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.”
The summers at Brandenburg were more comfortable than in most parts of the empire. Duke Dwight didn’t want his young children to travel in such weather, so he decided to leave them at home.
This decision greatly displeased his youngest son. Despite using all the protest methods he knew, Arnie couldn’t change their minds and didn’t show a single smile until the Duke and Duchess departed—though he still hugged his parents and wished them a safe journey.
The Duke, seated in the carriage, signaled to close the door after glancing at his children standing there. Priscilla was always more mature than her peers, which reassured them about their daughter, but Arnie…
“He looks very angry,” he said to his wife. “Poor thing.”
The Duchess replied, “It was sudden. It would have been better if Arnie had a few days to accept it. But mainly, it’s because your promise to take him to pick a pony had to be postponed.”
“Not because he hates leaving his mother?”
“Don’t let Arnie hear you say that.” The Duchess gently patted her husband. “He’s trying hard.”
Arnie was five this year. For children of any class, this was still an age where they could rightfully be coddled in their mother’s arms. Although Arnie depended on his mother, he was unusually self-disciplined and always referred to the Duchess as “Mother” when others were present. This was the correct etiquette, but the Duke and Duchess weren’t the type to strictly enforce it.
The Duke actually hoped his son would be livelier and more willful. Arnie was still young and didn’t need to be so serious.
It made him feel lonely.
“He has my father’s temperament,” the Duke sighed. “But he’s so adorable.”
Like this time, Arnie could have thrown a tantrum, crying and rolling on the floor, clinging to his legs to stop him from boarding the carriage, causing a commotion that would require lots of comforting and promises of many toys to calm him down. But none of these anticipated scenes occurred.
His youngest son first expressed his desire for them not to leave in an adult manner. When they rebutted his points one by one, the most willful protest he could think of was to skip his lessons.
The Duchess was a bit worried too. “Compared to other children his age, Arnie is too reserved. Is it because he only has a quiet sister and no brother to play with?”
But it was too late to plan for a brother now.
“Maybe there are too few children in the castle, and his teachers are all calm adults,” Duke Dwight mused, looking at the scenery outside the window.
“When we return, we should select a few children to be his companions and replace some of his teachers with younger ones—I’ll discuss this with His Majesty.” Priscilla and Arnie’s teachers came from the capital, selected to the same standards as those for the princes and princesses, a gesture of goodwill from the Emperor. But compared to the Duke’s two children, the similarly aged princes were as active as monkeys.
The Duke wished his children were as lively. His daughter was always quiet and gentle, and when Arnie was born, he thought he finally had a little monkey. But his son grew more like his grandfather, which was worrying.
The couple discussed for a long time but made no progress on how to free their children’s nature. Sunlight streamed through the window, making the carriage too bright. The Duchess reached to draw the curtains but paused when she saw the scene outside.
She saw groups of people standing not far from the road, from farm women with water jars on their heads to weary travelers. She turned to her husband and whispered a few words. Duke Dwight rang a bell, instructing the convoy to switch from two abreast to single file to avoid making the people move aside.
“Don’t make everyone suffer in the sun because of us,” the Duke instructed.
He also specifically ordered the milk from the supply cart to be given to the people standing by the ditches and bushes due to the convoy.
“There’s nothing kinder than this.” Those who received the milk were especially grateful.
Although milk wasn’t worth much and the milk in the noble convoy’s reserves would be thrown out by nightfall, the gesture was very rare.
“That’s coming from the direction of Lemena,” said an older person confidently. “It must be the Dwight family’s Lord or Lady.”
Charlie, who was also squeezed off the road due to traffic control, received a small cup of milk and handed it to a child beside him. Lifting his cloak, he looked ahead just in time to see the last carriage disappear at the end of the road.
He couldn’t make out the family crest on the carriage, but the knights on either side, even in armor, exuded an extraordinary air, suggesting they were the previous generation’s knights.
With such a large convoy, if the passengers weren’t the Duke, they had to be direct relatives, like the Duke’s daughter or… the heir.
Would little Dwight be in the carriage?
Charlie lowered his cloak hood and rejoined the road with everyone. They all had to continue their journey.
He did plan to visit Lemena, but before that, he wanted to make a stop somewhere else.
……
The gatekeeper Atto was sitting in his little hut playing a dice game. His dog lazily lay at the door, guarding a large copper basin placed on a washstand beside the gate. If any new faces came in without placing a copper coin in the basin or dared to steal money from it, the dog would bark ferociously, causing Atto to rush out with his fire poker.
The townspeople often joked that his dog was the real gatekeeper.
“Hello, Rabbi,” Charlie cheerfully greeted the guard dog, only to be barked at mercilessly.
Atto immediately threw down his dice and ran out, asking aggressively, “Who are you?!”
Charlie raised his hands. “I’m from Butisnier and want to buy herbs from Mrs. Robert.”
He accurately named a local resident, and Mrs. Robert’s herbs were indeed well known. Atto suspiciously eyed this cloaked man in the hot weather. “Have you paid?”
Charlie then remembered the fee imposed by the miserly sheriff for entering the town. Originally, with Maplewood’s population and size, it didn’t qualify for such fees, but the sheriff, to amass wealth, boasted about expanding Maplewood into a city, aligning its rules with those of a larger city.
However, the only alignment was in collecting fees.
“I didn’t know the rules,” Charlie quickly said, tossing two copper coins into the basin with a clear clink.
Only then did Atto put down his poker and ignore Charlie.
Charlie had lived in Maplewood for several years. Even though it was getting dark, he had no trouble finding his way. But when he arrived at his destination, he found a dilapidated old house.
The small garden in front of 22 Paulownia Street was overgrown with weeds, the windows and doors were covered in cobwebs, and several places on the roof were broken, allowing wind and rain to pour in. Over time, the attic was covered in moss and mold.
He took out his pocket watch. It was seven in the evening. The streetlights hadn’t come on yet, but the sun had set, and most people were at home finishing dinner. He quickly walked through the small garden, went to the back door of 22, and found it locked. However, he opened it with a straightened wire.
Once he stepped onto the kitchen floor, Charlie realized how much he missed this house. He casually hung his cloak on a dusty hat rack and took out his long pipe to start smoking.
The house originally belonged to an old lady named Heenan. She and her husband had no children, so after her death, there was no one to inherit this “legacy”, and it had been vacant for a long time. When Charlie and Columbus bought the house, they found many well-preserved old pieces of furniture in the basement, along with Heenan’s letters and cooking notes. They easily pieced together an image of a kind, life-loving old lady from these relics and renovated 22 while maintaining its original appearance, then opened a shop and did business.
That was until a few years later, when the pampered young Duke braved the snowstorm to come late at night.
How strange it was that so much had happened in just half a year since that day. He had made many new friends and lost old ones.
Charlie didn’t light a lamp but slept on the floor with his clothes on. He didn’t sleep well, perhaps because he was back at 22 Paulownia Street. He always thought he heard the voice of the little tin soldier calling his name, full of energy and very cheerful.
“Charlie! We need a mailbox! Every house on the street has one!”
“Charlie! Why are you using such strange stuff to paint the weathervane? Can it ward off witches?”
“Charlie! Charlie! There’s a guest! Charlie!”
Charlie abruptly opened his eyes, instinctively wanting to stand up from behind the counter, only to realize the next second that he was lying on the floor.
Unknowingly, he had slept for several hours, and it was almost dawn.
Thirteen years ago, Elena hadn’t even started school, let alone become a witch. The little tin soldier, now part of the inheritance Elena inherited, should still be dazed, wandering around the garden.
Charlie felt much better. He had found the second benefit of returning to thirteen years ago: his old partner Columbus was still alive.
He had no intention of interfering with history, but even if he couldn’t meet Columbus in person, knowing he was still living carefree somewhere made Charlie immensely happy.
This joy lasted a long time. He exchanged a pair of beautiful cufflinks in the town for some money. Because they had rare gemstones, the eloquent Charlie quoted a high price, which was actually accepted.
In fact, he had bought them on his way from Mokwen to White Bridge. Yellow gemstones of this color were a specialty of a small kingdom along the way, and the price was reasonable at the time. But in Pennigra, these gems from a distant continent were worth much more.
He used this money to rent a room at an inn, bought a good-quality travel case, two shirts, a summer coat, two pairs of silk trousers, two sets of underwear, and a silk top hat.
When Charlie was fully refreshed, he looked like a handsome gentleman again. Even though he deliberately avoided the Tree Hole Inn (at this time, Mona was just a girl from the countryside helping out), he still attracted a lot of female attention.
Even so, Charlie didn’t wear his cloak again, partly because he wouldn’t stay long and partly because when he returned to Maplewood a few years later, he was a rabbit-headed man, making it highly unlikely anyone would recognize him as the traveler who had briefly visited years before.
He just enjoyed the inn’s breakfast, the sunshine on the street, and the sight of familiar people busy with their lives, greeting them all in his mind.
Most people looked much younger than he remembered. The children running around the street would become young men able to work and earn money in a few years, though they were now just chatting loudly out of boredom.
“Did you hear?” one boy said. “About the haunting!”
“Don’t be so loud—the adults don’t allow us to talk about it.”
“But many people have seen it. At 22 Paulownia Street…”
Charlie, who was reading the notice board, perked up at the familiar address.
“My uncle saw it too,” a child said mysteriously. “The house has been empty for a long time, but last night, a ghost was wandering inside!”
There was a collective gasp from the children.
Charlie was stunned. He had indeed spent the night at 22 Paulownia Street, but how did he become a ghost?
“The ghost was carrying a candlestick while walking, no, floating.”
“He saw candlelight!”
“Flickering on and off, very scary.”
…That was probably because he was smoking. Charlie, finding it both funny and exasperating, finally understood why the house price was so low when he and Columbus bought it.
While he was recalling how many rooms he had walked through with his pipe last night, the town’s fat clerk came riding a donkey, nailed a notice to the bulletin board with a few loud bangs, and then loudly read to the crowd that had gathered to watch.
“From today until sunset three days later, no fishing, drawing water, or any other activities are allowed by the Lake of Sighs because the Young Master and Miss of Duke Dwight’s family want to play there! Idlers are not allowed to approach!”
The author has something to say:
After a long period of tension, let’s have some relaxing slice-of-life (?) scenes.
Brother William was the only literate person in the village and, naturally, the sole owner of all the nearby books. He had partitioned a very small study next to the confessional for his daily reading and writing. Most of the books there were brought as luggage when he was assigned to Pine Leaf Village.
Although life in the countryside provided enough to eat and wear, saving money to buy many books was unrealistic. Despite the Empire’s early attempts to break the cultural monopoly caused by class differences and establish many public schools with symbolic tuition fees, most farmers still found the associated costs burdensome. The main reason was the lack of affordable books and stationery. Despite Brother William’s efforts, his collection amounted to only about twenty books.
This was already considered remarkable wealth in Pine Leaf Village.
One of these books was a roughly bound miscellany, containing short essays, travelogs, and poems by unknown writers. Among these, there were mentions of a dreamlike paradise on another continent called White Bridge.
Brother William, very intrigued, asked Charlie to tell him more about the rare treasures at the world-famous auction. Were the attendees mostly nobles and wealthy merchants, who spent money lavishly, drinking wine from crystal glasses on large ships that could fill a small river?
Charlie truthfully spoke, as he had indeed been to White Bridge and had just come from there, though his method of travel was somewhat confusing.
Eager to understand his current situation, he described the scenery of White Bridge while feigning sentimentality, wishing that Pennigra could build a White Bridge-like place.
“That’s impossible,” Brother William said straightforwardly, not sensing Charlie’s probing. “The Empire would not allow such a lawless and uncontrolled area to exist, for the dignity of His Majesty the Emperor—” He cut himself off in time. “In any case, it’s impossible.”
“His Majesty has his considerations,” Charlie agreed. “But I believe if he visited White Bridge, he might change his mind.”
“That’s even more impossible than building a White Bridge in the imperial capital,” William laughed heartily. “Our emperor has always ignored the war-torn Doran, and thus forbade his princes from crossing borders. Even the most rebellious Fifth Prince has only ventured to the tundra, certainly never leaving the continent.”
The Fifth Prince.
Charlie took a sip of hot tea. The Fifth Prince of the Modicon Empire had been crowned Crown Prince at twenty-five—this had happened a year before the Duke had driven his carriage past the Lake of Sighs to 22 Paulownia Street in Maplewood. Since then, the common people had changed their address for him to Crown Prince.
Did Brother William still call him “Fifth Prince” because he wasn’t yet twenty-five?
The monk didn’t notice Charlie’s change in mood and continued boldly, “But if the Fifth Prince inherits the Empire, further opening up is very likely. He has always been brave and resourceful and enjoys challenges.”
“Inheriting the empire… By the way, how old is the Fifth Prince this year?” Charlie asked casually.
“Thirteen…fourteen?” Brother William thought for a moment. “I’m not sure about his birth month.”
Charlie laughed hollowly, feeling his laughter was very fake.
Because he couldn’t actually laugh.
Because Fifth Prince Dillon was the same age as him, born two months earlier—he should be twenty-six by now.
Thirteen?
Thirteen???
He instinctively touched his chest pocket, feeling the hard outline of a ring through the fabric. His thoughts were as hazy as the candlelight on the table.
Though he couldn’t remember when Dwight had secretly slipped the ring to him, this successful item that turned his face human again was the only proof that Charlie wasn’t too far from Dwight, Louis, and the others. But Brother William’s words shook his confidence.
He stared at Brother William through the candlelight. William looked spirited, relaxed, genuinely curious, and respectful of Charlie, a well-traveled stranger. Most importantly, he had very honest eyes.
He wasn’t lying.
A sleepless Charlie bade farewell to Brother William, hitching a ride to the city on a windfall ox cart for the price of a box of cigarettes, including the silver cigarette case. The cart was loaded with roughly milled flour and bags of apples, which Old John said were regularly sold to taverns in the city.
There was no passenger seat, so Charlie arranged the flour bags into a makeshift sofa and lay on them, lost in thought. Although Dwight often said he was “dissolute”, Charlie actually had good manners, not looking too disheveled, even on the flour bags.
In extreme situations, people often develop strange, hopeful thoughts. Charlie decided to first confirm the current date in the city before making plans. If time had really been thrown off by thirteen years due to Khalif’s magic—Charlie had thought all night and felt it wasn’t unacceptable.
Better than fifty or a hundred years.
Thirteen years ago, he was thirteen, happily showing off at school, oblivious to humility. Elena hadn’t enrolled yet. It was probably the most carefree time of his life. This memory was always pleasant, which might be why Charlie didn’t mind “thirteen years ago”.
He pulled an apple from a loosely tied bag and played with it. The ox cart moved faster than he expected. They left at dawn, stopped for less than twenty minutes to eat midway, and saw the city’s outline just after sunset.
Pennigra’s cities lacked the common defensive structures of Doran. The city gates’ checks weren’t strict either. Inside, the carter asked if he had a place to stay, offering to recommend a reasonably priced inn.
“But a gentleman like you might not be used to our places,” the middle-aged carter said, embarrassed, with the same kind smile as Brother William. “Just four coppers a night, a shared straw bed that might have fleas, and you can’t sleep undressed.”
Charlie declined politely, strolling down the main street at sunset. Cities with populations over 5,000 in the Empire all had a council hall, usually near the public square, which was also the best place for affordable public information exchange.
He quickly found the daily newspaper and other miscellaneous trade information on the bulletin board. The date shattered his last illusion.
Fine. Charlie stood there, calmly thinking: Isn’t this what Khalif—and most people—dream of? Going back in time.
But Khalif craved time reversal due to his aging and waning power, while thirteen years later was Charlie’s prime, wealthy and handsome, with an even wealthier and more handsome boyfriend. Yet, in an instant…
Boyfriend?
Charlie reflexively wanted to wiggle his ears but couldn’t. So, he settled for touching his earlobe.
Thirteen years ago, Dwight was only five.
Charlie had once asked the Knights about Dwight before he became “Dwight”, but their cautious master had forbidden it. He still didn’t know Dwight’s original name.
He was very interested.
……
At the same time.
A girl with long, light blonde hair slipped through the rose wall, standing on the grass and looking around. The garden was empty in the sunset, and the air carried a sweet scent, signaling that tonight’s honey buns were ready.
The girl wore a beautiful blue dress, now speckled with bits of grass. She casually brushed them off and walked towards the wavy-shaped hedges, where she indeed found her brother.
“I knew you’d be here, Arnie.” The girl squatted down, meeting the eyes of the little boy sitting cross-legged on the ground. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”
Her younger brother looked more angry than sad. Probably because he had been outside for too long, his cheeks were sunburned, making his tense face look not fierce but rather… cute.
“Dinner time is here,” the girl continued to coax him. “Father and mother are looking for you—let’s go back.”
“No,” the little boy said firmly.
“Oh dear, that won’t do.” The girl pretended to fret. “What should I do then? I can only go back and tell mother that Arnie is determined not to come home tonight. He wants to sleep under the hedges. But mother will surely worry about you. What if it gets dark? There are snakes and owls at night.”
At the mention of snakes and owls, the boy’s expression changed slightly, though he thought his sister hadn’t noticed.
“I’ll tell her Arnie has grown up and can sleep alone at night. What’s the big deal about staying outdoors for a night or two? But they’re leaving tomorrow, and how sad they’ll be if they can’t see their youngest son,” the girl said. “A journey without a goodbye kiss from their son would be very unpleasant.”
“Then they shouldn’t go,” Arnie quickly said.
The girl smiled and patted her brother’s head.
“It’s not just the Duke and Duchess’s duty, Arnie,” she said softly. “If one day in the future I am far away and need you, would you come to find me?”
Arnie looked a bit confused. “Why would you be far away?” Her room was clearly in the castle.
He was still too young, assuming that the family would naturally always be together. The girl didn’t explain further, just asked him, “If I need you, will you come find me?”
Arnie nodded.
“Father treats his brothers the same way. His Majesty the Emperor needs him, so he will rush there,” the girl said. “Do you understand?”
He almost understood, but he was still unhappy. The little boy got up from the ground and reached out to grab his sister.
Priscilla held his hand and stood up, and the siblings walked slowly towards the castle. A knight, seeing their movement, followed them at a distance.
No one would leave the castle heir outside alone for an entire afternoon, but apart from the Duke and Duchess and Miss Priscilla, no one could persuade this little boy, who was more temperamental than his size.
“Will you hug mother later?” Priscilla reminded her brother on the way. “She knows you’re upset, so she allowed you to skip lessons, but don’t be too willful.”
Arnie took big steps to keep up with his sister, ignoring her advice, and suddenly blurted out, “If you call me loudly, I will come find you.”
The girl didn’t react immediately and stopped to look down. Her little brother was also looking up at her, very seriously. “No matter how far, I will come find you, Priscilla.”
The author has something to say:
Dwight is the name passed down through generations of Dukes, without other surnames or names, distinguished by generations in the family tree.
However, before becoming a Duke, each had their own name.
The midsummer sunlight was fragmented by the dense foliage, no longer possessing the ability to scorch. However, the soft sheepskin boots were ill-suited to the forest full of stones, dead leaves, and dirt, becoming unrecognizable. Charlie, carrying a few red and green wild apples in his coat, walked slowly along the riverbank.
Although the forest showed little sign of human activity, he saw some interesting things trapped by a dam (likely built by beavers) in the river, including a tattered large boot, a handle of something that could be an ax or a sickle, and a faded lady’s sunhat.
He then walked upstream for about three hours until the trees became less dense, and some crooked paths appeared in the forest. Charlie remained determined, following the river until the sunlight weakened, when he finally saw a few raised bottoms.
Judging by their size, they were three children, busy with something near the riverbank. They were dressed in linen clothes patched with various colors but still sturdy overall.
As Charlie approached, he saw they were having a picnic. The children, around ten years old, had arranged stones in a circle with some skewered, half-charred fish cooking over it, giving off a fragrant smell.
He stood still, keeping some distance from the children, and called out, “Hey!”
A red-haired child turned his head, scrutinizing Charlie for a while before suspiciously standing up with his companions. They noted his well-dressed appearance and fair skin, making them wary, thinking he might be someone important they couldn’t afford to offend.
If it were younger children from their village, they would have run away at the sight of such a distinguished-looking man. However, since he was alone and at a distance, the boys, though pushing each other, didn’t run away. Perhaps they were also reluctant to leave their almost-cooked fish.
“Sir, what do you want?” the red-haired boy, who seemed to be the leader, asked courageously.
“I have something to ask you.” Charlie rummaged in his pocket and took out a few trinkets. He put back a tin box of mints and left a small, empty glass bottle in his palm. “As a reward, I’ll give you this.”
Glass items were rare for farm children, so Charlie easily won their trust and even got invited to join their fish meal.
“This is Lebina Town. There are five villages. Our village—Pine Leaf Village—is closest to the forest.” The red-haired boy looked at the glass bottle through the sunlight, cherishing its beautiful blue patterns and intricate cap. It looked quite exquisite and would surely fetch a high price.
“My horse got scared and ran off. I need a place to stay temporarily.” Charlie waited until they finished their three fish before following the locals towards the village. “Does your village have a church or an inn?”
“The town has an inn with beds in every room,” a freckled boy eagerly replied, possibly eyeing the glass bottle, showing enthusiasm towards Charlie. “The town isn’t far—only an hour’s walk.”
Charlie took a moment to observe the children’s clothing. Though their lives might be somewhat frugal, they seemed to be managing fine. None of their clothes had holes, their cheeks were still full, and they appeared to be grilling fish outdoors more as a treat than out of necessity. Most importantly, in truly poor families, ten-year-olds would be considered part of the workforce and wouldn’t be allowed to play during the day like this.
“We might not make it before dark,” he stated pragmatically as the sun began to set.
The children nodded and then offered suggestions. “You can go to the church. The monks won’t turn away someone in need.”
“Or you could go to Old John’s. That drunk will let you use his house if you pay him.”
Charlie smiled slightly, pretending not to notice their awkward transition. He didn’t have much money on him, but he had enough valuable trinkets to get by for now. What he urgently wanted to know was where exactly he was. The continent was vast, and no matter how well-read he was, it was impossible to remember the name of every small town.
These children seemed to have never attended school, so they probably didn’t know much about calendars or geography. However, monks were always assigned by the kingdom, so perhaps he could find some clues at a church. In any case, he looked like a “normal person” now, and there was no reason for the monks to turn him away.
He kept the brass ring in the safest pocket, close to his body. By the river, he tried to use it and found that its function hadn’t disappeared—within two hours, his rabbit head had gradually turned back into a human head, indicating that Elena had indeed been drained of more magic by the castle, weakening the curse.
But he couldn’t conclude that he was still in the same world, just in a different location. Khalif’s magic had undoubtedly failed, but failure didn’t mean it was ineffective. The unpredictable outcomes of magical chaos were hard to foresee, and returning to Khalif’s basement would be extremely difficult. Charlie doubted that the strange door would remain suspended in mid-air above the river, waiting for him.
The red-haired boy actually wanted to suggest that the wealthy gentleman stay at his house, but he didn’t dare make such a decision without the adults’ permission. Just as he was figuring out how to speak up, a small figure came running down the path ahead, shouting at him while running, “Archie! Archie!”
Charlie watched as a little girl, around five or six years old, ran towards them barefoot, her feet thudding on the stone-paved road, her cheeks rosy.
Archie immediately forgot his plans and bent down to catch his sister, who couldn’t stop in time. “Why are you here?”
“You didn’t go with Dad to haul wood, and Mom is very angry,” the girl said loudly. “She sent me to find you.” She held her brother’s hand and curiously looked at Charlie. “Who is this?”
“A guest,” Archie said in a grown-up manner. “See, I wasn’t slacking off on purpose. I was welcoming a guest.”
The little girl didn’t quite understand what a guest was and giggled. Charlie smiled at her too, the sibling duo reminding him of Columbus.
Spending a night in the village didn’t seem like a bad idea, he thought.
With or without a rabbit head, Charlie was always good at winning over children. By the time they reached the village, everyone enthusiastically invited him to their homes. However, Charlie knew it was already dinner time, and showing up unannounced might disrupt the housewives’ carefully planned meals, so he decided to head to the church as they directed.
The village was larger than he had expected, and the villagers were simple and honest. Although they didn’t recognize Charlie’s unfamiliar face, most passersby didn’t show any signs of caution, but rather curious looks.
The church was built just behind the mill. An old man was bending down to pick up wheat that had fallen into the crevices of the stone steps. Men, smelling of sweat from their work, hurried home, and occasionally, the sound of women calling their children back home could be heard, sometimes mixed with a few shouts, scolding them for dirtying their clothes again.
Two women wearing aprons came out of the church, carrying empty baskets on their arms. They were startled upon seeing Charlie and somewhat awkwardly made way for him.
These were probably villagers bringing food to the monks. Charlie instinctively wanted to tip his hat to them, only to realize that he had long lost his top hat. He had to settle for a smile as they passed by each other.
He didn’t know that this brief encounter would lead to gossip spreading throughout the village by tonight, with talk of “a handsome man visiting the village”. In a place like this, Charlie’s true appearance wasn’t necessarily more low-profile than his rabbit head.
The church was built of stone and wasn’t very large. The main door was usually unlocked. Charlie walked through the empty hall and kept going until he found a monk repairing the stables at the far end.
This monk, who had his robe hitched up for the heavy work, looked to be around thirty years old, of medium build, with thinning hair but reasonably well-defined features. As Charlie approached, the monk was hammering in the last nail. When he looked up and saw Charlie, he was so startled that he nearly hammered his own fingers.
“Hello,” Charlie greeted him.
“Hello,” the monk replied, a bit puzzled, as he climbed down from a short ladder. “Who are you?”
“A lost traveler,” Charlie said honestly. “My name is Charlie. Archie and Boppy found me by the river and kindly brought me here.”
His shirt was wrinkled, his shoes muddy, and he looked tired. The kind monk quickly asked, “What happened?”
“My horse panicked,” Charlie explained naturally. “It got spooked and ran aimlessly for half a day. It’s a miracle I didn’t break my neck, but I have no idea where that beast has taken me.”
“This is Lebina Town. You wouldn’t happen to be from Paulownia City, would you? That’s the nearest city from here.” The monk led him into the hall and poured him a full cup of milk. “You must be exhausted. That’s quite an ordeal.”
Charlie noticed a milk jug and a long loaf of bread placed in the hall, guessing it was brought by the two women earlier. The monk seemed used to the villagers’ occasional food donations, as he gulped down half a cup of milk himself.
“My name is William. If you have nowhere else to go, you can spend the night here,” the monk said after finishing his milk. “Though the room is small, the straw is clean, and it’s better than sleeping outside.”
Charlie blinked, finding this monk somewhat interesting. He seemed to have no social skills, the type that Duke Dwight would find impossible to deal with—using the biting sarcasm of a noble on someone like this would be like playing a lute to a cow*.
*(对牛弹琴) Idiom referring to trying to explain something complex or sophisticated to someone who’s unable to understand it.
A bit naive, he didn’t doubt the words of strangers, had no airs, got along well with the villagers, repaired the stables himself, kind but not obsequious. Although Charlie’s attire clearly distinguished him from the common folk, his naturally familiar tone was surely no different from how he usually spoke to the villagers.
This sincere monk not only showed him the guest room before dark but also invited him to dinner. Although it was just bread and smoked fish, it was more than enough to fill his stomach.
Charlie sat in the small kitchen with an oil lamp on the table. The bread was completely eaten, and William was boiling water to make tea.
During their meal, Charlie and William had already bonded like brothers. Propping his chin with one hand, Charlie casually asked, “Tell me, William. How far is Paulownia City from Pine Leaf Village?”
William thought for a moment. “Riding a horse takes most of the day, and by cart, at least a day and a half.”
Charlie had never heard of Paulownia City either. Continuing in a conversational tone, he said, “That’s not too far. I once traveled by ship from the Kingdom of Mokwen to White Bridge—”
“White Bridge?” William turned back, looking puzzled. “Isn’t that on the continent of Doran?”
Charlie put down his hand and sat up straight.
“You’ve been to another continent. That’s amazing,” William said sincerely. “You must be a traveler, Charlie. Unlike me, I’ve never even left Pennigra, let alone visited the imperial capital.”
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