Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 117

After the Bonadi River turned a bend in the eastern part of the Doran continent, it merged into the sea. White Bridge was conveniently located at the bend. There was also a canal that ran through east to west, which most passenger and merchant ships entered through.

The impression of White Bridge entirely depends on which “gate” one entered through.

Alexander glanced out the window before drawing the curtains. Although the ship wasn’t moving fast, the vast expanse of gray, white was no longer visible in the distance—outsiders might mistake that white for calcified reefs or something else on the shore, but only those who live there knew that it was a large, dense area of low, sun-blocking rooftops.

Describing them as rooftops might not be entirely appropriate, as most of the structures were crooked shacks, built askew, and in disrepair. If by chance some stray dogs were to fight and bump into the rotten, damp wood used for support, it could easily cause the entire shack to collapse, crushing the starving elderly inside who lack the strength to even moan.

Then, after waiting a few days, someone would drag away the rubble along with the bodies, and another “family” would build a shack on the same spot, only to relive this history again in twenty years—or maybe ten.

“Didn’t you just go back? ‘Paradise Island’.” Louis, standing by his desk, carefully put on a glove, which was exquisitely made, but what was more surprising was the material—it was light, soft, thin, and extremely elastic. It took effort to fully stretch it to put on, and once on, it fitted like a second layer of skin, reducing any discomfort that could hinder movement to a minimum.

After checking the curtains, Alexander came over to help him and pursed his lips upon hearing this.

The continent’s impression of White Bridge was universally one of a debauched gold mine, a lawless den of sin, a magical country that fulfilled all fantasies. Oddly, those who had been to White Bridge unanimously ignored its other side: crowded, dirty, poor, suffering, and madness.

These terms also came from White Bridge, where countless poor people, like never-tiring ants, had accumulated a growing anthill in this place of extravagant spending, exactly where Alexander just looked.

This slum had an interesting name: Paradise Island.

It wasn’t actually an island, but a large, rundown, crowded shantytown that was an integral part of White Bridge, where all the garbage abandoned by the adjacent glitzy world and all beings unworthy of entering that world found their place. Its boundary was clear, without a wall to separate these two worlds, but this stark coexistence had existed almost since the formation of White Bridge.

The name Paradise Island was given by the first generation of residents, and to this day, one could still faintly sense their hopeful spirit placed here for the future, although over time it had become a focal point of disease, poverty, and hardship in White Bridge. Yet, the residents of Paradise Island still chose to call it by this name.

Alexander was from there.

“I just glanced from a distance.” Alexander straightened a finger of the glove, ensuring Louis’s fingertip completely reached the end. “Things change too quickly there. I no longer recognize the way in.”

And Paradise Island would not welcome someone like Alexander.

The islanders had an instinctual sense of smell, able to sharply discern the identity of every visitor. They may outwardly show respect and fear, but deep down, they emit a “this is an outsider” warning, even if Alexander was once one of them.

“Fahim told you,” Louis said nonchalantly, picking up the second glove.

As Louis’s assistant, Alexander rarely enjoyed any holidays. His few free moments came when Louis returned to Fortuna City, and Alexander usually left half a day to a day later due to wrapping up work, occasionally having a few hours to glance at Paradise Island.

The day Fahim took him away from White Bridge, he had stood at the crossroad and said, “Take one last look at your hometown. You can never come back.”

At that time, Alexander’s mind was no bigger than a peach pit. He didn’t understand what Fahim was saying, but he obediently looked back. His sweaty-smelling neighbors also watched him from afar, their eyes filled with reluctance. Alexander felt Fahim didn’t understand. His family and friends were all here. When he made something of himself, they would surely excitedly navigate the alleys, loudly share the news, and then celebrate together with the bread and ham he brought back—however, it turned out Fahim was right.

When he wore a decent shirt, cut his hair, and learned to use utensils and read, the blood flowing through him was continuously cleansed, and by the time he stood behind Louis, capable of calmly facing all threats, the last trace of Paradise Island within him had disappeared.

His gambling-addict father disappeared in the second year after he left, presumably thrown into the Bonadi River by creditors, and his mentally unstable mother couldn’t even remember how many children she had, let alone recognize Alexander—even now, even if he brought back the finest wines and meats, his hometown would no longer recognize and accept him.

“Yes.” Alexander straightened Louis’s collar. A cleverly hidden white gauze peeked through—one that he had worked tirelessly to wrap around his neck.

Showing weakness was rare in White Bridge, and Alexander wasn’t sure what Louis hoped to gain by pretending to be injured, but as a dutiful assistant, he didn’t question his boss’ decision.

They timed it well, almost completely ready when a servant came to report that the ship had arrived, and…

“Miss Prima is waiting for you at the port,” the servant said.

This wasn’t something an unmarried lady should do conspicuously. It seemed she was truly worried. Alexander thought this as he picked up Louis’s cane and hat, glancing at the meticulously combed back of his boss’ head, feeling his boss really wasn’t a good man.

This was roughly the difference between true nobility and a pack of wolves. Although the idea of defending one’s dignity with one’s life was rigid and decadent, this push was quite too high that Priscella would never do such a thing.

Prima knew that her actions could stir rumors and mockery, like being overly forward, but she was Khalif’s daughter—who would dare say that to her face?—as long as it didn’t reach her ears, she wouldn’t care about these trivial acts.

Louis wasn’t particularly perturbed by being pursued, nor did the news elicit any special reaction from him.

Once within the domain of White Bridge, there were plenty of eyes scrutinizing his every move. Prima was just one of the rare few whose intentions were benign.

He took the cane from Alexander and boarded the carriage, waiting at the dock without a sideways glance. Nearby, the Azalea, prepared for the Countess, had its convoy in place, but due to cumbersome luggage, only the attendants were coordinating all the details.

Prima’s carriage was white and painted with golden trim. Its exquisite rooftop and detailed decorations looked quite dreamy. However, from the dock onward, the sight was filled with luxurious, costly carriages, making the Wolf Family’s seem modest in comparison.

Prima didn’t alight from her carriage but instead waited for Louis to board so they could ride side by side. It seemed the lady hadn’t entirely forsaken her modesty until they reached Louis’s inner-city mansion, where she lightly stepped down from the carriage, her bright brown eyes unwaveringly fixed on him.

“Louis, Alexander told me you were injured.” She approached naturally, her tone filled with concern. “You look pale… Was it the witch?”

“Thank you for coming to meet me, Prima.” Louis nodded to her. “Let’s not stand here talking. Alexander, have the kitchen prepare cinnamon tea and mint candies. We’ll go to the living room.”

This was Prima’s preference, but she wasn’t here just for tea. Seeing Louis move freely brightened her spirits a bit, and her tone became more cheerful.

“Those annoying people wouldn’t tell me the truth, so I came to you, Louis. Is there really a witch? Did she hurt you?”

“Oh? What did they say?” Louis removed his hat and casually handed it to a maid nearby.

“Oh, there was a rumor that you had disappeared around seven,” Prima said lightly. “They said a witch attacked the docks, and you were there, taken away by the witch.”

She didn’t realize the implications of her words: Louis had vanished in the river just as the sun set, and within an hour, White Bridge, three days and two nights from Fortuna City, had received news that couldn’t be said to be entirely inaccurate. Obviously, this didn’t come from Louis’s side, indicating someone had been closely monitoring him.

Prima was aware of this, but such surveillance was normal for the Wolf and even the Monkey families. Those in power always attracted covetous eyes waiting to take their place, and even a lady like her was constantly watched. She had just heard the news and wasn’t one of the watchers. Even if Louis resented this customary situation, his anger and resentment wouldn’t extend to her.

Louis didn’t react much to her words, instead calmly describing the incident with Elena, of course, in the version that made Alexander roll his eyes.

Prima, well-protected by her father, was easily fascinated by such thrilling stories. When Louis mentioned that the witch was dead, she sighed with relief and gracefully stated she was just checking on him and shouldn’t stay long to not disturb his rest after the journey.

Louis didn’t detain her and turned to Alexander to escort her to her carriage.

Though anticipated, Prima was still dismayed by Louis’s overly polite reception. If not for Alexander at her side, she might have turned immediately to ask Mary, the maid next to her, if she noticed her new hairstyle and the perfectly matching dress.

Alexander escorted her to the front courtyard, softly complimenting, “You look very beautiful today, Miss Prima.”

“Really?” Prima’s eyes lit up.

Alexander smiled as he had the servant open the carriage door. “It’s a style I haven’t seen before. It looks very exquisite.”

“Hand-embroidered, the pattern is my design—my brother found a workshop with skilled artisans,” Prima explained.

Alexander and Louis were inseparable, seen as Louis’s shadow. Prima felt that Alexander’s compliment was almost as if Louis had noticed her too, brightening her mood and even speculating whether Louis, being reserved, was using Alexander to compliment her.

She didn’t know that Alexander noticed this because his mother, when young, worked in a garment factory on dirty Paradise Island, not even in embroidery but in dyeing and laundering. Before losing her sanity, Alexander had listened to her and her slightly older daughter dreamily discuss how the factory in filthy Paradise Island could produce such noble, beautiful, flawless dresses for the ladies of the inner city, the cost of which could build a decent house for their family, saving them from rainy seasons. Alexander even remembered a night when the family barely had enough to eat, and the mother and daughter heatedly and needlessly debated, “If God gave you a choice, would you want the dress or the house?”

Prima wouldn’t know this. The garment factory was just a term to her. She might not even be aware of how much her dresses could sell for.

Alexander stood with his hands by his sides, watching the small two-person carriage disappear into the distance, then looked down at his own impeccably tailored, stiff long coat.

The residents of Paradise Island felt they were in paradise, trying their utmost to salvage everything they could from the scalding hellish magma, while the “real” residents of White Bridge never looked directly at Paradise Island, for it was infested with rats and filth, no different from a hell on earth.

At that moment, Alexander suddenly understood something.

The reason Louis had kept Prima at arm’s length for so many years, yet was willing to establish relatively close relationships with other women outside of White Bridge.

It wasn’t because Louis despised her family or her father Khalif and that Prima was Khalif’s daughter, but because, unlike others, Louis didn’t see a boundary between Paradise Island and the inner city.

If so, why choose to stay even after reaching maturity? Fahim had left Louis a considerable fortune and options for his future, effectively giving him a choice.

Now sitting as the head of the family, if he wished to step out of the circle of power and retire to just any distant city, none of his dim-witted (forgive his words) relatives could oppose him, and there were plenty in the Wolf Family waiting for someone to vacate a position.

Alexander had always felt that Louis’s ambition lay at the very top of White Bridge, and his elusive style was just one way to keep his opponents guessing, but now he began to doubt what his boss was really thinking.

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The author has something to say:

Prima is a kind girl, but Louis prefers a more mature type. The brothers are the opposite in this regard.

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Kinky Thoughts:

The gender of preference is also opposite as well … given that this is a danmei—though so far it has been so slow burn that (supposedly straight) Shivers and Yitzfa have more chemistry than the Duke and his Rabbit.

However, the story is quite good, so I can’t complain too much.

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