Several days later, at noon, at the tavern next to the inn.
Bly, as usual, was spending his time in the tavern. Suddenly, the door to the tavern opened and then closed, casting a shadow at his feet.
A man in a worn long cloak stepped in. His face was tightly concealed by a hood, revealing only a few strands of light golden hair. The man, who wore a long sword, had a large, snow-white cat perched on his shoulder.
He ordered a lavish meal and sat alone in a corner, eating slowly and attentively. It was hard to tell whether he was carefully savoring the food or trying to taste the recipes with his tongue.
The big white cat quietly stayed on his shoulder, leisurely licking its paws.
Bly took a sip of sweet wine, and a question slowly formed in his mind—since becoming a Player, he could easily distinguish those native folks weaker than himself. Even though he wasn’t outstanding among Players now, to those fragile native NPCs, he was absolutely a formidable monster.
However, he couldn’t gauge the depth of the man in the cloak, who didn’t quite seem like a Player either, radiating a subtle aura.
So far, all important NPCs had squads for special protection. To prevent Demon Players from causing trouble, Players within the city were also under the jurisdiction of the Homeward Saints Guild.
Who was this man?
Whether it was his physique or his aura, Bly felt an eerie familiarity with this person. Unfortunately, Abaddon wasn’t here. Otherwise, he could ask his drinking buddy… At a crucial moment like this, the guy was nowhere to be found.
Hm? Wait, missing at a crucial moment? Bly gradually gripped his drink tighter.
Lately, Players were all working hard to fortify Bissus, busy making it an impregnable stronghold—
Not to mention the repeated tactical training and the exaggeratedly strengthened city defenses. Everyone wished to set deadly magical devices on every street to ensure any daring monster would die within three steps. Even if the Lost Tower were to descend from the sky the next second, the Players in Bissus would still have a fighting chance.
But facing wave after wave of monster attacks, everyone’s spirits were always on edge, with even Abaddon being called away to help from time to time. Only Players “not worth mentioning” like Bly had more free time.
Having observed until now, Bly always felt something was missing in this main quest. And the moment this man appeared, he finally understood where this sense of incongruity came from—
Hero Drake.
This person had assisted Knight Eugene in Eternal Day City, participated in the ancient Demon King’s subjugation, and was personally chosen by the Goddess of Life as her envoy during the Dragon’s Lair Battle.
Now, as the main quest progressed to protecting the Holy Land of the Temple of Life, Drake’s absence was strangely conspicuous, not even listed among the important NPCs.
Initially, people mentioned “Hero Drake”, but since Drake was always linked with “Paradise” and with too many variables, there was no consensus, and the matter gradually faded.
“If the main quest really needs him to appear, he will show up on his own.” That was what everyone said.
Now, this…
Bly swallowed, picked up the most expensive bottle of wine from the table, and cautiously sat opposite the man. Drake was rumored to be a handsome young man with golden hair and eyes. Confirming it wouldn’t hurt.
The Goddess of Life had certified this man. He couldn’t be an undercover agent of the Demon King, could he…? Even if he had entanglements with Paradise, it was understandable for a main NPC’s fate to be dramatic.
“Care for a drink together? My treat.” Bly tried to sound as casual as possible.
Across from him, the man in the cloak stopped chewing and looked up for the first time.
He was a very handsome young man. Unlike the rumored golden-haired and golden-eyed Drake, his eyes were a deep-sea blue. The big cat at his side, as if startled by Bly, moved to the other shoulder.
“…Thank you.” The young man observed Bly for a while, then resumed his meal attentively.
Bly’s hand trembled as he poured the wine.
He had made the right bet!
With such a face, he was definitely an important NPC. But the eye color didn’t match the rumors? Such details weren’t important. As a magic swordsman, changing eye color was a matter of minutes for Drake.
“Excuse me.” While passing the wine, Bly lowered his voice to the lowest. “Are you Mr. Drake, the ‘Envoy of God’?”
Hearing the title “Envoy of God”, the young man paused his fork, and his lips twitched slightly. After a few seconds, he nodded silently.
“I am indeed called Drake.”
Bly swallowed. “Then you—”
“I’m here to eradicate the enemies of God.” The young man’s tone was calm yet cold, and on his shoulder, the white cat with round golden eyes meowed innocently.
……
Lost Tower.
“Are you sure it’s okay? A Player have found him, so he’ll be discovered by Star Stealer Sol soon!” Perradat anxiously nibbled on Lilith’s fingernails, causing Lynn to frown. “Maybe we should reconsider the tactics…”
“The tactics are set.” Lynn pulled her hand away from her mouth. “Haven’t you applied ‘concealment’ specifically against Star Stealer Sol? Using it to disguise [God’s Forsaken], Nol said it’s no problem.”
“But the news will reach Star Stealer Sol’s ears.”
Unable to nibble her nails, Perradat started crunching on the hard candy on her plate. “He will soon target Drake. That guy is alone, at most with Ben, that useless dog—”
Lynn: “You’re too anxious. Hasn’t Nol explained it to you?”
Coming up with such a cunning plan, the God of Creation was really led astray by someone. Lynn still remembered Nol’s expression when planning, that mischievous demeanor didn’t seem like a righteous character at all.
“Star Stealer Sol chose to use Bissus for a tower defense game. He wants to make this city his home ground, forcing me and Teest to act alone.”
In memory, Nol pointed at Bissus City on the map.
As the center of the continent, it had the richest storage and the strongest military force. Due to its religious uniqueness, if it faced any issue, neighboring great nations would definitely offer generous assistance.
As long as Enbillick stays inside without coming out, Paradise would have to attack.
So, Star Stealer Sol, under the name of tower defense, gathered Players, madly transforming the town. If Paradise’s people dared to enter the city, they would face a fully armed city and top-tier Players.
“This way, if I lead Paradise in a surprise attack, there would definitely be a large number of casualties among the neighbors. If I forcefully stay away, as the quest difficulty increases, Players will also suffer heavy losses—it’s a blatant scheme. He’s inviting me to walk into a trap alone.”
Nol expressed his confidence very clearly.
“Because he knows that, given my personality, I definitely won’t stand by and watch everyone sacrifice themselves. And if I wanted to infiltrate, there would only be one choice.”
That would be Hero Drake, who was publicly recognized by the “Goddess of Life”.
Even without Nol saying it, the people present could guess the answer.
“I understand the rationale, but how can you be one hundred percent certain?”
After hearing the plan, Perradat was the first to raise questions. “The Goddess back then was impersonated by Painter. What if that guy exposes this fact? Who will ensure Drake’s safety?”
“He won’t expose this at this juncture, just as we won’t go persuading Eugene.” Teest rolled his eyes. “Once we start talking, there will be endless explanations and self-justifications required. In the end, it may not successfully persuade them and would only bring greater chaos.”
“In Star Stealer Sol’s view, Teest and I can only play the assassination game according to his rules, on his chessboard. Without a doubt, he must have prepared countless tricks on his side.”
Nol’s voice remained gentle. “The tower defense quest torments the Players, and we are on his home turf. Just one slip in ‘Drake’s’ actions, and he would use his powers to strike lethally.”
“The appearance of Hero Drake signifies the arrival of major events in the main storyline. From the beginning, this world has followed such a rule.”
Nol’s fingertip nudged the black chess piece symbolizing Star Stealer Sol. With a tap, the piece fell onto the map. The white piece symbolizing Drake stood quietly, holding a cute short sword model.
“Moreover, since Star Stealer Sol specially set up the stage, of course, we have to respond appropriately.”
…Indeed, it signified the arrival of major events in the main storyline, rather than personally achieving major events in the main storyline.
Lynn ended her recollection, looking at Drake on the magic screen. Seeing his handsome face, she found it hard to connect him with that cursing, deficient candle.
Drake Kando.
After all, “Tahe” was a game made for Players. This hero, silent for two hundred years, had always been a harbinger of storms, a helper to Players, but not a terminator. Now, he had finally taken back his true mission—
“I’m here to eradicate the enemies of God.” Drake’s tone was firm, sounding exceptionally sincere. “This city needs more help.”
“Help?” Bly’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Yes.” Drake revealed an unskilled smile. “The defenses of Bissus City aren’t strong enough. I have a great idea.”
“Please let me assist you.”
At the same time, in the middle of the Endless Sea.
“I’m going to start now.” Nol took several deep breaths.
Teest: “Pfft.”
“…Don’t laugh!”
“I’m laughing from the bottom of my heart, honey. It shows my trust in you.” Below Nol, Teest blinked. “This scene is really interesting, don’t you think?”
At this moment, Teest was laying naked on the ice.
Above his body hovered the vast and beautiful true form of the God of Creation. Countless golden threads wrapped around the captivating dragon-like creature. Sunlight spilled down, making the surrounding sea shimmer. Only Teest lay in the shadow, looking much like a fragile sacrifice.
“Come.”
Teest opened his arms towards the giant beast above, making a pleading gesture for an embrace.
“The Great Hero is fighting for time. Let us bring down the moon together—”
[Peace was fleeting, as the Demon King in the darkness stretches out his claws. Warriors from another world have disturbed the hidden army of the Demon King but failed to reach his lair. Now, the Demon King’s schemes are within reach. Fear will shroud the heartland of this continent. Please protect Bissus, the symbol of human spirit.]
[Warriors from another world, please protect these innocent lives.]
[Normal Achievement Conditions: Repel the Demon King’s army, successfully protect Bissus; protect important NPCs within Bissus territory.]
[Perfect Achievement Conditions: Repel the Demon Lord’s army, successfully protect Bissus; protect important NPCs within Bissus territory; eliminate the new Demon King.]
[Quest Rewards: Divine Skill x 1 (Top 3 monthly contributors) [Standard], Sacred Equipment Set Piece x 1 (Top 10 monthly contributors) [Standard]; God will grant your wish [Perfect]]
[Quest automatically accepted]
Mentor opened the system description for “important NPCs”, and a list of moderate length unfolded before him. He held his teacup, glanced briefly over it, and quickly locked onto a line of text.
[※The “Golden Sword” family (4 people): Enbillick Alva, Avra Alva, Moore Alva, Colette Alva; Golden Sword Enbillick Alva is an important figure in the Alva Merchant Group. His survival is beneficial for the region’s reconstruction]
The rest of the NPC descriptions were similar, and unsurprisingly, Mentor found the names of the Pope of the Temple of Life and the two archbishops, as well as Eugene Malloy. Basically, all notable figures were listed, except for Godfrey Painter.
“This time I don’t see any level restrictions.” Teest poked the system pop-up curiously. “Last time during the Tower assault, Star Stealer Sol made sure to exclude us with great care.”
“He must have strengthened his control over the system, not placing the conditions openly.” Lynn frowned. “Otherwise, it would be too outrageous, and surely some Players would feel something is off.”
Nol nodded in agreement.
Last time, Star Stealer Sol’s restriction was “humanoid players below a total level of 300”. Such a condition appearing in a regular quest might be normal, but appearing in a main quest, no matter how you think about it, would be very strange.
Star Stealer Sol made the first move.
This quest was very subtle. It appeared to be a main storyline tower defense quest, but the rewards included a count for “monthly contributors”. This meant the quest might continue for a long time.
Every month, the Players who contributed the most could receive “Divine” skills and equipment, a not insignificant temptation. As long as Enbillick remained in Bissus, he would be protected by the Players.
But they all knew, Nol and Teest wouldn’t let this avatar go.
The Enbillick left there was both bait and a restraint—Star Stealer Sol wouldn’t just play defense. He was surely planning to counterattack them.
However…
“Let’s go have a look in Bissus, Teest.” Beyond the circle of fire, Nol donned his cloak.
“Good idea. It’s been a while since I last visited Bissus.” Teest gathered his long hair.
“Is it really no problem for us to just go back like this?” Solo shivered. “That God definitely knows we’re associated with Paradise… Ow, ow, ow!”
He hadn’t finished speaking when Anakin grabbed his ear.
“That’s exactly why we want him to see us.” Anakin bared her teeth. “Don’t worry. He won’t consider you a threat. They’d come for me first.”
“Sister…” Even though he was ranked among the top hundred players, Solo looked like he wanted to cry at that moment.
“He won’t easily attack Players in Bissus,” Lynn comforted, then turned to Nol. “I’ve prepared everything. Have a safe journey.”
Nol weighed the heavy suitcase in his hand and smiled. “Of course.”
It was Anakin and Solo who crossed the fire circle first. They didn’t head directly to Bissus but chose to join a team of Homeward Saints Guild in the neighboring Shidina Federation, then pretended to rush back from abroad.
Teest took Nol’s hand, and the two teleported directly outside the capital of Bissus using their hidden power.
With a flicker of blue fire, the light extinguished, and Nol appeared beneath the towering city walls. From this angle, he could only see the spires of buildings behind the city.
As an island nation situated in the middle of a river, the Holy Land of the Temple of Life, Bissus, didn’t cover a large area.
Over eighty percent of its land was given to forests, mountains, and grasslands, boasting natural scenery no less magnificent than the forests of Shiva. The remaining twenty percent of the land housed the most prosperous and largest holy city-state on the continent of Tahe.
At this moment, they were at the capital of Bissus, the only city in Bissus—Saint Bissus. Usually, people still habitually call it Bissus City.
At this moment, it had become the Players stronghold for a tower defense game.
At the foot of the city, Nol watched as monsters attacked from all directions. The current monsters weren’t very strong, only including some poisonous giant rats and killer flies. There was also ample breathing room between two waves of monsters. Backed by the high city walls, Players valiantly exterminated these attackers.
The blood and flesh of monsters soaked the grasslands beside the city. Green bushes hung with intestines, and even the moat had taken on a tinge of blood.
As the weather warmed, to prevent the spread of plague, the Temple hired many local refugees as a “cleanup crew”. Three times a day, people carted monster corpses to a designated location for a unified burning.
Nol blended into the group of local refugees, heading into the city. At this moment, he wore a worn and dirty cloak, with a long sword hanging from his waist. He carried a huge suitcase in one hand and a fluffy white cat in the other.
His hood concealed his face, with only a few strands of light golden hair peeking out from the gap in the cloak.
The guards checked each person entering the city, but when it came to Nol, it was as if they couldn’t see him, letting him directly into the city.
Nol deliberately dialed down his concealment power a bit. He could feel a faint gaze coming from somewhere. Pretending not to notice, he headed straight for the city’s worst inn.
Considering Bissus City’s wealth and uniqueness, a lousy inn here was harder to find than a good one.
Bissus City was the most magnificent city-state Nol had seen; not even the famously prosperous Grape Collar could compare to a tenth of it, let alone places like Whitebird City—though Nol didn’t quite like it here, missing the “liveliness” of Grape Collar. Everything on the streets was orderly; everyone dressed in neat, light-colored clothing. The air was filled with the elegant fragrance of incense offered to God.
Nol’s destination was in a corner of the city, a district specifically for foreign laborers.
Compared to other areas of Bissus, this was like a different world. In this large city, only here could one find noisy inns and taverns filled with curses and laughter. Even so, it was much better than the lower districts of Grape Collar. At least there were no street children, drug dealers, and prostitutes to be seen.
The inn was easy to find. It was located right in the center of the district. The building was brick-red, resembling a scar on the landscape. The innkeeper glanced at Nol’s attire, without even confirming his face, and threw a key to him.
“End of the hallway on the second floor. One gold wheel a day,” he said, chewing on tobacco. His lips emitted a foul odor. “If you can afford it, stay. If not, get lost.”
The big white cat’s tail swayed, and its eyes narrowed slightly. Nol soothed the cat with a couple of strokes, silently taking the key.
The room here wasn’t big, but it was better than the rooms in Perradat’s church. Its bed was a sturdy old wooden bed, and the bright sunlight… was completely blocked by Nol with the curtains.
With a click, the door was locked.
“If someone ever sings praises of your legend in the future, this part definitely needs to be embellished.” The big white cat jumped onto the bed with its tail held high. “You really have no taste in locations for performing ‘miracles’.”
As soon as Teest finished speaking, a scream of “I want to break up with you!” came from next door, followed by the sound of glass shattering. The curses of guests downstairs were nonstop, among which the clearest voice complained that the nearby fried meat tasted like shit.
Nol: “……”
He seemed to have no rebuttal, so he let it go.
The white cat sighed, curled up its limbs, and coiled up beside Nol like a loaf of bread, its golden transparent eyes reflecting the entire room. Nol opened the heavy suitcase, starting to organize the materials inside—
A small tube of blood given by the young black dragon girl with a toothy grin.
A skeleton Nol had made himself, then Lynn adjusted several times, perfectly mixed with dragon bones.
Lastly was an eyeball from Perradat. It came from Perradat’s core, shimmering with a beautiful blue, possessing a portion of the core’s power of the Floating Cocoon—of course, it was merely symbolic. Perradat quickly grew another eye for herself.
After verifying the materials, Nol spread out a sheet on the floor. The white cat yawned, and golden threads whizzed across the room, arranging the bones from the suitcase into a human structure, without the slightest error.
Ben curiously stuck out its nose, trying to steal a bone, but was unceremoniously slapped back by the cat’s paw.
Nol kissed the cat’s ears and placed Perradat’s eyeball into the heart position of the skeleton. Then, with a feather pen dipped in dragon blood, he wrote line after line of runes on the white bones.
As he moved, a chilly magical fluctuation spread out, securely contained by the magical barrier enveloping the room.
In the chest cavity of the skeleton, the eyeball trembled non-stop, gradually turning into a deep red mass of flesh. Countless tendrils shot out, climbing rapidly along the bloodstains on the bones. Blood vessels and organs gradually appeared within the empty skeleton, and nerves grew like a spider web.
Nol’s pen moved continuously, downwards then upwards, finally stopping at the forehead of the skull. Sweat beaded on his forehead—this time, he couldn’t add anything uniquely his. He had to act according to the system. With heavy restrictions, this task was more troublesome than repairing a magical circuit.
Beside Nol, Teest maintained his cat form to ensure ample space.
At this moment, Teest had no mood to even purr. Actually, this task didn’t need to be so troublesome. As long as a certain person accepted becoming Nol’s retainer, Nol only needed to give a drop of blood to easily and quickly handle everything.
But to use Perradat’s flesh and blood as the core, Nol couldn’t freely use his own powers, only meticulously carved as an unrelated party—the reason was simple. Once the magical circuits of two gods intermingled, the product could easily malfunction.
At this moment, Nol was completing the last step.
He removed Kando from his staff and placed it into the skull’s eye sockets. The candle’s blue flame illuminated the hollow cranial cavity, and those eye sockets were no longer purely black.
“…Are you sure?” Nol whispered. “This is your last chance to back out.”
“If you continue, you’ll wake up as a ‘Dracolich’. You’ve been dead too long. I can’t turn you into a living person.”
“If you give up, we’ll consider other methods. Once I take back the permissions stolen by Star Stealer Sol, I can definitely do better, maybe even grant you real life.”
“I’ve been dead for two hundred years already. I’m used to it.” Inside the skeleton, Kando snorted disdainfully. “Stick to the plan.”
Nol hummed in agreement, then stood up. He held his hands above the skeleton, beginning to chant silently. The cold power gradually became gentle, centered on the “eyeball”, the flesh inside the skeleton grew faster.
Organs, muscles, skin, hair.
The heart began to beat. Nol’s modified [Ash Remnants] gradually took effect—the dried-up blood vessels were gradually filled with blood, sending warmth to every corner of the body. The pale skeleton gradually disappeared. The exposed teeth were covered by pale red lips.
A young man lay on the white sheet.
With a swipe of the white cat’s paw, the blanket was pulled to the man’s lower body, so he wasn’t entirely exposed. Nol made sure the man’s face gained color before stepping back two steps and letting out a long exhale.
The man on the floor moved his fingers, opening his eyes—those were the familiar blue they all knew, the blue originally seen in Kando’s one eye.
The blue that belonged to the hero Drake.
The real hero Drake, or rather Drake Kando, sat up, his light golden hair falling with his movements. He stared at his hands for a long time, speechless.
Nol moved his fingers, and the curtains silently opened. For the first time in over two hundred years, sunlight poured onto the Hero’s skin.
“The plan has finally begun.” The white cat arched its back, elongating into a big stretch. “First, put on some pants, Great Hero.”
The seasons near Bissus weren’t so distinct. The night wind changed from “the cool mist of mountain streams” to “a breath caressing the skin”, and the grass blades showed off their pretty new green.
Spring, the season that symbolized life, was also the Goddess’s favorite season, according to the holy scriptures.
As a devout believer, Eugene Malloy didn’t wholly love spring. Naturally, he adored the vibrant spirit of spring but disliked the encroaching new green that spread across the land. It always reminded Eugene of someone—a shameless charlatan who claimed to be “the messenger of the Goddess of Life” used just such an excuse.
“The Goddess has bestowed upon me the eyes of spring,” that person once said.
Lies.
Inside the tent, Knight Eugene removed his armor and personally cleaned it with coarse cloth and grape oil paste. The ointment, provided by the Temple of Life, emitted a pleasant fruit fragrance. He smoothed out the scratches on his armor and applied alchemical sword oil to the “Dominator” longsword, sharpening it enough that it could cut through moonlight.
At this point, Eugene no longer believed that Enbillick Alva was sheltering Painter. Golden Sword was heading towards Bissus. Perhaps the reality was the opposite—that the shrewd businessman had sniffed out something amiss and wanted to distance himself from anything related to the Demon King.
But Eugene would continue to track Golden Sword.
First, he must verify the intelligence in the hands of Golden Sword. Secondly, the Pope of the Temple of Life personally ordered him to return to Bissus with the Fifth Brigade and wait for further instructions. As to why, the Pope didn’t elaborate.
Since the disappearance of the Lost Tower, the situation in Tahe had become odd.
Recently, members of the Homeward Saints Guild had been gathering towards Bissus, claiming that numerous regional quests have spawned nearby. The Realm of Shiva had seen a surge of monsters, leaving the non-human races overwhelmed.
The Eternal Church had been eerily calm. The new Eternal Pope had been in secluded cultivation, not showing himself for a long time. With their support collapsed and after the battle of the Lost Tower, the Demon Players had also become much more subdued, rarely causing trouble lately.
Without the troublesome forces from Shiva, without the evil Eternal Church and Demon Players, all events were currently moving in a direction favorable to the Temple of Life.
Zealots didn’t believe in luck. All this must be guided by God. Now, the Temple’s only enemies were the Lost Tower representing Paradise, and the newly supported Demon King behind it.
Eugene sensed the smell of a storm in this eerie calm. The day the Lost Tower reappeared would be the beginning of war.
As for whether what the Players saw in the Lost Tower that day was the Demon King, there was ongoing debate. Half were convinced that the blue fire creature was absurdly powerful and must be the Demon King lying in wait. The other half believed it was just a monster under the Demon King—the legendary ancient Demon King was immense. How could the new Demon King be merely a simple humanoid?
The word “Demon King” was being mentioned more and more frequently among the populace and the Players.
This must be preparation to confront the Demon King. The real war was coming. As the sword of God, he was bound to chop off the head of the False God known as the “Demon King”.
Eugene’s fingers touched the soft cloth. As his fingertips moved, the smooth blade trembled slowly under the fabric.
The Pope ordered him to stay in Bissus, likely due to God’s arrangements. His mission was clear, with only one ambiguity.
At this point, what is Godfrey Painter’s stance?
He had once collaborated with the harmless-seeming Lost Tower but didn’t disappear with it. Painter claimed to cooperate with the Master of Paradise, but few words out of that guy’s mouth were truthful. No matter how Eugene thought about it, he didn’t believe Painter would stoop to consorting with the Demon King.
Painter’s oracle clearly stated, “to fulfill divinity”, not a False God. God had let this man roam, surely with deep intention—
If Painter were still the Pope, he wouldn’t stand at the forefront of this war. Given the current situation, God needed Painter to participate in this war, so the man had temporarily turned traitor.
It was likely Painter would come to his senses in this war and fulfill God through his sacrifice.
Eugene’s movements in wiping the longsword became slower.
No, at his level, he shouldn’t presume to guess God’s prophecies. It might be him who decapitates the False God first, and Godfrey Painter returns to the right path.
The man could also earn enough merit in the war to atone for his sins with the remainder of his life. His extraordinary deeds would be recorded by the Temple, further glorifying God.
Thinking this, Eugene’s tense back finally relaxed a bit.
“Actually, I know he understands God’s mercy and painstaking efforts better than anyone. Since leaving the Temple, he hasn’t committed any evil deeds against God’s will.” Eugene murmured to the longsword, “Lady Tilia, he must pay the price for his betrayal, but…”
Suddenly, Eugene’s movements froze.
Reflected on the smooth blade were a pair of light green eyes.
“But?” The pair of eyes in the reflection curved slightly. Painter began to speak as if chatting, with one hand resting on Eugene’s shoulder.
All expressions vanished from Eugene’s face.
He spun around instantly and, with a swish, pointed the longsword directly at Painter. The latter sighed somewhat helplessly. “Alright, we both know you’re not going to kill me. There’s no need to be like this every time. It’s hard even for me to watch.”
“What did you do to the guards?” Eugene ignored him, the tip of his sword drawing a fine line of blood on Painter’s left cheek.
“I just put them to sleep. No need to be tense,” Painter said nonchalantly. “Don’t blame those kids. You know well they couldn’t stop me if they tried.”
He emphasized the word “me” particularly.
“Fine, then I’ll ask a different question.” Eugene clenched his teeth, and the muscles under his skin twitched. “Before, you used precious teleportation magic to escape, and now you’re willingly walking into the trap. Can I take it to mean that you’re willing to return to Bissus with me?”
“You’re greatly mistaken.”
Painter moved the sword as if to comfort him. The sharp tip pierced his hand, and bright red blood quickly seeped out. “I just came to see you. I have no intention of returning to the Temple.”
He had already dined with the “Goddess of Life”, so playing the Temple’s games seemed pointless now.
Hearing this absurd reason, Eugene stiffened for a moment.
“To take a look at me,” he said sarcastically after a while.
Damn, did Painter return for this “Dominator” longsword? Or, did he intend to shake the resolve of the one prophesied to slay a god before the war officially began?
Should he wound him now? Or try to persuade him again? They were very close to Bissus. Perhaps he could try to capture him again?
Countless thoughts buzzed rapidly in Eugene’s head.
“Now that I’ve had a look, I can go back,” Painter interrupted his thoughts with a smile.
Eugene took a deep breath, anger burning up from his heart. “Are you mocking me?!”
The sword tip pierced towards Painter’s shoulder, but Painter just stood there. The sharp longsword instantly pierced through flesh, the tip emerging from his back.
…What’s happening?
Unexpectedly, Painter didn’t defend himself, making Eugene’s scalp tingle. He swallowed, his grip on the sword loosening for half a second. Blood slid down the blade, dripping onto the ground. Blood spread from the wound on Painter’s tunic, blooming like a flower.
“Calmed down?” Painter looked at the wound on his shoulder. “Alright, I admit, I was indeed mocking you.”
“You—”
“But I didn’t mock you back then, Eugene Malloy.” Painter’s smile faded, showing a rare serious expression. “Remember. Whatever happens in the future, trust your own judgment, trust your own God.”
“You have no right to say that,” Eugene said hoarsely.
Should he stab deeper? Or withdraw the sword? Painter was one of Tahe’s top mages with frightening healing abilities, so he wouldn’t be easily killed. The situation was favorable. Perhaps he should seriously wound this man…
The war was coming. Controlling Painter under the Temple might be more advantageous…
Attack? Not attack? Attack? Not attack?
The rush of thoughts made Eugene dizzy as the familiar smell of blood surrounded his nose. His heart raced, and his breath turned to white steam in the warm air, like a panting beast.
Painter still stood quietly in place, looking at Eugene’s eyes, which gradually filled with blood.
“I’m sorry.” Painter’s tone became even more serious. “Goodbye, my child.”
Eugene truly froze this time as the Former Pope repeated his old trick. The teleportation magic activated at an opportune moment, and Painter’s figure disappeared once again.
Painter didn’t lay hands on the “Dominator”, nor did he attempt to assassinate him, leaving behind only a pool of blood. In the end, the man indeed just came to take one look and speak a few words.
Eugene suddenly realized that, more than Painter’s infuriatingly confident tone, he detested the rare seriousness in the other. It sent chills down his spine, giving rise to many ominous premonitions.
He weakly lowered his longsword.
Drip, drip. The blood from the sword tip fell to the ground, quickly swallowed by the earth.
……
Bissus.
“Let’s just stay here honestly. This is the safest place in all of Tahe!” In a certain inn, Mr. Abaddon declared. “Even if the world were to end, this place would surely be the last to go.”
Beside him sat the gloomy Bly, who just silently drank his sorrows away.
Those Players remaining in the city were unwilling to join the war’s first wave. Most were cautious, a few were timid, and the rest were simply incapable.
Bly counted himself among these “incapable ones”.
Initially, to take care of his friend Barto, he left the novice village late, lagging far behind everyone else in leveling and equipment. His former companions scattered, and he spent much effort maintaining their relationships.
However, as the situation in Tahe became more severe, his efforts ultimately ended in failure.
Latus became part of the forefront of the Saints Guild, suffered mental trauma in the battle in the Brick Mountains, and then cut off contact. Barto went to work for the Alva Merchant Group and disappeared not long ago. Following the death of Duke Alva, the Alva Merchant Group entered a state of emergency, leaving Bly with no way to investigate.
He failed to protect his friends and his strength was neither here nor there. Ultimately, he squeezed into the tavern as a reserve force.
The people around him were somewhat intriguing—Ranger Abaddon had previously participated in a quest related to Paradise, closely encountering the ancient Demon King. He had interacted with heavyweight NPCs like Eugene Malloy and even mingled with top Players like Anakin.
This helped him level up significantly, qualifying him as an expert. Who would have thought this rising star would only see decline from there—
After the news that Paradise belonged to the Demon King emerged, Abaddon showed no anger. Instead, he began slacking off like crazy. He stopped exploring altogether, almost as if wearing “I don’t want to fight” on his face.
The Saints Guild tried to mobilize him a few times but were straightforwardly rebuffed with “I’m just that shameless,” leaving them speechless. Since a bull refused to drink water and couldn’t be forced to, Abaddon ended up in the tavern, humorously dubbed “Lian Ge” by the patrons.
“Brother, to be honest, do you have some deal with Paradise?” Bly asked listlessly.
“Hm? I just think they’re too strong, and I’m scared.” Abaddon swirled his drink. “Isn’t it obvious with my ID born lacking courage?”
“You don’t seem like it,” Bly said. “I don’t know how to put it… It’s like, you seem to actually like Paradise.”
“Of course, I like Paradise. They have succubi. Need any other reason? …Ahem, I mean female succubi.” Abaddon glanced at him and cracked a smile. “If possible, I hope to be killed by a succubus. I mean a female succubus.”
Bly: “……” Have you been harassed by a male succubus or something?
“Forget it.” After a while, Bly chuckled bitterly. “Since it’s come to this, let’s just take it one step at a time.”
“Don’t be so down. Who knows what the future holds.” Abaddon put down his glass and lowered his voice. “I know you. Everyone says you’re very loyal—if it really comes down to it, just stick with me. As long as you continue to be a good person, I guarantee you’ll be fine.”
What kind of reasoning is that? Bly was speechless. Abaddon just winked at him and raised his glass.
“Everyone will have to join the fight sooner or later. It’s better to understand the situation clearly before making a move. Trust me. It’s not about the strength of the enemy. You’ll understand when the time comes.”
Just as Abaddon set down his glass, the system notification sound rang—
Before leaving, Fang Xiu tugged on Bai Shuangying’s sleeve. “This time, you hold on to me.”
“Why?” Bai Shuangying had intended to pretend not to hear, but curiosity got the better of him.
“The evil spirits outside are just circling around. They haven’t barged in to tear us apart. They’re being quite polite,” Fang Xiu whispered. “Polite evil spirits wouldn’t steal someone else’s neatly packed meal.”
Bai Shuangying mulled over the statement before realizing that he was the “someone else”, and Fang Xiu was the “neatly packed meal”.
It seemed logical, yet also somehow not quite right.
“If they do decide to attack, what would you do?” Bai Shuangying asked on purpose.
Fang Xiu tilted his head. “Then you could use your ability to make the spirits ignore us.”
…Did this human know his ability?
It was as if Bai Shuangying had suddenly sobered from a pleasant daze. His pale eyes fixed intently on Fang Xiu’s chest, unblinking.
Fang Xiu didn’t notice and continued muttering, “Yesterday, you made Lao Mian and Mai Zi ignore you, so it should work on evil spirits too, right?”
“How did you figure that out?” Bai Shuangying’s tone was flat.
“They saw such a good-looking face and just assumed you were human, which doesn’t make sense… Even if they were lying, with how good-looking you are, a normal person would at least glance at you a few times.”
Fang Xiu said seriously, “So I guessed you did something. Nicely done.”
He emphasized “good-looking” both times. After finishing, he stared at Bai Shuangying’s face for a moment, his eyes filled with straightforward admiration.
Bai Shuangying: “……”
He pulled his gaze away from Fang Xiu’s chest and turned toward the ceiling.
Fang Xiu placed his hand on the door, concerned about his ghost. “Don’t worry. If it doesn’t work, I’ll think of something else…”
“I can handle it.” Bai Shuangying grabbed Fang Xiu’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Since ancient times, humans always said he was unpredictable, but now Bai Shuangying felt stuck between amusement and annoyance—unable to laugh, unable to get angry, feeling strangely calm.
With a creak, the door opened and closed.
In the gloomy rainy night, the world outside was somehow brighter than inside, as though the threshold divided two entirely different realms.
Fang Xiu carefully shut the door and, turning around, was once again met with the sight of Lao Mian and Mai Zi’s corpses. A day had passed, and they still lay where they had fallen. Their flesh had turned pale from the rain, their bodies swollen from the water.
Fang Xiu’s gaze lingered on the copper coin sword in Mai Zi’s chest.
The sword wasn’t large, its blade about the length of an adult’s forearm, but the coins along its body were tattered and worn. Someone had taken all of Mai Zi’s other charms, leaving only this sword behind.
Bai Shuangying: “That sword’s nearly useless. No point in picking up…”
Before he could finish saying “trash”, Fang Xiu had already pulled the sword out, rinsing off the blood with rainwater.
“Even if it’s almost broken, it can still hurt evil spirits, right?”
“…Barely.”
“That’s good enough.” Fang Xiu tucked the sword away and crouched down, looking at Mai Zi’s deformed corpse.
“I’m taking your sword. Just letting you know.”
In the rain, his voice was calm and sincere. “Thank you for telling us so much. Rest in peace.”
With that, Fang Xiu reached out and gently closed Mai Zi’s eyes.
……
The village wasn’t exactly quiet at night.
Thunder rumbled, and lightning occasionally flashed across the sky, illuminating the village as if it were broad daylight.
Along the way, Fang Xiu saw many strange shadows and heard whispers, soft laughter, and sobs. Fortunately, the village’s “security” was decent, and no evil spirits attacked them.
Looking around, he noticed lights in the houses and shadowy figures moving near the windows, giving the place a sense of life. Regrettably, after observing for a while, he didn’t see smoke rising from any chimneys.
“Too bad no one’s cooking,” he sighed, adjusting his straw hat. His disappointment was genuine.
Bai Shuangying didn’t want to talk.
The two continued along the path, one they had walked earlier in the day. Ever since leaving the house, Fang Xiu had been heading straight for the shrine with the ease of someone going home.
The area near the shrine, however, was far from ordinary.
It looked like a small marketplace outside the shrine. The road was adorned with lanterns and streamers, though the lanterns were blue and the streamers were white. The market stalls were neatly arranged, filled with mysterious bones and strange body parts.
Evil spirits shuffled along, silently trading goods. Most were wandering souls, barely retaining a vague human shape, like ownerless shadows.
The surrounding chill was intense, and though it was a summer night, Fang Xiu’s breath came out in visible white puffs.
“What a lively scene. Is this what a rural market is like?” Fang Xiu pushed aside his bangs, his eyes gleaming. “Too bad they don’t sell human food.”
Seeing food speaking, the wandering souls’ eyes also brightened, and they began to gather around Fang Xiu.
Fang Xiu drew the copper coin sword and gently nudged the spirits away. “Make way, make way.”
The blade sizzled like grilling meat as it touched the souls, and they silently parted, forming layers of onlookers around him.
Fang Xiu grabbed hold of Bai Shuangying’s arm without looking back, walking directly into the shrine.
During the day, the shrine had been locked and looked gray and dingy. Now, its doors were slightly ajar, with red candlelight spilling out, making it appear warm and inviting.
The plaque above the door read “Weishan Shrine” from right to left. Inside, not a single evil spirit was present, and the wandering souls that had followed Fang Xiu all stopped outside. Bai Shuangying didn’t mind, crossing the threshold with Fang Xiu.
At the center of the shrine stood a statue of a god.
The statue had five arms and three legs, with two additional heads on either side of its neck. These extra heads and limbs varied in size, haphazardly placed, without any sense of aesthetics.
The statue’s entire face was painted a ghostly white, with only a smiling mouth on its features. Now, the paint was peeling, and the dark marks made it look like distorted eyes and brows, giving off an unsettling feeling.
A golden couplet hung on either side of the statue.
[Do no evil, and heaven will bestow blessings and fortune for generations.]
[Practice all virtues, and the rain will nourish all things with deep love and justice.]
Fang Xiu took a couple more steps forward to get a closer look.
The statue was carved from ordinary wood, its colors garish and crude, much like the rest of the village. It didn’t feel particularly old, likely less than a hundred years old.
But that wasn’t the point. The point was the offering table in front of the statue.
There was no incense burner or memorial tablets, only a table full of offerings—
Fresh fruit, roasted chicken, and a pig’s head, along with canned peaches and bottles of branded milk. The table also had flaky pastries and fruit candies, with several crates of almond milk stacked underneath.
Fang Xiu picked up a drink to examine it. The production date was from a year ago, but the packaging was fresh, with no signs of spoilage.
There was enough food for everyone to last two days, maybe three or four if they rationed.
Bai Shuangying watched as Fang Xiu snapped off a chicken leg. “…You’re just going to eat it?”
“Oh right, I almost forgot because I was so hungry.”
Fang Xiu put the chicken leg down, cleared his throat, and respectfully bowed to the statue. “Sorry to disturb you. We’re really starving, so we’ll take some of your offerings. When we escape, we’ll repay you double.”
The statue made no response.
Fang Xiu promptly took a bite of the chicken leg. The meat was tender and flavorful, the bones soft and crisp, with no strange aftertaste.
Delicious. After being hungry for so long, it felt amazing to eat. Fang Xiu opened a drink, grabbed a pastry, and devoured them quickly.
Bai Shuangying almost felt sorry for the statue. “Did you come straight to the shrine just for this?”
“Yup. ‘Sacrifice’ is another word for ‘offering’. If sacrifices can be eaten, then offerings probably can too.”
Fang Xiu, now full and energized, added, “I think one of the taboos is that ‘food and water within the village cannot be consumed, except for offerings.’”
Bai Shuangying fell silent.
It was true that “sacrifices” could be eaten… The woman who ran away earlier had indeed been eaten by the other group.
But was this really the first thought of a normal person upon witnessing cannibalism?
On the other side, Fang Xiu, now satiated, exhaled contentedly.
“Thank you,” he said, wiping his mouth and expressing his gratitude to the statue.
Weishan Shrine wasn’t large, and inside it resembled an ordinary house. Aside from the statue in the center, the only other notable features were two rows of wooden tables, with red candles melted into pools of wax, covering the tables like a layer of flesh.
Fang Xiu circled around to the back of the statue, where a large brick platform resembling a communal bed had been constructed. The straw mats on it had long rotted away.
The firelight in the hall flickered, casting the statue’s grotesque shadow across the platform, like a strange, malformed tree canopy.
Fang Xiu knocked here and there. Both the floor and platform were solid, with no signs of a hidden passage. Even the statue was solid, made entirely of wood.
The candlelight flickered, casting shadows on the statue’s lips, making its smile seem more and more alive.
“Did I tickle you? Sorry, I just wanted to check,” Fang Xiu apologized sincerely. “By the way, you don’t have any moths. You’re in excellent condition.”
The statue’s smile faded slightly: “……”
Bai Shuangying: “……”
“Aren’t you afraid?” Bai Shuangying asked after a long pause.
Fang Xiu sighed. “Of course I’m afraid, which is why I came to the shrine first. After all, cemeteries also have offerings according to tradition.”
This person’s thoughts were still bizarrely refreshing. Bai Shuangying gave up questioning him and shifted his attention toward the door.
Fang Xiu was backing toward the door, trying to keep the entire statue in his view. Behind him, a low-level evil spirit was pressed against the doorframe, its blood-red eyes locked onto Fang Xiu.
Just a mere pest, Bai Shuangying thought. With a single thought, he could make it disappear. But by now, a new idea had formed—
He wanted to see Fang Xiu’s unshakable calm break, to show some other expression.
And in the critical moment, he could easily save Fang Xiu and dispel the man’s absurd misconceptions about him. It would be like killing two birds with one stone.
Bai Shuangying watched as Fang Xiu backed right up to the threshold, now within reach of the spirit. His hands were behind his back, and his fingers were about to slip through the door.
The evil spirit couldn’t resist such a temptation. It crossed the threshold, lunging to grab Fang Xiu’s wrist and drag him into the darkness.
In the next instant, a scream pierced the air.
But it wasn’t Fang Xiu who screamed—the moment the spirit’s clawed hand crossed the doorway, a flash of golden light sliced through. Fang Xiu’s right hand moved in a swift, practiced motion, the copper coin sword severing the spirit’s entire forearm.
It all happened in the blink of an eye, and Fang Xiu didn’t even turn his head.
The severed limb rolled inside, stopping in the center of the shrine. Fang Xiu closed the door, picked up the green-black ghostly arm.
“I felt bad making you just watch me eat earlier… Here, why don’t you have something to eat too?”
He smiled sincerely at Bai Shuangying.
……
At the top of the Disaster Relief Tower
“The Yin evil star rises, heralding a great calamity.”
In the shadows, a cold female voice spoke. “The omen is unclear, as if there are two shadows… two shadows…”
She paused abruptly.
“…There are two of those bastards?” the voice muttered to herself. “Forget it, it’s none of my business.”
The sacrifices continued day and night, with countless offerings. Even if a world-shattering evil star appeared, that was a problem for the mortal realm. As long as “That One” didn’t make any moves, it wasn’t her concern.
The evil spirit she was guarding was far more important. That evil spirit was unpredictable, running rampant without a care for the human world.
There had been a prophecy a thousand years ago: When ■■■ appears in the world, the gates of hell will shake…
■■■…■■■… What was it she was guarding again?
Whatever, as long as “That One” didn’t make any moves, there wouldn’t be a problem…
The author has something to say:
Two bastards, no ×
A matching pair of bastards, yes √
Don’t worry, Bai Shuangying hasn’t made any moves, he’s just quietly speechless.
By the way, Fang Xiu is purely a brains-over-brawn type—he’s still quite fragile. His methods will be explained later on, and this story isn’t about him being invincible… After all, if he were invincible, there wouldn’t be any sense of tension. Although, with his personality, it doesn’t seem like he’d feel much tension anyway (…
The surroundings fell into an extreme silence in an instant, with even the faint sounds of insects and rustling leaves disappearing. Yet, that needle-like sensation of being watched remained. Alois had never felt this uneasy, not even under Leo’s constant surveillance on the Lady of the Night. The gaze from the jungle was like a hungry beast, filled with malice, ready to strike at any moment’s vulnerability.
“Joshua, did you bring another gun?”
“No, it’s in the flying car.”
Alois and Joshua stood back-to-back, their shared warrior instincts naturally leading them to the safest defensive stance. Srosie clung to Alois’s waist, trembling like a leaf.
“Hey, hey, don’t joke around… I just came out to play with the plane, and now, I survived a crash only to get eaten by some monster?” The teenager’s voice quivered.
“Can you stop shaking? When you shake, it makes me want to shake too!” Alois pinched Srosie’s face. “I should be saying, stop joking around. This is Green Star Diamond Island, a tourist spot, right? How could there be any large beasts… Haha, we must be getting too paranoid…” His voice also started to tremble.
Srosie gasped. “Did you say this is where?”
“The Green Star Diamond Island.”
The boy’s grip tightened, and Alois felt his internal organs being squeezed. “I must be having a nightmare!” Srosie’s voice was on the verge of tears. “Didn’t the Green Star Diamond Island become a military restricted area?!”
Alois choked. “Since when?!”
“About half a year ago. You shut-in types who don’t keep up with current events!” Srosie clung even tighter. “I was wrong. Rita told me not to fly here, but I didn’t listen… I was really wrong!”
‘Aha, half a year ago, I was still in prison listening to the warden’s weekly speeches,’ Alois thought helplessly. ‘It’s not my fault I was stuck in there every day.’
Joshua scanned the surroundings. “Stop thinking nonsense. If this is really a military restricted zone, we would have received a warning before entering.”
“Uh, not necessarily.” Alois wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. “Some highly classified military bases don’t give warnings. They just…”
Rustle, rustle.
Something moved in the jungle.
“They just what?” Srosie asked.
Alois stared blankly at the thing slowly emerging from the darkness. “…They just shoot to kill.”
A beam of sunlight penetrated the dense mangrove branches, illuminating the thing. It was a humanoid robot over two meters tall, though calling it a robot wasn’t quite right. Its mechanical torso was intertwined with human flesh and blood. Muscles and blood vessels covered the steel frame, connected to nerves made of wires. In some places, gray metal skin covered white bones. Its chest was exposed, showing rib bones wrapped with red and blue wires; a heart was beating in the left chest cavity, and artificial lungs expanded and contracted. Moving upward, its neck and head were half metal, half flesh. The metal skull reflected the sunlight, while the other half was rotten, with muscles exposed and skin gone, teeth bared, and eyes replaced by camera lenses swiveling at different angles and frequencies.
This was a half-human, half-machine monster. It might have been human once, but now it was a complete monster.
A cyborg. A chill ran through Alois. All colonies had signed agreements prohibiting cyborg research when the Neo Athens Academy was established. By now, cyborgs should only appear as villains in holographic movies. Unexpectedly, the research continued—in the Free Federation! On Neo Venice’s mobile islands!
“We’re doomed, Joshua…” Alois murmured.
Joshua looked no calmer, his shocked expression akin to seeing a dead neighbor come back to life. “My God… This is…” The assassin’s lips trembled, uttering a strange word that sounded like “Yasha”.
Alois didn’t care what “Yasha” meant. With the time to ponder that, he’d rather think of how to escape. He quickly realized they couldn’t flee towards the island’s edge. The path the Bard had cleared was covered by the rainforest, and navigating the forest risked getting lost. Returning to the flying car seemed impossible.
If they fought the cyborg head-on…
The cyborg pushed aside a fern, slowly advancing. Its left hand had five sharp blades instead of fingers, gleaming menacingly. The right arm ended not in a hand but a black, small-caliber beam cannon, likely powerful enough to blast them to pieces in an eighth of a second.
Fighting it head-on was hopeless.
That left only one option.
“Joshua, let’s head back!” Alois whispered. “The Bard might still start. We can escape in it.”
Srosie protested. “Don’t joke! I’ll crash it into the sea!”
“Idiot! Just because you can’t fly it doesn’t mean everyone else can’t!” Alois wanted to knock the troublemaker out with a stick.
The cyborg was now less than five meters away, separated only by a low plant. Joshua pulled the trigger, and a beam of light shot into the cyborg’s chest and exited its back. Another beam deflected off its metal face, causing no harm.
The cyborg scratched its wounded chest with steel claws, one blade cutting its face and drawing blood, which trickled down the silver blade. It remained unfazed.
Its eyes (if those could be called eyes) stopped their erratic movements, both focusing on Joshua, who dared to shoot.
At this moment, even the battle-hardened assassin felt a twinge of fear. “Run!” he shouted.
Alois bolted. Srosie, clinging to his waist, stumbled along. “Damn it, let go!” Alois pried the boy’s hands off, scooped him up, and sprinted towards the Bard.
Joshua retreated, firing at the cyborg. His attacks were mere pinpricks, barely slowing it down. The creature’s damaged leg only slightly impeded its progress.
Alois and Srosie reached the Bard. “Get up there!” Alois ordered.
“Me? But, but, I can’t climb up!”
“Do you want to die?” Alois cursed. He squatted, gesturing for the boy to step on his shoulder. “Climb up using my shoulders!”
“Are you sure?”
“Stop talking! Hurry, or I’ll leave you here!”
Srosie bit his lip, wiped his tears, and stepped onto Alois’s shoulder.
“Up!” Alois stood, supporting the boy. Srosie grabbed a dangling vine, tested its strength, then leaped, clutching the cockpit cover, and struggled inside.
“I’m in!” He threw the vine to Alois. “Climb up!”
The young man caught the vine, swiftly climbing into the cockpit. Srosie pulled him in.
“Move aside!”
“Where can I go?”
Alois plopped into the pilot seat, swiping his fingers across the control panel, bringing the screen to life.
“Please insert the activation key,” the display read.
“The key!” Alois kicked the boy trying to squeeze into the back.
Srosie glared but didn’t argue, searching his pockets. He finally found the key, which Alois snatched and shoved into the slot.
“Activation key inserted. Phantom of the Opera Bard, system initiating.”
Lights illuminated the cockpit, and the engine roared to life. Alois quickly adjusted the parameters, gaining a rough understanding of the Bard’s controls. While doing so, he anxiously thought, ‘What’s taking Joshua so long?’
Gunshots echoed outside. Alois couldn’t wait any longer. He leaned out. “Joshua! I’ve got it! Hurry up!”
Joshua fired another shot before abandoning his attack and sprinting towards the Bard. The cyborg sped up but was hindered by its leg wound. The assassin reached the fighter, grabbed the vine, and climbed into the cockpit.
“Get in!” Alois helped Joshua into the cramped space. The cockpit was already tight for two; now, with a third person, it was suffocating. Srosie groaned, nearly out of breath, while Joshua squeezed above Alois, pressing down on him.
“Joshua, you’re heavy…” Alois’s voice was strained.
“You’re not light either,” Joshua muttered, shifting to make more room.
Breathing easier, Alois pressed buttons to close the cockpit and start the engine.
A faint vibration and metallic clang reverberated through the hull. The cyborg was attacking the Bard’s exterior, but Neo Venice’s pride wasn’t damaged. The cyborg’s efforts were futile.
The magnetic field activated. The anti-gravity system began its calculations. The escape system was shut down.
The Bard lifted vertically. Dirt and leaves fell away, revealing its beautiful silver body, stark against the cyborg below. The engine emitted pale green particles, forming a natural barrier around the aircraft.
Crash. The canopy above broke, creating a huge gap. The silver bird freed itself from gravity, soaring towards the blue sky, trailing green particles like a tail.
The girl wearing the Green Star Diamond. Just like in Storen Wright’s poem.
Though Alois was extremely reluctant, his self-proclaimed righteous and brave nature eventually led him to climb up to the fighter’s cockpit using the vines. With one hand gripping the seemingly fragile vine, he grabbed the pilot’s wrist with the other.
“You’re so slow!” the pilot complained.
Alois rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling an urge to strangle the guy with the vine. The pilot’s will to survive was strong, as he continued to gripe while using Alois’s strength to climb out of the cockpit.
“Phew! Saved!” The pilot sighed with relief once freed from the narrow cockpit. He brushed his deep blue hair back and looked up at Alois. “Thanks a lot!” he said.
“…You’re welcome,” Alois replied weakly. The pilot looked very young—more like a teenager than a young man. There was something oddly familiar about him… Where had he seen him before?
The teenager didn’t notice Alois’s confusion and continued to chatter. “What’s your name? I’ll write you a check later. Do you want a banner of gratitude for your unit? I can arrange for media interviews too… Whoa!”
Alois kicked him off the fighter.
The teenager screamed as he fell, landing in the soft, decaying vegetation of the rainforest with a squelching sound.
Joshua stood nearby, showing no intention of helping. In fact, he was struggling with his own dark thoughts, trying hard to resist the urge to stomp the freshly risen teenager back into the mud.
“Damn it! How dare you do that to me!” the teenager cursed, getting up and brushing off the decayed leaves. Alois agilely landed, still holding the vine. “I just saved your life!” He smacked the teenager on the head.
“Ow! You… You hit me!” Another smack landed on his head.
“You bet I did!”
The teenager clutched his head, glaring at Alois with puffed-up cheeks. “Hit me again, and I won’t give you a check!”
“Joshua, my hand’s getting tired. Could you find me a stick?”
“Happy to help.”
In the end, the teenager squatted on the ground, tearfully holding his head like a captured suspect, while Alois stood in front of him, tapping a stick on the fighter’s metal hull. The sound echoed ominously in the quiet rainforest.
“Tell me, where did you steal this fighter?”
The teenager sprang up. “Steal? It’s mine!”
“Who are you kidding?” Alois struck the hull hard, and the teenager immediately squatted back down.
“You can’t even open the escape pod, and you’re flying a plane?”
“I thought it was like flying a Gondola…”
Bang!
The teenager covered his ears, his face scrunched up. “I was wrong, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have messed around with a plane. Who knew it would be so hard to fly! There wasn’t even a manual. I had to figure it out myself. It’s not my fault…”
Bang!
“Who are you fooling! You can’t operate it, but you can fire missiles?”
“I thought that button was for the horn…”
Bang!
The teenager hugged his head tighter. “I was wrong, I was really wrong! Please forgive me! I’ll turn over a new leaf and work for the happiness of all humanity! Please save me. I’ll repay your kindness a hundredfold once we get out of here…”
Bang!
“Get up,” Alois said.
The teenager stood up, sniffling, looking at the fierce Alois, then at the calm and silent Joshua. He quickly decided the latter was easier to deal with. He moved closer to Joshua, seeking protection. “You… you won’t hit me, will you?”
Joshua gently patted his head, which Alois had just hit. “You’re smart. I never hit people.”
The teenager sighed in relief.
“I only kill them.”
The teenager darted back behind Alois. Being hit was better than being killed. He tugged on Alois’s sleeve. “Even though you hit me, I feel safer with you.”
Alois mimicked Joshua, ruffling the teenager’s hair. “Did he just pat your head?”
“Yeah… Ow! Why’d you hit me again!”
“Alright, let’s go.” Alois felt refreshed after venting his frustration. “Adding one more person to the car shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll call the police or a towing company to take the plane away. The forest damage will definitely need compensation, and there might be a court case. This guy…” He turned to the silent teenager. “…What’s your name?”
“Call me Srosie.”
“Alright, Srosie.” Alois nodded and continued talking to Joshua. “This guy’s probably some rich kid. Otherwise, how could he afford a ‘Bard’? A bit of compensation money should be no problem for him.”
Srosie immediately protested, “I’m not a rich kid! The ‘Bard’ wasn’t bought. I won it!”
Won it? This triggered a memory for Alois. He stopped and scrutinized Srosie from head to toe. The teenager was slender, with fair skin; if not for the flat chest, he could easily be mistaken for a girl. His deep blue hair was tied back, and his face was sharp, with delicate features, somewhat androgynous—a type Alois used to find attractive (though now his heart was only for Joshua, and even the galactic diva Camilla wouldn’t sway him). The problem was—he looked very familiar.
“Have we met before?” Alois asked.
“Don’t try to get close to me! Your pickup lines are outdated!” Srosie pouted.
“Who the hell wants to pick you up! I’m asking if we met at the casino?” Memories from the previous day flooded back. This was the teenager who had won the ‘Bard’ keys at the casino! At the time, he had been dead drunk, disheveled, and now the teenager was lively and clean, a far cry from before, but his appearance was unmistakable.
Srosie tilted his head, thinking. “Now that you mention it… I guess so…” He snapped his fingers. “Loan shark?”
“Yeah! I can’t believe you remember, considering how drunk you were.”
“Hahaha! A little alcohol is nothing to me! It’s no big deal, no big deal!” Srosie laughed heartily, puffing up at the slight praise. Alois and Joshua exchanged a look, both considering leaving Srosie to fend for himself.
“Forget it. Think of him as a parrot we found.” The assassin patted Alois’s shoulder, offering consolation. “Let’s go.”
Amid Srosie’s boisterous laughter, the three walked along the path created by the ‘Bard’ towards the edge of the island.
After about a hundred meters, the path suddenly disappeared.
“Huh? Did we take the wrong path?” Alois looked back in confusion. Behind them was a straight path, still visible, with the fighter buried in a pile of leaves. He remembered the path from the fighter being a straight line, marked by scorched soil and trenches. They hadn’t encountered anything that could be called a “fork”.
But now, the straight path seemed to extend only a hundred meters from the fighter, abruptly cut off before them.
“Strange, do rainforests grow this quickly?” Alois was puzzled. “Neo Venice must be great for plant growth.” He turned to Joshua, seeking answers from his more knowledgeable companion, but Joshua was already drawing his gun and disengaging the safety.
“Sorry, Alois,” Joshua said out of the blue.
“…Huh?”
“I shouldn’t have mocked you earlier.” He motioned for Alois and Srosie to stay close. “Something is definitely wrong with this island.”
In the dim rainforest, sunlight filtered through like scattered gold threads but couldn’t dispel the heavy darkness. Something was rustling.
George stomped loudly through the corridor, deliberately making heavy steps to show he was angry.
But no one noticed his displeasure because the surroundings were empty and there was no one around.
George was in the southeastern part of Brandenburg. Here, there was a large council hall, filled with stained glass windows and exquisite sculptures. Going up the double spiral staircase, there were six bedrooms with bathrooms and prayer rooms on the second and third floors, along with the smoking room, study, collection room, and game room.
Even now, the golden candelabras and silver tea sets in the council hall were still polished to a shine. However, compared to the orderly other parts of Brandenburg, this place was unusually quiet. Apart from daily cleaning and maintenance, people rarely came here. This was the main area where the former Duke Dwight, the late father of the current Duke, used to work and live.
Since the tragic accident of the previous Duke and Duchess and the young Duke’s succession, he and his sister Priscilla had moved to the north side of the castle, a decision made by the siblings together. As an adult, Duke Dwight had admitted to Charlie that continuing to live in a place full of childhood memories would have caused both him and Priscilla to become increasingly trapped in the past, making them weaker. This wasn’t beneficial for the siblings at that time.
But this didn’t mean this area became a forbidden zone. Duke Dwight didn’t close off this area and no longer deliberately avoided it after growing up, so George was unaware of the history under his feet. Brandenburg, as the residence of successive Duke Dwights, bore countless honors and pains. Currently, Duke Dwight had no intention of entrusting all this to little George.
George simply felt that this place was rarely visited and was a good place to hide.
Because he was sulking with his uncle. George hoped to spend his fourth birthday in the imperial capital, but this request, which he had made several days ago, had been repeatedly denied by Duke Dwight, no matter how much he pouted.
“I don’t want presents,” George bargained with his uncle. “I want to spend my birthday at the palace.”
Duke Dwight looked down at him. Before he could speak, George nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a small gesture that the Duke immediately stopped as he was very particular about George’s manners.
“Tell me,” Duke Dwight finally said, “why do you insist on going to the capital?”
This was because, during his last visit to the palace, the princesses liked him very much, and several princes were willing to play with him and had promised to give him ten gifts each for his birthday.
Gifts were part of the reason, but the main one was that the palace had many children, and George liked playing with many friends.
In this regard, Brandenburg couldn’t compare to the palace. Duke Dwight had only George, and although most of his Brandenburg knights were of marriageable age, there were very few with partners. By the time they married and had children, George would have grown up.
He didn’t want to wait that long. He wanted to play with existing children.
But George didn’t know how to express this. His ability to articulate lagged behind his thoughts, so after much gesturing, Duke Dwight only roughly understood that George wanted to play in the capital.
However, the capital wasn’t a place one could visit at will, especially a territory like Lemena, which had armed forces. Duke Dwight knew George wouldn’t understand even if he explained, so he ultimately denied the request and told him not to make such demands again.
It was particularly cold and unfeeling.
Sulking, George climbed the spiral stairs at the back of the council hall to a particularly large room with a soft carpet and a light purple Flobart chaise lounge. A snow-white blanket was half-draped over it, looking very warm.
George, tired from walking, couldn’t resist feeling sleepy when he saw the blanket. He curled up on the chaise lounge, wrapped in the blanket, and fell asleep.
He felt as if he had just fallen asleep when someone gently touched his back. George opened his eyes and saw a particularly beautiful woman sitting on the chaise lounge, looking at him.
“Darling, why did you fall asleep here?” the woman asked with a smile. “Whose child are you?”
George wasn’t fully awake, but he knew it was impolite to talk while lying down. He struggled to sit up but was too sleepy to move.
“Alright, alright,” the woman said gently, patting him again. “You can sleep here. I’ll help you find your father and mother later.”
George said, “Mother is far away.”
The woman paused. “And your father?”
“Father is far away too.” George yawned.
“Then who do you live with?”
“Uncle and Charlie,” George said, snuggling into the blanket, feeling it was as soft as a big cat.
Duchess Dwight was amused by his actions. She had found this unfamiliar child in her bedroom, and, unlike other noblewomen who might have immediately blamed the servants, she was always kind to people. Even if she had to hold someone accountable, it wouldn’t be this lost child.
Moreover, she found his sticky, sweet voice adorable. Arnie had been like that at his age.
“What’s your name?” she asked softly, planning to find the family who brought him to Brandenburg after he fell asleep.
“George,” George answered half-asleep, unlike his usual cautious self—being wary of strangers was a Dwight trait, but for some reason, he didn’t feel nervous around her. Perhaps it was her hair color, exactly like his uncle’s, or her gentle tone and motherly touch. Little George didn’t realize these things consciously. He just felt she wasn’t a stranger, thinking he must have met her somewhere before.
“Cute George,” the Duchess said, wrapping him in the blanket like a baby. Arnie used to love this, and sure enough, George contentedly closed his eyes.
“Did you come with your uncle?”
“I came with Uncle,” George mumbled, not understanding the question.
“Your uncle must love you very much,” the Duchess noted, observing George’s soft, smooth skin and chubby cheeks. The fabric of his clothes was expensive and rare, yet not overly extravagant—perfect for a child. She used the same material for Arnie.
Was this child brought by one of her husband’s guests? But she hadn’t heard the Duke mention any visitors today.
“Uncle doesn’t love me,” George said, a bit more awake now. He poked his head out of the blanket, looking aggrieved. “Uncle… um…”
He was always forbidding this and that: banning George from swimming in the farm’s pond, eating sugary apples, skipping homework, or not wearing pajamas to bed. George couldn’t decide which complaint to voice first.
But one thing was certain.
“Uncle is mean,” George concluded.
“Is your uncle really mean to you? Does anyone treat you gently?”
“Charlie is gentle.” George thought for a moment. “Charlie sneaks me into town to play.”
“So, you like Charlie but not your uncle?” The Duchess watched George’s childish muttering, reminiscent of her early days of motherhood, when Priscilla was just born and before Arnie came along. Every little action of the child brought her joy.
Though George was complaining, she could see he wasn’t truly mistreated.
“I like Charlie,” George mumbled. “I like Uncle a little bit too.”
The Duchess couldn’t help but laugh. “Only a little? It seems he’s a bad uncle.”
George blinked at her, and the duchess looked back at him.
After a while, George admitted, “No.”
“No what?”
“He’s not a bad uncle.” George had been with his uncle since birth and trusted and depended on him the most. No matter how much he sulked, he didn’t want to hear anyone call his uncle bad.
The Duchess understood and began to gently pat his back again. George, lulled by the pats, started to drift off to sleep and yawned, his eyes closing completely.
Once George was asleep, the Duchess stood up and opened the door. Her maid, Liosa, was in the corridor and hurried over when she saw the door open.
“Liosa, are there any guests at the castle today?” the Duchess asked.
“There are no visitors scheduled for today,” Liosa confirmed.
The Duchess didn’t mention the little intruder in her room. Priscilla was in class, the Duke was at the stables with their son, and the castle didn’t seem to have any strangers.
But George was only a few years old and couldn’t have sneaked past the many guards of Brandenburg. Was he a child of one of the tutors? But Priscilla’s teachers were all women…
When Duke Dwight returned to the castle, the Duchess told him about the child. His first reaction was to lock down the castle and investigate any suspicious individuals.
But the castle’s guards reported no unusual activity. Liosa and the other maids had been patrolling the corridors and hadn’t seen any strangers enter the Duchess’s room. The door had remained untouched until the duchess opened it.
It was as if the child had appeared out of thin air, falling onto the sofa.
“The mages detected no disturbances,” Duke Dwight said, looking at his wife. “Is the child still inside?”
The Duchess hadn’t allowed knights or maids near, only pulling her husband into the room. But when they looked at the Flobart chaise lounge, it was empty. Only the blanket the duchess often used had fallen to the floor.
George felt someone picking him up. He struggled briefly, then relaxed when he saw it was his uncle.
Dwight wrapped George in the sofa’s blanket and carried him out of the room, with a maid closing the door behind them.
Shivers asked quietly, “He seemed to be sleeping in an empty room. Should we lock these rooms?”
George, not fully awake, thought, How can it be an empty room? There was a kind lady talking to me.
Dwight paused for a moment.
“No,” he said.
Shivers said nothing more, following Dwight through the corridor. Portraits of Brandenburg’s previous owners hung on the walls flanking the spiral staircase. The Duchess in the paintings had a gentle expression. Priscilla had inherited her calm demeanor, and Duke Dwight had inherited her hair and eyes.
George hung onto his uncle’s shoulder, looking over to see Shivers, and made a face at him.
Shivers winked at him, signaling him to look ahead.
George turned to see someone waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
“Charlie~” George rubbed his eyes and reached out his arms.
Shivers hesitated, but Dwight said nothing and handed George, blanket and all, over.
George skillfully clung to Charlie’s neck. “Charlie, where’s my present?” Charlie had left the castle early, promising to bring him a gift.
Dwight glanced at Louis, whom his son mistook for Charlie, but showed no intention of correcting him. Louis, too, didn’t correct George, instead carrying him out of the council hall and through the corridor to the courtyard.
A tent had been set up in the courtyard, with bonfires lit even during the day. Clowns and magicians in bright costumes and makeup, along with children from nearby estates around George’s age, were all waiting. When they saw George, they cheered. George didn’t understand, but he loved the excitement and quickly woke up, laughing.
“They’ve prepared many shows: puppet plays, comedy acts, magic tricks. You can watch whatever you want,” Louis said, setting George on the grass and leading him toward the tent.
George was captivated by the bustling courtyard. He noticed that Charlie’s tone seemed a bit different today but was too excited to dwell on it. He looked up at “Charlie”, and Louis looked back down at him.
“Happy birthday, George.”
The author has something to say:
Charlie intentionally didn’t appear with Louis to tease George.
Louis, knowing he wouldn’t be around George long-term, didn’t see the point in confusing or making him miss him more. He let it slide, but he wouldn’t keep the truth from him as he grew older.
The drag troupe tearfully rehearsed a children’s program for their male god, but he won’t change his orientation because of their sacrifice.
This should be the last extra chapter. After marking the main story as complete, adding or changing chapters requires updating the story’s status, which is a bit troublesome (I didn’t change Arnie’s name in “King x King” for the same reason). If I have more to write in the future, I’ll start a new free short story or find another method. I won’t add new chapters here. Happy New Year, everyone~~~~
Kinky Thoughts:
This is the last of the extras… Seems like the author forgot, or maybe wasn’t interested, in writing extras for the other major side characters (Eugene, Amber, Priscilla, Kurt…ect.).
If you did enjoy it, please consider supporting the author by buying the raws. You can use Google Chrome with their auto translate and this guide on how to buy novels on jjwxc. Remember, only with your (financial) support can artists continue to produce more great works.
For those looking for a western fantasy danmei, I strongly recommend Stray. It’s probably the best of the genre I’ve read.
Finally, I like to thank everyone for your comments, encouragement, help with my translations, and ko-fi donations.
At three in the afternoon, when most people preferred to stay at home feeling drowsy, the streets should have been relatively empty. But today, Chambord Street was different. Traffic was somewhat congested.
“Hey, what’s going on up ahead?” people in the blocked carriages, who were supposed to be composed gentlemen and ladies, couldn’t help but pull up the windows to inquire.
Some clever servants jumped off early to find out what was happening, and soon the gossip causing the traffic jam spread from one end of the street to the other.
“At the intersection by the theater—two men are fighting over a woman.”
“I heard it’s Madam Bianca…”
“One of those men must be Movanlitz, the inspector’s youngest son. I’ve heard a lot about him.”
“Why are they fighting? Bianca’s methods aren’t ordinary.”
“Jealousy.” A gentleman in a small two-seater carriage concluded haughtily after listening to his coachman summarize the rumors vividly.
“Don’t say that. Love always blinds people.” His lady companion shook her fan, her eyes shifting as she leaned closer to the gentleman. “If someone told you that tonight at the ball, I could only enter arm-in-arm with another man, would you fight for me?”
“I would discreetly let him know who your man is in a more dignified way, not brawl in public like dock workers,” the gentleman said, feeling very satisfied with his answer as he ran his fingers through his well-groomed hair and beard.
The lady companion pouted slightly and turned her gaze outside the window.
She knew who Bianca was. The entire city of Siva knew. That charming brunette woman had emerged unexpectedly a year ago, quickly becoming the center of attention in Siva’s social circles.
Her talent in poetry and painting, her graceful speech, and her impeccable social skills made her unstoppable. Rumors even suggested she was the secret mistress of a king. All the men in the city were proud to associate with her. Fame was like a snowball—once it got a little push at the right time, it could effortlessly grow larger and larger.
The man sitting next to her was a nouveau riche. Although he spoke elegantly, he would undoubtedly fawn over Bianca if given the chance. Should she dye her hair brown too?
She was daydreaming about trivial matters when she suddenly noticed the carriage moving—not forward, but to the side of the road. Was someone important passing by? She exchanged a glance with the gentleman, and they both looked out the window. As another carriage passed by, they saw the person inside and were both stunned.
The window of the other carriage was open, revealing an astonishingly beautiful woman sitting inside. Her long, golden hair seemed to cascade down to the seat. Her milky skin, combined with her gem-like blue eyes, sharp nose, and delicate chin, was all perfect.
“What a beautiful person. What beautiful blonde hair…” She was mesmerized, and the gentleman beside her leaned forward, disregarding decorum, eager to get a closer look. But the carriage was fast, and in the blink of an eye, it was gone.
A disappointed sigh made the little girl next to the blonde beauty giggle.
“Shall we close the window? Everyone is staring at you.”
“Close it,” the beauty said wearily.
“I bet your fame will spread throughout the city before sunset,” the girl said, pulling the window shut with a “snap,” blocking all prying eyes.
“What do I need fame for?” The blonde beauty yawned widely, ignoring etiquette. “I’m still growing. By autumn, there won’t be any dresses I can fit into.”
“Alas, it’s a pity you’re a boy, Cici,” the girl said, tilting her head at him. “Otherwise, with your beauty, you could become a legend.”
“What legend, like they describe Yitzfa? ‘The blood from the goddess’s fingertips fell to hell, transforming into a fairy embodying both innocence and allure’?” Cici glared at her. “Give up on that idea. My skeleton won’t agree.”
Cici had always been adorable since childhood and loved dressing up prettily. But after he turned sixteen, he started growing uncontrollably tall, and his facial features began to show sharp angles. Nowadays, when he sat quietly in makeup, he looked quite convincing. But once he stood up, most men who lusted after his beauty would automatically feel shorter than him.
“Then why do you dress like this to come into the city?” The girl helped him adjust his skirt.
“Because I like pretty dresses, of course,” Cici said with infinite loneliness. “I want to grasp this last bit of youth and dress up for a while longer. Soon, no matter how much the tailor tries, I won’t be able to face myself in the mirror.”
As they spoke, the carriage arrived at the intersection. The main cause of the traffic jam was gone, but carriages and weapons were still strewn on the road. Cici and the girl didn’t glance at them, heading straight into the theater’s side street, where the Fox Family’s property was, their prepared stopover.
The girl jumped off the carriage first, standing on tiptoe to hold up a pretty umbrella. Cici, holding her shoulder, got off the carriage, his floor-length skirt covering his flat shoes.
“So, what’s the event tonight?” Cici asked.
“Hmm… the May Festival hosted by Viscount Elmore’s wife, along with several noblewomen friends. They’ve set up several large tents that can accommodate hundreds of people at the Meli Manor on the outskirts. Many artists and opera troupes were invited, as well as circus performances. The main purpose is to show off their wealth and influence.”
“Intelligence says ‘he’ will appear at the manor?”
“To be precise, ‘his’ target will appear. As a newly emerged bounty hunter, ‘his’ commissions and targets aren’t hard to find out… ‘He’ doesn’t seem to intend to hide.”
“He probably doesn’t understand the rules of this profession yet.” Cici chuckled. “After all, he’s a newcomer to the industry, right?”
The girl asked curiously, “Are you going to contact ‘him’ directly? The invitation is ready, but finding your other half won’t be easy.” Taller men were usually found in the military or the guard corps.
“Who says it’s hard to find?” Cici twirled a lock of his golden hair with his fingers. “If we have anything in abundance, it’s beautiful girls, isn’t it?”
The girl widened her eyes.
Meli Manor was originally a noble’s hunting ground. After the family declined, it changed hands several times before being bought by the viscount and converted into a manor that was part farm, part holiday villa. It was quite large, with woods, a lake, and an abandoned vineyard.
Viscount Elmore was very business-minded, investing in several promising new industries. His shrewd, socially adept wife assisted him. As hosts of such seemingly extravagant large parties, they actually profited greatly, including from the privately auctioned invitations they handled. Although this inevitably lowered the tone, the hype and speculation brought considerable profits.
“Although this makes the identities of some guests unclear—like us,” Cici whispered. “Guests who would buy high-priced invitations are unlikely to be thieves or robbers.”
The elegant girl at his side smiled. “So, merchants seeking opportunities or people wanting to connect with the viscount?”
“And people with ulterior motives,” Cici said solemnly. “Like me.”
The girl looked up at him. Cici, at the age between a boy and a young man, had features far more outstanding than average. Even without makeup, he was extremely eye-catching. His long golden hair was tied into a ponytail at the back. The deliberately low-key, dark long coat didn’t make him look any less striking but instead highlighted his fair skin.
Cici led her through the garden. Several tall white tents with pointed tops were set up by the lake, and music and laughter faintly emanated from the entrances.
Cici led her into one of the tents with soothing music, held her by the waist, and gently pushed her forward.
“Your job is done,” Cici said. “Please enjoy your evening.”
The girl was a bit reluctant, but Cici walked away decisively without looking back even once.
The lawn between the tents was dotted with many glass lanterns, about half a person’s height, making the entire manor as bright as daytime. As Cici walked briskly, he recalled the task Yitzfa had assigned him.
“Louis knows the Fox Family’s intelligence network well and is unlikely to appear in the fireworks area. However, by tracing back from his last task, we can roughly determine his next destination. He received the March bounty order at the Tree Hollow Tavern in Plyport, with the highest bounties being for ‘Brutal Sailor’ Uk, ‘Gunpowder Expert’ Ferram, and ‘Lying Clown’ Morin. Of these, Uk is the most notorious and has the highest bounty. Given Louis’s style, he would likely choose him directly. After being expelled from the pirate crew, Uk became an independent assassin, and internal intelligence has identified his next target as Ronan, the leader of the Sunbird Troupe.”
The Sunbird Troupe’s recent gig was to perform at the May Festival in Siva…
Cici exhaled and quickly slipped into the tent closest to the lake.
It was a circus tent, mostly filled with children and their attendants. A grumpy brown bear was circling the stage, while the animal trainer, with his face painted, held a whip in one hand and a colorful ball in the other, continually signaling to the audience.
Cici took out a pocket watch to check the time—it was only seven in the evening, and the tent was still full of pigeons, streamers, and candy. But in an hour or two, once the tired children were taken home, the nature of the stage performance would change, with the vibrant children’s decorations replaced by dimmer lights and alcoholic drinks.
The Sunbird Troupe would perform in the latter half. Adult performances were popular in any country, featuring risqué jokes, revealing costumes, and tacit interactions as standard acts. However, this troupe had an even more… special nature.
Cici circled the edge of the tent, slipping out through an exit behind the stage. It led to a slightly smaller preparation tent used by the performers. On the left were various animal cages and colorful prop boxes crowded together, while on the right were several makeup tables and a long clothing rack filled with brightly colored costumes.
Two or three men were already dressed in those exaggerated skirts, checking each other out. One of them suddenly reached into his clothes and pulled out half a “breast”.
“I told you water balloons wouldn’t work,” he muttered. “They’re leaking.”
“Try using bandages? You can compress it naturally.”
“What a strange method…” The man stopped mid-sentence, raising his head along with his companions, their eyes lighting up simultaneously.
Cici felt a bit uneasy under their gaze but maintained a calm exterior. “It just requires a special technique.”
Damn, their makeup was too thick. While it’s understandable to need heavy makeup on stage, even this much makeup didn’t fully cover their rough facial features. The Fox Family always pursued refinement and beauty, and Cici himself decided to stop dressing as a woman when he could no longer conceal his physique. But these men, regardless of age or build, were far more incongruous than he was—this drag troupe was reportedly quite popular, and despite mentally preparing himself, Cici was still a bit shocked to witness it firsthand.
“Are you a guest?” The man with one deflated breast stared hard at Cici’s face. “Backstage isn’t a place for young masters.”
The companion beside him even moved closer to Cici, his gaze almost piercing through Cici’s coat and shirt, constantly blinking, his thick eyelashes fluttering.
Cici: “…I need to see your leader. Where is Ronan?”
“No way!” The one-breasted man shouted jealously. “When did the boss hook up with such a handsome guy? Kiss me, and I’ll tell you where he went.”
“You’re not Ronan’s type.” The thick eyelashes looked at Cici suspiciously. “He likes more masculine ones. You’re too pretty, little brother.”
Seeing his hand about to touch his chest, Cici had to step back. “He has a message from the Fox.”
He pulled out a silk handkerchief from his chest and handed it to the thick eyelashes.
“It’s indeed the Fox’s emblem,” the thick eyelashes said, taking the handkerchief.
The heavily made-up men’s expressions suddenly changed. Cici continued, “He’s targeted by the ‘Brutal Sailor’. If he acts alone—”
“He went to the villa to negotiate performance times!” The one-breasted man immediately said, “He left twenty minutes ago, and no one went with him!”
……
As the troupe leader, Ronan handled various miscellaneous tasks, including external negotiations. Today’s circus performance might be delayed, and since the others had already started putting on makeup and couldn’t move easily, he went alone to the villa to communicate with the steward.
Viscount Elmore wasn’t only a nobleman but also a successful businessman. The Meli Manor was large and luxurious, and the scale of this festivity was astounding. Besides the large play tents on the lawn, there were smaller banquets on the other side of the lake for guests of higher status, likely the viscount couple’s real social circle.
Ronan glanced towards the lake, noticing someone setting something up by the water. He stopped curiously. A few minutes later, sharp explosions pierced the night, and brilliant fireworks continuously exploded in the sky, dazzling and magnificent.
The guests in the tents couldn’t see this; it was probably prepared for the distinguished guests on the other side. Ronan looked up at the continuously ascending and blooming fireworks, marveling at how much it must have cost.
“Ronan?” Someone walked towards him.
Ronan turned around and saw a person dressed in the villa’s servant uniform, but the fireworks were too loud to hear clearly.
“What?” he shouted back, walking towards the person. But as the distance closed, he suddenly felt something was off—this person’s clothes seemed a bit tight, and their eyes weren’t right when the fireworks lit up the night sky.
Ronan stopped, but the other person suddenly lunged at him, revealing a metallic glint from their clothes’ movement, causing Ronan to instinctively squint.
Clang!
The sound of sharp weapons clashing rang out between the fireworks. Ronan saw the man, who had initially charged at him with a dagger, barely turn mid-air, deflecting an arrow that flew from the side.
A person in a black knee-length single-breasted coat lowered an unusually small crossbow. Fireworks exploded behind him, making it impossible to see his face clearly in the backlight, but Ronan instinctively moved towards him—no matter what, he had just saved his life.
Cici ran quickly across the cold grass. The lawn by the tent and lake was a distance from the steward’s villa, but if Uk wanted to commit a crime, he wouldn’t choose the busy road with frequent attendants. Cici observed the surroundings and headed towards the path near the lake.
His intuition was indeed sharp. Shortly after deviating from the main road, he saw a man running somewhat frantically towards him.
Seeing Cici was like seeing a savior, the man shouted, “Please help, sir!”
“Ronan?” Cici asked.
The question made Ronan wary, and he stopped immediately. But he quickly realized the newcomer wasn’t with the violent thug. When they returned to help, they saw the ill-fitting servant uniformed Uk being kicked, rolling on the ground before stopping. His weapon was thrown far away, and he curled up in pain, unable to understand how he was so quickly overpowered by someone physically weaker than him.
Louis shook off his scraped hand and took two steps forward. Then, he stomped heavily on Uk’s wrist with his hard heel, timing it perfectly so Uk’s scream blended in with the sound of the fireworks.
Cici watched for a while, tilting his head, and confirmed that this person was indeed not Charlie—even if the rabbit-headed shopkeeper fought, his style wouldn’t be this harsh.
“Louis?” he called out.
Louis turned his head but didn’t move his foot off Uk.
Cici had no choice but to raise his hands to show he had no weapons. Ronan’s gaze shifted back and forth between Cici and Louis, almost forgetting the man who had just tried to kill him.
Half an hour later.
“You’re saying the ‘Brutal Sailor’ was hired by my brother?” Ronan asked in shock. “I gave up my inheritance rights ten years ago…”
Cici shrugged. “Your father still left you part of his estate. Since you don’t have children, he apparently hopes you die sooner rather than later.”
Ronan was deeply affected, and his gaze towards Louis became even more intense. “Did you also take on a commission?”
Louis said, “I don’t take commissions from anyone.”
After leaving White Bridge, Louis wandered the continent. Initially, he aimlessly sought out reclusive mages during his travels, but every time he picked up money at contact points, Alexander’s letters would inevitably follow, nagging and trying to persuade him to return. Louis found this tiresome. Once, he accidentally earned a bounty after beating up a troublesome drunkard, so he decided to cut off all channels that the Wolf Family could use to track him. Now, Louis no longer feared getting hurt or bleeding and was even more adept in fights.
Cici laughed. “Ah, how unfortunate. I’m here on a commission concerning you.”
Before Louis could speak, Cici quickly added, “The client is Charlie.”
Louis turned to look at him, and after a moment, his gaze shifted from Cici’s eyes to his chest.
“You’re from the Fox Family,” he said softly. “I assume you’re not foolish enough to joke around.”
Cici felt a chill down his neck under Louis’s gaze and hurriedly took off the pocket watch from his coat, handing it to him.
This was the pocket watch Charlie had with him when he went missing in the former Wolf King’s basement, and Louis recognized it.
“He’s back?” Louis snapped the pocket watch shut with a click.
Cici nodded. “Yes, he’s uninjured and in good spirits. He wrote to the Wolf Family, but they couldn’t locate you recently, so he commissioned…me to find you, hoping to invite you to Lemena.”
Louis said, “Since he’s fine—”
“There’s no need to go to Lemena.” Cici finished his sentence. Louis raised an eyebrow.
Cici said solemnly, “Charlie said you’d respond this way. He asked me to tell you: brothers don’t need a reason to meet, nor can they haggle. Also, George hasn’t met his father yet. You must arrive at Brandenburg with a gift before his fourth birthday, or Charlie will launch a severe retaliation.”
Before Louis could speak, Ronan, who had been quietly listening, exclaimed, “Father? You have a child?”
Cici: “Huh?”
Ronan looked even more heartbroken than when he learned his brother wanted to kill him. “Why do good men always marry so early? You don’t look like someone who’s had a child at all!”
Louis: “……” He hadn’t actually fathered a child, but this guy was quite deranged. Louis stepped back, put the pocket watch in his pocket, and turned to leave.
Cici quickly followed. “Hey, do you agree? Even though my task was just to deliver the message, it feels like the job isn’t done if you don’t go to Lemena.”
Louis ignored him.
Cici continued, “You and Charlie are really different. He never embarrasses people. By the way, did you know you have a nickname as a bounty hunter? Ask me, I can tell you.”
Louis stopped, glanced at Cici, who thought he was about to ask and quickly posed.
But Louis said, “Stop following me.”
Cici fell back, speechless, but then saw Ronan also following.
Cici: “Why are you coming along?”
Ronan righteously said, “He saved my life, and by extension, the Sunbird Troupe. Of course, I must repay this debt.”
Cici: “If you think he’s happy to have a drag troupe follow him—”
Ronan peeked ahead. “Hey, why is he walking so fast?”
Louis pretended not to hear the conversation behind him, hurrying across the lawn into the night. Ronan and Cici exchanged a glance and, without a word, chased after him.
The author has something to say:
George pushed the door open a crack and squeezed himself inside. All the curtains were drawn, and the room was dark, completely obscuring the bright sunlight outside.
George had been here before. He tiptoed across the carpet into the inner room and saw a pile of blankets on the big bed, with the canopy half-drawn, and all was silent.
Shivers was napping, George concluded.
This discovery made him happy because his uncle was strict about his schedule, never allowing him to sleep in unless he was sick. He often used the Brandenburg Knights as a standard to educate him—if his uncle knew the Knight Commander slept in when not following the Duke, George could confidently retort the next time he was criticized.
The four-poster bed had soft mattresses and sheets. George had to stand on tiptoe to see the person lying on it, but even if he reached out, he couldn’t touch them. So he brought a large pillow to use as a step and climbed up.
This bed was much bigger than George’s child bed. He climbed to the center, feeling proud, and just as he was about to lift the blanket—
“Ha! Got you!” The person under the blanket sat up before he could.
George widened his eyes, looking at the unfamiliar man in front of him, and was so scared that he fell back, trying to escape.
But the blankets were too big and heavy. George floundered like he was swimming, unable to reach the edge, and was instead dragged back by his ankle.
Shivers hurried through the corridor and had just touched the doorknob when he heard sobbing from inside the room.
He paused and then entered.
Yitzfa was sitting cross-legged on the bed, holding George. Both looked up at Shivers with expressions of seeing a savior.
“Strange,” Yitzfa said, puzzled, handing George to Shivers. “It’s the first time someone disliked me so much.”
Shivers bent down to pick up George, who immediately clung to his neck and buried his face, looking very aggrieved.
“He doesn’t dislike you,” Shivers told Yitzfa. “He’s just shy.”
Yitzfa followed them into the outer room. George gradually stopped crying, occasionally hiccupping.
“George is Dwight’s heir, born with a sense of caution.” Shivers jostled George a bit. “I should have introduced you sooner.”
Hearing Yitzfa wasn’t a bad person, George’s curiosity outweighed his fear, and he peeked out at Yitzfa, finding him quite good-looking.
Yitzfa had natural social skills, and half an hour later, he could walk around with George, the two heads close together, chatting happily as if they hadn’t just met.
Even Charlie, his real uncle, hadn’t gotten so close to George so quickly.
“I have many younger siblings,” Yitzfa said. “I raised quite a few of them. Kids like me.”
“They’re less fond of you when you send them off to work,” Shivers said. “Like Cici, who you sent to work for you. I’m sure Charlie designated that task to you.”
Neither mentioned Louis in front of George.
“He’ll complete the task,” Yitzfa said indifferently. George, small and warm, clung to him like a well-behaved little animal. Yitzfa found him much cuter than his siblings and happily carried him around.
“George, when is your birthday?” Yitzfa asked, already knowing the answer.
George counted, “In thirteen days.”
“When the time comes, I’ll bring a birthday gift for adorable George,” Yitzfa announced to George and Shivers.
Shivers patted both of their heads in turn.
“Of course,” the Knight Commander said. “Mr. Charlie has arranged everything. George will receive everyone’s blessings.”
Kinky Thoughts:
What? Shivers and Yitzfa don’t even have an extra of their own?! They only get like author notes afterthought? How boring! They are basically the entire spiciness of this novel!
Well, at least they’re together now. I’m happy for that.
“I’m going to run away from home,” the Ninth Prince Willie loudly announced.
Most people in the room ignored him—the Fourth Prince was busy scratching his head over his punishment for cheating on an exam yesterday, the Fifth Prince was sprawled on the couch, asleep, and the Eighth Prince and his followers were scheming something in the corner, paying no attention to their younger brother.
Only George, looking like a well-behaved doll, sat bewildered on the couch (squeezed into the corner by the Fifth Prince’s sprawling form). Willie scrutinized George.
“Though it’s not very useful, you’ll do,” Willie said. “Come with me to leave this boring, annoying palace and seek freedom.”
Five-year-old George didn’t really understand what running away meant. He thought Willie was taking him to play and happily climbed off the couch, feeling a bit bored himself.
Adults seemed to think kids naturally played together, but the princes in the capital rarely played with George. They thought he was delicate and prone to crying like a little girl, and the stern face of Duke Dwight when they fought with George was frightening.
So, George mostly played with the princesses. The girls found George different from their boisterous brothers—he was cute, obedient, and good at being affectionate, so they liked to take him along.
But with the court ball just two days away, the princesses were busier than ever. Various etiquette and dance lessons were overwhelming, and the main focus was on planning their ball outfits. George didn’t like the endless clothes fitting and measuring, so he preferred to stay with the princes this time.
Willie rarely took the initiative to play with him, so George was happy to take Willie’s hand and be led away.
It wasn’t until the two little guys left the room that the oldest, the Fourth Prince, lifted one eyelid.
“They’re running away from home. I’ll go bring them back…” he said loudly to himself and was about to stand up when a hand was placed on his shoulder.
His tutor said mercilessly, “You don’t need to worry.”
The Fourth Prince clicked his tongue and reluctantly continued scratching his head.
Willie and George, still at an age where their brains weren’t fully developed, genuinely felt their plan to escape the palace was flawless. Willie even took George back to his room to pack supplies.
“We need candies and drinks,” Willie said with experience. “Florin told me stories about the wildman Elliot. We need food and water.”
It started off well, but things went a bit awry. Willie, hands behind his back, wandered around the room, adding many of his favorite toys to his backpack.
This was mainly to prevent his annoying brothers from taking over his beloved possessions after he left.
George didn’t fully grasp the plan’s outline. Whatever Willie gave him, he took, though his backpack ended up being quite heavy.
All little boys liked playing with older boys, even if the “older boy” was only seven years old. George didn’t want to disappoint Willie and tried hard to carry the backpack, wobbling as he followed Willie “sneakily” into the garden.
The fresh thrill of adventure made George very excited, oblivious to the fact that Willie hadn’t secured his backpack properly. Colorful candies and other little items littered their path.
“Tell me,” Duke Dwight asked coolly after listening to the servant’s report. “What is your prince planning? Running away with George?”
“Boys,” the Emperor said nonchalantly. “They all like adventure. Willie is a brave child. Did I tell you the story about him poking a beehive in the countryside last time?”
Seeing the young Duke raise an eyebrow, he quickly added, “Reckless, but brave.”
Dwight: “If your garden has beehives—”
“Hahaha, how could it?”
The Duke’s lips pressed into a thin line.
George was afraid of the dark, water, and insects. A natural coward, he always avoided risks, but if he followed Willie, that foolhardy boy…
The Emperor saw his expression and laughed.
“Don’t worry. George will be fine with Willie.”
“You have many children,” Dwight pointed out bluntly. “Brandenburg only has one George.”
“How about I send two for you to take back? I also think there are too many children. The palace is always noisy.”
“If there’s nothing else, Your Majesty,” Dwight didn’t want to continue this idle chatter.
“Your knight watches over little George for you, doesn’t he? Playing occasionally won’t hurt. Speaking of which, in a few years, little George will need to find his own knight too.”
Dwight did remember something.
“I handled the beast tide in the northern mountains for you. Give me Noway and Gulliz,” he said.
These two were renowned royal potion masters. The Emperor asked curiously, “When did you start getting interested in mages?”
Because of the Brandenburg Knights, Lemena had almost the fewest mages in the Empire.
Dwight frowned.
“George,” he explained.
George was still young. The knights weren’t urgent, but the child needed mages more.
Because the future little Duke would get rashes in the heat, catch colds in the cold, have sore feet from too much walking, swollen fingers from too much writing, and even a sore throat from talking too much—he knew Charlie had once slandered him as the Princess and the Pea behind his back, but compared to George, that was minor.
He and Charlie were quite troubled by it.
Dwight did live in luxury, but that didn’t mean he was a frail noble. On the contrary, the physical and mental training he underwent from a young age was far harsher than most of his peers, which was why he hadn’t faltered when he left the comfort of Brandenburg, traveling across the continent with Charlie, braving the elements.
Little George was cute, but his physical condition was poor. Adequate magic and potions could improve his environment and make him healthier, though such measures were extremely luxurious.
Fortunately, his mother and uncle were wealthy enough. Ordinary families couldn’t afford to raise a child like him.
“I understand,” the Emperor said. “It’s a pity George doesn’t look like you. Princess Ellie has always liked your face. If George looked like you, we could patiently wait for him to grow up…”
Dwight pretended not to hear his nonsense and got up to leave.
Charlie wasn’t waiting for Dwight in the living room. The servant told the Duke he had gone up to the turret.
“Getting some air?” Dwight climbed the narrow spiral stone staircase and found Charlie leaning against the wall, motionless.
Charlie waved at him without turning around.
“They’re lost,” Charlie maintained his position, looking through the telescope. “George and Willie.”
“Where are they?”
“In the southeast rose garden. The roses are tall. They probably feel like it’s a maze.”
Dwight, arms crossed, watched Charlie eagerly observing the two kids. He didn’t ask to look through the telescope himself but patiently waited for Charlie to relay the information.
“How can Willie get lost in his own home?” Dwight only became more talkative around Charlie. “Is the kid really that dumb?”
“The rose garden was redesigned in the spring. They expanded the area and changed the layout. The queen and princesses wanted to create the feel of a rose forest, so they planted robust varieties.”
“Willie probably wanted to go through the rose garden to reach the woodland. That’s the only place without walls,” Charlie guessed.
What a little fool. There were no walls because the woodland was also part of the palace grounds. Willie wouldn’t think the woodland was “outside”, would he?
“Oh, they seem tired,” Charlie said excitedly. “They’re rummaging through their backpacks… Doesn’t look like they brought much in terms of supplies.”
Willie and George had no idea they were being watched. Willie snapped at George, “Where are my wild berry candies and cookies?”
George innocently lifted his backpack, which wasn’t very big to begin with. As they walked, the contents had fallen out, leaving not much behind.
“I don’t know,” George said.
Willie was about to burst with anger, but his hunger made him hungrier the louder he got.
If he had known, he would have packed food in his own backpack too. Before they set out, Willie thought toys were more precious than food and filled his bag with his treasured toys. Now, he regretted it.
George was tired. He squatted down, hands on his knees, and noticed something nearby.
It was a piece of candy wrapped in tinfoil that he had dropped earlier.
“Candy!” George happily called Willie over. The two kids searched for a while and found a few more pieces, which they immediately ate.
Unfortunately, they couldn’t find any more after that.
Charlie fell silent.
“What’s wrong?” Dwight asked.
“They’re eating stuff off the ground,” Charlie sighed. “They must be hungry.”
Dwight: “……”
“Stop watching,” he said. “When George starts crying, someone will come to get them.”
Charlie didn’t lower the telescope. Partly, he was worried about George, and partly, he was quite bored in the palace.
“Who did you have watching George?” Charlie asked. “I wonder if he has any cookies with him. But since they’re hungry, those two won’t last long.”
Charlie was right, and Dwight was wrong.
The quest for freedom quickly failed due to unreliable backpacks. When the two hungry children realized they couldn’t escape their predicament, panic set in, especially for Willie.
“I don’t know this place,” Willie cried, never having walked around without his mother and sisters. “I’m going to starve to death.”
George stood there, conflicted. He was tired too, but for some reason, seeing Willie cry made him feel less like crying himself.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing Willie’s hand. “Let’s go back and eat bread.”
Willie was desperate, realizing George didn’t understand the gravity of their situation.
“We can’t go back!” Willie wailed. “We’re stuck~~ No one can find us! We’re going to die!”
But Willie cried so loudly that George couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“That way,” George picked a random direction. “Let’s go back that way.”
Willie: “…You remember the way?”
George nodded.
He felt certain that was the way to go.
Seeing his confident expression, Willie believed him. He wiped his tears with his chubby hand and was about to follow George.
“Alright, alright—this is as far as you go. That direction is wrong,” a gentle voice called from above them.
They looked up to see two tall men stepping over the rosebushes, smiling at them.
“Hi, Shivers.” George recognized one of them and called softly. Shivers reached out and picked him up, and George nestled his head in his neck.
On the other side, Willie, whose face was tear-streaked, was also picked up by a palace guard. They carried the two frightened little ones through the rosebushes, the soft petals and leaves brushing against their armor, leaving a faint floral scent.
Shivers gently patted George’s forehead, noting the sweat.
George, exhausted from following Willie around, began to yawn. Shivers shifted him from holding to carrying on his back, and, along with the palace guard, they left the rose garden—soon the two children would easily see the tall marble archway at the entrance.
“So George didn’t cry, but Willie did,” Dwight said, as if announcing the result of a competition.
The Emperor looked at him strangely as he left and turned to ask the servant, “Is Willie still crying?”
Servant: “He’s probably more hungry than scared. He stopped crying as soon as he reached the dining table.”
Emperor: “……”
George didn’t know about the adults’ trivial competition but knew very well when to make requests when his uncle was in a good mood.
“Gulliz’s potions are very effective. They can alleviate your allergy symptoms and allow you to eat more tasty things,” Charlie told him. “Your uncle got them for you.”
“Uncle,” George clung to Dwight’s knee. “I don’t want a mage.”
Dwight asked, “What do you want then?”
“I want Shivers,” George pleaded. “I want him to be my knight commander.”
Dwight couldn’t help but feel a bit dazed, recalling a similar request he had made years ago.
What had his father answered back then?
George looked up at his uncle’s face and saw a smile.
Uncle must have agreed! George was delighted and turned to look at Charlie, who gently shook his head.
“You might be disappointed, darling,” Charlie said.
George pouted.
As expected, Dwight picked him up and placed him on his lap. “No.”
He indeed refused, but his tone was gentle.
“Why?” George didn’t want to give up.
Dwight said, “Because—it’s too early for you now. You’ll understand later.”
“When is later?”
“I can’t give you an exact answer, George,” Dwight said, stroking George’s small ear, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Because I only just understood myself.”
The author has something to say:
Arnie said, “But I want Alfred.”
The Duke pulled him to his side and stood up, holding him with one arm.
“Duke Dwight will only have one knight commander. Alfred and I have known each other since we were very young,” the Duke said. “He will protect you, Priscilla, and your mother with his life, but that’s because his oath of loyalty is to me, from before you were born.”
“When you inherit the title, Alfred will still love you like your mother, sister, and I do, but that’s a completely different responsibility—you’ll understand it later.” —Chapter 215
“Hey! Artist over there!” a rough man shouted towards the corner. “Come over and embroider a flower on my cloak. I’ll pay you—a copper coin as a reward. How about that?”
The person sitting at the small round table in the corner didn’t respond, not even turning around, pretending the provocation wasn’t directed at him.
However, his companion sitting opposite seemed a bit indignant and whispered, “Ignore them. They don’t understand anything.”
Alai nodded. His skin was pale, and a pair of melancholy green eyes were hidden behind his bangs.
Since they remained silent, the provocateur quickly lost interest in them. This wasn’t a place they usually frequented, so after cautiously finishing a cup of cheap oat beer, they paid and left the tavern.
“How about it? Meet again at nine o’clock tomorrow?” his companion asked him.
Alai hesitated for a moment.
“Maybe a bit earlier. We’re almost done,” he suggested carefully.
“No need to be polite with me. I also want to finish early. How about seven-thirty?”
Alai nodded, so they parted ways at the intersection. Alai walked down the street alone, heading home to sleep.
The moon was very big and round tonight, making everything around visible even without streetlights. Alai rarely went out at night, and although there were no people around, he felt a bit uneasy.
He was naturally timid and weak, not good with words. Others would say he was “unremarkable”, and even his parents worried that he wouldn’t be able to live independently after they passed away.
Just like now, even though he knew there were no wild animals in town and the security was decent, he still felt on edge, thinking that he wouldn’t be so scared if he met someone on the road.
Coincidentally, just as he was thinking this, he saw a passerby ahead, wearing a hat and carrying a travel bag.
Alai immediately felt relieved and followed quietly, keeping a moderate distance. He wondered: This town wasn’t a tourist spot, just an ordinary place. Why would a traveler come here? Had this person been to many places and seen a lot? It was impressive, unlike him, who rarely left town.
Lost in thought, Alai suddenly saw something fall from the edge of the traveler’s bag.
“Hey…” Alai hesitated, instinctively wanting to alert the person, but they didn’t notice.
Alai quickened his pace and found a beautifully silver-embellished small water bottle on the ground, which seemed lightweight and likely empty.
The item didn’t seem cheap, and more importantly, the silver embellishments were both beautiful and clean, indicating the owner cherished it greatly. Alai quickened his pace to catch up.
“Sir… Sir!” Initially, it was difficult, but once he started speaking, Alai’s voice grew louder.
The traveler stopped and turned around.
It was a man in his thirties, with long hair tied back, handsome features, and gentle gray eyes. Despite his travel-worn appearance, his face showed no signs of fatigue or distress, but rather calm and composure.
Alai hesitated for a moment before taking two more steps forward.
In the presence of outstanding people, he always felt inferior and uneasy. If it weren’t for…
“Your… Your item fell,” Alai said softly, handing over the water bottle. He then realized that such a distinguished gentleman might not want a poor person touching his belongings.
If that were the case, he would be humiliating himself. It must be the fault of the oat beer—normally, he wouldn’t be so careless.
But the traveler’s reaction surprised him.
“Ah, this is my water bottle. Thank you so much,” the traveler said with a calm tone and a hint of joy, which made Alai feel a bit more at ease.
Alai bowed to him and was about to leave but was called back.
“Please wait a moment,” the traveler said. “I haven’t thanked you yet, sir.”
Alai was surprised and wide-eyed, having never been called ‘sir’ before. His face flushed red.
“Please don’t say that,” Alai said awkwardly. “Don’t mention it.”
“What is your name? I should buy you a drink or a meal,” the traveler said, looking at Alai. “My name is Salman.”
“I’m Alai, but—”
“Mr. Alai, are you an artist?”
Alai was stunned.
Salman’s gaze lingered on Alai’s trouser cuffs and fingers for a moment before he smiled at him.
“I’m a decorator,” Alai instinctively replied. “I paint sets for the theater and such.” He was exaggerating a bit—such work wasn’t common, but it paid well. He had just received this job this month, which made him overly excited and led him to celebrate at the tavern with his partner.
Salman nodded, then asked about the local theater and its regular performances. Alai answered all his questions, unknowingly walking a long distance alongside him until his legs began to ache.
“Ah, there’s the city gate ahead!” Alai exclaimed. “Mr. Salman, we were so engrossed in talking that we forgot to watch the road.”
Salman said, “I just arrived here and was about to find an inn.”
“I know a round log inn that doesn’t close at night. It’s on the street next to Ginger Street—do you know how to get there?”
Salman shook his head.
“Could I trouble you again to lead the way?” he asked kindly.
Alai felt that they had become quite familiar and wasn’t as uneasy. In fact, during their brief conversation, he discovered that Salman was indeed well-traveled and knowledgeable, just as he had guessed. His casual anecdotes were fascinating, inspiring Alai.
“Alright, this way,” Alai said, “I’ll take you through Magnolia Lane. It’s a shortcut.”
Salman had a magical quality that made people lower their guard around him. Even someone as shy as Alai felt as if he had known him for a long time. In such a short interaction, Alai was amazed at how much he had spoken.
If only he could become someone like Mr. Salman, Alai thought secretly when he got home, but he knew it was a foolish dream. Despite Salman’s friendly and unpretentious demeanor, his behavior and manners clearly showed his cultivation and grace, unlike himself…
Alai carefully turned over on the narrow straw bed to avoid waking his little brother sleeping by his feet. The night wind blew in through the gaps in the wooden window, slightly diminishing the smell of dinner in the room—Alai had received an advance payment, so their mother had made a delicious fried fish tonight, and everyone had eaten happily.
“So, your mother raised you all by herself,” Salman said sincerely. “She is truly a remarkable person.”
Alai nodded in agreement.
“My father was a good man too, a very good man. He taught me how to draw with sharpened sticks on the fine coal dust by the boiler.” Alai sat on a stone. He rarely talked about his father because it saddened his mother and brother, but Mr. Salman had a calmness like the night sky, making Alai feel strangely safe.
“His health wasn’t great, but he always wanted us to live better, so he constantly pushed himself.” Alai tried to be cheerful, but it wasn’t very convincing because he saw that Mr. Salman’s expression had also turned a bit sad.
“It was an accident,” Salman said softly.
Alai nodded, directing his gaze to the nearby theater. Although it wasn’t dark yet, someone had already lit the gas lamps, and flamboyantly dressed women leaned against the streetlights, casually eyeing passersby.
“For people like us, accidents are common. I’m grown up now and can earn money for the family.” Alai wanted to comfort him, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.
“Don’t say that.” Salman’s gaze moved from Alai’s eyes to his lowered hands, which were rough and a stark contrast to Alai’s delicate face. Like other long lives, even if Salman had no intention of accumulating wealth, time, like the river constantly washing over the banks, would inevitably push gold grains ashore. He had almost forgotten how many years it had been since he last worried about making a living.
Salman shifted the topic and told Alai about his adventures. The young man, who had never left his hometown, indeed loved hearing these stories. He listened with shining eyes and kept asking various questions, chatting from evening until the stars appeared in the sky without realizing it.
If it hadn’t been for Alai’s little brother interrupting, Salman might have been forced to talk all night.
“Brother.” Alai’s brother, Adu, stood a few steps away from them, nervously calling out. “Mom is waiting for you to eat.”
Adu was dark and skinny, with a timid expression, but shared his brother’s small nose and smooth forehead.
Alai came to his senses, quickly stood up, and instinctively turned to look at Salman, opening his mouth but unable to speak.
Salman pretended not to notice Alai’s embarrassment and calmly bid them farewell. After watching the brothers walk away, he turned and walked back.
At that moment, a strange commotion sounded not far away. Instead of stopping, Salman quickened his pace, swiftly circling around the street towards the inn. Although this small town seemed peaceful, every place inevitably had its share of thugs lurking in the dark, trying to profit without effort—
Salman suddenly stopped.
Alai and his brother had just left. If he evaded the suspicious figures alone, the brothers would be in greater danger.
Thinking of this, Salman started walking again, entering a dark street.
The windows of the low houses on both sides were tightly closed, giving no indication of whether there were people inside. However, ordinary people always avoided trouble, so Salman wasn’t worried about being watched. He stood calmly for a moment.
But the noise had ceased. Just as he began to wonder if the pursuers had given up on him and turned to chase Alai, a small, sharp sound like a swift wind cut through the air. Salman was somewhat familiar with this sound—
Swish!
A black shadow darted into the street, circled over Salman’s head at a speed too fast for the eye to follow, and then landed on his shoulder, its weight causing him to stagger.
“Emerald?” Salman asked in surprise.
The Pluto Owl, which had grown considerably but still thought of itself as a baby, stubbornly perched on Salman’s shoulder. Hearing its name, it proudly flapped its wings.
Emerald’s exceptional speed and navigation skills allowed it to traverse the continent unimpeded. Duke Dwight had once tested it, releasing Emerald from a village in the far south of Pennigra to retrieve a plant seed from the far northern mountains. What would have taken a fast horse two months non-stop took Emerald less than five days, and that wasn’t even certain it had exerted its full strength.
Although raised by humans, animals naturally loved freedom. The Duke didn’t confine it to the castle, often letting it out to play (and occasionally deliver messages). Salman had experienced this twice but was reluctant to comment.
“You gave me a scare.” Salman said, smuggling Emerald into the inn room and pouring it a large bowl of Bols fruit wine. Emerald lifted one foot, showing the leather pouch tied to it.
Salman wished the Duke had taught it to pose differently. This position made it look like a peeing dog.
There were two letters from Brandenburg. Salman read them by candlelight, pondered for a moment, then folded them back without opening the ink bottle on the desk.
……
“It’s not green here, it’s blue.” Bill stopped Alai for the second time, just before he made a mistake. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you today?”
Alai was startled.
“I—I don’t know,” Alai blushed. “I’m sorry.”
Bill was Alai’s friend and his only partner. They had known each other for over ten years. Bill wouldn’t really get angry with him, but Alai’s frequent distractions were quite curious to him.
“You’re always looking towards the gate,” Bill pointed out sharply. “Are you interested in one of the actresses? Can’t blame you. They are indeed the most beautiful girls in town.”
Alai shook his head and lowered it to mix the paint again, trying to hide his expression. He was embarrassed to tell Bill that he was looking at the sunlight outside to judge when he could finish work and meet Mr. Salman for a chat.
But Alai’s movements slowed down. If he finished work, what excuse would he have to go see Mr. Salman?
The overly innocent Alai didn’t even understand why he was so eager to see Mr. Salman, let alone find a reasonable excuse for it. Bill, however, had some idea but knew how introverted Alai was. Before things became clear, Bill preferred to wait and see. Those beautiful girls were all quite proud. Bill didn’t want to blindly encourage his friend to face rejection.
Alai didn’t know that Bill, with a strange expression, was already thinking about which of his simple and cute cousins he could introduce to him. Alai thought for a long time but couldn’t come up with a suitable reason to visit Mr. Salman. After all, he was poor, and his house was bare. He couldn’t even invite Mr. Salman over for a simple meal. As a result, the off-time he had been looking forward to became rather depressing.
He deliberately waited until everyone had left before slowly packing up his things and leaving. By then, the sun had already started to set. He saw Mr. Salman standing not far from the theater entrance—right by the stone he had sat on the previous evening. The last bit of sunlight fell on his shoulders, making him look like he was glowing.
“Mr. Salman!” Alai felt as if a small animal was jumping excitedly in his chest, bringing a happy expression to his face.
He even thought Mr. Salman looked very happy too. Although they had only known each other for three days, Mr. Salman seemed happier each day.
“What brings you here?” Alai asked happily, jogging up to him.
Salman smiled. “I wanted to see you.”
Alai said, “Oh, I was thinking the same thing!”
Hearing this, Salman had a strange expression, both happy and sad, but it passed so quickly that Alai thought he might have imagined it.
If he had known Mr. Salman was waiting for him, he wouldn’t have dawdled so long. Alai felt a bit regretful. They found a reasonably priced restaurant for dinner. Mr. Salman seemed very hungry and ordered several meat pies and creamy round bread all at once.
“You seem to be in a good mood,” Alai said. “I don’t want to spoil it, but we probably can’t finish all these pies.”
Salman asked him, “Do you like meat pies?”
Who wouldn’t like pies filled with beef and chopped onions, dripping with oil? Alai nodded honestly.
So, Mr. Salman pushed all the pies in front of him. Alai couldn’t eat that much, but Salman insisted he try each flavor.
Mr. Salman looked gentle and had a mild demeanor, but he actually had a strong side. Unable to refuse, Alai thought as he ate the meat pies, but he didn’t think it was a bad thing. However, ordering two more large bottles of malt beer was truly excessive.
“This place has very strong beer,” Alai whispered. “We might not be able to drink it all.”
“Don’t worry. It’s a gift for my friend tonight,” Salman said.
“You have a friend here?” Alai’s eyes widened.
“Not a local. It’s a messenger,” Salman explained. “It brought me letters from far away last night.”
“Was it good news?”
“It was good news.” Salman smiled involuntarily. “A friend I lost contact with has returned.”
“Is he a traveler like you?”
“No.” Salman thought for a moment. “He’s more like… an adventurer.”
Seeing Alai’s interest in the topic, Salman ordered another large pot of elderflower tea and detailed the story of how he met that friend. Alai was completely fascinated. There was a contact point for the Mage Association in town, but there was only one resident junior mage who was reclusive and never interacted with people.
“Is there really such evil magic in the world?” Alai felt both shocked and sad upon hearing about the strange book in the castle and the many girls who had been turned into flowers. “I thought all magic was good.”
“Do you think all magic is good?” Salman asked him, his eyes reflecting the same sadness they held when they first met.
Alai thought he had said something wrong. “I haven’t experienced magic. It’s just…”
Salman nodded. “Magic is just magic. The difference between a blessing and a curse lies in the person who uses it.”
“But sometimes it also depends on the person who is affected by the magic.” Seeing Alai’s serious expression, Salman added, “The same curse that is a shackle for me is considered a blessing by my adventurer friend. The extra strength imposed on him didn’t make him despondent or sad. Instead, it made him more positive. I admire him for that.”
In fact, sometimes Salman even suspected that Charlie’s mentality was so good that nothing in the world could bring him down.
Alai, however, was focused on something else. He said in surprise, “Mr. Salman, are you cursed too?”
He anxiously scrutinized Salman, trying to find something unusual about him.
Seeing Alai’s worried expression, Salman reassured him, “Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”
Alai stopped moving and looked at Salman seriously.
“I’m sorry,” Alai said. “But I think this is something to worry about.”
Salman asked impulsively, “Why?”
Alai was taken aback. He thought for a while before solemnly replying, “Just now you said the curse is a shackle for you. You are a traveler, right? A traveler with shackles is like a bird in a cage. I hope you can be happier and not encounter any bad things.”
Salman looked at Alai, and Alai looked back at him.
“We’ve only known each other for three days,” Salman said softly. “Do you care about every new person you meet this much?”
Alai was at a loss again. He wasn’t good with words and originally wanted to think carefully before answering, but for some reason, when he saw Salman’s gray eyes, he found it hard to hide his true feelings.
“No one else,” Alai said. “I can’t explain why, but you are the only one I just met and care about so much.”
Salman didn’t continue asking. After they finished eating, he insisted that Alai take the leftover pies and desserts home and even escorted him back.
Alai sensed that their conversation tonight had a heavy undertone but couldn’t pinpoint the issue. He hesitantly looked at Salman, unsure how to start a conversation.
But Salman didn’t let him struggle for long. He asked, “Alai, can I come see you again tomorrow?”
Alai looked at him in surprise, not understanding how Salman could address his worries without any direct communication.
“Of course,” Alai said.
Salman smiled at him, and Alai, feeling reassured, smiled back before turning to go home.
Salman kept smiling until Alai disappeared among the low houses. Then he slowly retracted his smile and walked back to the inn, recalling the letters he had received the night before.
Emerald had brought two letters. The first was from Charlie, briefly detailing his experiences after falling into the “door” and his high-profile return. Salman was genuinely happy for him. The second letter was from Erica.
Erica’s writing style was as straightforward as she was. She informed Salman that the sixth princess of the Empire had introduced her to a Grand Magus, and she had anonymously sought the Grand Magus’ insights on his curse. The answer was that the curse wasn’t unbreakable.
“I apologize for acting without your consent,” Erica wrote. “But I do not seek your forgiveness and will continue to explore ways to break the curse.”
Even though Erica hadn’t explained her reasons, Salman knew why she did it. Therefore, he didn’t reply immediately. On one hand, he didn’t know how to respond. On the other hand, he had found Alai.
Their attraction to each other under the influence of the curse had become an instinct. After the first meeting, every subsequent encounter brought more sorrow than joy. Under normal circumstances, such a premise was unlikely to foster love, let alone a relationship destined to end in death and sadness. During his long search and wait, Salman had often wondered how much of this obsession and emotion was genuine and how much was due to the curse’s compulsion. But doubt and struggle were meaningless.
They had no choice, but Erica did.
Salman didn’t want to give her any unrealistic responses, but the letter did rekindle a spark of hope in his heart, like throwing a smoldering twig into the ashes of a dying fire.
This curse wasn’t unbreakable. No one but himself could understand what that meant to Salman.
The fairies hated his love so much that they not only made him immortal but also cursed him to watch his loved ones’ lives enter a countdown upon meeting him. Love and death went hand in hand. It was hard to say whether the curse was crueler to him or his loved ones.
Alai was still so young. Even though he had experienced the pain of his father’s death, he probably hadn’t seriously thought about death.
“If you only had seven days to live, what would you want to do?” Alai was stumped by the question. He had never imagined such a novel scenario. But because Mr. Salman asked, he thought about it seriously for a long time.
Seven days was too short. Alai couldn’t think of a way to take care of his mother and brother and ensure they wouldn’t be too sad about his passing. Finally, he said dejectedly, “I don’t know. If I only had seven days left, I would probably work desperately to finish my current job and make sure the payment goes to my mother.”
Salman tried not to look into his eyes. “What if you didn’t have to die?”
Alai didn’t understand why Mr. Salman looked so sad again. He carefully answered, “If I could avoid death, would I have to pay a price greater than death?”
Salman didn’t reply.
Alai continued thinking, “What’s more important than myself should be the people I love, right? If the price is that, then I would rather choose to face death.”
“Is that what you think?” Salman asked softly.
Alai worriedly watched Salman’s expression, but Salman soon stopped dwelling on the question.
He asked Alai to take a day off. They bought bread, jam, drinks, and a roasted chicken, packing it all into a large bag. Alai led Salman to the outskirts to look for herbs.
Salman told Alai he was an amateur herbalist and liked to find local herbs wherever he went. But Alai thought he seemed more like he was on a leisurely outing. They wandered aimlessly for most of the day, and Salman even helped Alai find a mineral that could be ground into paint.
“Mr. Salman, you are truly knowledgeable,” Alai admired. “I never knew these stones could be used like this!”
“I happened to know a paint merchant once. He shared a bit of his trade secrets with me,” Salman said with a smile. “If you live to my age…”
He suddenly stopped, as if recalling something unpleasant, and didn’t continue.
Alai didn’t notice this and continued, “No, no, I don’t have that much knowledge. Even if I live longer, it would be the same. Besides, you aren’t that much older than me.”
Salman said, “You underestimate yourself. The future holds many possibilities. You might go to a bigger city and become a street artist. Perhaps you’ll meet a merchant by chance, start as an assistant, and smoothly accumulate wealth, settling in a warm southern city. Or maybe you’ll discover a passion and talent for learning, make contributions in a certain field, and be recognized by the city.”
Alai couldn’t help but laugh. “But I can’t imagine that. Someone like me doesn’t seem destined for success.”
Salman’s feelings were extremely complex. He could have told Alai that the various lives he described were all people Salman had met before: a young artist pursuing freedom, a cautious and shrewd middle-aged merchant, a gentle and elegant scholar, even a pure and innocent noble maiden, a serious and kind factory worker—normal people wouldn’t believe such things. They would most likely think Salman was insane.
“This is the second time you’ve said that,” Salman said, looking at Alai. “‘Someone like me’… I don’t want you to talk about yourself that way.”
Alai was stunned for a moment, but Salman didn’t seem to realize what he had said and didn’t further explain. He kept walking forward.
Suddenly, an unknown courage made Alai stand still and, without caring, shout to Salman, “Then, in your view, what kind of person am I?”
Alai regretted the words almost as soon as he said them, but it was too late. Salman had heard.
Salman turned around and saw that Alai’s forehead was flushed.
“I just, just…” Alai stammered for a long time but couldn’t finish his sentence.
But Salman answered seriously, without much hesitation, as if he had prepared the answer even before Alai asked.
“To me, you are as precious as a star,” Salman said gently.
A star that seems within reach but can never be truly touched. He kept this thought to himself, but it was enough for Alai. The young man’s expression changed from awkwardness to disbelief, and finally to bright joy.
“I didn’t dare to say it before, afraid you would laugh at me.” Alai took two steps forward, standing very close to Salman. “Though it was just a hypothetical question, I did secretly think that you were one of the people I wouldn’t want to exchange my life for.”
Salman thought his feelings had turned to ashes, but Alai shattered that illusion every time.
“It turns out I still have tears inside me.” Salman thought as he hugged Alai tightly, burying his face in the young man’s shoulder, not letting anyone see his expression.
……
“What did you do to Emerald? It looks furious,” Erica asked, leaning against the door.
Charlie casually stuffed a piece of ribbon into a drawer.
“Just a little joke. It always scares the little birds, so tying a bell to it might help,” Charlie said. “I guessed you would come over soon.”
He pushed Salman’s letter towards Erica.
Erica remained expressionless. “I won’t read it—it’s his reply to you.”
“Alright. You can probably guess the content. He had an accident on the way, a heavy sign fell without warning. The doctor will stay there for a while until the grieving mother and brother are properly arranged.”
Erica nodded.
“Do you need to send a letter? Emerald doesn’t hold grudges and can do it after tomorrow.”
“No.” Erica pondered for a moment, turned to leave, but hesitated.
“I’m not trying to interfere,” Erica muttered. “It’s just…”
“He shouldn’t have to bear this,” Charlie said gently. “Salman understands. We all hope he can be a bit more at ease.”
We.
Erica raised an eyebrow, watching Charlie rummage through his messy desk and pull out a letter from under some thick books, handing it to her.
“Dwight wrote this two days ago, for Princess Leonoxi to give to the Emperor. We all think those pampered old men need a bit of pressure,” Charlie said cheerfully. “Here.”
Erica couldn’t help but smile as she took the letter, her gaze inevitably pausing on the opened letter in Charlie’s hand for a second.
She then waved, expressing her thanks to the shopkeeper and the Duke, and left the study.
The author has something to say:
I’ve been keeping an eye out, and no one seems to have guessed who Erica’s love interest is. Since none of them can be considered a happy ending, I hesitated about writing it, but I still wanted to.
Kinky Translations 