Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 83

Priscilla had a somewhat weak constitution, but overall, she was still healthy and had become pregnant once, two years after getting married.

At that time, she had just begun to suspect the relationship between Lestrop and Christine, and out of concern for the future status of her offspring, she quickly decided to thoroughly investigate the matter. However, Mokwen wasn’t Lemena. Priscilla had limited personnel at her disposal, so she started by looking into Lestrop’s whereabouts.

Ironically, Priscilla had shown considerable trust in Lestrop up until then, so he hadn’t really taken any precautions against her.

Even though he knew that his premarital scandals would eventually reach his wife’s ears, which nobleman didn’t have a bit of scandalous news?

Priscilla’s upbringing was nothing if not traditional. As long as he behaved well after marriage, she wouldn’t confront him without evidence—moreover, in the years they were married, Priscilla had excelled in her role as the Countess: diligent, gentle, reserved, and generous. At that time, her every word and deed were almost the standard template for the entire Mokwen nobility.

“I originally thought that manor was their secret rendezvous spot. Thorn Manor was a property left to Lestrop by his mother, a bit far from the capital and secluded, perfect for avoiding prying eyes.”

“I didn’t rush in to investigate directly, but instead sent a maid named Claire to infiltrate the place. She was ordinary-looking but very loyal to me. It took two months before she first sent me information from the manor, saying she didn’t know what was going on there but that it felt very frightening.”

Recalling the past, Priscilla’s demeanor was quite calm, but this very calmness made one inevitably speculate about the internal turmoil she must have experienced at the time.

After realizing that it wasn’t an ordinary manor used by nobles for pleasure, Priscilla had Claire ingest a mildly toxic herb to cause red patches to appear on her face, pretending she had contracted a difficult contagious disease to extricate herself.

But to their surprise, even though she appeared to have a contagious disease, the manor didn’t release her; instead, they took her to the woods and buried her alive when she was feverish and unconscious—fortunately, Priscilla had been keeping an eye on the situation and immediately had her dug out and treated.

The maid, once recovered, told her everything: the Earl occasionally came, but the Queen had never visited that manor.

She wasn’t qualified to work in the main house, but even from the laundry room, she could observe several pregnant women in the manor, all restricted in their freedom, almost like livestock kept only for breeding.

But what was even more bizarre was that whenever a child was born, all the servants would whisper among themselves, gauging from their master’s expression “whether this time was successful”.

Some of the children died soon after birth along with their mothers, while those who were healthy were secretly sent away from the manor, and no one knew where they went. One thing was certain: The manor didn’t need them.

This contradictory behavior left Priscilla deeply troubled, and it was the first time she realized that the side of her husband, unknown to others, might be much more dangerous than she had anticipated.

“After all, Mokwen isn’t Lemena. I don’t have much time or manpower at my disposal, and being too obvious could easily be noticed. It was at that time that I met someone.”

“’Ceylon’?” Dwight said.

He had always remembered this name, and only now had he finally asked it out loud.

Priscilla didn’t hide it from her brother, and she nodded.

“After Claire was buried alive, it wasn’t just me who wanted to dig her out immediately, but also Ceylon, who had been secretly waiting. At that time, we both thought the other was a trap set by the manor, and a conflict ensued, but in the end, it was Ceylon who told me about the tricks Lestrop was playing in the manor.”

The young Countess’ face was gentle, yet her tone was very cold. “If it weren’t for Christine, I could deceive myself into believing he had some boundaries, that he wouldn’t use his own progeny to fulfill those mad desires. But the thought that they were determined to usurp Tifa’s throne through Christine, I dared not bet on this.”

Dwight’s face was colder than her tone, but he reached out and took Priscilla’s hand, which was resting on her lap.

She didn’t spell it out, but everyone present understood.

Unable to be sure whether Lestrop considered his wife as another experiment, Priscilla herself had given up her first child.

Priscilla looked at her brother. “Am I a bad woman?”

Perhaps it was the first time in years she had opened up to a family member, and despite thinking she was strong enough, her voice still trembled.

She had always dared not ask herself this question—if there was anyone in the world who could let her confront the past few years of her life and confront the fact that she was a mother who had willingly given up her child… it was only her brother, Dwight.

“Of course not.” Dwight held her hand tightly, suppressing a great anger. “Lestrop isn’t to be trusted. You’re a smart girl. You made the right judgment.”

“I will never question you, Priscilla.” He raised his hand to tuck a strand of light golden hair behind her ear. “So please don’t question yourself either.”

Priscilla wanted to smile, but in the end, she could only weakly tug at the corners of her mouth.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper had been standing aside with his arms crossed, keeping his presence to a minimum—given Priscilla’s character of enduring her situation silently for years, it was unlikely she would open up to a stranger she had just met unless she completely trusted her brother, and therefore trusted the people her brother brought with him in such a time.

Their relationship was indeed worth the Duke crossing the continent for a premonition.

Charlie had no intention of interrupting the siblings; he had his own worries.

Like the Duke, he hadn’t forgotten the name “Ceylon” that Priscilla had blurted out looking at his face in the palace of Mokwen.

He sighed inwardly with worry.

Although he didn’t know anyone named Ceylon, he had known someone who shared his face for over twenty years.

After all, that was his brother from the same mother.

Charlie himself couldn’t remember how many years it had been since he had heard from this brother.

While he was glad to know he was alive, the thought of his brother being involved with someone like the Countess and investigating Lestrop’s manor made his teeth sour.

He was internally debating whether to try to find out more about “Ceylon” when he was brought back to reality by a slightly raised argument between the Duke and Priscilla.

“It’s truly safe to go back now. I can protect you,” Dwight said patiently. “The astrologer’s predictions apply to Lestrop, but there’s another person, I suspect—”

His gaze fell on Priscilla’s noticeably pregnant belly.

“This isn’t Lestrop’s child,” Priscilla said decisively.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Like Dwight, Priscilla also thought it ridiculous to pursue power in such an inhumane way because of a legend.

Still single, Dwight paused for two seconds before resolutely abandoning the question of which boyfriend his sister had found. Honestly, even as relatives, they didn’t actively inquire into each other’s romantic lives.

It was somewhat awkward.

Priscilla, of course, knew what her brother was thinking and finally laughed. “You don’t need to worry about me. Lestrop doesn’t know any of this. I know you’ve grown up but asking me to go back to Lemena and pretend none of this deception happened, I can’t do that.”

She said softly, “I am a Dwight as well.”

The Duke remained silent.

Although Priscilla was very gentle, she had been stubborn since childhood, and once she made up her mind about something, she rarely changed it.

It was the same when she stubbornly decided to marry far away.

“What do you plan to do?” he asked.

Priscilla knew that his question didn’t mean Dwight was compromising on her decision, but rather he was planning to adjust his plans based on her answer. Stubbornness was a hereditary trait in the Dwight family.

“I want to go to White Bridge,” Priscilla said. “I’ve received a letter from home. Something has happened at Thorn Manor, and he must go back personally. I’ve always acted very sensibly, and to some extent, Lestrop trusts me… I’ll take the initiative to suggest that if he can’t make it, I can meet with the ‘astrologer’ on his behalf.”

That was why the oddity of an Earl leaving his pregnant wife to return to his country alone had occurred.

Dwight and Charlie raised their eyebrows upon hearing this.

“In the Holy Grail project, neither Lestrop nor Tifa are having much success. I guess he needs a new direction, and probably only the astrologer’s prophecy can achieve that.” Priscilla’s mood had gradually calmed down, returning to that of the composed Countess. “The astrologer is a valuable asset worth the nation’s effort to secure. Lestrop’s hope of securing him is unrealistic. This is a fallback strategy.”

“Do you also want to meet the astrologer?” The Duke didn’t bring up the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s relationship to the astrologer.

Priscilla shook her head.

“I don’t like to rely too much on mystical forces that are beyond my control,” she said proudly. “My own abilities are always the most reliable. I’m going to White Bridge because the father of my child is there.”

Dwight frowned slightly, suddenly a bit reluctant to hear what his sister was about to say.

“We need to meet. He has the right to know about the child—then we can discuss the child’s custody,” Priscilla continued, unperturbed by her brother’s expression.

Dwight was silent for a couple of seconds again.

“Custody?” he asked discontentedly. “What do you mean? Aren’t you planning to marry?”

He realized after speaking that his sister was still the Countess and faltered.

Priscilla gave him a peculiar look. “Of course not. He’s not a suitable marriage partner. If he wants the child, we can co-parent—or perhaps let him parent temporarily. The conflict between Lestrop and Tifa is escalating daily, and I judge that the day when they decide the victor isn’t far off. At that time, I may not have the energy to care for a young child.”

She didn’t say it outright, but the implied intent to seize power still made the rabbit-headed shopkeeper involuntarily whistle, and Dwight glared at him.

“That child is also a Dwight. If you have things to handle, I can take care of him,” Dwight said reluctantly.

“If he doesn’t want the child, then you can take the child back to Lemena. It’s safer there. After I’m ready, I’ll bring him back,” Priscilla decisively said.

Dwight’s expression was somewhat indescribable.

Of course, he didn’t oppose his sister kicking Lestrop out of the Earl’s seat or even higher, but her tone that men only hinder her still shocked him a bit.

It was very unlike the Duke’s daughter, who used to sit in the conservatory writing poetry.

He even somewhat suspected that he also fell into the category of “men who hinder”, except in her eyes he was always just her little brother, moved beyond measure because he had traveled so far to protect her, so she hadn’t shown it.

“If it’s just to inform, I can do it for you,” the Duke finally said. “Since you’re not planning to continue with him, there’s no need to travel while you’re like this.”

Noblewomen and laborers had very different physiques due to varying amounts of physical activity, and Priscilla, being pregnant, shouldn’t be traveling in any case.

Priscilla smiled happily.

“Silly boy, I’m going because I want to see him.” She gently patted Dwight’s hand. “It sounds contradictory, but you’ll understand later.”

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