Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 153
His usual indifferent attitude clearly displeased Khalif, so it was only natural that he was excluded from assisting Khalif with the auction. Another Elder who was excluded was Arthur, who was always in charge of external trade. Meanwhile, Azman, who was responsible for public relations, and Cameron, who handled internal affairs, were granted permission to assist. After the meeting, they were to head to Adan’s office to urgently take over all arrangements for the following morning (nobody mentioned any concern for Adan’s current condition).
Charlie didn’t care about this arrangement at all—he was sure Louis wouldn’t be interested in the auction either. If anything, he was more surprised that even at this point, Khalif and the Wolf higher-ups hadn’t shown any interest in delving deeper into these two unusual incidents.
Maybe they thought it was Louis’s responsibility and not their concern, but while the White Bridge auction wasn’t always perfectly smooth, the few crises it faced were mainly external. Never had there been a situation like now that directly threatened the upper echelons.
So they hastily called a meeting in the middle of the night to discuss calming measures for the important guests, usually attended to directly by Adan, yet no one mentioned the dockworkers who started the fire.
If not for the timing, Charlie would have laughed out loud—in the mocking way the Duke often did.
Such arrogance—they seemed to believe that only entities as large as the Lion Family (or larger) could be worthy opponents. Yet, they didn’t want to directly confront the Lion representatives, instead whispering about collaborating with the Monkeys, even suggesting they use some untraceable witchcraft to deal with them without leaving evidence.
Although Charlie had a lingering fear of the Lion family, he could objectively analyze their upper management style. If Vasilia heard about these midnight plots, she might laugh out loud and ask since when did the Wolves assimilated with the Monkeys. This kind of method was only used by old, cowardly tortoises who feared death.
Khalif wasn’t like this before. During the days when Charlie was constantly thinking up ways to escape and wander the streets, Fahim often spoke to the twins about this decisive man. At that time, the White Wolf’s evaluation of him was: “Narrow-minded, occasionally impulsive and reckless, but shrewd, with both ambition and strength.” This was rare praise from Fahim, who held himself in high regard. It’s hard to imagine what expression he would have now if he saw the current Khalif.
The conference room was brightly lit. Charlie discreetly observed Khalif for a moment, sensing that he didn’t show the fatigue and decline in physical strength that Louis and other reports mentioned. It was already past midnight, yet as a man working overnight, he appeared more focused and energetic than Azman, who had prominent dark circles and had stifled several yawns, mistakenly thinking no one noticed, unaware that his tear-streaked eyes and drooping eyelids had already betrayed him.
Khalif was also displeased with his state and sternly ordered him to “wash his face properly” before proceeding. Arthur and Cameron had already left their seats and exited the conference room.
Azman wanted to say a few more words to Khalif but was waved away impatiently. Before leaving, he glanced at Louis, who was still sitting steadily, with a peculiar look, seemingly mocking his lack of tact.
Charlie didn’t look at him, only turning to Khalif after everyone else had left. This was his second face-to-face encounter with Khalif. The anger previously on the family leader’s face had vanished, replaced by a remarkably calm expression.
It seemed the exhilaration from the astrologer’s good news had cooled down, Charlie thought.
“How is the list collection going?” Khalif asked.
“My assistant is still working on it,” Charlie replied humbly. “It needs some time.”
“Recall everyone on the list from outside White Bridge,” Khalif immediately ordered. “Everyone. Including those nameless, faceless bastards and disowned traitors. If anyone dares to resist, break their knees and drag them back—but make sure they’re alive.”
Charlie’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t show any emotion. He just nodded lightly. “Understood.”
“Remember my words. Bring the list to that side at dawn. I’ll be waiting,” Khalif said in a low voice. “Also, any assassins who attacked Adan, whoever they are, should not leave White Bridge alive.”
With that, he leaned back in his chair, his right hand caressing the large ruby ring on his left index finger, signaling the end of the conversation.
Louis had mentioned this gesture—leaning back indicated Khalif had decided to end the talk, and caressing the ring meant the person in front of him should immediately shut up and leave without another word.
Charlie had to persuade Louis to let him attend this meeting in his place, so he didn’t want to cause any trouble. Following his brother’s usual practice, he left the table. As his hand reached the doorknob, Khalif suddenly asked from behind, “How is the Countess of Mokwen?”
The question was quite abrupt. Charlie withdrew his hand and turned halfway, showing a slightly puzzled expression.
“She’s doing well,” Charlie said. “She’s being treated with the highest standards. To my knowledge, her main goal isn’t the auction but to meet the astrologer, Kurt. I’ve submitted a report on this.”
“I don’t think she needs an astrologer, not if this noble lady is paying attention to the war reports from her homeland,” Khalif said ambiguously. “I remember she’s pregnant—she should be more cautious.”
Charlie didn’t respond this time and just nodded. Seeing Khalif caressing the ring again, he decisively opened the door and walked out.
The conference room was located deep on the first floor of the mansion. As Charlie walked quickly towards the main door, he suddenly felt a gaze prickling the back of his neck. Turning his head, he saw Xanye in a nightgown standing on the stairs, looking down at him.
“Hello, Louis.” Her voice was a bit dreamy, as if she hadn’t fully woken up.
Charlie ignored her and walked out the main door. Outside, only his black carriage remained. The other Elders had already left.
Before getting into the carriage, he looked back once more and saw someone in a room on the second floor quickly drawing the curtains.
Could it be Prima… Charlie thought, deciding it wasn’t the best time to visit her—although their conversation had been brief, Prima’s state wasn’t quite right. The experienced shopkeeper had noticed her reaction upon seeing his face (or rather, Louis’s face).
The surprise of encountering him, mixed with the subconscious urge to check her attire, was a reaction only someone seeing their beloved would have.
“Playboy.” Charlie chuckled softly, heading to the carriage.
“Sir, to the office or back to rest?” the driver asked respectfully.
“To Cross Street in the Western District,” Charlie said without hesitation.
It was one of the closest places in the inner city to Paradise Island.
……
Jason stopped in front of a women’s shoe store that had already turned off its lights.
It was his second time passing by this store. Over the past few days, he had learned some common words from Eugene and happened to recognize the word “moon” in the store’s name, “Pure White Moon”, confirming that he had indeed gone the wrong way.
The inner city was too big and divided into several districts, making it exhausting to navigate on foot without a carriage, unlike Paradise Island, with its countless paths and shortcuts. Added by tonight, something seemed to have happened, as some areas were cordoned off. Jason didn’t want to cause trouble and took a detour, resulting in him losing his sense of direction.
If this continued, he would waste more time wandering in circles. Jason sat down on a raised pavement brick, but barely had he caught his breath before jumping up as if pricked by a wild porcupine—he couldn’t afford to dirty the decent clothes Eugene had lent him, which were essential for walking through the inner city without being driven away as a vagrant.
Fortunately, the streetlights were bright. He twisted his body to check his pants’ reflection in the shop window, trying to see if any irremediable stains had appeared. In the reflection, he saw a figure quickly walking past on the opposite street.
Jason turned sharply and, without much thought, gave chase—at this time of night, anyone still walking the streets was likely a low-status worker, making them a suitable person to ask for directions.
“Hey!” Jason was fast and quickly caught up, but his loud voice startled the person, causing them to drop what they were carrying.
“Sorry, sorry.” Jason hurriedly picked up the basket, but the bread and apples inside rolled out. He quickly grabbed an apple about to roll into the drain, feeling quite embarrassed.
The person took a step back, looking ready to run, but seemed reluctant to abandon their things and stayed put, though silently.
“Here you go…” Jason tried to soften his voice. “I just want to ask for directions. Where am I?”
“Bovington Street,” the hoarse voice replied, seeming to realize Jason wasn’t a threat.
Jason paused, realizing the street name was useless to him, so he had to press on, “Which direction to Paradise Island?”
The person took the basket from him and studied him for a moment. “You want to go to Paradise Island?”
Before Jason could think of an excuse, the person stepped forward. “Jason? Are you Jason?”
“Who are you?” Jason scrutinized the person—long face, wide nose, with two scars, one long and one short, giving him distinctive features. He didn’t recall knowing anyone like that.
“I’m Peter!” the man said urgently, his voice even raspier. “I thought I mistook you—wearing clothes like that! What are you doing here? Come with me.”
Jason, as the head of the Brotherhood, knew at least five Peters, none matching this one. But he didn’t resist, letting himself be pulled along to another street because, under the streetlight, he had seen the man’s face clearly. Despite the clean, simple clothes and a face free of the sunken, sallow look of long-term malnutrition, Jason still sensed the aura of the lower class. Plus, calling out his name so confidently suggested this Peter was also from Paradise Island.
Even if he was wrong, two more Peters as skinny as this one wouldn’t be able to beat Jason, so he wasn’t worried.
Peter, however, was quite flustered, occasionally looking back nervously to check for followers. After taking two turns on a relatively quiet street, he led Jason into the yard of a row of townhouses. The garden was surprisingly small, with a half-submerged door resembling a storm cellar, but even smaller, like an underground storage room.
The author has something to say:
Khalif asking about Priscilla was because he was always aware of Lestrop’s experiment. Although he sought cooperation to some extent, Khalif hid the crucial bloodline condition, essentially deceiving the Mokwen royalty. He didn’t want to break this matter and make enemies, which is why Priscilla never got to meet Kurt.
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