Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 112
“Erica and Dr. Salman made some manipulations to make the townspeople believe that a mudslide had destroyed the road leading to the castle,” Charlie said. “The relatives of the bankers and merchants who disappeared without a trace didn’t give up searching at first, but the ‘key’ has been destroyed. To anyone looking, this place is just a crumbling castle overgrown with vines and wildflowers.”
The once beautiful greenhouse was now covered with climbing plants, resembling a giant green turtle from afar, with various flowers growing wildly in the flowerbeds. Due to the lack of pruning, their untamed vitality flourished.
The two of them exerted some effort to lift the unconscious Elena out of the fountain, fortunate that the pool was fed by a live stream. Otherwise, the Darby Belly Fish would’ve had to drop them off at the nearest river to the castle, forcing them to trek through the roads that Erica had deliberately damaged.
Louis glanced back at the pool, which now only reflected the moonlight. The magical fish was nowhere to be seen.
“Such things,” he mused, “are they phantom beasts?”
“Rare beasts.” Finally outside, Charlie sat on the edge of the fountain, smoking. The drifting smoke rings blurred under the moonlight. “Do you remember that story about the Kingdom of Gold?”
“I remember. That bizarre travelog, as if from a dream, the author was called ‘The Lying Ajasha’,” Louis said calmly. “You like these kinds of stories.”
Charlie nodded. “This child is probably the last Darby Belly Fish on the continent if its previous owner has already safely returned home.”
He roughly described his small business in Pennigra to Louis, including the reason he returned to Doran. Strictly speaking, Kurt’s prophecy about Priscilla might also be related to Louis.
Ever since Priscilla blurted out the unfamiliar name “Ceylon” upon seeing him at the Mokwen Palace, Charlie had harbored a bad feeling, given that people who looked like him were few and far between. But in front of the Duke, he couldn’t very well say, “I suspect there’s something wrong between your sister and my brother.”
Kurt said Priscilla was surrounded by ominous stars, with two extremely dangerous people threatening her safety.
Lestrop was definitely one, and Louis was not entirely safe either.
Louis nodded. “The name ‘Wolf’ is a threat to anyone.” Regarding the unborn child, he and Priscilla were both clear-headed. Getting involved with a Black Gold Family was disadvantageous. Maintaining their distance was the right choice.
Charlie was somewhat worried—Louis had always been a pessimist, and, having been brought back to White Bridge by Fahim, his mood seemed worse growing up surrounded by Wolves.
“Let’s not talk about this now.” Charlie decisively changed the subject. “Help me get her into the castle. I’ll see if I can fix this magic.”
It was late at night, and the castle was pitch black, likely checked by the sheriff coming to search for people, with many rooms tossed about. However, due to the road being impassable, the lavish but large furniture was preserved, its gilded decorations and inlaid gems glinting under the moonlight filtering through the windows, faintly hinting at a time when guests filled the halls.
The upstairs library was burnt to a cinder, including the great book, but the magic in this area still existed, akin to the key being destroyed but the door remaining, only the magic restricting entry and exit was temporarily ineffective without the book to control it.
Objectively speaking, the woman embedded in the wall was much more formidable than Elena. She had turned the entire castle into a magical object. Admittedly, a creator’s magic faded and eventually became ineffective after death, but this process usually wasn’t rapid. The fire that truly claimed her life had only recently been extinguished, and it seemed no mages had visited since, so her residual magic was still relatively intact, with Charlie still able to sense the magical elements flowing through the air.
Charlie quickly checked the entire castle. Since it was uninhabited, the interior had deteriorated rapidly. The thick floor curtains were covered in dust, provoking a cough at a glance, and the once mirror-like floors were now dirty, with corners against the walls showing signs of mice. As for the staircase banisters, Charlie thought it would take at least ten feather dusters to clean them.
“I need some time to study her formulas,” Charlie concluded. “You go back to Fortuna City for now and pass on a message for me.”
Louis frowned. “Can you handle that witch alone?”
“A severely injured witch,” Charlie corrected him. “Elena won’t wake up so quickly, and it will take even longer for her energy to recover… But honestly, it’s better if she doesn’t.”
He glanced at Elena, temporarily placed on a dusty old sofa. Just in Fortuna City, her puppet magic and animal disturbances had caused much damage and posed real threats to public safety, not to mention the pain and destruction she had inflicted over time, with the tin soldier Columbus as a prime example.
No witch’s reputation was built on good deeds. If taken to trial, Elena’s punishment wouldn’t be light.
Since he ended up handling Elena by chance, Charlie didn’t plan to create a holiday retreat for her. It was crucial to ensure she couldn’t easily escape.
Louis reluctantly agreed to Charlie’s plan to handle the aftermath alone, but after being assured of Charlie’s magical power, which was no less than Elena’s, and that restarting a castle originally built by magic wasn’t difficult, and since physical strength greatly limited a mage’s power, a comatose witch would certainly pose no threat to him.
After nearly half an hour of back-and-forth, Louis reluctantly nodded. He had no expertise in magic, and insisting on staying wouldn’t be very effective. Going missing for too long might trigger a reaction from both the Wolf and Monkey families, potentially escalating the situation—especially with the auction imminent, which was a sensitive time for many.
Charlie took the opportunity to mention Kurt’s situation to him.
Given the rarity and value of astrologers, it was unlikely for Louis to decide to release Kurt on his own. Everything listed in the auction catalog was considered public property of the Wolf family, and even the family head couldn’t dispose of it at will. However, it was possible within his authority to provide some special treatment for Kurt, at least improving his living conditions. Charlie felt that, with Kurt’s frail health, treating him like a slave would see him fall ill before the auction even started.
“If your goal at this auction is the astrologer, it’s going to be tough.” Louis frowned. “He’s one of this year’s most sought-after ‘items’. Nearly everyone will be watching him. But I can make his stay a bit more comfortable. Many of the auction items need careful maintenance, and the ‘warehouse’ conditions aren’t bad.”
“Are you planning to bid for the astrologer?” Louis asked. “He’s just a tenant of yours.”
Strictly speaking, he wasn’t even a tenant. Charlie was more like a middleman. Wanting to save a friend was understandable, but everyone knew that one of only three astrologers in the world would fetch an astronomical price. Although Louis and Charlie weren’t short of money, they didn’t feel capable of outbidding other enthusiastic competitors. When it came to money, there was always someone with deeper pockets.
“You don’t need to worry about that. Just take care of Miss Priscilla. The Darby Belly Fish will drop you off a distance from the dock. Don’t let anyone see it,” Charlie said.
He knew that without Fahim, Louis wouldn’t have an easy time within the family. Relying on their grandfather, who was only interested in indulging himself and maintaining his image, was impossible. The old man lacked talent and was shortsighted, barely acknowledging Louis, much to his own discontent.
If not for Fahim and Louis both proving themselves capable, their branch of the family would have failed under his leadership—likely ending up relegated to the surrounding cities, barely scraping by pawning the jewelry and furniture left by their ancestors.
Now, Louis was nearly the only hope for the family. To outsiders, he might seem to be enjoying his youthful success, but in reality, he was more cautious than anyone. Unwilling to burden him further, Charlie almost dragged him back to the edge of the fountain and practically shoved him into the fish’s mouth.
……
Just as an assassin sneaking through a snowy forest would erase their tracks, Charlie also exerted much effort to sever himself from his past. Despite his endless tales of his glorious days at the Monterey Academy in front of the Duke and his entourage, since setting foot on the continent of Doran, he rarely used magic directly, instead relying on various mediums to indirectly exert his magical power.
He did this because, like his appearance, magic also varied from person to person. Charlie could recognize magical items or remnants of magic handled by Elena without using any sigils, just by the inherent magic within them—and vice versa, Elena could recognize his. This included the classmates with whom he had studied and played and the teachers who had once held high hopes for him.
Perhaps due to his exaggerated tone, when he spoke of the past, everyone thought he was boasting. But in reality, Charlie had indeed been the pride of Monterey, and had his status not been sensitive, he would have been known across the continent earlier than Elena, and in a more reputable manner, rather than fiddling all day with invisibility potions, dragon-shaped flyers, and Gray Sentinels, which would make those old teachers wince at the “improper practices”.
Recalling how his favorite teacher had once discreetly and eagerly hinted, hoping he would stay and continue to study magic after graduation, Charlie showed a nostalgic smile.
If cutting off all ties with classmates and friends was regrettable, then for the teachers who had carefully instructed him, Charlie felt nothing but remorse.
He restrained his smile, raised his hand to remove his top hat, and hung it on a hat rack in the corner of the hall.
The moment the hat touched the hook, the seemingly stagnant space suddenly came alive.
It was as if someone had dropped a stone into a silent, deep pond. The hat rack was the point where the stone hit the water, creating ripples that spread outward. As they spread, a three-legged piano stool reattached itself, cobwebs on the chandelier vanished, the porcelain tea set on the dining table regained its shine, and the carpet underfoot restored itself to new—Charlie was like a clockmaker, lightly adjusting, and turning back the castle’s time to the night of an impending grand ball. If one inhaled deeply, one could even smell the enticing aroma of bread baking from the kitchen far away.
He no longer appeared like the tea-savvy shopkeeper from 22 Paulownia Street, nor like the street performer doing magic for children at the crossroads as Erica first saw him. The air around him gathered into a breeze, spreading out from his feet, his coat fluttering endlessly as he stood with his eyes closed on the carpet of the main hall. Though his hands were in his pockets, his dispersed magic felt like invisible, large hands gently touching every corner of the castle, searching for various mechanisms and patiently unlocking them.
If Elena opened her eyes at this moment, she would see in this rabbit-headed man the shadow of the boy everyone admired and longed for in the academy, whom she had chased for over a decade.
The innate talent he was born with hadn’t been erased by time but had become more serene and robust. Charlie’s magic spread strongly but gently, slowly covering the core areas of the spatial magic.
He didn’t intend to remake this magic, but to repair it—while making some modifications.
The original core library had been destroyed, so he simply sealed off the entire corridor. Elena’s curse had denied Columbus many years of normal life, and Mistress Daisy’s tragedy also began with the witch hunt. If he was to seal Elena here, he wanted them completely separated.
The hall.
The staircase.
The corridor.
The storeroom.
The laundry room…
At each location, he left a magic circle according to the space’s use, incorporating a strand of Elena’s hair into the core of each circle, which meant the power source was changed from the magic left by the woman in the wall to Elena’s.
This operation carried a strong punitive meaning, walking a gray area between magic and curse. Mages of particularly upright character usually wouldn’t use this method, but Charlie hardly hesitated when he began.
As long as Elena lived, this space would continuously draw on her magic to sustain the castle. The stove in the kitchen would automatically add wood and burn, the spoon in the soup pot would stir the broth on its own, and the lights, large and small, would never go out. On good weather days, the sheets and curtains would even queue up to wash themselves.
It was a seemingly effortless environment to live in, but for anyone other than Elena, it could be considered comfortable.
The various magic circles in the castle would drain her magic no matter which room she hid in, like a climber who could never stop. The intense fatigue and effort would accompany her constantly unless she died, in which case this vampiric prison would forever trap her.
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