Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 129

Dwight felt slightly odd about Louis, perhaps influenced by his preconceptions.

This feeling was very faint, like a beetle crawling up a glass window—trivial enough to be brushed away with a light flick of the hand.

“Mr. Dwight.” The other party called out his name as soon as he spoke, inviting him to sit with a polite and gentle demeanor.

The odd feeling intensified a bit.

Knowing his identity suggested that Priscilla had told him everything—it wasn’t a secret that the Countess was the daughter of a Duke in Pennigra before marrying, but Dwight’s own secret visit to the Doran continent was highly confidential, indicating Priscilla’s deep trust in him.

Dwight gracefully sat down on the single sofa opposite him, nodding. “I apologize for the intrusion.”

“Not at all,” Louis said warmly. “I’ve been looking forward to this meeting.”

Dwight relaxed his grip on his cane.

This voice… If he closed his eyes, he might think he was speaking to Rabbit Head.

Could twins have such similar voices? Although he had seen identical twins before, he rarely paid much attention to unrelated people, suddenly unsure.

“Have we met before?” he asked, studying Louis’s face.

If the chaotic and dimly lit scene at the Stonewall Inn might have confused his memory, the face and demeanor in front of him matched exactly with the person he had encountered in the Mokwen Palace.

However, both motive and timing suggested that the person at that time should have been Charlie, not Louis, especially since Priscilla had confirmed it herself. Though they looked the same, they were not the same person.

“I’m afraid this is our first meeting.” Louis’s expression showed a slight, appropriate puzzlement. “I think… ah.”

He paused mid-sentence—because Dwight suddenly stood up from his sofa, moving with a speed that left no time for reaction. He stepped over the low table between them, one hand braced on the sofa armrest, the other’s fingertips pressed against Louis’s tie, almost as a threat too close to the throat.

Louis stopped smiling.

“Have we met before?” Dwight asked again.

Their faces were very close, close enough to study his own reflection in his eyes. The tone was completely unrelated to their ambiguous proximity.

If it weren’t for the harsh, nearly pathological aristocratic upbringing ingrained into the Duke, the other might have heard the grinding of his teeth through the words.

The atmosphere abruptly tensed, both men silently staring at each other, when suddenly, the click of the door lock breaking the silence signaled the study door being opened.

Louis’s genteel assistant, Alexander, stood dumbfounded at the sight, pausing before asking, “Sir?”

But no one turned to look at him.

Louis, pressed into the sofa, grumbled out the words, “Get out.”

Alexander wanted to say something else, but ultimately didn’t. His face was a mixture of indescribable expressions as he closed the door behind him.

“You’re being rather uncouth, aren’t you?” Louis muttered a complaint.

He wasn’t incapable of struggling. Both men’s weight was almost tipping the sofa, and any further imbalance might cause them both to tumble backward, entangled.

Dwight sneered, “This is quite courteous for someone pretending to be a fraud.”

“Why am I a pretending fraud?”

Dwight slightly adjusted his hold, pressing it against his chin. His eyes were still fixed on his face. “Don’t be foolish. You’re not Louis.”

“You’ve never met him.”

“I don’t need to have met him.” Dwight bent one leg, pressing his knee against him, and the sofa tilted slightly more precariously. “Perhaps it’s your misunderstanding about your acting skills? Where’s the rabbit’s head?”

He actually had no concrete evidence that the person before him was Charlie and not Louis, but Dwight never doubted his instincts—every time the other spoke, he almost felt an illusion of seeing that rabbit head through this face—too abnormal if not for his being affected by confusing magic or sudden madness, then there was something amiss with the person in front of him.

“Alexander didn’t notice.” Charlie finally raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Can you let me go first? I don’t like talking in this posture.”

It should be said that no man likes to be dominated in such a situation.

But Dwight’s anger was still burning hot, and upon hearing this, he instead intensified his grip. “That depends on your answer.”

“I was just joking,” Charlie sincerely said. “Really. I even brought you a gift. Don’t you want to see it?”

Unfortunately, this coaxing tone only worked on Dwight before he was seven.

“I’ll ask you one more time—”

“I just arrived not long ago. Elena isn’t dead. Louis agreed to cooperate. I really have a gift.” Charlie blurted out everything in one breath.

Dwight paused for a moment to grasp what he was saying. As his attention was diverted, Charlie managed to push him back a bit, fluidly stood up in place, and sat down on the back of the chair, instantly reversing their positions, now looking down at the Duke from a height.

“This appearance isn’t meant to mock you. It’s just a brilliant idea I had right after I managed to control Elena.” Charlie proudly boasted, then elaborated on how he had a flash of inspiration for the abandoned castle and how he masterfully understood and transformed the magic formulas there.

“If we just relied on the space magic created by Mistress Daisy’s former owner, the effect would eventually be exhausted after her death. If we could find an alternative source of magical energy, there would be no issue. So I—”

“So you used Elena as a power source.” Dwight furrowed his brows, knowing he was discussing serious matters, finally released him.

Dwight had studied magical theory. Such an approach was theoretically feasible, but no normal person would voluntarily serve as fuel for the fire, so respectable magic texts wouldn’t mention these methods.

This was essentially sealing Elena in the castle. As long as she lived, the space magic would be effective, and if she died, the magic would no longer be necessary.

“Exactly,” Charlie said. “Then I thought, why just fix someone else’s magic when I could improve it… Do you remember Mistress Daisy’s big book?”

It was the key to the castle, already burned in the fire. Charlie could replicate it, but he didn’t particularly like the form of a book, so after completing the entire magic setup, he made a brand new key.

Dwight watched as Charlie reached out his hand. A simple double-loop brass ring resting in his palm.

“I turned the key into this. It was originally a hook on the hall’s coat rack. I improved it based on the original, enabling the adjustment of the drawn magical power.”

Simply put, it was a magic controller—Charlie had tuned it several times, basically confirming the threshold for curse visualization, ensuring the original appearance could be maintained as long as the magic drawn exceeded the threshold.

“So you’re appearing like this, planning to use Louis’s identity?” Dwight immediately understood his reason.

“Don’t say it like that. I was also ‘Louis’s once.” Charlie spoke easily, pulling his hand over, the brass ring sliding down.

“Here, a gift,” Charlie said.

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