Joshua suddenly let out a piercing scream, jumping up from his seat and shouting in alarm, “What is this?!”
His enemy leisurely walked out from under the table, swishing its tail. “Meow.”
The prisoners burst into laughter.
“Oh, it’s just a cat,” Alois said, shoulders shaking. “A black cat. Don’t worry. It won’t hurt you. Have you never seen such a creature before?”
The cat meowed again, its amber eyes with almond-shaped pupils.
Joshua calmed down, returning to his indifferent demeanor. “No. I’ve only seen a creature called a panther. This cat looks a bit like its cub.” He looked at the cat rubbing against his foot, puzzled. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s hungry. Give it some food.”
Without thinking, Joshua picked up the broccoli from his tray. Alois sighed. “It doesn’t eat that.” He picked out a grilled fish, threw it on the ground, and the cat sniffed it before eating contentedly.
“…Can I kill this little beast?” Joshua frowned. It was eating better than humans!
“Of course not. It’s the warden’s pet. If you do, you won’t see tonight’s moon.”
The cat quickly finished the fish, then leapt onto the bench, eyeing the remaining food on the tray. Joshua hurriedly shielded his tray, afraid the cat would do something irreversible.
The cat squinted, showing an expression that could only be described as “disdain”, then turned to Alois.
“Don’t look at me! Shoo, go find your owner!” Alois shooed the black cat away.
As soon as Alois finished speaking, a commotion erupted at the cafeteria door. The prisoners, who had been sitting and eating, stood up in waves like a human tide. The governor and warden of Hecate, surrounded by a crowd of guards, made his entrance. The warden was a middle-aged man with a perpetually sorrowful face, deep nasolabial folds that spoke of professional misfortune. In his youth, he might have been known as a melancholic handsome man, but now he was just a balding, chubby middle-aged man.
The warden surveyed the crowd, and everyone stood at attention, afraid of being beaten for showing disrespect. In Hecate, the warden’s authority was second only to the head chef’s. The warden’s gaze swept across everyone’s faces, finally stopping on Joshua and Alois. His previously dull eyes suddenly lit up, burning with an intensity that made them shiver.
Just when they thought this malicious man was going to make their lives miserable, the warden suddenly squatted down, opening his arms joyfully and shouting, “Schrödinger! My dear little sweetheart. You’re here after all!”
The black cat jumped down from the bench, running into his arms. The warden lovingly stroked the cat’s smooth fur, choking up. “You little rascal, you scared Daddy to death. Daddy thought something happened to you! Don’t run off next time. You know there are a lot of creepy uncles here who love to eat cat meat…” He kept muttering as he turned and walked out the door, leaving the crowded cafeteria behind. The guards coughed awkwardly, waving for everyone to sit down. The cafeteria returned to its noisy state.
Joshua put the tray back on the table, his eyes glinting as he asked Alois, “So… cats are edible?”
“What are you planning?!”
In the dark expanse of space, a ship blacker than darkness was speeding towards its destination: a desolate planet on the edge of the galaxy, the prison planet Hecate.
After dinner, the prisoners began their colorful nightlife. The game room was the most popular spot, but not everyone could secure a place there. The fight for spots often involved bloody violence and body trading. In his first month at Hecate, Alois secured a reserved spot by the pool table.
However, today he had no interest in facing the jeers of his fellow inmates in the game room. Gathering a few clothes, Alois headed to the bathroom. As soon as he walked in, he was once again taken aback by the scene before him.
Joshua Planck, using his incredible intelligence, luck, and humility in asking questions, had found the bathroom without Alois Lagrange’s guidance. Now he was nonchalantly bathing amidst a group of burly, energetic men. Alois swallowed, greedily watching as water soaked Joshua’s silky silver hair, flowing down his smooth back, sliding into the cleft of his ass, and then down his straight, long legs. Joshua’s skin glowed like some kind of jade, looking even more lustrous when wet. Just imagining the smooth texture made Alois want to rush over and press Joshua against the wall for a rough assault.
While he was indulging in his fantasies, a dirty hand ruined the beautiful scene.
“Hey, little chick, are you new?” Johnson Caron leered, slapping Joshua’s butt, eliciting laughter from those around. “Pretty fresh. Wanna have a go with me?”
Joshua looked at him coldly. “Take your hand off.”
“Oh, I’m so scared. Daddy, come save me!” Johnson Caron mimicked in a shrill voice, then chuckled.
“I’ll repeat, take your hand off.”
Johnson ignored the threat, instead pinching the pale skin. Joshua stepped back, trying to shake off the big man, but his wrist was grabbed.
“Let go!” The silver-haired man’s eyes narrowed, the black and gold irises glaring like a beast in the misty bathroom air.
Johnson whistled, intending to continue his harassment.
“I hate repeating myself more than three times.” Joshua grabbed the big man’s arm, twisting it lightly. With a crisp “crack”, Johnson howled and collapsed on the floor.
“My hand! My hand!” He rolled on the ground, splashing water everywhere. Joshua frowned and wiped his hands with a towel.
The guards outside heard the commotion and tried to come in. Alois blocked the door, saying casually, “It’s nothing. Johnson slipped and broke his arm.”
The guards hesitated, glancing at the big man on the ground, then at “boss” Alois Lagrange, nodding as if nothing had happened.
Alois turned to the others in the bathroom. “What are you standing around for? Help him to the infirmary!”
The men snapped out of their daze, hastily lifting the big man and, guided by the guards, carried him out. As they passed Alois, he pinched the big man’s broken hand hard, making him scream like a pig being slaughtered.
“That’s what you get for touching what’s mine!”
“Sorry… Lagrange. I didn’t know he was…”
“Now you know. Do it again, and I’ll break your dick!” Alois threatened, then walked into the bathroom. If it were Joshua, he might really break Johnson’s dick. Today, Alois had experienced that excruciating pain…
He walked over to Joshua, who was clumsily soaping his back.
“You shouldn’t have broken Johnson’s hand. He’s quite influential in Hecate, and he might retaliate.” For some reason, Alois familiarly took the soap, helping Joshua wash his back as if they had known each other for years.
“He needs the ability to do so.” Joshua yawned, silently enjoying Alois’s service. In return, he allowed the “boss” to sneak a feel.
Alois lathered up, finding it hard to believe the silver-haired man’s apparent docility. He continued to greedily stroke the smooth skin, suddenly feeling like he was petting Schrödinger. “In a one-on-one fight, Johnson isn’t your match. But what if he gathers a group to ambush you in a dark alley? Can you guard against a sneak attack?”
“Ah… isn’t that what you’re for?”
“…!” Alois felt a warm rush in his nose. He wiped at it with emotion, only to find blood on his hand.
Joshua noticed the person behind him suddenly freeze. “What’s wrong, Lagrange?”
Fang Xiu opened his eyes and saw the ground standing upright.
It took him a few seconds to realize that he was lying on the ground, with his right cheek pressed against the dirt. Dizzyingly, Fang Xiu got up, still a bit dazed.
He heard a muffled sound of a suona in his ears, the sound intermittently breaking off, making it unclear whether it was music of celebration or mourning. Fang Xiu focused to listen, but the sound disappeared again.
It was dark and cold around him. Not far away, a circle of large red lanterns swayed gently.
Fang Xiu finally fully woke up. Those lanterns were clearly a dozen meters away—his room wasn’t this big.
One moment he was lying in his bed, the next he had fallen into this dilapidated place.
His pajamas were gone, inexplicably replaced by a bright red T-shirt. He recognized this T-shirt; it was a gift from his family that he really liked.
What the hell?!
Could it be that he died suddenly in his sleep and was cremated wearing his favorite T-shirt, ending up in the underworld without any transition? Fang Xiu hurriedly patted his body all over. His breathing was steady, and his heartbeat was strong. He was probably still alive.
Being alive is good, he thought with a sigh of relief.
…Then he exhaled right onto the face in front of him.
Fang Xiu: “?”
A face had somehow appeared in front of him, less than half a meter away.
The face was pale as paper, with a stiff smile on its mouth. The eyes weren’t arranged left and right like a normal person’s, but vertically in a “two” shape, with the corners of the eyes tearing outward. Judging by the features, the face seemed to belong to a child of six or seven, but it floated at Fang Xiu’s height—it hovered like a mask in the darkness, emitting the smell of burning paper.
Fang Xiu: “…!”
Thank God, finally someone to ask for directions.
Since he was a child, he never had any particular thoughts about demons and ghosts. Whether he encountered an evil person or an evil ghost, at worst, he’d lose his life. Besides, if one compared the cruelty of humans and evil spirits, the result wasn’t really clear-cut.
Encountering a strange ghost was no different from encountering a strange person.
Fang Xiu flashed a friendly smile. “Hello.”
The face returned a more enthusiastic smile but didn’t speak or move, which disappointed Fang Xiu a little. However, since there was someone here, there might be others nearby.
He calmly shifted his gaze and moved toward the red lanterns.
The face froze for a moment, then swiftly floated back in front of Fang Xiu, almost nose to nose.
Too close. That’s a bit rude.
Fang Xiu frowned and stepped around the face as if it were forcefully handing out flyers.
The smile on the face slowly disappeared, and it persistently floated back in front of Fang Xiu. The two pairs of eyes stared silently at each other; it was hard to say whose expression was more speechless.
After a few rounds of blocking, Fang Xiu stopped in cooperation.
It wasn’t because he had a particularly good temper, but because, although the circle of red lanterns seemed close, after walking five or six meters, it felt like he was just walking in place. Perhaps he had taken a wrong turn, and the face was reminding him.
Fang Xiu calmly said, “Hello, do you need something?”
The face gradually distorted. “…Is that all you want to ask?”
Its voice was sharp and unpleasant, filled with a lot of displeasure.
“So you can speak!” Fang Xiu was pleasantly surprised. “Could you please tell me how to get out of here?”
This question seemed to trigger a keyword, and the face immediately perked up. It floated around Fang Xiu in a circle, laughing grimly. “Leave here? You think too soon, you think too soon.”
“Those who come here are all living sacrifices, meant to ward off disasters. You have to survive eight sacrificial rituals to earn a way out…”
The face spoke theatrically, and Fang Xiu listened very intently. As time passed, he gradually understood the situation:
The underworld had kidnapped him.
The underworld had trapped him in this place called the “Disaster Relief Tower”.
The underworld wanted him, a living person, to serve as a sacrifice, surviving through some sort of ritual to fulfill a survival KPI in order to leave.
It sounded like being forced to work for free, and in a high-risk job at that. Fang Xiu looked at the face that was talking non-stop, and his mood gradually darkened. “Aside from ‘leaving here’, is there any other reward?”
The face: “Huh?”
Rewards? Would a normal person consider rewards at a time like this?
From the beginning, it had tried hard to create a terrifying atmosphere. Who knew this person would be so thick-skinned? It had said everything it needed to say and followed the entire procedure, yet inexplicably, it felt frustrated.
For example, right now, it should be throwing out the “ultimate reward” as bait when the other person felt hopeless and scared.
However—
“If you just needed a living sacrifice, you could have knocked me out and thrown me onto the altar,” Fang Xiu stated matter-of-factly. “Yet you pointed out the way out and explained the rules. If I survive, it seems to benefit you.”
Fang Xiu’s words were polite, but his face was clearly saying, “The underworld is a millennia-old establishment. Don’t be so stingy.”
The face: “……”
“If you manage to survive eight rituals, the underworld will grant you a wish.” No matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t regain control of the conversation, and the face’s expression looked a bit deflated.
“Any wish?” Fang Xiu’s eyebrows twitched.
The face reluctantly added, “No, the wish must be within the bounds of your karma.”
It spoke ambiguously, but fortunately, Fang Xiu had heard similar things before.
Within the bounds of karma meant that the wish’s subject must have some connection to Fang Xiu himself. The content of the wish should also be related and cannot go beyond reality.
For example, Fang Xiu couldn’t wish for a public figure he had no connection with to streak naked, nor could he wish for aliens to visit his house. But he could ask for an enemy to hang themselves or for himself to win the lottery.
It was more or less what he had guessed. The reward was reasonable.
Given the current situation, he was in an unfamiliar place with no way to resist the underworld on his own. Now that he was here, he might as well make the best of it.
“I understand. Shall we go?” Fang Xiu’s enthusiasm returned.
This time, as Fang Xiu approached, the face floated away, looking as if it were hesitating over its lines.
“By the way, is there any other support?”
Fang Xiu continued to approach. “I’m not a professional. The idea of a living sacrifice is pretty terrifying. You’re not expecting me to go in unarmed…”
“Don’t rush. We’ll talk when we get there,” the face said dispiritedly, floating further away.
……
With the face as his guide, Fang Xiu finally approached the circle of red lanterns.
As soon as he stepped into the circle of lanterns, everything around him suddenly lit up. The light, which came from an unknown source, was particularly cold and pale.
Fang Xiu found himself standing in an old courtyard, with the lanterns securely hung along the eaves of the surrounding buildings.
In the middle of the courtyard was a long incense burner, resembling a coffin. The incense burner was painted blood red, and it was crowded with incense sticks inside, giving off a strange sweet, metallic smell.
Behind the incense burner stood a wooden staircase leading up to the second floor, disappearing into the darkness. The sky above the courtyard was equally pitch black, making it feel as if the courtyard was built inside a tomb—strange and oppressive.
Sounds of sharp gasps echoed around him.
Fang Xiu quickly turned his head to look. As it turned out, he wasn’t the only unlucky person here. There were seven others.
The others had been led here by different faces, each looking equally terrified. The middle-aged woman closest to Fang Xiu was shaking uncontrollably; the thin, dark-skinned man opposite him had wet his pants, reeking of urine.
The most composed one was a young man, who managed to stay relatively calm, though his face was pale, and cold sweat covered his forehead.
“Everyone’s here—”
The eight faces called out in unison. As their voices fell, a child-sized paper figure peeked out from behind the incense burner.
The paper figure had a blank face and was dressed in a red jacket adorned with paper flowers. Its body shape didn’t reveal its gender.
The eight faces lined up neatly, sticking to the blank face of the paper figure. They layered one over the other, fitting together seamlessly, as if they were a part of the paper figure.
As the faces returned to their place, the paper figure’s facial features became more three-dimensional, and its smile grew wider and wider.
Unfortunately, the face that had greeted Fang Xiu wore a pained expression, not quite fitting in. As the eighth face settled in, the paper figure’s eerie grin twisted into an awkward but polite smile.
The paper figure tried to pull its mouth back into place, pretending nothing had happened. “…Don’t panic, don’t be afraid. We know none of you are from the metaphysical world. Since we brought you here, naturally, we’ll provide some means of protection.”
Means of protection!
Hearing this, the other seven people seemed to find hope in their desperate situation, their eyes suddenly brightening with a glimmer of optimism.
“What kind of protection?” the relatively calm young man asked first.
He had a dignified appearance and was dressed in an expensive shirt and trousers. He took two steps forward, showing a bit of leadership quality, drawing everyone’s attention to him.
The paper figure clearly appreciated this development. It chuckled and reached into the incense burner, pulling out a filthy bamboo tube.
On the bamboo tube, large characters were engraved:
[The Fate of the Nine Springs*, Never Parting in This Life]
*It’s a poetic way to refer to the underworld/the afterlife.
“Congratulations, everyone, congratulations!” the paper figure said joyfully. “The evil spirits will assist you—do not waste this chance—”
“All you need to do is draw a lot, and you can summon a fierce ghost to stay by your side. Having a ghost guard you is a great fortune!”
Wonderful, a ghost with you 24/7. Judging by the expressions on the others’ faces, no one was thrilled by this “good news”.
The composed young man asked with difficulty, “The fierce ghosts won’t harm us, right?”
“Of course they will. Evil spirits, after all, are naturally like this.”
The paper figure’s mouth almost reached up to its cheekbones. “So, you have to negotiate with them properly and establish a contract beforehand. Once everything is settled, we’ll start the rituals.”
“What if the negotiation fails…”
The paper figure: “If you can’t, you die. There’s no other way. You don’t have to summon them, but you do so at your own risk.”
The young man immediately froze in place.
Fang Xiu could guess what he was thinking.
They had all been dragged to the underworld to serve as living sacrifices, and their opponents were likely to be all sorts of demons and ghouls. When the time came, if everyone had a fierce ghost by their side and you didn’t, it was pretty clear who would get into trouble first.
Even if you fail to negotiate with the fierce ghost and die tonight, at least it would be a quick death instead of a prolonged agony.
Sure enough, the composed young man took a deep breath and bravely accepted the bamboo tube. He shakily drew a lot. From a distance, Fang Xiu couldn’t see the characters on it.
Following the paper figure’s instructions, the young man inserted the lot into the ground. The ground seemed to be pierced, and a thick cloud of gray smoke spewed out. When the smoke cleared, there was a figure standing there.
*Referring to the demon in the short story by Chinese writer Pu Songling from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio. You can read the story by going to the Wikipedia. TLDR: Demon put on human skin and try to seduce a human.
This ghost’s features were unmistakable—Miss Painted Skin’s human skin was misaligned, her facial features were distorted, her eyes nearly drooping to her neck, and her skin was covered in terrifying wrinkles.
Looks like she didn’t iron her clothes before coming, Fang Xiu thought.
Miss Painted Skin grinned with a mouth that stretched all the way down her throat, giggling non-stop. The young man who summoned her almost lost his balance, and two people threw up on the spot.
“Next,” the paper figure sang in a drawn-out tone.
It was obvious to anyone that, as a “means of protection”, this Painted Skin ghost was definitely strong. The composed young man set an example, and people, bracing against their fear, began to draw lots with trembling hands.
Various strangely shaped evil spirits appeared one after another, each similar in style to Miss Painted Skin—the fierce ghosts, though bizarre, were all humanoid and seemed capable of communication.
Apart from a panic-stricken woman who refused to draw a lot no matter what, Fang Xiu was seventh in line to the bamboo tube.
You can’t rely on others. It’s better to rely on yourself. Fang Xiu didn’t plan to place all his hopes on a fierce ghost.
Please, it’s okay if it’s weak or ugly, just give me one that’s easy to talk to. Fang Xiu prayed silently as he shook the lot tube covered in incense ashes.
Click, click, click.
An extremely worn-out lot jumped out.
Fang Xiu carefully picked up the lot and saw eight dark red characters: [Death, Death, Death, Death, Death, Death, Death, Death]
How straightforward. No need for interpretation. The only problem was that it seemed to suggest that the entity opposite might not be very easy to talk to.
Fang Xiu: “Can I give up the summoning?”
Retreating when things go south is also a strategy.
“No,” the paper figure replied concisely.
For some reason, the paper figure looked more puzzled than gloating. It suspiciously examined the lot for a while, then counted the remaining lots in the tube.
Resigned, Fang Xiu sighed and stuck the unlucky lot into the ground.
This time, instead of gray smoke, the ground released a pure white mist. As the mist slowly dissipated, it revealed… a left hand.
The hand was very beautiful. The fingers were long and graceful, and the skin was flawless like jade. The fingers were slightly curled, the index finger slightly relaxed, in a gesture that resembled a lotus bud.
In the dim and hazy surroundings, the ghost hand seemed to emit a faint white glow.
Fang Xiu held his breath and waited for the owner of the ghost hand to appear. But after a while, the ghost hand still stood quietly in place, revealing only the palm and wrist.
He gently tugged at the hand, but it was cold, stiff, and unmoving.
Fang Xiu: “……”
The good news was that this thing didn’t seem very aggressive.
The bad news was, how was he supposed to communicate with just a hand? Become pen pals?
But the urgent matter wasn’t that. He needed to figure out how to take it with him. Fang Xiu flexed his wrist and squatted down in front of the left hand.
“Does anyone have a shovel?” he asked.
The author has something to say:
Starting a new project—! Right on the last day, just like me.
The comment section for this story is open without restrictions. Daily updates every evening at 7:00 PM, with advance notice for any breaks (^ρ^)/
A few rambling notes on reading:
★ This novel will have a Happy Ending. It’s set in a purely fictional world, leaning toward traditional local supernatural style.
★ Feel free to point out any typos or mistakes. As long as I see them during the serialization period, I’ll give a small reward for corrections!
★ Important: Please refrain from posting comments about ‘breaking up the main CP’. They are locked, and the key is welded into my stomach ←
Happy reading! And please don’t let the story get too fat from lack of updates_(:D」∠)_
Kinky Thoughts:
When this project was announced, I was ecstatic since I’m a big fan of Unlimited/Infinite flow novels and I can always count on my favorite author to write up a masterpiece. Though it has been stated this is pseudo-infinite flow.
For those who like infinite flow novels, you can check out these works I’ve done: Midnight Owl, Escape from the Asylum or check our My Recs for IF novels I’ve read and enjoyed.
The initial encounter between Alois Lagrange and Joshua Planck was quite unpleasant, as Alois was in the middle of an enjoyable activity with one of his bedmates, Seth. Suddenly, the cell door opened, and a guard walked in with a new prisoner.
“Hi, Lagrange,” the guard said flatly, as if discussing the weather. “This is your new roommate. Get to know each other.”
“Couldn’t you have picked a better time?” Alois glared. Underneath him, Seth whimpered. “Why did you have to put this guy in my cell?”
“This cell happened to have an empty bed,” the guard replied nonchalantly. “And you’re probably the only one in Hecate who can keep him under control. Do your best, Lagrange. We’re all betting on who will survive the longest. I’ve got a hundred bucks on you, so don’t let me down.”
“Enough!”
Alois had been through many ups and downs and was no stranger to unexpected situations in life. He wouldn’t be discouraged by being interrupted in the middle of a piston motion. However, Seth’s mental resilience was clearly not as strong. The young man let out a sob, and his ass tightened abruptly. Then…
“Fuck! Seth, you… I… can’t… pull out…” Alois immediately wanted to find a hole to hide in.
“Oh, this looks really bad,” the guard said regretfully. His subtext was, “Too bad it didn’t crush your damn dick.” “Do you need me to call a doctor? Dr. Pythagoras would be happy to help.”
At this point, the new prisoner spoke up. “I can help. I have a medical license.”
Before Alois could agree, the prisoner stepped forward, grabbed the base of his penis, and gave it a hard pull—
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” Alois’s scream echoed through the entire prison.
“Got it out.” The prisoner shrugged at the guard, who looked admiringly at him.
“As expected from someone with a medical license!”
Alois collapsed on the bed, covering his crotch. Seth, sobbing, got dressed and fled.
The guard clapped his hands. “Alright, it’s touching to see you help each other on your first meeting. This aligns with our tradition of mutual assistance in Hecate. Keep up the good spirit! Goodbye.” He turned and left the cell. The computer-controlled iron door clanged shut, separating the inside and outside worlds.
Alois wiped away the tears of pain from the corners of his eyes and tried to put on a brave face. He was the boss of the Hecate men’s prison now, and he couldn’t afford to lose face in front of a newcomer.
“Alright, newbie, I’ll let it slide since you’re new here. I’m Alois Lagrange. And you?”
“Joshua Planck.”
Alois climbed out of the lower bunk, intending to give the newcomer an unconventional lesson, but he froze, mouth agape, unable to utter a word.
The man before him was tall and lean, but not frail. The thin gray prison uniform clung to him, faintly outlining his muscular lines, making him look like a sleek leopard. The man had long, silver hair that flowed like a waterfall, draping casually over his shoulders without appearing messy. His facial features were deeply chiseled, like a statue of an ancient Greek hero from Neo-Athens. And his eyes—his irises were black, but there was a golden ring around his pupils, like a solar eclipse’s corona, or a glow emanating from the depths of a dark abyss.
Alois had been in prison for two years, and his sense of aesthetics had been forcibly altered. The galactic diva Camilla was no longer his dream girl; he had learned to appreciate the qualities of men. The man before him was undoubtedly a beautiful specimen, with a slightly aloof expression and a magnetic bracelet on his wrist that added a touch of asceticism, making Alois’s blood boil. He couldn’t help but imagine the silver-haired man in various enticing poses on the bed, and his recently abused member sprang back to life.
Joshua noticed his erection too. “Good physical condition,” he said with a slight smile.
“This is all your fault, Joshua Planck,” Alois said, not hiding his excitement. He leaned back on the bed, slightly raising his chin as if inviting Joshua forward. “You’re too beautiful, making me have improper thoughts.”
“Although it’s not the first time I’ve heard such a ‘compliment’, I’m still pleased.” The silver-haired man stood still, making Alois a bit anxious.
“Since you started the fire, you have to put it out.”
Alois thought Joshua would refuse, but to his surprise, he calmly said, “Alright, since I have a medical license.”
He approached slowly, knelt between Alois’s legs, and wrapped his long fingers around the erect desire, skillfully manipulating it. Alois sighed in satisfaction, feeling the calluses on Joshua’s fingertips, knowing they came from long-term gun use. The slight pain enhanced the pleasure, and as the ecstasy reached its peak, the stroking became faster and faster. Just as Alois was about to climax, Joshua suddenly squeezed hard—
“Ahhhhhhhh!” Alois’s scream pierced the sky of Hecate.
“You… You…” Alois rolled in pain, his penis completely incapacitated.
Joshua calmly washed his hands at the sink, as if nothing had happened. “You asked me to put out the fire, and now it’s out.” And it wouldn’t reignite for a long time.
Alois pounded the bed fiercely, seriously considering the possibility of pushing Joshua Planck into a mine pit to kill him.
By dinner time, Alois’s crotch was still throbbing with pain, but at least he could stand up and walk. He hobbled out of the cell, merging into the flow of prisoners heading to the cafeteria. Joshua followed closely behind.
“Stop following me!” Alois turned and snarled.
“I’m new here and know nothing. You have to guide me.” The silver-haired man smiled and added, “Senior.”
The guards waved their batons, making the prisoners line up to get their meals. A robot handled the food distribution, giving different dishes based on dietary balance, personal preferences, and the prison’s budget. When it was Joshua’s turn, the robot gave him a few seemingly burnt small fish, two pieces of bread, and a large spoonful of onions.
“I hate onions.”
So the robot replaced the onions with fresh, green broccoli.
“I hate broccoli too.”
The robot’s eyes glowed red, and it played a recording of a middle-aged woman shouting, “You’re lucky to get food at all! Eat it or leave it!”
Joshua disgustedly took the broccoli.
“Don’t look like you just ate a fly.” Alois led him to a table. “You have to get used to prison food. Do you expect five-star hotel treatment here? And you better not leave any food, or you’ll get beaten up by the chefs.”
“This place is awful,” the silver-haired man vented his frustration on the broccoli with a plastic fork.
“No kidding!” said a small, thin man sitting across the table. His eyes were darting around like a cunning rat. “The worst place in the galaxy, the galactic garbage dump, Hecate!”
A burly man next to him let out a booming laugh. “Haha, Lagrange, we all heard the screams from your cell today. Oh, what a commotion!”
Alois’s face turned pale.
The thin man said, “Lagrange, you’re too greedy. You’ve monopolized all the handsome guys in the prison, even the new beauty. You should leave some for us brothers!”
“Yeah!” the burly man echoed. “Since you have a new favorite, give Seth to me! You must be tired of him by now…”
Alois breathed a sigh of relief. They had all assumed the earlier scream came from Joshua. Meanwhile, Joshua Planck raised an eyebrow as if contemplating, “Should I reveal the truth? Should I? Should I?”
Alois really wanted to throw all the broccoli in Joshua’s face.
Just as Alois was about to put his plan into action, Joshua suddenly let out a sharp scream and jumped up from his seat.
The man sat with his head bowed, resting with his eyes closed in the cabin.
He remained completely still, and if it weren’t for the faint rise and fall of his chest, he could easily be mistaken for a wax figure. His hands and feet were bound by magnetic shackles, making movement extremely difficult. So he simply sat still, finding it more comfortable that way.
The man had long silver hair that flowed like mercury down his back, with a few strands falling to his chest, covering half of his face.
“Hey,” someone called out to him from nearby. “What brand of shampoo do you use?”
The man opened his eyes and looked in the direction of the voice. The cabin was divided in half by a wire mesh, and the speaker was a woman on the other side of the mesh. They were the only two people in the cabin. The woman was lounging with her legs crossed with a lit cigarette between her fingers. As she spoke, she continuously played with her fiery red hair with her free hand.
“What brand of shampoo do you use?” the woman asked again.
“We both have long hair, so why does mine have so many split ends?” She pulled at her hair in a slightly depressed manner.
“It’s a matter of constitution,” the man replied. The woman raised an eyebrow, noticing that the man had pitch-black eyes with a faint gold ring around the pupils.
“Why aren’t you shackled?” the man asked, seemingly displeased with the disparity in treatment. “Is this gender discrimination?”
“I think it’s individual discrimination.” She stretched like a large cat and moved nimbly to the wire mesh, looking down at the man on the other side. “What did you do to get locked up?”
“I committed all sorts of evil.”
“That’s quite a reason!” The woman laughed heartily, almost doubling over, nearly hanging herself on the wire mesh. She laughed for about three minutes before gradually stopping.
“Your eyes.” She wiped away the tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes. “Black and gold, known as ‘Abyssal Flame’, right? If I remember correctly, only the legendary assassin ‘Mourner’ has those eyes.”
The man nodded politely. “I usually wear contact lenses.”
There were many legends in this galaxy: the headless black-clad woman riding a floating motorcycle, the suspicious old man shuttling through free city states selling eggs, the man who slits women’s throats on remote planets, the space elevators encircling the satellites of the Federal capital…
Among all the galactic legends, the Mourner was the most unique. Because he wasn’t just a legend.
The Mourner was a terrifying assassin with black-gold eyes, poetically called “Abyssal Flame”, which was said to be the gaze of a devil from hell. He habitually wore a black suit akin to mourning attire, with a white flower pinned to his chest, like a mourner attending a funeral. His appearance signaled that a funeral was imminent, as he would personally send his targets to their graves, leaving a white flower on their bodies: a white chrysanthemum for men; a white lily for women.
Thus, he was called “The Mourner”. He was also known as “The Black Blade” or “The Silver Assassin”. Regardless of his nickname, everyone had to admit he was a legendary figure. Sometimes he demanded huge sums from his clients, while other times he worked for free, entirely at his discretion. He had assassinated despotic dictators on remote planets and greedy tycoons in free city states. Some viewed him as a notorious murderer, others as a righteous hero. He was the idol of many hot-blooded youths and the dream lover of countless young girls. He was the top target of many bounty hunters and interstellar police, yet he always remained at large.
No one could catch him, not even touch a single hair on his head. The assassin Mourner was a living legend.
Now, this legendary assassin was sitting on a spaceship bound for the prison planet Hecate, chatting with a strange woman.
“Never thought even the Mourner could fail. I need to reevaluate the abilities of the interstellar police.” The woman took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled slowly.
The Mourner shook his head. “It was my client. He accidentally leaked the plan, implicating me.”
“Oh, a teammate like a pig.”
The assassin nodded in agreement.
“So you’re being sent to Hecate to serve your sentence?” The woman gazed intently at his black-gold eyes.
“I was sentenced to 530 years.” The assassin shrugged. “Sometimes I wish the Empire would reinstate the death penalty.” — In fact, the jury was highly divided on his sentencing; some believed he deserved a heavy sentence, while others thought he should be sent to a museum exhibit.
“Look on the bright side, brother.” The woman waved her hand to disperse the smoke. “You’re still alive, which means you have endless opportunities.”
“I recall Hecate has a nickname, ‘The Infinite Endpoint’.” The Mourner seemed a bit despondent.
“Don’t be like that! You’re too pessimistic!” The woman rummaged through her belongings. “Want a cigarette?” She pulled out a pack of cigarettes, took one out, lit it with her own, and passed it through the wire mesh. The Mourner shifted laboriously on the bench, moved closer to the wire mesh, and bit the cigarette.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, “…Soft Southern Star, a women’s cigarette.”
The woman glared at him. “Be grateful I gave you a cigarette. So picky!”
The Mourner stopped talking.
He quickly finished the cigarette, spat the butt on the floor, and extinguished it with his foot. “What about you?” He tilted his head and asked the woman, “What did you do?”
“Pretty much the same as you. All sorts of evil.” The woman gave a sly smile. “But getting caught was my own fault. I got drunk and was hit over the head in a dark alley. Fortunately, I was saved by a good Samaritan. Unfortunately, that Samaritan was a cop. So I was quickly sent to the dock. Bless the Lord, I never thought the Empire’s bureaucracy could work so efficiently.”
“I’m sorry,” the Mourner tried to say something comforting, but the woman declined.
“No need to pity me. I don’t need it.” The woman spread her arms as if embracing the sky. “My companions will come to rescue me. They will pilot the most advanced spaceship in the galaxy into Hecate’s sky, destroying all shackles! I will eventually gain my freedom!”
At that moment, a mechanical female voice came from the top of the cabin. “The spaceship is about to dock. Repeating, the spaceship is about to dock.”
Doors on either side of the cabin opened, and two fully armed guards walked in. One guard lowered the lock level on the assassin’s magnetic shackles, allowing him to stand and walk. The other guard, with a respectful, almost fearful attitude, put magnetic shackles on the red-haired woman and led her out of the open door.
The woman walked towards the door with her head held high, as if she was going to an award ceremony stage, not a desolate prison planet. She stopped at the door, turned around, and asked, “Assassin, what’s your name?”
“Joshua Planck,” the Mourner replied truthfully.
“I’m Joanna Begrel.”
The assassin widened his eyes.
No wonder the guards didn’t put shackles on her; they didn’t dare and didn’t need to. Simple shackles couldn’t stop this woman. She was Joanna Begrel, owner of the “Lady of the Night”, a famous space pirate, wanted by all planets, and regarded as a hero. In the endless war between the Empire and the Federation, she helped one side defeat the other as a free mercenary and then turned around and did it again. Politicians scornfully called her the “Mad Bitch”, while her former allies and defeated foes respectfully called her the “Mad Queen”.
If the assassin Mourner was a living legend, then Joanna was an undefeated myth.
Alois Lagrange had many “never thought” moments in his life. He never thought his father would die due to non-combat attrition in the Battle of Datia (the official term actually referred to friendly fire), never thought he would be taken in by the National Orphanage, never thought he would enter military school, never thought he would be selected for the Royal Guard, never thought he would become the personal bodyguard of the first heir to the throne, His Highness Annot, never thought His Highness would fall in love with a commoner, and never thought His Highness would assign him to protect that commoner—Miss Leia.
Alois thought his “never thought” life had come to an end at this point, but he had clearly underestimated the God of Fate’s enthusiasm for “playing with humans”. Although he had experienced it before, it was never this profound…
The imperial royal family was a tragedy in every sense: Her Majesty the Queen was a sentimental and timid woman. Her husband, Prince Sorey, was a notorious philanderer with countless lovers and an almost equal number of illegitimate children, and the Queen was powerless against it—perhaps “inaction” would be a better description—she couldn’t stop her husband’s infidelity and could only wallow in self-pity in the depths of the White Radiance Palace, while the hateful Chancellor Greenwald held the reins of power. The future of the Empire, the first heir, Prince Annot, and the second heir, Princess Alveira, each inherited flaws from their mother’s character. Prince Annot was extremely timid, which could be described kindly as gentle and kind-hearted, unable to harm even a fly; Princess Alveira was sentimental and a bit stubborn.
The third heir was the Queen’s cousin, Duke Winnet, who was ambitious and was currently arranging a marriage between his daughter and Prince Annot, hoping to control the Empire as the king’s father-in-law. However, neither party seemed enthusiastic about this. The Duke’s daughter was immersed in her own 2D world, indifferent to the outside world, while Prince Annot had met the beautiful Leia during an outing and fell in love at first sight. This Cinderella-and-prince love story marked a new phase in Alois Lagrange’s life—from “never thought” to “couldn’t have imagined even if beaten to death”.
He couldn’t have imagined, even if beaten to death, that the usually timid prince would be so determined to be with that girl. The prince sent Alois to protect Miss Leia and provide liaison services for their secret meetings. In this aspect, the prince was quite like his father.
But Alois couldn’t have imagined, even if beaten to death, that Duke Winnet would be insane enough to send someone to assassinate Miss Leia.
That dreadful day began on a gloomy morning, with Alois squatting in the bushes near Miss Leia’s house, chewing on a hard piece of bread, and watching her door like a perverted voyeur. Leia lived with her mother, and her father had died years ago in the war between the Empire and the Federation. The two single women were very cautious about their safety and rarely let strangers into their home—so that dreadful day was definitely an exception.
Just as Alois was about to break his teeth on the bread, a man in a suit came to Miss Leia’s door and rang the doorbell. He was carrying a white plastic bag, bulging with unknown contents, possibly cosmetics. Alois thought he was a salesman because he had just rung the bells of all the neighbors, saying something to them with animated gestures, and was then coldly turned away.
The door opened, and Miss Leia, dressed in a white long dress, appeared at the door. The salesman gesticulated enthusiastically, and unlike before, Miss Leia’s makeup-free face showed a look of surprise. She invited the salesman in and then called out loudly enough for Alois to hear. “Mom! There’s free cosmetic samples! Come and see!”
‘Ah, women’s nature,’ Alois thought.
The door closed again. About ten minutes later, the door opened again. The disappointed salesman came out, still carrying the unchanged plastic bag, and closed the door. Alois watched him leave with sympathy.
About an hour later, Alois began to feel something was wrong. Normally, at this time, Miss Leia’s mother would go out shopping, but she hadn’t appeared today. The uneasy bodyguard stepped out of the bushes, not even bothering to brush off the leaves on his body, and went to the door, ringing the bell several times with no response.
Damn it, something’s definitely wrong. Alois circled to the side of the house and looked inside through the living room window. What he saw shocked him—Miss Leia was lying face down on the floor, a dark red pool of blood spreading from her head, and her mother was lying on the sofa, one hand hanging weakly to the floor, with blood extending from the sofa to the floor.
It was that salesman! Alois gritted his teeth. He pushed the window, found it unlocked, and jumped into the living room, quickly going to Miss Leia’s side and checking her carotid artery—there was no pulse. She had been dead for almost an hour. The living room was tidy, with half-eaten breakfast still on the table. It seemed the salesman hadn’t killed for money, and kind Miss Leia couldn’t have provoked such a deadly enmity. There was only one possibility—he was an assassin sent to kill her.
Typically, Alois should have been devastated, full of self-blame. He had let an assassin kill Miss Leia! Prince Annot had sent him to protect her precisely to prevent such an event. He had betrayed the prince’s trust, let two innocent lives perish, and couldn’t absolve himself even in death!
However, Alois had no time for self-blame. Because the house’s front door was smashed open with a bang, and a group of armed police officers rushed into the living room, countless gun barrels pointed at the bodyguard’s head.
“Drop your weapon!” the police shouted.
Alois was stunned and then realized he was mistaken for a suspect. Looking at the scene, it did indeed seem like he had killed the two women. The bodyguard’s face twitched, trying to explain, but was interrupted by the police’s authoritative shout, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court!”
‘I don’t want to remain silent!’ the bodyguard thought. “Wait, listen to me! I’m a member of the Royal Guard, my name is…”
“Seize him!”
Several police officers twisted Alois’s hands and pinned him to the ground.
“I’m Alois Lagrange! I was ordered by Prince Annot to protect Miss Leia… I…”
“Make him shut up!”
A man who looked like a doctor approached with a syringe and injected it into the bodyguard’s neck.
This… this is a mistake! This is an injustice! Alois’s consciousness faded, but he realized that whether it was a mistake or an injustice, it didn’t matter. Someone wanted to kill Miss Leia and then frame him, removing the two closest people to Prince Annot.
When he woke up, Alois was already in prison. He was sent to trial at lightning speed, so fast that if they always worked at this efficiency, the Empire’s crime rate would have dropped to zero long ago. Alois had no chance to defend himself and was sentenced to two hundred thirty years for murder, without parole—thank God the Empire had long abolished the death penalty—and was sent to serve his sentence on the prison planet Hecate.
Before going to Hecate, he met with his former colleague Casper. Casper told him part of the truth. “Prince Annot has been confined to the palace by Her Majesty the Queen,” the young officer said worriedly. “I guess it must have been Duke Winnet who sent someone to assassinate Miss Leia. He always wanted the prince to marry his daughter, but the prince fell in love with a commoner. Her Majesty the Queen considered this a disgrace to the royal family and tacitly approved the Duke’s actions. You became a victim of the conspiracy.”
“…It’s too late to talk about this now.” Alois shook his head. “How is His Highness?”
“He’s very sad. He has attempted suicide several times but was stopped by the Princess. Now he is on a hunger strike,” Casper said. “Lagrange, rest assured, you won’t stay in prison for life. I will find a way to get you out.”
Alois hugged his colleague. Though moved, he knew Casper was just comforting him. Only the dead were those who would leave Hecate.
Hecate was a planet rich in tin mines, home to the Empire’s most terrifying prison. Prisoners on Hecate lose not only their freedom but also have to endure heavy mining labor. In an era where low-end AI and robots were widespread, manual mining was costly and unprofitable. But, thank God, a bunch of prisoners didn’t need profit. It was just something to keep them occupied. Mining was merely a side job.
Alois could never have imagined, even if beaten to death, that he would be exiled to such a place. His life was full of strange twists. Once honored as a member of the Royal Guard, he was now a prisoner. The prison had its own moral standards and codes of conduct, and Alois found that the common sense of the outside world didn’t apply here.
For example, he never thought he would end up sleeping with men. Alois always thought he would only make love to women he liked, and they had to be beautiful, even if not as stunning as the Galactic Diva Camilla, then at least as pure and lovely as Miss Leia. But on the prison planet Hecate, there were only men around him, only male creatures. Even the warden’s pet cat was male! Of course, there were female prisoners on Hecate, but male and female prisoners could only meet once a year, at the annual Christmas party.
So, for the remaining 364 days of the year, Alois had to stay with men. This was quite painful for a young man full of vigor. So he learned to find joy amidst suffering. In prison, if you didn’t take others, others would take you. After Alois thwarted a group of men plotting to assault him in the shower, he decided to take the initiative. Many were willing to offer themselves. After all, Alois was young, handsome, and strong, and being with him meant being under the protection of a powerful person.
Alois never lacked bedmates, but he felt very empty. He knew he lacked a soulmate—a spiritual pillar—someone who understood him and could support him through his 230-year sentence without parole. And this person had never appeared.
Just when Alois Lagrange thought he would waste his life away, as the saying went, he could never have imagined, even if beaten to death, that he would meet “that person” in prison. This person had many nicknames. Admirers called him “The Living Legend of the Galaxy”; others called him “The Black Blade”, or “The Silver Assassin”. In the most widely circulated version, this person was known as “The Mourner”, and his name was Joshua Planck, a killer.
Kinky Thoughts:
I’ve been on a western binge lately. I had an interest in this project for a while now and finally got around to it.
I mean, it has it all, space pirates, assassins, interstellar voyage and warfare—there’s even smut and a switch to boot. What more could I ask for.
Enjoy.
Just a note, the author’s name is an idiom referring to when the lips are gone, the teeth will be cold. It refers to a situation where two things are closely related that the loss of one will directly affect the other.
Charlie followed Alfred across the grass. It seemed that Duke Dwight had left a good portion of the Brandenburg Knights with the children. Even in the dead of night, there were a dozen or so fully armed knights standing guard, their faces hard and cold in the firelight.
He glanced around, noticing that these knights were different from those in his memories. Not to mention others, even little Shiloh had a vastly different demeanor from his predecessors. It appeared that the composition of the knight order changed with each Duke’s personal preferences.
The tents of the two children weren’t far apart, but due to the medication, Priscilla hadn’t been disturbed by the commotion on her brother’s side.
A young attendant lifted the tent flap, and Charlie was greeted by a refreshing breeze that made him squint in pleasure.
The highest point of the large, four-cornered tent had a string of glass windchimes. Whenever the temperature inside the tent rose or fell, they would gently sway, releasing magical particles like fireflies that scattered into every corner.
The comfort level here was worlds apart from the small tents allocated to Charlie and the others. He couldn’t help but think of the Four Seasons book in the young Duke’s carriage after he grew up. It seemed Brandenburg’s luxurious habits were hereditary.
Elaby gestured with his eyes, indicating that everyone else had left the tent. Charlie walked to the bedside and sat cross-legged on the carpet.
After being caught crying, Arnie refused to speak to anyone and remained curled up in bed, unmoving—but he was certainly still awake.
Charlie studied the lump of blankets on the bed, finding it quite amusing.
Although Dwight had an androgynous look, he was almost never mistaken for a girl, largely due to his firm character and excellent bone structure. He was slender but had broad shoulders and long legs, suggesting a promising future.
The first time they met, the young duke standing on the porch of 22 Paulownia Street was still underage, but already taller than many of his peers. Over the next half-year, he continued to grow rapidly, even waking up in pain at night from growing too fast. Now, looking at Dwight from over a decade ago, although hidden under the blankets, he was still small enough to be scooped up with one hand.
It was truly fascinating.
Charlie wanted to lift the blanket to see what a younger, crying Dwight looked like, but he refrained and instead motioned Elaby over. Elaby, confused, walked over and also sat by the bed.
To Elaby’s surprise, Charlie didn’t greet the Young Master but instead started a casual conversation with him.
“Mr. Elaby, why did you choose me?” he asked.
Elaby glanced at Arnie on the bed. The blanket remained still, but Elaby was certain he was listening to the conversation outside.
“I walked through half the town and saw many busy vendors and housewives, as well as old men leisurely basking in the sun, but not many children playing. So, I followed their trail and found you,” Elaby said. “How long did it take for the children to like you so much?”
“They like my stories,” Charlie replied with a smile. “If I gave you my stories, the children would follow you too.”
“But where do you find such stories?” Elaby also smiled.
“Ah, that’s a secret I can only share with you: all my stories are based on true events.”
Elaby understood what Charlie meant. He cleared his throat and continued, “But that’s impossible—talking chickens, old goats, and pigs—I can barely believe they were under some spell, but why do even teapots and soup pots talk?”
“No one would believe it. But that’s the charm of my stories. Although strange, they’re all true. For example, the story of the little chicken Laddy you heard today—it told me that story itself.”
“But I still don’t believe it.”
“I understand. It’s hard to believe without experiencing it firsthand. But there are many strange things in this world—for instance, five years ago, in an unknown forest, I saved a very peculiar animal. It could also talk.”
“I’ve never heard of talking animals in any forest.”
“That’s the strange part. As a novelist, I travel across the continent to gather material. People like me, traveling alone, are very cautious, always carrying enough food and water, along with essential items like a compass and a map. But strangely enough, despite following the map meticulously, I gradually got lost in the dense forest. When I realized I was lost, I had already ventured too far—such a large forest with no markings on the map. So, I kept walking, hoping to find a way out. But God didn’t hear my prayers, and I was lost for three days. My water was running out, and exhaustion made me hallucinate.”
“I vaguely saw something moving between the trees, so I approached… Do you know what I saw?” Charlie asked in a lowered voice.
Elaby glanced at the bed, feeling that the blanket, which had been tightly wrapped up, seemed to have a small gap.
“What did you see?” Elaby asked quietly.
“Even if I drew it for you, you probably wouldn’t believe such an animal exists. It wasn’t even as tall as my thigh. Its body looked like an inflated short-legged lizard, and its head resembled a hippo. But the strangest part was that it had a pair of bat-like wings on its back, which were quite small compared to its body, possibly just for decoration—but still, they were wings.”
“Does such an animal really exist?”
“I found it very peculiar too. It was tightly bound by a large coil of wild vines. As soon as it saw me, it started yelling, ‘What are you standing there looking at? Can’t you see I’m trapped? If you have any bit of compassion, come and rescue me!'”
“Of course, I didn’t go over immediately. I had never seen such a strange animal before, so I asked it, ‘What are you?’ It got very angry and said it was a dragon.”
Elaby: “……” Even in a story, there was no need to describe a dragon in such a bizarre way, making him seriously ponder what kind of creature this could be.
“It not only said it was a dragon but also that its name was Gino.” Charlie’s tone was calm, with little fluctuation, matching the quietness of the night.
“I realized it was still a child, so I cut the vines and freed it. In gratitude, it agreed to lead me out of the forest. You must be wondering, if it knew the forest so well, why did it get trapped by the vines? I was curious about that too, and Gino told me those weren’t ordinary vines. Ordinary vines couldn’t trap a dragon.”
“‘These were enchanted by an evil mage!’ Gino said angrily. ‘There’s a mage living deep in the forest who’s the most spiteful person in the world. If anyone offends him, he goes to great lengths to get back at them—do you have any food? I’m starving.’ To me, its round belly didn’t look like it was starving, but I shared my bread with it. After eating, Gino’s temper improved significantly. As it led me to the forest edge, it told me about the mage. This mage hated contact with humans, so he lived in seclusion, building a tall tower in the forest filled with magical books, and below it, a garden, but not one with roses or lilies—he grew all kinds of precious herbs.”
Elaby listened intently. “How does he live alone in the forest? People need clothes and food, right?”
“Exactly. The mage leaves the forest once or twice a year to shop in nearby towns. Gino accidentally wandered into his tower during one of these outings and accidentally burned a few of his books. After being caught, Gino had to stay in the tower and work for the mage—that’s how Gino put it. But from what I gathered, its work mainly involved watering the herbs and catching bugs, occasionally cleaning the tower stairs. The mage didn’t seem so bad, but Gino, still disgruntled, spoke ill of him a lot. Guess what happened next?”
Elaby was about to speak but saw Charlie gesture for silence.
Both stood up without making a sound. Charlie leaned in to observe and gently pulled the blanket down a bit.
Technically, this was against the rules, but Elaby was still absorbed in the story, and—he held his breath as Oscar very slowly pulled the blanket down.
Even with the magical items regulating the temperature, being wrapped so tightly would still be hot. Arnie’s light blond hair was damp with sweat. He was lying on his side, still clutching the blanket tightly, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was even.
He had fallen asleep.
Charlie couldn’t help but smile silently. To be honest, Dwight had always had a masculine air with a somewhat stiff temper due to his noble upbringing. While Charlie knew everyone had a childhood, seeing it in person was still marvelously intriguing.
The child curled up on the bed was round all over, with his cheeks slightly puffed from being pressed. His eyelashes and eyebrows were light but beautifully shaped. Perhaps due to crying and having a stuffy nose, his mouth was open, creating an adorable shape just like his cheeks.
The only similarity to his adult self was the slightly furrowed brows, even in sleep.
Such an expression was common on adults but looked a bit out of place on a five-year-old. Charlie pulled the blanket up to Arnie’s neck and glanced at Elaby.
Elaby instinctively said, “Young Master Arnie had a bad night tonight. Thank you.”
Charlie blinked. This was the first time someone told him Dwight’s childhood name—no one had mentioned the names of the noble children who hired them during the safety checks he and the birdkeeper underwent earlier.
The name suited his younger self well, but thinking of the Duke a few days ago, who had given him the cold shoulder, was amusing.
Arnie, deep in sleep, couldn’t hear the conversation about him. He had trouble falling asleep earlier. He thought Priscilla wouldn’t have gotten sick if she didn’t wear those cumbersome clothes and kept her hair long.
But they were always surrounded by people insisting they “behave according to their status”. Priscilla wouldn’t defy such demands. Arnie believed her sickness was caused by these rules but didn’t know how to express this.
The reactions of those around him made him even more unhappy. He had a reason for being upset, unrelated to the attendants or Elaby, and he hadn’t taken it out on anyone. Why were they all so worried, thinking he was causing trouble?
Feeling increasingly aggrieved, Arnie couldn’t help but cry in his sleep, which embarrassed him when noticed. Furious, he resolved not to sleep and refused to talk to anyone, ignoring whoever came to check on him.
If they dared to fetch Priscilla… Arnie planned in his mind, he would throw a tantrum, just as they expected.
But Elaby didn’t fetch Priscilla. He brought in a stranger.
The stranger didn’t put on airs or formally greet him but instead chatted with Elaby.
Curious, Arnie couldn’t help but listen, and the stranger began telling a story—his voice was so pleasant. Arnie grew sleepier, wanting to peek at who it was, but eventually fell asleep without realizing it.
The next morning, as soon as he woke up, he remembered the person who had talked by his bed last night. But when he opened his eyes, he saw only his attendant of three years, Orem.
“Elaby, you rascal! You said it wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes—” Brandenburg Knight Alfred approached and patted Elaby on the shoulder. “And yet, you were almost an hour late!”
He glanced at the young man following Elaby, eyeing him with interest.
The young man wore a proper shirt and trousers, was clean-shaven, and only carried a woven holiday suitcase, looking entirely non-threatening, yet not particularly noteworthy either.
Elaby said, “This is Oscar.”
Charlie politely bowed to Alfred. A knight capable of bearing a sword and riding a horse was considered noble, and although Alfred seemed unpretentious, adhering to proper etiquette could avoid many unnecessary troubles.
“I’m Alfred.” The knight, who wasn’t yet thirty and stood nearly seven feet tall, spoke in a deep voice. “Are you another performer Elaby found for the children?”
There was no offense in his words. Elaby had indeed been sent by Miss Priscilla to town to find entertainers for the children. However, Oscar looked—how should one say it—quite refined.
He didn’t resemble a trained acrobat or a slick magician, more like the well-to-do youngest son of a farming or merchant family.
Oscar blinked. He did know a few tricks but wasn’t planning to perform them.
“I’m a novelist,” Charlie said with a smile. “The children enjoy my stories.”
Alfred nodded, finding this explanation reasonable.
“I thought Elaby had snuck off to the bar, but it turns out he was doing real work.” Alfred patted Elaby’s shoulder again.
Elaby gave him a look. “I always take my work seriously.”
He efficiently arranged accommodations for the newcomers. Their luggage was thoroughly checked, and the bird keeper’s noisy birds, always clamorous, added to the racket by occasionally squawking a few words.
The musicians from Brandenburg were unhappy, feeling that associating with these rustic performers lowered their status. However, due to limited tent space, they had to become temporary neighbors despite their reluctance.
Charlie and the birdkeeper, magician, and craftsman got along quite well.
The birdkeeper, Alai, came from a distant land, nearly on the other side of the continent. Traveling so far alone without advanced transportation was almost a miracle. Bird performances were just one of his livelihoods. To Charlie, he seemed more like an adventurer traveling with his friends, except his friends were intelligent birds.
The magician’s hometown was much closer to Lemena. As a child, he had spent a few years as a novice magic apprentice, but due to limited talent, he couldn’t progress further. However, he genuinely loved magic, so he turned to studying magic tricks and gradually developed some skills, gaining modest fame.
Charlie preferred these free spirits over pampered family musicians. They couldn’t meet the Young Master and Miss without permission, but the wealthy Dwight family provided good treatment, and the temporary colleagues each received a small jug of fine wheat beer after dinner.
Their camp was set up on a flat area less than ten miles from the Lake of Sighs, with a small river winding through the meadow and shaded by a grove of trees. Despite the summer heat, it wasn’t too hot outside.
Arnie’s main tent was arranged comfortably, with many magical items to regulate the temperature, making the tent as cool as autumn. The sheets, pillows, curtains, and even the carpet inside the tent were brought from Brandenburg to make it feel like home.
Priscilla’s tent was just a few steps away. Today she had some motion sickness and had spent two hours picking berries with Arnie in the woods. Her face was flushed, and she had gone to bed early.
After dinner, Arnie visited her with the doctor, who said she had a bit of heatstroke. Priscilla’s long, waist-length light blonde hair and layers of lace-embroidered dresses weren’t ideal for cooling down.
Priscilla didn’t think it was a big deal, but Arnie became upset again. His face, which had only recently brightened, now clouded over. Priscilla sat on the bed, talking to him softly and assuring him she’d feel better by morning.
But Arnie’s mood didn’t improve. He brushed off the attendants’ hands, trying to lift him off the bed, and slid down to the floor himself, then stomped away.
The two attendants exchanged glances.
They had been caring for the Young Master for quite some time, and, frankly speaking, this Young Master was different from ordinary children. Often, they knew he was angry but couldn’t figure out why, making it hard to cheer him up.
Arnie didn’t want their comfort.
He understood that his behavior often didn’t meet people’s expectations for a normal child. But he was still young and didn’t understand why he was different or wanted to talk about it with others. In fact, besides his parents, Priscilla, and the steward who had raised him, Arnie didn’t like talking to anyone else.
It’s not that he hated them; he just didn’t like them. He was more interested in things other than people, like the ants on the windowsill, the leaves that changed color with the weather, and even the viscosity of the air in the greenhouse. He could sense many small but real changes, including people’s emotions.
For example, right now, although everyone around him was acting kind and gentle without a single flaw, Arnie could feel that they were having a hard time because of him.
This feeling also made him unhappy.
The melancholy seemed to peak late at night, when everything was quiet. By the time Elaby hurried to Arnie’s tent, it was already past midnight.
“The lights have been out for two hours… It’s been very quiet… We thought he was asleep,” one attendant whispered. “It wasn’t until just now that we felt something was off.”
The Young Master of Brandenburg was far less troublesome asleep than awake. Everyone close to him knew his little habits: if he went out during the day, he would definitely wake up at night to drink water; if he was scolded by a teacher in class, he would sleep restlessly; if he had a nightmare, he would suddenly jerk awake and sit up in bed, dazed until he realized he had been dreaming.
Today, he and Priscilla had played in the small forest for a long time, so the attendants had prepared water and milk early on, but he hadn’t woken up at all. When they gently approached to check on him, they found Arnie curled up in the blanket, with only his forehead visible.
Afraid he might have trouble breathing, an attendant tried to pull the blanket down a bit, revealing a pair of red eyes and water stains on the edge of the blanket.
Arnie was crying. Such a rare occurrence threw the adults into a panic. Normally, they would have called Miss Priscilla, but since she wasn’t feeling well today, they decided to call Elaby first.
Elaby had just finished his bath, still damp, as he sat by the bed and reached out to touch the ball-shaped lump under the blanket, guessing it was Arnie’s shoulder.
“Master Arnie, would you like some water?” Elaby asked a question he himself found clumsy—there was no help for it, though. His own child only cried after causing trouble and getting a spanking, and even then, it was loud wailing, not the delicate silent tears of Arnie.
Arnie, unsurprisingly, remained silent. Elaby guessed he missed home or his mother. At such a young age, who wouldn’t be attached to their mother? Especially since the Duke and Duchess weren’t just at nearby Brandenburg. They were likely almost at the imperial capital by now, which felt very far away to little Arnie.
During the day, he was happy and didn’t think about it, but at night, with his sister sick and himself alone in the tent, he probably felt lonely.
Despite the loneliness, the Young Master wouldn’t let anyone stay with him. To be precise, he only wanted his family. Anyone else who offered to stay with him (including Elaby) was kicked out, with small legs flailing under the blanket, indicating a very clear rejection.
The rejected attendants looked at each other, while the Brandenburg Knights on night duty peeked in from the doorway. Elaby, feeling troubled, waved them away—these warriors were good in battle but useless in comforting a child. Why crowd around now?
The knight on duty happened to be Alfred, a close friend of Elaby’s. Watching Alfred’s continuous winking was enough to give anyone goosebumps. Elaby had no choice but to approach him.
“What are you up to?” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“With the new entertainers around, if the Young Master can’t sleep, why not take him out to watch the fireworks?” Alfred suggested.
Elaby punched him. “Fireworks in the middle of the night? The Young Master needs to sleep!”
“But if he can’t sleep—wouldn’t a new distraction help?”
Elaby was about to kick him when he suddenly paused.
“The safety checks are done, right?” he asked.
Alfred immediately realized what Elaby was asking, thinking he had convinced him. He happily rubbed his hands together. “Of course, we finished before dinner. Even those birds were checked and washed. They have no weapons or suspicious magical items.”
Elaby pondered for a moment. “Please wake someone up for me.”
Alfred was delighted. Although he didn’t like the sly magician, he enjoyed the fireworks show that mimicked magical effects. Guard duty on a long night was boring.
But Elaby’s next words shattered his joy.
“The one in the first small tent… Oscar, the young storyteller.”
Nol… Xu Yue stood in the center of the living room.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, he could see the beautiful greenery within the community. He had saved quite a bit of money during his university years and disliked sharing a home with strangers, so this house was just right for him.
He had already received a satisfactory offer. The place was very close to the company and satisfied him in every aspect.
“If you like this one, you might want to sign the contract sooner rather than later. The housing supply is tight during the graduation season.” The faceless agent rambled on. “In this area, this set of rooms is the lowest priced, and you can furnish it yourself…”
A very nice house. Xu Yue became more satisfied the more he looked. If he really lived comfortably and work went smoothly, he could buy it.
The floor-to-ceiling windows weren’t equipped with curtains, and the brilliant sunlight scattered all over the floor, illuminating the differently colored chunks of flesh on the ground. Xu Yue accidentally stepped on two pieces, and the room was filled with sticky, squelching sounds. An empty flower pot was placed on the windowsill, containing only blood-red soil.
“I’ll take it.” He suddenly had an inexplicable headache.
He seemed to have forgotten something important.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Teest hovered in midair. Beside him was Perradat’s head. Her long golden hair flowed down from that beautiful head, making her look like a strangely shaped golden jellyfish.
The expression on both of their faces was terribly pale. Teest’s forehead was covered in cold sweat. The surrounding scenery was unfamiliar and beautiful, but the atmosphere was suffocating—he felt like he was being toyed with in the teeth of a giant beast. At any moment he could become a lump of minced meat.
“What’s happening?”
Teest’s expression was grim. This wasn’t the familiar white space, nor was it the “Gods Corpses Nol” he had seen before. The Nol in front of him did indeed have black eyes, but his body seemed relatively normal.
Everything in front of them was like a scene on a membrane, colors on a soap bubble. No one knew what would happen when it burst, but they were all clear that it wouldn’t be anything good.
“This is the edge of Lord Nol’s memory.”
Perradat’s long hair swayed. Her head floated back and forth in mid-air. “Your previous attempts, including the dragon’s intervention, were all to probe the memory seal. In other words, you’ve been directly attacking it.”
“My power is ‘concealment’. Now, we are intentionally circumventing the seal. Even with all my strength, we can only stay on the edge.”
Nol, in a white shirt, stood among many grotesque and terrifying chunks of corpses, looking out through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His blank gaze passed through Teest, looking towards a point in the void.
The room was half filled with densely packed chunks of flesh, each the size of a fist, loosely stacked together. Some of the flesh chunks had already rotted, while some were still twitching non-stop. Teest recognized several parts from the dead gods on them, which had appeared on the “Memory Seal” incarnation of Nol.
Teest disliked this scene. Nol stood there alone, as if he had fallen into this swamp of flesh and blood, ready to be devoured at any moment.
“What do you mean by ‘the edge of memory’?” Teest suppressed the turmoil in his heart.
“What we see is all an illusion. This is Lord Nol forcibly rationalizing reality to maintain his sanity.” Perradat said, “This place is too oppressive. It’s better to observe from afar—best not to touch the ‘reality’.”
But that was far from enough, Teest thought.
Nol’s memory was very dangerous. He understood this more than anyone. But if they were to guess wildly based on appearances, they would become the second Star Stealer Sol—unaware of the truth hidden at the deepest level, basing their plans only on superficial clues. That guy’s failure in the Lost Tower was still fresh.
The Memory-Sealed Nol had him look for Perradat’s core, certainly not to see “delusional memories”. Could it be that by using Perradat’s power, they intended to awaken Nol himself, trying to change the current situation?
However, Teest couldn’t communicate with Nol at all now.
Teest floated close to the floor-to-ceiling window, one hand pressing against the huge glass, almost face to face with the Nol inside. His hand created ripples on the glass like water waves, but he couldn’t reach inside.
Just a few steps away, Nol in the flesh and blood swamp turned away, leaving only a backlit silhouette.
“Nol!” Teest knocked on the glass hard, but the people in the room didn’t even look back.
[Honey, I’ve found Perradat’s core. What exactly do you want me to do?]
There was no response to the telepathic call.
Seeing Teest’s displeasure leaking crazily, Perradat slowly backed away. “Don’t be too anxious. Lord Nol himself can’t bear the truth of the memories. This isn’t something that can be easily resolved.”
“Yes, he can’t bear it himself.” Teest muttered to himself. “He knows about your situation too. If it was just a blind attempt, he wouldn’t have made such arrangements…”
Perradat bypassed the memory seal through her power, successfully touching the edge of Nol’s memories.
Nol’s memories were very dangerous. The last time he touched the seal, Teest was lucky to briefly contact a moment of memory. He knew how difficult that thing was to deal with—let alone Nol, who grew up in a peaceful environment, he himself couldn’t handle those crazy memories and knowledge.
What exactly did he miss…?
“You really trust Him wholeheartedly.” Looking at Teest, who was leaning on the glass in contemplation, Perradat couldn’t help but speak up. “You, such a cunning and suspicious person, haven’t even considered the possibility of Lord Nol being wrong.”
Teest ignored her, just concentrating on thinking.
So far, their deepest inquiry into Nol’s memories was using the “Bystander’s Tongue” on a neighbor. The neighbor recounted events related to Nol, unaffected by the memory seal.
For Nol himself to recover his memories, he would have to face that madness-inducing memory storm. “Others” risk exploring a small part of the memory fragments and then narrating them to Nol, seemingly without issue.
Could it be…
Teest lifted his head, and suddenly, the shadow in front of him shifted direction—the sun behind him moved instantaneously, and Nol once again opened the door, entering the living room.
“If you like this one, you might want to sign the contract sooner rather than later. The housing supply is tight during the graduation season.”
The faceless broker spoke again; everything was developing just as before. Nol and the end entered one after the other. The broker cheerfully introduced the home, while Nol stood in a swamp of flesh and blood, looking out the window.
The memory fragments of about fifteen minutes looped over and over.
As if waiting for something.
Teest put all his effort into breaking the glass. He used all his strength, and the power of destruction exploded outside the floor-to-ceiling window. But that unfortunate window only rippled, unmoved.
“Don’t do this!” In the midst of the explosion, Perradat screamed. “Don’t delve into His memory!”
“No, he wants me to delve into it.” Teest touched the glass. “The memory seal can only ‘unlock’ or ‘maintain’. For Nol to uncover the truth, it’s impossible to just recover a specific bit of memory.”
The last time Nol gave him the permission to view memories was precisely for him to understand the horror of ‘Xu Yue’s memories’.
“Only ‘others’ can safely view memory fragments.” Teest said softly, “He even prepared the key memories for us, and specifically looped them over and over. I don’t plan to stay here watching illusions. I want to go in.”
“You’re crazy!” Perradat flew a bit farther away.
Teest glanced at her with a “You’re just realizing this?” expression. “As long as I can find a way to break through the illusions, plus your ‘concealment’ power, the memory seal won’t attack me immediately.”
Perradat angrily bit her hair causing her delicate features to become twisted. “Illusions aren’t so easily broken through. This is a God of Creation. My power isn’t omnipotent. Unless He specifically left a loophole.”
Teest was stunned.
Right.
The last time they met, the Gods Corpses Nol had dug a bit of white scale debris from his chest and attached it to him. At that time, Teest felt much better, thinking it was just a simple healing act.
But it indeed helped him eliminate some of the memory’s influence. Nol did this after instructing him to find Perradat… Could that be the “loophole” Nol specifically left?
That power then twined around his hair.
Teest simply pulled out a strand of silver hair, wrapped it around his finger, then placed his hand on the large floor-to-ceiling window. Before he could exert force, the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window suddenly emitted a gentle silver-white glow.
Perradat was petrified in midair. “This aura… Impossible!”
The glass melted like sugar in flames, revealing a large hole big enough for a person to pass through. Beyond the hole, Nol, with lifeless eyes, suddenly moved.
He stiffly raised his wrist, extending his right hand towards Teest outside the window, palm up.
As if inviting to dance atop a pile of corpses.
At the same moment, everything in the room began to warp. All things lost their fixed shapes, as if the world itself had erred. The peaceful yet chaotic illusion was on the verge of collapse, with reality about to break through.
Perradat’s head shook violently. She looked utterly unwilling to enter the room.
Teest stopped in front of the shattered glass, cheerfully stepping forward without a hint of hesitation.
“Lunatic! I can’t deal with this!” Perradat cried miserably, trying hard to protect herself and Teest with the power of “concealment”. She flew towards Teest’s back with difficulty and finally entered the room.
The next moment, the atmosphere in the room changed completely.
Gone were the warm sunlight and bright room. The interior was dark, filled with a strange, rotting smell, becoming as sticky as glue.
Teest stopped amidst the chaotic pieces of corpses, holding his breath. Perradat shivered and hid behind Teest, her head peeking out slightly from beside Teest’s arm.
As False Gods, they could witness everything before them—the real memories of Nol; what had once happened. The memories sealed were about to reveal the truth to them.
Before them, “Xu Yue” was undergoing changes.
Xu Yue’s eyes, black as night, were wide open, unblinking, and bloodshot. His skin had the pallor of a corpse, and if not for the rise and fall of his chest, he would look no different from a dead body.
He was still wearing that simple white shirt, which was now corroded by unnamed corpses to shreds, with only a few pieces of cloth hanging on Nol’s shoulders.
Below Xu Yue’s chest, he was completely sewn together with those pieces of flesh.
Countless black and red-light threads weaved through the corpse pieces, sealing them onto the living Xu Yue. Xu Yue convulsed from time to time without making a sound, as if trapped in some sort of dream.
Chunks of flesh moved and stuck together. The black and red light flickered on and off, gradually enveloping Xu Yue at the center, like rotten flesh crowding around a core.
Among them, a piece of gray-white remains was particularly eye-catching.
With strange magical fluctuations, it was sewn at the position of Xu Yue’s heart. At first, Xu Yue’s chest, arms, and head were still exposed, then his chest was buried by the flesh, his head sewn up, followed by his arms.
In the end, only one hand lay powerless on the outside of the flesh.
The forcibly sewn together flesh emitted chaotic powers, like numerous paints mixed together. These powers devoured and merged with each other, eventually becoming strong, cold, and terrifying.
The flesh ball moved and continued to merge. Finally, Xu Yue’s last hand also disappeared among the chunks of flesh.
He was completely swallowed by the fleshly marsh.
As the powers merged, the colorful flesh gradually turned into a unified hue of green and red. The mass began to fill the entire room, expanding and changing like a monster embryo trapped in an eggshell.
Sticky membranes parted, and bizarre eyeballs moved erratically. The thing emitted strange, dream-like sounds. As it wriggled unconsciously, a dark black slime spread out.
The space in the room grew smaller. Teest pulled the dazed Perradat back step by step.
There were few scattered pieces of flesh left in the room, with the black and red light flickering on and off above them. Teest casually picked up a light thread, feeling a familiar magical fluctuation on it.
“The power of the Blood Potion,” Perradat said through gritted teeth. “This is the authority of Star Stealer Sol… Damn, he dared to do such a blasphemous act. How despicable!”
“I guess these pieces are the remnants of other ‘gods’.”
Teest looked at the oddly shaped corpses on the ground, expressionless. “Enbillick used his power to merge the remnants of other ‘gods’ into Nol.”
No wonder the Supplement Demon Potion required a special mix of Enbillick’s blood.
Just as Perradat controlled “prophecy” and “concealment”, the authority of Star Stealer Sol was “reversion” and “fusion”.
Merging local monsters with humans resulted in shockingly powerful yet generally short-lived augmentations. So, what kind of “creature” would result from the merger of countless divine remains with a human?
From his own experience, Teest knew that before considering the strength, first, Nol would suffer unimaginable pain.
“These gods were definitely not killed by Star Stealer Sol himself. Before he came to Tahe, he must have wandered the universe, stealing many corpse fragments.”
Perradat’s voice was full of disgust. “No wonder I’ve never encountered his kind—creatures that shun the light.”
Teest stood still, statue-like.
“All these remains contain residual power and spirit, but they’re too diverse and too small to be able to disperse Lord Nol’s consciousness in the short term… Star Stealer Sol is forcibly creating a ‘god’!”
Perradat, no longer caring about appearances, continued cursing and grumbling. “That guy is too weak. He couldn’t handle Earth himself, nor could he cultivate a civilization on his own. So, he simply created a short-lived ‘god’ to steal the existing civilization of this planet.”
“…A short-lived god.”
The monstrous flesh within the room slowly expanded. The dark black liquid reached Teest’s feet, submerging the soles of his shoes. Teest stepped back twice more, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible.
“Right. Even if it’s just corpses, a god is still a god. The deeper the integration, the greater the power and spiritual influence of the corpse pieces. Lord Nol is just an unfortunate human, utterly unable to suppress it. Sooner or later, his body will collapse, and his mind will become disordered… He’s just a one-time God of Creation,” Perradat said, her words tinged with sympathy.
“In Nol’s perception, he was creating a game.” Teest’s tone was eerily calm. “Is this how Star Stealer Sol steals civilizations?”
“Don’t underestimate the creations of the locals.” Perradat spoke with complexity. “The ecological situation of this planet, the types of species, the forms of society… Whatever Lord Nol has created, these pieces of information will be reflected in his work.”
“If the Creator’s ability meets the standard, the created world can operate stably. If it fails, Star Stealer Sol just needs to make another ‘God of Creation’. The case of replicating Earth is much more convenient than ‘spending billions of years cultivating a new civilization’.”
One of Star Stealer Sol’s powers was “fusion”, and Nol was a “God of Creation Tool” he forcibly constructed from countless divine remains, destined not to live long.
If Nol successfully created Tahe, Star Stealer Sol only needed to completely annihilate Nol to comfortably take over the ownership of Tahe. As for others in the Joy Garden being implicated and dying, Enbillick probably wouldn’t care. However, this didn’t explain Nol’s resurrection.
Teest raised his head, looking at the sorrowful and deformed god in front of him.
“Is this all your speculation?”
Teest stared unblinkingly at Nol’s huge eyeball, his voice growing increasingly grave. The degree of integration of those corpses was getting higher, their power stronger, making “directly looking at Nol” increasingly difficult.
It turned out, Perradat indeed possessed much knowledge from the stars. However, having discussed similar topics with Nol themselves, if this were the only conclusion, they could have come up with it on their own.
Teest then plucked another strand of hair, which floated up in the palm of his hand, emitting a faint silver light. In response, a weak silver light appeared on the monster as well. “This is a ‘loophole’ specifically entrusted to me by Nol. He expressly asked you to speculate. Maybe you should look more closely—like, what exactly is this thing that surprised you just now?”
Perradat was sulking over the corpses strewn across the ground, turning her head irritably, nearly getting brushed by the floating strand of hair.
The moment she clearly saw it, Perradat froze.
The author has something to say:
Teest: In this world, only I’m the one who excels at tailoring (×
Kinky Thoughts:
Holy shit, this twist… I have to say out of all of Nian Zhong’s works, this is probably the biggest twist I’ve read. The development, the pieces coming together (kind of like how Nol is formed)… I’m quite mind blown.
Well, this is probably why he is called Star Stealer Sol.
Even though he was accustomed to seeing Players create beautiful avatars, Nol was still taken aback by that beautiful face. Since arriving in this world, this was the first time he had encountered such a beautiful girl’s… head.
Fortunately, his knight’s appearance was also exceptional. Thinking of Teest’s face for two seconds, Nol quickly recovered from his shock. Then, his attention shifted to the surging power emanating from the head.
This power was on a completely different level from “possession”, even more oppressive than the headless torso. The eyes, emitting a blue glow, stared directly at Nol. The pressure felt like a cold swamp.
Nol suddenly realized that Perradat was indeed a False God in her own right.
After Perradat spoke, her followers maintained absolute silence. The greeters remained in their welcoming posture, motionless like wax figures.
The residents of Paradise, having never seen such a bizarre scene, crowded together like quails, silently maintaining a consensus. Even Lynn, responsible for diplomacy, didn’t step forward, instead desperately making eye contact with Nol.
Perradat’s personal appearance meant this was a direct conversation between gods, and any “representative” would be considered disrespectful.
Nol steadied his mind, readying his opening statement. “You—”
“Your head doesn’t match your body model.” Teest sighed in surprise and commented as if the beautiful girl wasn’t carrying a bouquet, but a large potato. “Won’t it look very strange if you connect it like this?”
Nol: “……”
Perradat: “……”
The voluptuous lady holding the bouquet’s hands trembled slightly, and the solemn atmosphere in the air vanished.
“…This woman is my Pope, Lady Dusty.” Perradat tried to ignore Teest, who was peering curiously, and continued, “You might not be accustomed to my church. She will guide you back to the Lost Tower.”
Nol sighed in relief. He had given the correct coordinates, but upon arrival, he hadn’t seen the Lost Tower and had worried for a few minutes. Now, it seemed it was likely hidden by Perradat’s powers.
Against Star Stealer Sol, whose eyes peered from the heavens, this was indeed safer.
Perhaps feeling more powerful on her own territory, Perradat dared to outright ignore Teest’s question.
Unfortunately, the Mad Monk didn’t like the phrase “let bygones be bygones”.
Teest: “A very interesting power. It seems this is your ‘core’. Perradat, won’t ordinary people have problems just by looking at you directly?”
He used honorifics, but there was no reverence in his question.
In fact, if Teest wanted, he could act more devout than the purest believer. Nol probably knew where Teest’s hostility came from—not from the arrogance of power inflation but from the wariness of a beast towards an invader.
At this moment, Teest was positioned slightly in front of Nol. If there was any movement from the other side, the “Betrayer’s” blade could protect Nol in an instant.
Perradat was silent for a moment before speaking again, her tone now carrying a hint of profundity. “It seems you really care about Paradise. Don’t worry. Everyone who sees me won’t have any problems. Just like Enbillick, who walks among the world, we have disguised our true self.”
She explained in a down-to-earth manner. “I’ve said before, my species prefers conversation over war. Compared to Star Stealer Sol, my disguise is even more perfect.”
“Perfect? Your disguise is currently a head.” Teest shrugged.
“I don’t mean to disrespect Lord Nol. I will explain this properly, but not here.”
Perradat emphasized “Lord Nol”. “Follow me first.”
[Don’t lower your guard.]
Just as Nol took a step, Teest’s reminder entered his head. [That head’s power is strong. From this distance, she has the capability to harm both of us.]
[This is Perradat’s home ground. Even if that guy agrees to cooperate, it doesn’t mean she has no other intentions. I’m not doubting your judgment of character, just—]
[Don’t worry. I need your reminder.] Nol smiled, walking up to Teest and grabbing the hand that wasn’t holding the sword. [Rather, I need someone like you the most.]
After betraying Paradise, the betrayer needed to face the thunder called “Teest”. Because of this, he could think lightly and trust and plan boldly.
[I thought you were going to teach me about the beauty of ‘trust’.] Teest grabbed Nol’s hand back, intertwining their fingers together easily.
[Do you enjoy my sermons?] Nol raised an eyebrow.
Teest’s inner voice became pitiful. [No, no, please spare me.]
[Then don’t worry. I have no delusions of training you into a ‘good person’.] Nol said, [You’re already lovable enough as you are.]
Teest paused for half a second, his thoughts joyfully bouncing. [Praise for your bloody tastes.]
Behind them.
Lynn was dumbfounded. Whispers like “What’s the relationship between Xiao Xu and Xiao Teest?”, “Isn’t Xiao Teest from here?”, “Isn’t Xiao Xu a young man?”, “Could it be Xiao Teest, like those others, is actually a girl?” came from the neighbors.
The young neighbors had various expressions, while the older ones began to guess who had disguised their gender.
It was terrifying. She had been worried about how to explain the truth of the world to the neighbors, and now her two irresponsible superiors were publicly displaying affection. They used to know to close the door behind them, but now…
The gossiping hearts of the entire community blazed fiercely. What world issues could compare to the excitement of watching drama?
“Sister Lynn.” Even Little Piel came trotting over. “Mr. Fairy and them—”
Ahhhhhh. Lynn internally screamed.
“You’ll understand when you grow older.” She maintained a gentle smile on her face, ruffling Little Piel’s head.
“Ah?” Little Piel looked at her confused. “I-I meant, are Mr. Fairy and them alright? That head in the bouquet is very scary…”
Lynn: “……”
Lynn: “Nothing. You go ahead.”
“There are a lot of strange things connected to that head.”
Little Piel’s eyes of truth shimmered, reflecting a reality not of this world. “It’s very strong, almost as strong as Mr. Fairy… No, even stronger…”
“It’s okay.” Lynn forced a smile. “As long as those two guys are together, we don’t need to worry too much. Thank you for your warning, Little Knight.”
Hearing the final address, Little Piel immediately puffed out his chest. He deliberately pulled out the wooden sword he used for practice from his waist and walked back leaving paw prints behind.
Lynn, holding back laughter with her sister, tiredly moved forward.
Damn, why isn’t Painter in the Tower lately? She urgently needed that smooth-talking guy to handle the situation!
Not long after entering the hidden town, everyone saw the towering Lost Tower.
The Lost Tower stood on the edge of the town, in a deserted area. Low buildings scattered around the tower, making it stand out.
The stone doors of the Black Tower on the first floor were tightly closed, and the surrounding tentacles coiled up like a cautious animal. Nol stopped and nodded at Anakin, who was ready, signaling him to lead.
Although he and Teest hadn’t received a quest, Mentor, Anakin, and Solo—these three players, had perfectly received one. According to the system’s judgment, they all qualified for the reward.
Their acquaintance with Mentor was too brief, and he had too many tricks up his sleeve. Solo wasn’t decisive enough, which could easily cause unnecessary complications. Thus, Anakin was the best choice—
Anakin focused and earnestly made her way to the top of the tower.
She stretched out her hands, and white light gathered in them, gradually forming into a small black key. This was the symbol of the Lost Tower’s usage rights, identical to the one Nol had.
Watching that key, a rekindled fury smoldered in Nol’s heart.
Star Stealer Sol didn’t expect the Players to immediately conquer the Lost Tower and drive the neighbors away. He only hoped that Players outside Paradise could obtain the rights through a “legally valid” system route—
Regardless of whether the key was treasured, fought over, or sold, as long as outsiders had the qualifications to interfere with the Lost Tower, Paradise could no longer hide perfectly.
Once the mission reward was distributed, Anakin carefully clutched the small key, looking towards Nol.
Nol’s expression was solemn. “First, choose to destroy the item. The system will prompt you, ‘Do you want to give up the rights related to the Lost Tower’, then select ‘Yes’… Once this is done, I’ll provide a satisfactory compensation.”
Anakin executed the command promptly. The small key, just born less than thirty seconds ago, turned into light dust in her palm.
The quest ended, and the hidden danger was completely removed.
Nol nodded towards Lynn’s direction.
“Have the agriculture department check the condition of the farmland on the third floor, the livestock department to inspect the animals bred inside the Tower, and the logistics department to tally the storage conditions on each floor. Bring the reports to me as soon as possible.”
Lynn immediately understood. “If you’re tired, you can return to your rooms to rest. No need to panic. I estimate the losses are within 50%. The Lost Tower can still sustain itself.”
“I’ve wanted to say this before, this is indeed a good stronghold,” Perradat softly said from within the bouquet. “Both the stronghold itself and its members.”
Really? Nol could feel the curious glances of the neighbors nearly burning through him and Teest.
He had never intended to hide their relationship, but frankly, their romantic relationship was quite abnormal. Coming out to the entire neighborhood suddenly seemed a bit abrupt.
Eventually, it led to this situation.
“Teest and I will take a walk to Perradat’s side.”
Nol turned to Lynn, ignoring the pained wrinkles on her face, and smiled a bit guiltily. “The task of explaining is yours.”
“Do you mean explaining the situation of the world, or explaining your situation?” Lynn’s hands slowly moved towards her gun.
The nearby Officer Luo and Dr. Zhu pretended not to hear, having already run far away. Uncle Ma sighed, feigning a naïve face of “I’m an elder, so I don’t understand”.
“Just handle it as you see fit. Mentor will help you.”
Nol cleared his throat. “Everyone’s mentality is also very stable now, and we have a very clear enemy. It won’t be too much trouble.”
Compared to the initial chaos, the neighbors’ lives were quite rich. Outside Paradise, the three major Player factions were basically sorted out.
With Mentor as an external intelligence leader, Lynn didn’t need to explain the conflict between the “God of Creation” and “Star Stealer Sol” too clearly. They just needed to let everyone know that their compatriots had a powerful enemy to defeat—defeating that guy would give them information to go home.
Overall, the neighbors were in good spirits, had reliable companions, and stable short-term goals. All the necessary preparations had been made.
“It’s up to you,” Nol sincerely repeated to Lynn.
“The hard part isn’t that.” Lynn’s face was pale. “Do you know how many people have planned to catch you for a blind date when they return to Earth?”
Teest raised an eyebrow. Nol quickly grabbed his knight, and they took off running.
From beginning to end, Perradat and her people quietly waited outside the Tower. As soon as Nol and Teest exited the Tower, they saw a blue fire passageway open up out of thin air.
Facing Perradat, Kando spoke much less, almost reverting back to the original hero Drake.
“Stay here and make sure to meet any needs the guests might have.”
Perradat’s Pope—Lady Dusty spoke up, her voice as melodious as a lyre. “My Lords, I will lead you to the depths of the church.”
……
Nol recognized the space before him. He had seen it in Kando… Drake’s memories.
It was still the dimly lit stone chamber with walls that were twisted and soft as if they were melting. Candles burned in a pile in the corner, their shadows dancing silently on the walls.
This place was broader than he had imagined, resembling a royal-designed king’s tomb. The chamber was circular, and directly in front of them was placed a peculiar monster statue.
To call it a monster might not be quite right; it more resembled a divine beast—a graceful leopard with wings on its back and strange horns on its head. It was entirely white, sitting nobly on a divine platform, its eyes carved from large sapphires, draped in gold ornaments that emitted a mysterious aura.
The statue had mottled cracks on its edges, showing its age.
Below the divine platform, countless candles emitting a faint, sweet scent slowly burned. These candles were carved into the shape of flowers, melting slowly, their shapes carrying a bizarre beauty.
Under the candlelight, the divine beast statue seemed to be looking down on everyone.
“An idol,” Teest said softly.
Its appearance here must mean it was the true idol of Perradat, the God of Fate.
“That is one form of my incarnation.” Perradat said, “Since Enbillick stole most of humanity’s faith, I had to lean more towards non-human races.”
“If Enbillick wished, he could also take on the appearance of Tilia or Anstis,” she added disdainfully. “Women and children always tend to give a more relaxing feeling. My current appearance is also specially chosen for easier communication.”
Pope Dusty quietly stepped forward, placing the bouquet vertically at the statue’s feet. With the height of the divine platform, Perradat could easily make eye contact with them.
The memory seal within him demanded the core of Perradat, and now they had found it.
The truth was only a step away.
Nol clenched his fists a bit nervously, his palms slightly sweaty.
“Now it’s your turn to fulfill your promise.” Nol took out the “Essence” from his pocket, which he hadn’t been able to successfully identify last time.
“Please examine my condition, Miss Perradat.”
“Dusty, step back,” Perradat ordered crisply. “Seal this place completely. Until I allow it, no one is to enter.”
“Yes, my God.”
“I need to have my knight leave as well. Please allow it.” Perradat shifted her gaze to Kando on Nol’s shoulder. “If possible, you’d better have your shadow wolf leave as well.”
“What we’re about to do is very dangerous. It’s better not to approach for those below the level of a False God.”
“No problem,” Nol answered just as crisply.
With Teest still here, there definitely wouldn’t be a problem.
Soon, only the two of them and one beast remained in the stone chamber. Nol and Teest stood side by side in front of the massive divine statue, facing the head in the bouquet. The scene was both sacred and comical.
“First, I need to make an explanation.”
Perradat began. “Years ago, Enbillick destroyed my incarnation and eroded my powers. The remaining part of my core managed to escape, brought here by my followers.”
“As you see, most of my body has decayed. Now, I am connected to this land, unable to split my core any further, only able to survive in this state.”
“Just speak directly.” Teest crossed his arms, tapping his forearm with his fingers.
“The me before you represents all my power. If something goes wrong later, please protect me in time—if this head is destroyed, I will completely perish.”
There was a bit more sincerity in Perradat’s voice.
Nol: “I promise.”
Perradat’s gaze shifted to Teest, who smirked. “I promise.”
“Thank you.”
The beautiful head took a deep breath. “Let’s begin now.”
The Duke’s daughter and son going out was no easy task.
To cheer up her little brother, Priscilla decided, in just ten minutes, to take him out to play within their territory. Arnie was indeed uplifted by this news, but when he learned that two teachers would accompany them, he became a bit downcast again.
However, he knew Priscilla had put in a lot of effort, so he didn’t complain at all. Normally, when their parents were away, the two children shouldn’t go out alone, but the Brandenburg Knights’ reputation for strength and training was well-known throughout the empire. As long as they didn’t leave Lemena, there was no need to worry about safety. Rather than potential dangers, Priscilla and the castle steward were more concerned that young Arnie might catch a cold from being outside too long.
Therefore, the accompanying personnel had to include knights and doctors, as well as cooks, musicians, and servants. To streamline the team, even Priscilla only brought two maids, who usually took care of her daily needs.
With the Duchess absent, Priscilla found arranging the itinerary alone for the first time a bit strenuous. In the end, the castle steward helped her make some decisions, which took quite a bit of time, causing the original schedule to be pushed back by two days.
Perhaps because of this, by the time they actually set off, Arnie was even more excited than at the beginning. While sitting in the carriage, although he didn’t beam with joy, his little legs hanging over the edge of the seat swung back and forth with the carriage’s rhythm, making Priscilla feel that all of it was worthwhile.
Though it might sound arrogant to say, she truly believed Arnie was the cutest five-year-old in the entire Empire. Even if he weren’t her brother, she would say the same—something the Duke and Duchess Dwight also agreed on. None of the princes and princesses in the imperial capital could compare to Arnie. Even the Duchess occasionally felt that giving birth to him was somewhat of a miracle. Arnie’s skin was as delicate as petals buried in the snow, inheriting his father’s superior bone structure and his mother’s moon-like hair and eye color. Combined, these traits made him extraordinarily exquisite, so much so that when he was expressionless or silent, he looked like a human doll.
Exquisite, but lacking much of a “living” feeling.
The Duke and Duchess were worried about this. When their youngest son wasn’t moving or talking, this characteristic became particularly noticeable. Moreover, his inherently introverted nature meant that, despite being only five, the times he cried or laughed heartily could be counted on one hand.
Even though he showed exceptional talent in his studies, the Duke couldn’t help but worry about his son’s distinctiveness. He didn’t mind if his children weren’t so well-behaved. As a father, he could fulfill any willful request his children had. Unfortunately, each child turned out more reserved than the last. His overflowing paternal love had nowhere to go, making him feel quite lonely.
Priscilla was not at all aware that she, too, was a source of her parents’ concern due to her excessive maturity. When her parents were away, she naturally felt it was her duty to take care of her brother, trying everything possible to make him happy.
But rather than a grand picnic on a patch of grass with musicians playing, Arnie preferred to see something novel—something not found in Brandenburg.
What’s the difference between eating on a blanket with silverware and eating in the castle? Ants would crawl onto the plates! The various invisible bugs in the grass also annoyed Arnie. He and Priscilla both had delicate skin, often getting bitten while their attendants remained unscathed, resulting in numerous bites on their exposed skin. In such hot weather, wearing too much was stifling.
Priscilla was still a child herself. When she found that picnicking on the grass and walking barefoot weren’t as delightful as they appeared in paintings, she felt a bit disheartened, wondering if she had been too hasty.
“Arnie’s arms are full of bites.” Priscilla tilted her head to let the maid apply medicine to her neck. “We need to apply it again at midnight.”
“Flora will keep track of the time,” the maid reassured her. “The Young Master was quite happy today, eating more at night than he usually does at the castle.”
“That’s because he couldn’t eat much in the carriage at noon.” Priscilla twirled her hair with her fingers. “Is that the Lake of Sighs up ahead?”
“It’s still half a day’s journey away. Elaby has already gone ahead, hired some locals to set up tents, and will have them fish—”
She stopped mid-sentence because Priscilla suddenly sat up straight.
“What did you just say?”
“Have them fish… Have the adults fish. Miss Priscilla, you and Young Master Arnie must not handle the fishing rods yourselves.”
“Not that.” Priscilla looked at her. “You mentioned locals.”
“Yes.” The maid was confused by Priscilla’s reaction. “We have limited staff for outings, so we always hire local farmers and craftsmen for tasks like clearing grass and setting up pavilions.”
“We could go to the town for fun,” Priscilla thought for a moment. “Without making a big fuss, just ten people, wandering around. We might come across a circus or something interesting.”
“But beyond the Lake of Sighs is outside Lemena, and the Duke would never allow it,” the maid advised. “You both should be in the city attending classes, waiting for your parents to return before going to the forest villa.”
Priscilla decisively said, “Then we won’t enter the city. Let Elaby and the others go, buy some interesting things, especially new drinks and sweets. If there are snake charmers and magicians, invite them too. We can watch their performances in the tent.”
……
The accompanying poets and singers weren’t very happy about this. In their view, the entertainment along the way should have been their domain. However, to be fair, the two children under ten years old were indeed not very interested in strained singing, especially when the content was often obscure and required effort to decipher the lyrics, which was quite dull.
Elaby was the assistant to the castle steward. Since the steward couldn’t leave Brandenburg easily, he was assigned to accompany them and fulfill all of Priscilla and Arnie’s “reasonable requests”.
Entertaining and amusing the children was considered a reasonable request.
He himself had a child, one year younger than Miss Priscilla, so Elaby had a good idea of what was popular among kids these days. He wandered around nearby towns with four knights in plain clothes, scouting for interesting entertainers. He found a bird keeper with several colorful birds that could perform simple tricks and speak a bit, a magician who specialized in low-difficulty visual tricks but put on an impressive firework show suitable for outdoor performances, and a grass weaver who could craft anything from long grass leaves, charging based on the complexity of the structure.
These people met Miss Priscilla’s requirement for things “not seen in Brandenburg”. The magician might have been a bit of a stretch, considering the Duke’s family had seen the continent’s top pyrotechnician’s work in the imperial capital last New Year’s. However, in such a small place, finding these few entertainers was already quite an achievement.
Elaby didn’t want to delay too long. He politely declined the sheriff’s various attempts to detain him and was about to mount his horse to leave when he suddenly noticed two children, about six or seven years old, laughing and running around a street corner.
He then realized that the number of children he’d seen along the way was unusually low. Although it was currently hot weather, when had active children ever feared the scorching sun or cold wind? He immediately called two knights to escort the bird keeper and the others out of town, while he led his horse in the direction the two children had run.
Not far from the central square, on a street near a juice shop, a large, colorful umbrella had been set up. Under the umbrella, there was a small table with a young man sitting cross-legged behind it, surrounded by children of various ages. The scene was quite spectacular. The children sat on the ground like a cluster of small mushrooms, all facing the man with their faces turned up, hands on their knees, and many with cups between their legs, likely containing products from the juice shop behind them.
Elaby tied up his horse and quietly observed from outside the umbrella. The young man was in his early twenties, with brown hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a top hat even under the umbrella. He was dressed in a matching shirt, with many freckles on his nose and under his eyes. He wasn’t particularly handsome or unattractive, but his eyes were bright, and his expressions were animated. After listening for just two minutes, Elaby understood that he was telling an adventure story about a little chicken that wandered into a kitchen.
The man’s voice was pleasant, his pronunciation perfect, suitable for reciting poetry in a music hall for the nobility. Yet, he was equally fitting for storytelling under the umbrella. In his story, every animal seemed to have a name, and every object could talk: a wise old teapot, worn and patched several times, reminiscing about its glorious days serving tea to young ladies in a gleaming hall, now relegated to boiling water in the kitchen; a malicious old mouse living in the kitchen beams, always giving the little chicken wrong directions, laughing every time it succeeded.
Elaby found every sentence of the story absurd, yet he couldn’t help but want to know how such a ridiculous tale would be explained. When he snapped out of it, the man had already clapped twice, signaling the end of the story and telling the children to go home.
“Alright, the story can’t go on forever,” he said with a smile. “You all should head back now.”
The children, deeply engrossed in the story, loudly complained, but the man was firm, ignoring their pleas as he put away the large umbrella and picked up the cups they had placed on the ground, stacking them into two tall towers to return to the juice shop.
Elaby’s hair was hot from the sun, but he patiently waited until the man had finished tidying up before approaching him.
A couple of boys, reluctant to leave, clung to the man’s legs. Noticing Elaby waiting, the man easily pried the children off and bent down to say something to them before sending them off.
“Hello,” he greeted Elaby, tipping his hat.
Elaby smiled warmly at him. “Your story was wonderful, sir. Please forgive me for staying to listen.”
“It was just to pass the time,” the man replied.
“My name is Elaby, from Brandenburg in Lemena,” Elaby said. “To be honest, I have a sudden invitation for you.”
He saw the man smile back at him.
“My name is Oscar,” Charlie said. He had dyed his hair.
He lowered the sleeves of his shirt and stood up a bit straighter. “I’ve heard of Brandenburg. It’s the residence of the Duke. You must be of high status. Someone like me isn’t worthy of an invitation. Just tell me what you need.”
Kinky Translations 