Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 125
Jason said that the inner city, to Paradise Island, was an unknown existence more dangerous than hell itself.
But clearly, not everyone thought the same.
As Eugene leaned against a waist-high stone wall and walked forward, he happened to witness one of the “selections” Jason had talked about.
At the time, he was suffering from severe diarrhea that had left him nearly lifeless, having just spent half the day in a public restroom closest to his inn—the so-called public restroom was just a crudely constructed square partition with no roof or door. It just had a large pit below with shaky wooden planks laid over it. If someone was drunk or their legs numb, there was a real chance they could fall in while standing up to pull up their trousers.
A mother and son were talking not far from the public toilet, with a few others listening in. Eugene, dizzy from his condition, took a while to make out what they were saying.
“Please, Larry, don’t leave me,” the dark-skinned mother pleaded. “Your father is already dead, and if you go too, what will I do?”
“I’m just going to clean the walkways, not entering the inner city,” the young man named Larry replied, somewhat impatiently, probably because his friends were waiting nearby.
“Mom, do you think just anyone can get into that place? We haven’t been trained. We can only do the lowest physical labor, and I’ll come back after the auction,” he said.
“But…”
“Yes, sister, they won’t come to any harm,” a middle-aged man intervened slickly. “Since yesterday, many important guests have arrived, and they definitely don’t have enough people. I’d even be glad if they picked me. Look… because the mother is beautiful, the son is especially handsome and attractive. If he wasn’t such a good-looking young man but someone else, my boss wouldn’t want to hire him.”
Eugene strained his eyes to focus. The thin mother had no relation to the word “beautiful”, and Larry was just a young man with passable features. His friend beside him was prettier, with slightly fairer skin, though here, residents were often weathered by the harsh sun and wind, limiting how fair they could actually be.
The silent friend watched the mother and son argue without saying a word.
Eventually, Larry gave in, said something to the middle-aged man, who then pulled a money pouch from his pocket and handed it to the woman.
“This is the advance pay,” he announced loudly. “This isn’t usual… but since you’re worried about your son, I’ll give it to you now.”
The woman jumped as if burned, instinctively stuffing the money pouch deep into her clothing, then looked around frantically as if there were thieves hidden among the onlookers.
But after that, she no longer objected, and Larry left without any luggage, hands empty.
The onlookers continued to chat where they stood. Eugene limped over (his feet still numb) and asked curiously, “Where is he going?”
Larry’s mother ignored him and quickly turned into a side alley, disappearing from sight. A woman nearly fifty, who had been leaning out of her window the whole time, called out as she left, “Hide your money well. Don’t let someone reach under your blanket at night—”
Everyone laughed.
“That one beside Larry, isn’t he Old Fu’s boy? What’s his name again?” someone asked.
“I don’t know. That family has seven or eight kids. It’s good that he’s gone.”
“What if he’s going to the ship…”
“No way, they aren’t that pretty.”
“He must be going to clean the port roads,” a man stated authoritatively. “My brother heard it while working. Guests from the Fox and Lion families are arriving this afternoon.”
“Fox. Hehe, that Fox?”
“Stop dreaming. Their women aren’t like Susan and the others…”
Eugene hadn’t bathed in several days, and standing among these people, he didn’t feel particularly out of place. No one avoided him, and the conversation started to veer into more vulgar territory.
He listened for a while on the spot, and after confirming that no more valuable information would be forthcoming, he turned to leave.
If this had been back in Pennigra, he might have joined them out of boredom, but since witnessing the death of a prostitute in Syriacochi and meeting the upright Martina, he was no longer inclined to speak ill of those involved in the trade of flesh.
Just as he returned to the inn, he ran into Larry again. The middle-aged man was probably a broker, having convinced another young person to follow him in such a short span.
Noticing Eugene watching, the middle-aged man also took a look at him, probably noting his pale face and trembling legs, and quickly looked away.
It could be said that the fried fish from last night’s dinner did him in. Otherwise, he might have had a chance to join them—but regret was useless. By the time he got back to his temporary room, Eugene had no strength even to stand.
Paradise Island wasn’t exactly short on supplies. As long as you could pay, you could get services here—albeit a lower-tier version.
To blend in, Eugene had indeed spent several hard days eating only the most common black bread and water, until yesterday, when he couldn’t take it anymore and bought a slightly luxurious fried fish, which ended up knocking him out.
He lay gasping on the floor, wondering what to do.
He had a way to contact Shivers and even a place, and he could return to the inner city as a “guest” anytime he wanted, as long as he could make it off Paradise Island alive. Knowing his diarrhea was due to unclean food, he dared not eat anything else and was so weak once he lay down, he didn’t know how long it would take to gather the strength to go downstairs again.
The Foxes and Lions were arriving in White Bridge today.
He didn’t know who the representatives would be, but Eugene felt the Duke and his company needed to know this, only he couldn’t move… Huh?
Eugene’s eyes widened as he watched a little ball of fluff squeeze through the door crack. This room had no windows, and once it was free, its originally fluffy feathers were all ruffled.
It looked like any ordinary gray sparrow, but Eugene recognized the round belly with a V-shaped pattern of light fluff, which someone once said was his signature—the pattern looked quite like the neckline of a man’s suit.
“The design concept is a polite intelligence worker,” the other had said. “One might not be noticeable, but a whole battalion in formation looks particularly impressive.”
The shopkeeper’s Gray Sentinel!
Eugene suddenly felt a surge of energy within him, sat up, and tentatively called out, “Mr. Charlie?”
The little sparrow cocked its head and looked at him with its shiny black eyes, then hopped forward a few steps.
……
Alexander glanced at the tightly closed door before quickly refocusing his attention on the man in front of him.
The man was handsome, but his attractiveness wasn’t solely due to his outstanding features. It was also the restraint and nobility that he exuded with every move, occasionally making Alexander, who was accustomed to various receptions, feel somewhat uneasy.
“Mr. Green, do you prefer sugar or honey in your tea?” Alexander didn’t call Annie over but instead chose to pour the tea himself, hovering his hand over the teapot as he looked to Mr. Green for his preference.
Mr. Green laughed. “Either is fine, but I do enjoy a bit of aged liquor in it.”
The atmosphere lightened.
Alexander expertly poured the tea, responding with a smile, “I’ll have them prepare it right away.”
“I’m just joking. It’s just a personal habit. I’m not encouraging anyone to drink alcohol during work hours,” Mr. Green clarified. “The black tea is perfect as is. The aroma is quite unique. Is it from overseas?”
Alexander paused in his action, then nodded. “You—”
Before he could finish, a dull thud came from the inner room, causing both men to turn their heads.
“What was that?” Mr. Green frowned, as Alexander stood up quickly and walked over, almost reaching out to push the door open but stopped at the last second, choosing to knock instead.
“Sir?” Alexander called out.
Silence followed.
The noise hadn’t been loud, but even a moderately upscale reception room or study would have carpeting that would normally muffle such sounds—
Without a response, Alexander steeled himself, turned the doorknob, and pushed the door open.
He then saw his boss and a stunningly attractive guest crammed together on a single-seat sofa, clutching each other’s clothes, faces very close.
If it wasn’t for another single-seat sofa overturned on the floor, their entangled postures might even seem somewhat intimate, though their expressions were anything but.
“Sir?” It was the first time Alexander encountered his boss fighting with a guest in the study, and he was baffled.
Neither turned to look at him. Louis simply said two words. “Get out.”
“But—” Alexander started to say more, but his hand on the doorknob was suddenly covered by another hand.
It was Mr. Green, who had left his seat at some point.
He gently but firmly grasped Alexander’s hand, along with the doorknob, pulling it back to slowly close the heavy wooden door with a click.
Alexander exclaimed, “They—”
Mr. Green let go and made a “shushing” gesture.
“Where were we?” He walked back to his seat as if nothing had happened. “Right, the tea. Is this product available for purchase?”
Alexander: “……”
Mr. Green must be an associate of the guest inside, right? Wasn’t he worried?
While Alexander didn’t think Louis would lose a fight—Louis never did, especially since everyone was initially fooled by his seemingly frail stature and refined demeanor upon his arrival in White Bridge, thinking Fahim had decided to train a bureaucratic successor.
Unexpectedly, Louis was thoroughly combative, famously ruthless and iron-handed, and had managed to consolidate control of both external defense and internal administration within White Bridge.
With Louis as a precedent, Alexander thought the lean guest inside must also follow this approach—because Louis’s training from childhood was never about fighting or brawling but about genuine killing techniques aimed at quick subdual. Though not graceful, anyone who could tangle with him was certainly not easy to handle.
Thinking about how quickly they had started grappling upon entering, what kind of person had the Countess introduced? Someone looking for trouble? As Alexander considered this, he looked at Mr. Green with a puzzled expression.
Mr. Green seemed to know what Alexander was thinking and reassured him in a calming tone. “Don’t worry. They’re fine.”
Alexander: “……”
Although Mr. Green was always elegantly poised, he still managed to leave Alexander at a loss for words.
Seeing the young assistant struggle to calm down, Mr. Green spoke again. “Mr. Alexander, I saw something interesting in a shop yesterday.”
Alexander mustered some enthusiasm. “Oh?”
“It was a beautiful crown but cursed with powerful magic. The shopkeeper had to seal it under a glass cover. If I’m not mistaken, it’s Sharon’s crown from two centuries ago, a level-one prohibited item.”
Sharon was a forebear of Elena and had moved beyond merely being a witch to becoming a notoriously evil sorceress who had caused panic across two continents for thirty years. It took the sacrifice of several great mages to kill her—her relics were classified as level-one prohibited items, forbidden from public record, sale, or use.
Such an item was openly displayed as a store’s centerpiece to attract customers.
“That must be Monkey’s property.” Alexander wasn’t unfamiliar with such queries. “Some of their… ‘memorabilia’ can indeed be sensitive.”
This undoubtedly distanced the Wolves from the Monkeys. To alleviate Green’s concerns, Alexander added, “Rest assured, you and—both are our guests, and the Wolf Family has neither past nor future interest or contact with black magic.”
He carefully avoided mentioning the Countess.
Green just smiled and didn’t pursue the conversation further.
The Monkey might be obsessed with black magic, but the existence of the Holy Grail was undeniable, and the Wolf was certainly not as clean as Alexander had implied.
But as far as external appearances went, Alexander was correct: the Wolf Family had never produced a mage, neither black nor white magic. They preferred to hire mages to create magical barriers for their family; a directive surely from the family head, whether to avoid suspicion or to keep the secrets of the Holy Grail confined to a few within the family was up for debate.
And the Monkey’s penchant for collecting precious goods, cursed or not, showed they had the capability to seal and transport such items—a family business that couldn’t be outsourced like Wolf’s.
“I was just asking,” he said. “Those things are quite interesting.”
His expression was genuinely sincere that Alexander believed him. He said with a smile, “Actually, the real good stuff they wouldn’t put in the window. If you’re interested, 75% of the goods at the second- and fourth-day auctions come from the Monkeys. I’ll give you some internal manuals later. The categories are more clearly divided there.”
If your boss and my boss come out without completely falling out later.
Green wasn’t worried about that at all. He was certain the scene he’d glimpsed through the door was just the two having a robust discussion, nothing more.
He was right.
An hour later, the study door opened again. This time both men sat properly on the sofa, neatly dressed, with natural expressions. Louis even personally escorted the guest out.
Alexander was full of questions, but before he could speak, his temperamental boss turned back into the study, instructing that no one was to disturb him.
“But this afternoon, Miss Prima—”
“Just say I have a fever again.”
“And tonight—”
“I’ll be out on time tonight.” The recently erratic Louis decisively kept Alexander outside the door, ignoring his assistant’s concerned look, and firmly closed the door.
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