

However, according to Erica’s investigation, the fact that the Countess was pregnant wasn’t deliberately concealed within the manor, but the official use of such an ambiguous explanation was very intriguing.

However, Erica took timely measures—thanks to the nobility’s borderless penchant for fussiness, traveling in full regalia (including the ladies) meant their travel speed was hardly faster than walking.

By the time Erica’s convoy reached Syriacochi, Lestrop and his party had already left the city three days earlier, but in reality, they had only traveled half a day’s journey by fast horse, which made it easy for Erica to catch up. After waiting two days for the right moment, she finally managed to get a message through to Priscilla.

Although it was unknown what Priscilla felt when she learned that her brother hadn’t returned to Pennigra, her reply was very brief, just two words.

White Bridge.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper stared at the piece of paper the size of a fingertip that Erica had brought back completely intact, with only these words written in elegant handwriting.

Is this a case of fearing what might come?

He wasn’t surprised that Priscilla would go to White Bridge. Honestly, at this point, it was normal for anyone to go to White Bridge. Even a penniless beggar could find something of value there to use as a bargaining chip and try their luck at achieving all they could desire, let alone a noble with wealth.

He had no doubt that if there had never been an opportunity, the Duke wouldn’t mind a sibling reunion at White Bridge.

The problem was that he didn’t want to go at all.

White Bridge was a place of mixed fortunes with too many variables. Attending an auction at White Bridge was completely different from walking on the edge of the Doran continent.

Decisively, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper neatly folded Erica’s letter and pushed it back across to Dwight.

He said, “It’s getting late. Good night.”

Hasting looked at him suspiciously. This series of actions was too obviously feigned, and he didn’t look at all like a man who hadn’t sobered up from his drink.

If Charlie knew what Hasting was thinking, he would have countered: seeing that word, even if he had drunk two large barrels of strong liquor, he would have bristled and scrambled away, far and wide.

This was almost a conditioned reflex.

Dwight didn’t heed his words. It was already past midnight, and he didn’t want to waste time on pointless haggling, especially since he hadn’t yet figured out exactly what to do.

No one had said they were going yet but look at the way he had pricked up his ears.

Dwight’s initial plan was to have a secret meeting with Priscilla in the capital to clear up how much she understood about her situation so he could plan his next steps.

But now that she had already left the city, unless he could stake out their next planned stop in advance, it was nearly impossible to have a talk on the road.

It wasn’t that the Earl’s convoy was particularly well-guarded. After all, this was still within the capital’s sphere of influence, where security was relatively good.

Mainly, on the road, noblewomen typically didn’t leave the carriage, and even when they stopped to rest occasionally, they didn’t leave the sight of others. Even Dr. Salman would have a hard time getting through the many servants to talk face-to-face with Priscilla.

Charlie didn’t want to interrupt Dwight’s thoughts. He only wanted to escape this dangerous area, taking advantage of the other’s distraction to quickly stand up and leave.

Dwight didn’t stop him, but Charlie took an extra look at a package that had come with the letter before leaving.

The package was still unopened, wrapped in two layers of waterproof parchment, square and upright, looking like a hardcover book.

Without asking, he could guess what it was—likely the catalog for this year’s White Bridge auction.

Erica’s thoroughness was evident. This catalog was delivered to Dwight along with Priscilla’s reply.

This wasn’t the custom catalog sent annually by the Wolf family to the nobles of various continents, but a standard edition sold to the public. It was probably something Erica had bought on the spot.

The auction catalog was also one of the Wolf family’s special products. Each year, they prepared special auction manuals for potential customers to lock in their targets in advance.

Custom catalogs were only sent to well-known and wealthy individuals on each continent, each with a unique binding, while the standard catalogs were sold to everyone. Whether or not one was on the Wolfs’ client list, one had to pay a hefty price to get one.

Because of the auction’s large scale, variety, and rarity of items, the auction catalog was also nicknamed the Dictionary of Rarities. Collectors considered the catalog itself a valuable item worth purchasing and collecting—honestly, just the catalog itself was quite expensive.

Charlie had even heard that some auction items included the Wolf family’s auction catalogs, with prices determined by the year and content, while the materials and craftsmanship used to make the catalog were of no concern.

Erica had thought everything through, preparing for Dwight’s possible interest in also going to White Bridge, getting this year’s catalog in hand for her master.

Putting aside the White Bridge for a moment, Charlie, who had a hoarding habit, was actually quite interested in that catalog.

They were real masters of amassing wealth. Compared to the auction, their pervasive money-making methods were more of a hallmark of this family.

But now wasn’t the time to discuss this…

As the rabbit-headed shopkeeper calculated his options and quickly walked past the sofa to leave, forgetting the fine wines he had brought, he wasn’t keen to hear more about White Bridge from the Duke.

Perhaps too deep in thought, he was startled by a figure almost leaning against the door as he stepped out.

“Whoa!” His second scare of the night.

The figure stepped back to make room for the rabbit-headed shopkeeper to pass.

“Oh, it’s you,” Charlie said vaguely, thinking here was another Brandenburg Knight standing silently in the dark.

Obviously, after Hasting entered, another knight had taken his place, waiting for the Duke to finish his business.

If it were daytime, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper could easily call out this knight’s name, but the alcohol in his system hadn’t completely metabolized yet, and it took him a little time to accurately recall this knight, who didn’t often appear beside the Duke.

“Hall.” He tipped his hat and closed the door behind him with a reverse swing.

The knight named Hall had gentle, smiling eyes, dark brown short hair, and a calm demeanor that seemed older than his years, making him appear very reliable.

“Mr. Charlie,” Hall greeted with a smile, deepening his impression of the man with the rabbit head.

Unlike typical nobility, their master, Duke Dwight, disliked being surrounded by attendants wherever he went. Unless necessary, he (ostensibly) usually had no more than one knight accompanying him, and old-fashioned family habits like needing two maids just to smoke a cigarette were never seen with him.

Thus, apart from Knight Commander Shivers, other Brandenburg Knights rarely appeared continuously at the Duke’s side. Similarly, this time, aside from Hasting temporarily taking over the commander’s duties and the errand-running Shiloh, he and the other knights seldom interacted with the group.

Having briefly met at the initial gathering and after so many days, he still accurately called out his own name.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper was unusually slow to react tonight, and since Hall didn’t show his thoughts on his face, he merely patted the other’s arm genuinely and said, “Thank you for your hard work,” before walking away.

Unexpectedly, he had only taken a few steps when Hall stopped him.

The young knight stepped forward, looking into the eyes of the rabbit-headed shopkeeper under the wall light.

“Are you drunk, sir?” he asked quietly, with concern. “The kitchen stove is kept lit all night. I can have a maid prepare some hot soup for you. It might make sleeping more comfortable.”

Charlie stood still, replying after a second, “Thank you. I only had a little. It wasn’t very good, but…”

He suddenly faltered, unable to remember what he was going to say next.

After leaving the Duke’s room, his mind started to blur again.

“It’s already one,” Hall said. “You’ve been out since seven after dinner. I’m afraid you’ve had more than just a little to drink.”

He insisted on ringing for a manservant, asking him to escort the rabbit-headed shopkeeper to his room and bring up some hot soup.

“I cannot leave my post,” he said, slightly apologetic. “Please watch your step.”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper found it hard to refuse such thoughtful gestures, especially since they were well arranged—waiting until the night manservant came over before heading upstairs to his room.

As he turned to go up the stairs, as if by some unspoken agreement, the relaxed, familiar expressions on both Charlie and Hall’s faces disappeared.

The manservant, tending to the candlestick and watching his step, didn’t notice the expression on the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s face—after all, who studies the expression on a rabbit head late at night?

But that was exactly what a knight of Duke Dwight would do.

Charlie returned to his room, obediently changed into his pajamas, and lay in the dark with his eyes open, recalling the brief conversation only after the manservant had left.

Such negligence, he thought.

If he had been a bit more alert after leaving, his first reaction wouldn’t have been to… covertly observe the Duke’s knights.

And this Hall was quite different from Hasting.

Although Hasting always wore a stern face, it was easy to discern his thoughts. Hall, on the other hand, probably did the opposite. He was accustomed to using a polite and impeccable demeanor to hide his real thoughts. The moment his name was called, alarms probably went off in his mind—but one wouldn’t know it from looking at his face.

Charlie rubbed his furry face with a hand, sighing deeply.

He had indeed gone out to drink tonight. For an adult man to head out alone at night and find a small tavern for a game of cards was normal.

The smell of alcohol was real, but the process was fake.

In reality, he had found a secluded corner, cloaked himself, and drank alone all night, waiting to turn back into a rabbit-headed man.

If the Duke knew he called the process of changing from human to rabbit “recovery”, he would surely think there was something wrong with his head.

Charlie burrowed entirely under the covers.

Elena’s imperfect curse had cycles, and after the sun truly set, the curse would occasionally malfunction briefly.

If he were in Maplewood, he wouldn’t be as jumpy as tonight, almost wishing to run up the mountain like a werewolf to wait out the transformation, but this was Doran.

On this continent, this face wasn’t unique.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>