Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 115

“I don’t understand why you so adamantly refuse Miss Prima’s kindness.” A young man with short, dark brown hair was kneeling on the carpet. He adjusted his position, trying to wrap a large roll of cotton gauze around the exposed half of Louis’s body.

The fireplace inside was burning vigorously—seemingly unnecessary in this weather—but his boss was still feverish. Being half-naked in this condition could indeed turn a minor illness into a severe one.

Louis lay on a luxurious, long sofa with a cold towel on his forehead. Hearing this, he lifted his eyelids to glance at him.

“She’s not your type, Alexander.” This was his way of saying mind your own business.

“Look at what you’re saying. I’m just speaking out of justice. A lovely lady should not be treated so harshly.” Alexander finally decided to give up on his bare chest and abdomen, focusing instead on the areas near the collar and cuffs that could be seen with a bit of effort, and then generously wrapped up the precious white gauze.

“She’s just worried about you. After all, half of Fortuna City knows you were pulled into the water by the witch—news got back to White Bridge within an hour, and I bet she’d come over herself if you don’t return by dawn.” The young man kept chattering away, but his movements were deft. After finishing in the shortest time, he immediately pulled over a warm robe for Louis and flipped the towel.

There were things that Alexander left unsaid. In fact, it wasn’t news in the inner circles of the Wolves that the innocent and lovely girl preferred Louis—she wasn’t exceptionally beautiful (girls of her age were always lovely, and she indeed was pretty), but because of her delicate status—her father was the current Wolf King, Khalif.

In the Wolf Family, inheritance wasn’t the norm. It had always been about who was capable. Although Khalif himself had six sons, not one of them held a seat among the five elder chairs that symbolized the family’s power. From Khalif to the lowest dock worker, it was seen as natural; the family didn’t need a weak or incompetent alpha, including Khalif himself, who legitimately ousted his predecessor to wear the ring of power.

This stern and powerful family head was undoubtedly strict with his sons but quite gentle with his daughters. Each year, akin to the social season of the kingdom, similar events would take place within White Bridge. He would actively seek suitable young talents from the family for each of his daughters. As a result, during her first foray into the social circle at the age of 12, the youngest daughter Prima immediately took a liking to Louis.

At that time, Louis, four years her senior, was still not of age. Although Fahim had let him be exposed to various things early on, he was still just a child. Most people still saw him as Fahim’s shadow, but Miss Prima—her eyes set on this boy—hadn’t changed her mind for ten years.

Unfortunately, Louis was just as firm as she, never giving her any unrealistic hopes—from a certain perspective, both were equally stubborn.

“If it’s with her father, I’ll see her,” Louis said lazily.

The fever hadn’t muddled his brain. The hotter his body, the cooler his mind seemed to get. Louis was getting impatient with Alexander’s gossip about scandals, but the next thing Alexander said did make him perk up a bit.

“Lord Khalif is also very concerned about you. This was Miss Prima’s last message,” Alexander said. “So, what do you think?”

As a high-ranking family member, the news of Louis being attacked had indeed spread quickly in White Bridge, with everyone speculating what had happened and whether Louis had survived.

After all, he had been out of contact for seven hours, and Louis, who had secured one of the five chairs, was still too young—years later, some still believed he wasn’t deserving of his position.

If Louis had wished, he could have personally reassured Miss Prima during their expensive magical communication, telling her that although he was injured, his life wasn’t in danger, and he would soon be heading back to White Bridge. That would have quelled much of the simmering speculation.

But he wasn’t even willing to perform the superficial niceties, instead delegating his personal assistant Alexander to respond, which even Alexander couldn’t stand to watch anymore.

But he only murmured a few words about it. In reality, Louis was quite gentle with most women. If not for her status, starting a romance with a pretty girl wouldn’t be a problem for him.

It’s not that Louis was putting on airs. Everyone knew that although the Wolf family didn’t directly inherit power, having a senior paved the way, and grassroots efforts yielded entirely different results. Even Louis himself was brought up by Fahim’s hand. If he agreed to marry Miss Prima, Khalif would likely invest more heavily in cultivating him—if his capabilities and ambition lined up, he might well become the next Wolf King.

But that’s just public opinion. Louis didn’t think Khalif would hand-help his own rival because of affection for his daughter.

Yes, a rival.

The idea of the old stepping aside for the young was just nonsense. Who would willingly give up power after sitting on the throne for so long?

Especially Khalif. This man appeared dignified and fair, but as one of his closest high-ranking officials, Louis could sense how he was becoming more tense each year, no matter how well he tried to disguise it.

Khalif is getting old.

Louis thought.

The fear of aging turned into a pervasive vigilance. No matter whom he talked to, saying good things about Louis and wishing for Prima’s wishes to come true, he never once used his position to force Louis into submission on this matter.

Khalif was wary of anyone being labeled as his successor.

Since that was the case, Louis hadn’t bothered to spend time with Prima. That girl was truly innocent, likely one of the few people in this world who believed her relationship struggles with Louis stemmed from differences in poetry preferences, heavy workloads, and the ever-changing weather.

“What do you mean?” Louis glanced at the bed in the inner room, his skin aching, not wanting to move.

Alexander frowned. “What will you say when you return? No normal person could stay submerged in the water for hours without surfacing, especially with so many people looking for you. Then, in the middle of the night, you suddenly emerge, wounded.”

He gestured at the remaining strip of gauze in his hand. “In truth, you don’t have a scratch on you. If anyone asks, will you tell them a fantastical story about being swept away during a struggle with the witch, attracting a big fish with blood, and fighting it before struggling ashore and walking back? And those gift baskets… Since when do we apologize to guests over trivial matters? Especially when some aren’t even our guests.”

This time, when tasked with protecting the Countess, Alexander was left in White Bridge to wrap up the work, arriving in Fortuna City just after Louis. It was there that he noticed his boss’ increasingly erratic behavior.

Hopefully, it wasn’t a delayed rebellion. In the family, Louis was hardly everyone’s favorite, with countless people watching him like hawks. If he was too careless, he would reveal flaws. In a place like White Bridge, letting your guard down often meant death.

He felt he needed to remind Louis of this.

“He won’t ask,” Louis said. “And if anyone does, add more details and use your imagination.”

Alexander raised his hand. “Fine, fine—if you’re that tired, should I carry you to bed?”

He had noticed Louis glancing at the inner room, and since it was already late into the night and Louis still had a fever, continuing the discussion was unwise.

Louis closed his eyes. “Just turn off the lights.”

“You’ll be more comfortable in bed—” Alexander began to say, but he saw his boss turn his back to him on the sofa. A clear sign to stop talking.

Alexander had no choice but to compromise. He headed for the door before returning to grab a blanket from the inner room and placed it snugly over Louis. “I’ll come back in an hour to check if your fever has gone down.”

Louis remained motionless.

He only opened his eyes again once he heard the door click shut.

Many in the family believed that Fahim gave Louis everything—his name, identity, wealth, and career prospects—but the useful things Louis inherited from his uncle were fewer than they imagined. Alexander was one of those few.

Even without Fahim, Alexander had proven his loyalty and trustworthiness as he grew up with Louis. But Louis never shared his secrets with him.

That’s why Alexander was often puzzled by his boss’ behavior. He might think Louis was unambitious, yet he had been striving to climb since his teenage years. The elder’s chair and brooch weren’t gifted to him by Fahim. But he also had a subtle attitude towards those in power, staying on the fringes of the family’s core authority. Miss Prima was just one example.

Including tonight, he sensed Alexander’s excessive chattering was expressing his dissatisfaction, feeling frustrated because Louis hadn’t explained what happened with the witch. Alexander believed he was wholeheartedly helping Louis, and his concern and anxiety over Louis’s disappearance were genuine, but Louis remained silent, treating him like anyone else.

Louis knew what his assistant was thinking, but as long as it concerned Charlie, he couldn’t tell anyone.

He fought for power and status in the Wolf Family, not because he wanted to be the Wolf King. In fact, he had always felt disgusted by this decaying, dark, colossal family.

He only did it for Charlie and himself.

Fahim’s lie made him believe Charlie was the Holy Grail, and as one of the few families in history to have had a Holy Grail, the Wolves had the most clues. Even the prophecy of the astrologer who died years ago about “one of the twins falling in the southwest, igniting the fires of hell” came from the Wolf Family’s head at the time.

So if anyone identified Charlie and tracked him down, that person would likely be from the Wolves.

If he didn’t fight and lived a mundane life in the old walled house in Fortuna City, then it was likely that when his brother was brought back and used to reignite the life of the demon, he would be oblivious.

This horrifying idea kept Louis moving forward.

He needed to rise to the head of the family, sit in the closely guarded study, and listen to them discuss their deepest secrets.

To extinguish the dangerous flames before anyone else could notice, and if things spiraled out of control, personally end that ominous prophecy before it became irreversible.

That was what he lived for.

The author has something to say:

Louis doesn’t like sleeping in bed, but he is disciplined. Normally, it’s fine, but people tend to be more willful when they’re sick.

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 114

Emerald, realizing it had been tricked, instinctively pounced on the cage—to gnaw at the bars.

Unfortunately, this large cage was custom-made by the Duke after confirming its identity, and he had taken the trouble to bring it along, proving its practicality was fully worth its expensive cost. After all, throughout history, humans had rarely succeeded in capturing Pluto Owls, let alone domesticating them. The Duke always liked to be fully prepared.

Doran is home to the Mages Association, making it somewhat more convenient than Pennigra to purchase and customize magical items. Emerald didn’t understand how much the Duke had spent on this strange, large cage; it only discovered that no matter what position it tried, it couldn’t really gnaw through those shiny metal bars, leaving it both angry and deflated.

In fact, the Duke hadn’t underestimated it. Legend says that an adult Pluto Owl’s wingspan was as long as an adult human was tall, and its sharp beak could easily crush animal skulls. Even a poorly tempered steel knife might be gnawed apart by it, and coupled with its extraordinary flying speed, if it could be trained for combat, it would undoubtedly be a great asset. This was probably why, despite the difficulty of capture, generation after generation had pursued this legendary creature.

But that was in an “adult” state.

Previously, in a state of feigned death, Emerald was dry and shriveled, able to blend into a pile of bats that were palm-sized without any discrepancy, indicating it was far from adulthood. Even after the Duke had plumped it up a bit with liquor, it merely went from bat-sized to pigeon-sized. Strictly speaking, the crows that filled the sky were a bit bigger than it, so although the flock was in disarray, it actually didn’t eat many crows. The rest of the time, its instinct was merely confirming its place in the food chain.

In other words, it was mainly playing.

Small, playful, and foolish—it didn’t seem like a typical Pluto Owl. Given its size ratio and such naive behavior, Emerald might still be a toothed fledgling.

Children were always easier to handle than adult beasts—the Duke watched it gnaw at the cage for a while, gradually forgetting its initial purpose and focusing on contending with the cage. He signaled Amber to bring a piece of thick, deep purple velvet to cover the cage.

The velvet’s thickness was good for blocking light. They listened as the previously noisy gnawing gradually slowed down, and after a while, it stopped altogether.

…It was probably asleep.

Everyone present thought.

Eat and then sleep—good, it’s a promising baby.

Seeing Emerald calm down, Shivers tactfully had Hasting send Amber to bed, while the underage Shiloh, despite having no speaking rights, was allowed to attend adult meetings because of his strong combat capabilities.

But Shiloh didn’t mind this. First, because his mind indeed didn’t work as fast as the Duke’s, and second, because he had grown accustomed to following orders from an early age. Additionally, for some reason, he had a peculiar filter for the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, always feeling that nothing could stump the man, even if it involved disappearing with a notorious witch on the continent.

In this regard, Eugene was somewhat like him, blindly optimistic that the rabbit-headed shopkeeper would soon kill (?) the witch and return to join everyone, possibly even bringing back a strange magical item made from the witch’s bones—like a crucible that could keep food perpetually fresh.

But now, no one knew where he had gone with the witch or when he would return. His last words to the Duke had been, “Louis holds grudges. Elena might be in trouble. I need to see if I can save her.”

Then he blew up a giant balloon and floated over to join the fray. It wasn’t known if he noticed Emerald’s deterrent effect on the crows, but surprisingly, none of the birds went after the colorful balloon to peck at it, preventing him from falling into the water prematurely.

If the rabbit-headed shopkeeper were here, he’d certainly have boastfully declared something like, “Birds like to use bright and exaggerated shapes and colors to intimidate their opponents. I simply followed the laws of nature and achieved success through strength.”

The Duke didn’t share his speculations about the identities of Charlie and Louis with everyone, not because he didn’t trust the Brandenburg Knights. Having inherited the Dwight name, he was willing to entrust his life to them, including Shiloh. The originally scruffy little thief Eugene had also proven his loyalty and reliability during this journey. But this matter was too significant, and it was prudent to keep the circle of those in the know as small as possible. Dwight had decided, even Priscilla couldn’t be told.

“I think Mr. Charlie will definitely come back. I’m just not sure when,” Shivers said sensibly. “After all, the auction is happening soon.”

Everyone knew that if it weren’t for Astrologer Kurt, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper would be very reluctant to go to White Bridge.

“Should we wait?” Shiloh asked.

The Azalea was originally scheduled to sail in the evening, but due to the sudden commotion on the dock, many were still using the lights to clean up overnight. No matter how urgent, they probably could only wait until daylight the next day.

They had planned to leave with the Azalea.

“Sail as planned.” The Duke decided after a moment of thought. “We only wait for the Azalea. Waiting aimlessly for his return serves no purpose.”

As long as the destination was the same, they would reunite soon.

Hasting was somewhat fixated on Witch Elena. Although possessing a magic-resistant constitution meant he could theoretically disdain all mages, Hasting never underestimated a witch’s lethal power—Mr. Charlie was probably a mage too, but so far, he had never shown a hint of offensive magic capability, instead using tricks for spying, tracking, invisibility, or even pranks, seemingly unable to beat even Erica’s mediocre fireball magic.

If it were purely physical combat, that would be passable, but his opponent was Elena, who commanded an army of rats.

Another thing was that Hasting always felt the Duke’s attitude towards the shopkeeper was a bit special. Beyond “trust”, there was something indescribably more “significant”. At least previously, apart from the Knight Commander, the Duke rarely had someone he was so close to and comfortable with around. The reason everyone appeared calm about it was that Hasting and Hall weren’t the type to show their emotions openly, and aside from matters of principle, the Knight Commander wouldn’t speak out against the Duke’s actions. In fact, if others at Brandenburg saw their remarkably close interaction, rumors would have exploded across every inch of Lemena.

The majesty of a lord? Nonexistent when it came to secretly gossiping.

Because of this, the Duke’s decision to so readily “give up” on the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, unwilling to wait even one more day, confused Hasting slightly, but this confusion was soon resolved hours later.

A midnight visitor put the shift guards on high alert—after all, although they hadn’t disembarked, nearly everyone had heard about the chaos at the dock that afternoon. When representatives from the Black Gold Family of Fortuna City came to visit, they were tense, fearing part of the witch’s power might have infiltrated the ship.

It turned out, the visitors were there to apologize.

The mercenaries, unfamiliar with the etiquette of the grand households, watched speechlessly as a man dressed as if for a banquet, despite it being the middle of the night, his hair meticulously parted, approached them. Even the two attendants behind him carrying gifts were neatly dressed, with respectful expressions on their faces.

As the saying goes, it’s hard to strike a smiling face. Though the mercenaries thought the visitors were odd, given the clearly friendly gesture—and because the visitors had also slipped a gift their way—they could only awkwardly respond with a mix of formal and informal language, then relay the message to Hasting.

Although reticent, Hasting was much more adept at handling such situations than the mercenaries. He didn’t even glance at the gifts or attendants behind the man as he calmly thanked him for the untimely condolences and invited him to stay for a cup of hot tea.

The man subtly sized up Hasting, assessing him internally before turning to casually select a basket of pastries from the piles of gifts that could be described as small mountains, and repeated the usual platitudes about mismanagement causing distress to esteemed guests, before leaving.

Not a word more than necessary, let alone staying for tea.

Hasting wouldn’t think, like the mercenaries, that this was making a mountain out of a molehill. After a brief reflection, he took the basket of pastries picked out by the visitor to the Knight Commander.

“Apologies at this time?” Shivers leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow at Hasting.

Hasting nodded.

It couldn’t be said that all of Fortuna City was under the control of the Black Gold Families, but at least the dock area was indeed managed by the Wolves and Monkeys. Plus, most of the ships temporarily docked in Fortuna City at this time were bound for White Bridge, so it wasn’t wrong to treat them as hosts offering condolences for this afternoon’s disturbance.

However, the timing was peculiar, and it was even stranger that the rotating mercenaries were bypassed to wait for Hasting, who looked more “in charge”, to appear. Hence, Hasting brought over the basket of pastries specifically selected by the visitor.

After learning that the visitor claimed to represent Mr. Louis, Shivers carried the basket and knocked on the Duke’s door.

“Come with me,” he told Hasting.

In the Duke’s room, only a soft lamp was left on. Emerald’s large cage was placed at the foot of the desk, from which intermittent snores could be faintly heard.

Dwight had just fallen asleep not long ago and was somewhat irritable. He stared at the basket for a minute after listening to Hasting’s report, while Shivers turned on another lamp.

Just as Hasting thought the Duke would turn back to bed, the Duke suddenly said, “Stand back.”

Hasting obediently stepped back five paces, still eyeing the basket.

Was the Duke suggesting the basket was magical?

“What time is it now?” he suddenly asked.

The Knight Commander glanced at the floor clock. “Quarter past four.”

“It seems Louis is back.” The Duke slowly became more alert. “If he hadn’t shown up, that pack of Wolves would have been in the water all night trying to find him. They wouldn’t have had the leisure to do this.”

And specifically making it known that they were acting on behalf of Louis, apart from declaring to all those watching the dock that Witch Elena had caused no harm to the Wolf family, had another purpose: to send a message to specific individuals.

For example, to Priscilla, who couldn’t casually inquire about these matters due to her position and stance. At least this midnight visitor could set her mind at ease.

And here too, indicating that Louis had safely returned meant that Charlie, who was with him, was also safe. The gifts being pastries and flowers also underscored this point. As for the basket…

The Duke didn’t personally untie the ribbons but watched the Knight Commander open the beautifully crafted gift basket, from which he extracted a basket of soft, sweet pastries, and a handcrafted chocolate egg in a glass bowl.

That chocolate egg was clearly a magical item—once the packaging was removed and it contacted the air, it heated up and melted in less than half a minute into a bowl of chocolate sauce.

And then there was no more.

Everyone watched the bubbling chocolate sauce, and only then did the Duke fully awaken. His expression was blank as he looked at Shivers, holding the glass bowl. “What is he trying to say?”

The Knight Commander was just as confused—who was he to ask?

But the boss was looking at him, and he had to come up with something, even if it was just words.

“Mr. Charlie and Louis together…” He tried to analyze rationally, but as soon as he spoke, the chocolate sauce “popped” up half a finger’s height.

…It seemed almost excited.

The Knight Commander hesitated and glanced at the Duke, then tentatively added, “Charlie?”

The chocolate sauce popped up another bubble, forming, in their view, a shape like a round-headed matchstick and a split twig.

The matchstick and twig were initially very close. Then, the twig surged to the edge of the glass bowl, while the matchstick stopped for a while before also surging in another direction. When it stopped, the twig turned back and moved closer again. Once they were near each other, they “popped” back into the bowl together.

The Duke felt a headache, not sure if it was because of this playful messaging method or because he actually understood it.

The split twig probably represented two long ears, and the matchstick was him. The two blobs of chocolate simply and vividly acted out a theme: you go first, I’ll follow.

He hadn’t planned on waiting anyway. The Duke expressionlessly settled back, casually pulling up the covers to cover half his face.

The author has something to say:

Emerald’s diet consists of birds, but it’s not a bird. It’s a wyvern. If I must say, I conceived it based on a pterosaur.

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 113

No one expected such an event to occur.

A group of people stood on the dock, staring at the still-rippling water—besides the waves that hadn’t completely settled, there was nothing else. They had rushed to the scene as soon as they heard the news of the witch’s appearance, but even those who ran fastest only managed to see a splash of water. By the time they thought to ask the person who had been closest to the witch, Hasting had already disappeared without a trace.

Pambrick, disheveled and anxious, stood on the shore with several stewards, watching crew after crew and dock workers dive into the water to search. They weren’t interested in the so-called witch, but Louis was a highly regarded new force in recent years, and if something happened to him, the responsible parties wouldn’t escape blame.

Therefore, even though the sky was still full of crows (the rats had disappeared as if the tide had gone out), and the crows dived down to attack anyone who went into the water, the Wolf fleet and archers were already in place. As long as the birds came close to the surface—Pambrick watched the crows fly up in response to another team entering the water, and the captain beside him was about to signal to shoot the arrows when suddenly everyone experienced a severe ringing in their ears.

The pain was sudden and inexplicable, almost as if some creature had emitted a roar inaudible to humans.

The sudden disturbance confirmed this, as the crows abruptly stopped their dive toward the surface. Most of the black birds urgently turned around, desperately flapping their wings to fly higher.

Unfortunately, they weren’t fast enough.

Only a few with exceptional eyesight could vaguely see a nearly invisible, insubstantial flash of lightning appear in the sky above the harbor. It moved so quickly that only its afterimage was barely perceptible, but it was clear that wherever the lightning passed, it swept through the crows like a sharp, long knife. Those detestable birds didn’t even have time to let out a hoarse cry before they lost their lives.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Hasting had already returned near the passenger ship, even climbing up the iron chain hanging from the ship’s side without using a gangplank, all the while watching for the irrationally attacking crows, but the attack he anticipated never happened.

It should be said, since the appearance of the crows, an eerie vacuum had formed around the ship they were on, including the nearby ships, and not a single crow was seen on the masts’ lookout posts.

Shiloh was there to assist him, and as soon as Hasting’s feet hit the deck, the red-haired youth handed him a pair of fuzzy…

“Earmuffs?” Hasting’s eardrums were still throbbing.

His resistance to magic hadn’t worked, indicating that the sudden pain was unrelated to magic and was more likely caused by a sonic wave.

Hasting didn’t put on the earmuffs but held them in his hand while Shiloh gestured for him to talk inside the cabin.

“Louis emerged from underwater and assassinated Elena,” Hasting reported exactly what he had seen. “But before he could pull out his knife, Mr. Charlie jumped from the ship, plunging into the water with both of them. Then,” he furrowed his brows, searching for the most accurate words, “a black hole suddenly appeared in the water, swallowing them up, and they disappeared.”

He used the word “disappeared”, not “gone missing”.

Because he was the first to reach the water, and it was a shallow area near the dock stairs, there were no waves or undercurrents that could have swept people away instantly. But Hasting swore they disappeared immediately upon entering the water, without even a bubble surfacing.

What surprised him even more was that the Duke, who had never left the cabin, nodded nonchalantly when he heard the description, as if not surprised at all.

Even Eugene reacted the same.

“If Elena is dead, he probably plans to escape to the ends of the earth.” Dwight looked at Hasting. “Can you be sure that witch died from that one strike?”

Hasting shook his head.

Louis was from the Wolf family, which differed from proper nobility. They didn’t waste time on ceremonial etiquette or the postures of dueling but learned real killing techniques from childhood. Even though the situation was sudden, Hasting could clearly see the knife being plunged directly into the heart.

If it were an ordinary person, that strike would be fatal within minutes.

But the opponent was a witch, powerful, and, although not skilled in close combat, likely had some defenses to cover her weaknesses.

“I saw the knife enter her heart, but at that time, Elena was preparing to flee and was transforming.” Hasting, although not a mage, understood the basic theory. The witch was probably trying to escape by mimicking a crow, but Louis was quicker.

If she was casting magic at that moment, it indeed couldn’t be judged by normal logic whether that strike was fatal.

Dwight frowned.

Previous conversations and subtle reactions made Dwight realize that Charlie actually needed Elena’s curse as a disguise. Especially after entering the Wolf Family’s territory, his tension indicated that his true identity was taboo to this family—yet Louis, who looked similar to him, held a significant position within the family, indicating that the taboo wasn’t due to conflicts of interest or enemies, but due to his “existence” itself.

Apart from the Holy Grail, what else could provoke the Wolf Family?

If so, he and Louis might be twins. With each generation of the Holy Grail supposedly only having one person, which one would it be?

Neither twin would readily admit this. Given Charlie’s efforts to maintain his rabbit-head disguise, it was unlikely they would easily acknowledge each other’s existence in public.

In other words, the taboo wasn’t solely about Charlie or Louis, but about the fact that they were “twins”.

“Don’t speak lightly of Louis,” Dwight said. “Pretend he has no connection to us.”

Aside from Shivers, who vaguely sensed something was off, Hasting and the others didn’t understand why the Duke had issued such an order. Despite their confusion, they followed the instruction, especially Hall, who discreetly dropped his plan to privately investigate the relationship between the rabbit-headed shopkeeper and the two prominent Black Gold Families of White Bridge.

Dwight scanned the room, his gaze settling as he pondered.

Louis was troublesome in many ways. For Charlie, Louis’s existence was a significant threat, although the threat was mutual. He was also a danger to Priscilla. Should anyone link him with the Countess of Mokwen and then start questioning the purity of her unborn child’s bloodline, their plans up to now would be in jeopardy.

Yet they couldn’t simply kill him.

Priscilla aside, looking at Charlie, still sporting a rabbit head and seeming quite content, it was likely he still had deep feelings for this brother.

Therefore, to conceal his identity, knowing the Duke’s understanding of Rabbit Head, he would certainly intervene to save him as long as Elena was still alive. The creature that could instantly take several grown men from the water was likely the Darby Belly Fish, a rare beast capable of changing its size at will and moving at incredible speeds, making it not too difficult to follow the waterways into a nearby city to find a doctor in a short time.

But the question was, where had the fish gone?

Louis would definitely return. Priscilla’s ship was still docked at the harbor, and with the auction about to begin, as a high-ranking member of the Wolf family, he wouldn’t miss it lightly.

As for Charlie, with Kurt still in White Bridge, he would likely return too, but the question was, when and in what form…

A knock on the door interrupted Dwight’s thoughts. He looked up as Shiloh quickly went to open it, exchanged a few words in a low voice at the door, then turned back with a somewhat peculiar expression.

“Amber says, Emerald is back.”

When the Duke stepped onto the deck, the initially overwhelming number of crows had almost entirely vanished—except for those lifeless bodies floating on the water. Many crew members in uniform were rowing out to retrieve them one by one, with divers continuously searching the water, trying to find any trace of Louis and the witch.

Seeing that the turmoil had visibly subsided, other ships moored at the harbor began to boldly draw their curtains to look out. The dock remained inactive. The night had fully fallen, and lights along the shore shone brightly, reflecting off the lights on the salvage boats with the area outside the light sources remaining dark.

They hadn’t turned on the deck lights, so no one noticed the Pluto Owl perched on the ship’s railing, wagging its tail. Amber stood not far from it, appearing eager to get closer.

“Emerald,” the Duke said from five steps away. “Do you remember your name?”

The Pluto Owl turned its head to look at him. Those eyes that had been closed before were now wide and bright, and just as the Duke had said, a clear emerald green.

But it didn’t move.

The Duke glanced back. The captain, already attuned to him, came out with a large silver bowl, normally used in the ship’s restaurant to serve fruit but now filled with a clear liquid that wafted a rich aroma of liquor as the captain walked.

Shivers carefully placed the large bowl of the best distilled liquor from Nyx—worth its weight in gold and said to have been traded by a dwarven chieftain for an iron mine—in the Duke’s hands.

“Hmm,” the Duke hummed, taking the bowl and stepping forward two more steps. The aroma of the liquor was overpowering, making Shiloh, not yet of age to drink casually, inadvertently inhale sharply.

It was a trio again.

Eugene and Shiloh exchanged glances, then looked at the Pluto Owl, which also seemed very interested in the large silver bowl.

But the Duke didn’t hand over the bowl.

“Emerald,” he called again. Man and beast stood silently facing each other in the night wind for a long time, until Eugene couldn’t help shivering from the cold. Only then did the Pluto Owl, still entirely black, twist its body to face the Duke.

It recognized the scent of this person. Although it had been in hibernation, its body still maintained a slight perception of the outside world and could distinguish that the other had no ill intentions towards it.

Otherwise, it wouldn’t have dispersed the crows and then turned back to return here.

Eugene and the others held their breath as the Duke confidently held the heavy silver bowl—the Pluto Owl finally flapped its wings, and in a blur too fast to see, it pounced on the edge of the large silver bowl and started gulping down the liquor.

The Duke raised an eyebrow. “As expected, it awakened because of hunger.”

Its diet probably included various birds. Although it had been asleep, Elena’s flock of crows must have sensed the bloodline threat long before and stayed far from it, but to no avail.

Such a large swarm of crows was undoubtedly a feast for the Pluto Owl, which had been longing for energy. Instinctively, it opened its eyes, burst through the window, and quickly gobbled up enough to round its belly.

Having eaten its fill, it naturally became thirsty. The Duke had previously used expensive liquor for soaking (?), which played a crucial role—after eating, relying on its memory, it didn’t soar into the sky but returned to this ship.

It drank eagerly, not noticing the hand holding the bowl was moving, until the liquor was nearly gone. It belched, lifted its head, and realized that the comfortable night breeze was gone, replaced by the slightly cloying indoor air and a strange large cage.

The bowl was still in its beak, and the Pluto Owl didn’t even remember when it had entered. It foolishly watched as the door, the only way in and out, was mercilessly closed by the person who had given it the liquor.

The Duke casually handed the key to Amber beside him, instructing, “Feed it for a while first, then you can take over once it’s tamed enough.”

Amber nodded, and together with the others, they sympathetically watched the legendary “incredibly fast, uncatchable” Emerald.

The books never said such an animal could be so foolish.

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Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 112

“Erica and Dr. Salman made some manipulations to make the townspeople believe that a mudslide had destroyed the road leading to the castle,” Charlie said. “The relatives of the bankers and merchants who disappeared without a trace didn’t give up searching at first, but the ‘key’ has been destroyed. To anyone looking, this place is just a crumbling castle overgrown with vines and wildflowers.”

The once beautiful greenhouse was now covered with climbing plants, resembling a giant green turtle from afar, with various flowers growing wildly in the flowerbeds. Due to the lack of pruning, their untamed vitality flourished.

The two of them exerted some effort to lift the unconscious Elena out of the fountain, fortunate that the pool was fed by a live stream. Otherwise, the Darby Belly Fish would’ve had to drop them off at the nearest river to the castle, forcing them to trek through the roads that Erica had deliberately damaged.

Louis glanced back at the pool, which now only reflected the moonlight. The magical fish was nowhere to be seen.

“Such things,” he mused, “are they phantom beasts?”

“Rare beasts.” Finally outside, Charlie sat on the edge of the fountain, smoking. The drifting smoke rings blurred under the moonlight. “Do you remember that story about the Kingdom of Gold?”

“I remember. That bizarre travelog, as if from a dream, the author was called ‘The Lying Ajasha’,” Louis said calmly. “You like these kinds of stories.”

Charlie nodded. “This child is probably the last Darby Belly Fish on the continent if its previous owner has already safely returned home.”

He roughly described his small business in Pennigra to Louis, including the reason he returned to Doran. Strictly speaking, Kurt’s prophecy about Priscilla might also be related to Louis.

Ever since Priscilla blurted out the unfamiliar name “Ceylon” upon seeing him at the Mokwen Palace, Charlie had harbored a bad feeling, given that people who looked like him were few and far between. But in front of the Duke, he couldn’t very well say, “I suspect there’s something wrong between your sister and my brother.”

Kurt said Priscilla was surrounded by ominous stars, with two extremely dangerous people threatening her safety.

Lestrop was definitely one, and Louis was not entirely safe either.

Louis nodded. “The name ‘Wolf’ is a threat to anyone.” Regarding the unborn child, he and Priscilla were both clear-headed. Getting involved with a Black Gold Family was disadvantageous. Maintaining their distance was the right choice.

Charlie was somewhat worried—Louis had always been a pessimist, and, having been brought back to White Bridge by Fahim, his mood seemed worse growing up surrounded by Wolves.

“Let’s not talk about this now.” Charlie decisively changed the subject. “Help me get her into the castle. I’ll see if I can fix this magic.”

It was late at night, and the castle was pitch black, likely checked by the sheriff coming to search for people, with many rooms tossed about. However, due to the road being impassable, the lavish but large furniture was preserved, its gilded decorations and inlaid gems glinting under the moonlight filtering through the windows, faintly hinting at a time when guests filled the halls.

The upstairs library was burnt to a cinder, including the great book, but the magic in this area still existed, akin to the key being destroyed but the door remaining, only the magic restricting entry and exit was temporarily ineffective without the book to control it.

Objectively speaking, the woman embedded in the wall was much more formidable than Elena. She had turned the entire castle into a magical object. Admittedly, a creator’s magic faded and eventually became ineffective after death, but this process usually wasn’t rapid. The fire that truly claimed her life had only recently been extinguished, and it seemed no mages had visited since, so her residual magic was still relatively intact, with Charlie still able to sense the magical elements flowing through the air.

Charlie quickly checked the entire castle. Since it was uninhabited, the interior had deteriorated rapidly. The thick floor curtains were covered in dust, provoking a cough at a glance, and the once mirror-like floors were now dirty, with corners against the walls showing signs of mice. As for the staircase banisters, Charlie thought it would take at least ten feather dusters to clean them.

“I need some time to study her formulas,” Charlie concluded. “You go back to Fortuna City for now and pass on a message for me.”

Louis frowned. “Can you handle that witch alone?”

“A severely injured witch,” Charlie corrected him. “Elena won’t wake up so quickly, and it will take even longer for her energy to recover… But honestly, it’s better if she doesn’t.”

He glanced at Elena, temporarily placed on a dusty old sofa. Just in Fortuna City, her puppet magic and animal disturbances had caused much damage and posed real threats to public safety, not to mention the pain and destruction she had inflicted over time, with the tin soldier Columbus as a prime example.

No witch’s reputation was built on good deeds. If taken to trial, Elena’s punishment wouldn’t be light.

Since he ended up handling Elena by chance, Charlie didn’t plan to create a holiday retreat for her. It was crucial to ensure she couldn’t easily escape.

Louis reluctantly agreed to Charlie’s plan to handle the aftermath alone, but after being assured of Charlie’s magical power, which was no less than Elena’s, and that restarting a castle originally built by magic wasn’t difficult, and since physical strength greatly limited a mage’s power, a comatose witch would certainly pose no threat to him.

After nearly half an hour of back-and-forth, Louis reluctantly nodded. He had no expertise in magic, and insisting on staying wouldn’t be very effective. Going missing for too long might trigger a reaction from both the Wolf and Monkey families, potentially escalating the situation—especially with the auction imminent, which was a sensitive time for many.

Charlie took the opportunity to mention Kurt’s situation to him.

Given the rarity and value of astrologers, it was unlikely for Louis to decide to release Kurt on his own. Everything listed in the auction catalog was considered public property of the Wolf family, and even the family head couldn’t dispose of it at will. However, it was possible within his authority to provide some special treatment for Kurt, at least improving his living conditions. Charlie felt that, with Kurt’s frail health, treating him like a slave would see him fall ill before the auction even started.

“If your goal at this auction is the astrologer, it’s going to be tough.” Louis frowned. “He’s one of this year’s most sought-after ‘items’. Nearly everyone will be watching him. But I can make his stay a bit more comfortable. Many of the auction items need careful maintenance, and the ‘warehouse’ conditions aren’t bad.”

“Are you planning to bid for the astrologer?” Louis asked. “He’s just a tenant of yours.”

Strictly speaking, he wasn’t even a tenant. Charlie was more like a middleman. Wanting to save a friend was understandable, but everyone knew that one of only three astrologers in the world would fetch an astronomical price. Although Louis and Charlie weren’t short of money, they didn’t feel capable of outbidding other enthusiastic competitors. When it came to money, there was always someone with deeper pockets.

“You don’t need to worry about that. Just take care of Miss Priscilla. The Darby Belly Fish will drop you off a distance from the dock. Don’t let anyone see it,” Charlie said.

He knew that without Fahim, Louis wouldn’t have an easy time within the family. Relying on their grandfather, who was only interested in indulging himself and maintaining his image, was impossible. The old man lacked talent and was shortsighted, barely acknowledging Louis, much to his own discontent.

If not for Fahim and Louis both proving themselves capable, their branch of the family would have failed under his leadership—likely ending up relegated to the surrounding cities, barely scraping by pawning the jewelry and furniture left by their ancestors.

Now, Louis was nearly the only hope for the family. To outsiders, he might seem to be enjoying his youthful success, but in reality, he was more cautious than anyone. Unwilling to burden him further, Charlie almost dragged him back to the edge of the fountain and practically shoved him into the fish’s mouth.

……

Just as an assassin sneaking through a snowy forest would erase their tracks, Charlie also exerted much effort to sever himself from his past. Despite his endless tales of his glorious days at the Monterey Academy in front of the Duke and his entourage, since setting foot on the continent of Doran, he rarely used magic directly, instead relying on various mediums to indirectly exert his magical power.

He did this because, like his appearance, magic also varied from person to person. Charlie could recognize magical items or remnants of magic handled by Elena without using any sigils, just by the inherent magic within them—and vice versa, Elena could recognize his. This included the classmates with whom he had studied and played and the teachers who had once held high hopes for him.

Perhaps due to his exaggerated tone, when he spoke of the past, everyone thought he was boasting. But in reality, Charlie had indeed been the pride of Monterey, and had his status not been sensitive, he would have been known across the continent earlier than Elena, and in a more reputable manner, rather than fiddling all day with invisibility potions, dragon-shaped flyers, and Gray Sentinels, which would make those old teachers wince at the “improper practices”.

Recalling how his favorite teacher had once discreetly and eagerly hinted, hoping he would stay and continue to study magic after graduation, Charlie showed a nostalgic smile.

If cutting off all ties with classmates and friends was regrettable, then for the teachers who had carefully instructed him, Charlie felt nothing but remorse.

He restrained his smile, raised his hand to remove his top hat, and hung it on a hat rack in the corner of the hall.

The moment the hat touched the hook, the seemingly stagnant space suddenly came alive.

It was as if someone had dropped a stone into a silent, deep pond. The hat rack was the point where the stone hit the water, creating ripples that spread outward. As they spread, a three-legged piano stool reattached itself, cobwebs on the chandelier vanished, the porcelain tea set on the dining table regained its shine, and the carpet underfoot restored itself to new—Charlie was like a clockmaker, lightly adjusting, and turning back the castle’s time to the night of an impending grand ball. If one inhaled deeply, one could even smell the enticing aroma of bread baking from the kitchen far away.

He no longer appeared like the tea-savvy shopkeeper from 22 Paulownia Street, nor like the street performer doing magic for children at the crossroads as Erica first saw him. The air around him gathered into a breeze, spreading out from his feet, his coat fluttering endlessly as he stood with his eyes closed on the carpet of the main hall. Though his hands were in his pockets, his dispersed magic felt like invisible, large hands gently touching every corner of the castle, searching for various mechanisms and patiently unlocking them.

If Elena opened her eyes at this moment, she would see in this rabbit-headed man the shadow of the boy everyone admired and longed for in the academy, whom she had chased for over a decade.

The innate talent he was born with hadn’t been erased by time but had become more serene and robust. Charlie’s magic spread strongly but gently, slowly covering the core areas of the spatial magic.

He didn’t intend to remake this magic, but to repair it—while making some modifications.

The original core library had been destroyed, so he simply sealed off the entire corridor. Elena’s curse had denied Columbus many years of normal life, and Mistress Daisy’s tragedy also began with the witch hunt. If he was to seal Elena here, he wanted them completely separated.

The hall.

The staircase.

The corridor.

The storeroom.

The laundry room…

At each location, he left a magic circle according to the space’s use, incorporating a strand of Elena’s hair into the core of each circle, which meant the power source was changed from the magic left by the woman in the wall to Elena’s.

This operation carried a strong punitive meaning, walking a gray area between magic and curse. Mages of particularly upright character usually wouldn’t use this method, but Charlie hardly hesitated when he began.

As long as Elena lived, this space would continuously draw on her magic to sustain the castle. The stove in the kitchen would automatically add wood and burn, the spoon in the soup pot would stir the broth on its own, and the lights, large and small, would never go out. On good weather days, the sheets and curtains would even queue up to wash themselves.

It was a seemingly effortless environment to live in, but for anyone other than Elena, it could be considered comfortable.

The various magic circles in the castle would drain her magic no matter which room she hid in, like a climber who could never stop. The intense fatigue and effort would accompany her constantly unless she died, in which case this vampiric prison would forever trap her.

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 111

Nine-year-old Charlie sat in an armchair. His toes barely touched the carpet unless he tiptoed, but he sat up straight—a seriously comical posture for a child, though the atmosphere was grave in the study where both the young and the adult took things seriously.

Hearing his uncle’s words, Charlie wasn’t shocked. After all, there was a fifty percent chance, and they were mentally prepared that one of them would have to face this fate.

Charlie’s attention was elsewhere.

“I always knew I was the older brother.” He felt slightly proud because both of them were “Louis”. Fahim always strictly forbade anyone from delving into the details of their birth, so it had never been settled who the older twin was, often sparking fights between them.

“I should protect my brother.” Young Charlie couldn’t help but bounce on his toes. “Please tell him that I am the Holy Grail. Let him stay—he gets uncomfortable in carriages and boats.” His logic was simple: if one day their twin identity was revealed, and those seeking the Holy Grail focused on them, the most dangerous place would also be the safest, and the one who ran away would be the one feared to be the captured Holy Grail.

By drawing away those suspicious gazes, at least his brother could live a stable life under their uncle’s protection. Their mother’s circumstances meant they weren’t recognized by the family, but Fahim was capable, and his status and authority were subtly surpassing that of their grandfather. Under these circumstances, life in Fortuna City was lonely and mundane, but the material conditions were always superior.

Remembering this, Charlie blinked and subconsciously reached out to touch Louis’s cheek—a habit from when Louis was frail as a child, easily getting feverish from cold or heat during the night, and the first thing Charlie would do upon waking was to check if his face was hot.

The commotion at the docks had settled by the time it was nearly dark. The Darby Belly Fish swam smoothly, causing no disturbances. Time here seemed to stand still. Louis had been in the river for half a day without changing clothes, and one could feel the chill on him up close.

Louis brushed off his hand. “I haven’t had fevers at night since I turned ten.”

Charlie reluctantly withdrew his hand, thinking it was because no one shared a bed with him anymore to know if he had a fever.

“Don’t overdo it falling into the river in this weather,” Charlie said. “Brother cares about you.”

Louis said indifferently, “The one who gets fevers is you, and I am the older brother.”

Charlie was puzzled. “I’m the older brother. Fahim himself said so.”

Louis, who had been resting with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them.

“Fahim said that I’m the older brother,” he stated. “I remember very clearly.”

Both fell silent for a while before Charlie said softly, “You’re joking.”

“I’m certain,” Louis replied firmly.

That stormy night was crystal clear in his memory. Fahim sat quietly behind his desk, watching him until young Louis, slightly uneasy, shifted in his seat before he spoke.

“Your brother is destined to bear a much heavier fate than you,” he said. “You were the firstborn. Your blood is red.”

Louis looked at him but didn’t speak.

“You were meant to have an ordinary life, but fate chose your twin brother, and now it’s your turn to make a choice for him.”

Louis didn’t remember how long he thought about it, but eventually, he responded.

“Let him go,” young Louis said, propping his knees with his hands. “I’ll stay—he’s always running out to watch the ships.”

He hadn’t thought too much about it. Twins were mirrors to each other, and Louis could see in his brother’s eyes the longing for the world beyond Fortuna City, understanding that such a person wouldn’t be happy confined to an estate forever. Besides, if they lived unnoticed for a lifetime in the city, unrecognized and mediocre was one thing, but if one day their identities were exposed, the one whose will had been worn down over time would struggle to find a way to escape. It was better to get used to life away from the family sooner rather than later.

“Are you sure?” Fahim asked. “Staying might be dangerous, but the outside isn’t necessarily better—you haven’t even seen the world beyond the docks. Fledglings leaving the nest too soon often die young.”

Louis sternly said, “You wouldn’t leave him to fend for himself in a filthy stable, would you?”

If Fahim dared say yes, he would—

He would complain to their deceased mother in his dreams tonight.

Fahim laughed. “Of course not. But my protection can’t extend across the continent. Once out of my sight, what happens is unpredictable.”

And since he was sending him away, it naturally meant placing him far beyond the reach of the Wolf and other influential families, indicating that if something did happen, the power of the White Wolf Fahim would also be unable to intervene immediately.

“That’s fine. You¹ have to protect him until he’s grown.” Although he was using honorifics¹, Louis’s tone was assertive. His eyes shone brightly, like a young cub begging its parents for food, unaware of his own expression. “Send him to a safe place. I’ll follow the arrangement—treat me as the Holy Grail if you must.”

¹Clarity: He’s using [nin] (您) instead of [ni] (你) for you. The former is the formal way, often used to show respect to the person addressed, while the latter is informal, often used between friends, family, or people of similar age or social status.

After all, he wasn’t really the Holy Grail. Even if someone did bleed him dry thinking he was, it wouldn’t awaken anything, and by then his brother would be living somewhere unknown in the world, unreachable—Louis calculated this was a win.

“Your decision has never wavered.” Fahim smiled. “I will take the one who stays back to the Wolf family.”

Fahim said softly, “Maybe tomorrow, maybe a year from now, maybe in ten years, but this will certainly happen. You let him leave, and if one day he returns… or is brought back, as the Holy Grail, what will you do then?”

Louis thought for a moment.

“Then I will kill him, getting to him before anyone else.” At least one of them, in body or spirit, would be free.

He said.

“Very well,” Fahim said.

That was the last question Fahim asked him that night. When Louis left the study and returned to his bedroom, Charlie was no longer there.

But there were still two pillows and two sets of pajamas on the footstool, and the dim night light continued to shine on each side.

Louis lay in bed all night until dawn, and the bedroom door remained unopened.

Charlie didn’t return the next day, nor the day after.

Fahim offered no explanations, and everyone in the house ceased to mention it, as if Louis had always been just Louis.

No one else.

……

Many years later, upon their unexpected reunion, Charlie and Louis realized something: their uncle had taken the secret of the Holy Grail to his grave. If the brothers truly never met again in this lifetime, no one else in the world would know whether he had lied or not.

“That’s just his style,” Charlie said after a long while.

Fahim was an odd figure, and much of Louis’s standing in the family today was inherited from him—Fahim was an undeniable pioneer.

Their grandfather had no talent in this area. Without Fahim, it was very likely that Charlie and Louis’s mother couldn’t have even secured the bare minimum for living. On one hand, her actions were frustrating, and on the other, she was supposed to carry half the hope for the family’s revival. In a place like White Bridge, where money was squandered recklessly, bankruptcy was common for those who couldn’t manage their finances. The compensation for unilaterally breaking off an engagement only made things worse. In the end, it was Fahim, then still a minor, who took over the reins of the household. By the time the twins were brought back to Fortuna City, the financial situation had greatly improved, ensuring that these neglected, illegitimate sons never lacked material comforts.

As beneficiaries, Charlie and Louis always found him strange yet capable. As an uncle, he didn’t shower them with much affection, but he earnestly took on the responsibility of protecting and educating them as an elder, and they couldn’t have asked for more. However, outsiders saw him as much more complex. On one hand, the White Wolf Fahim was extremely gracious and even refined in his dealings, never seen losing his temper or composure. On the other hand, the list of competitors and adversaries he had personally destroyed to rise to power was so long it could touch the ground, with many methods so horrifying they could chill the heart. Phrases like “a devil without tears” and “even hell has no place for you” were curses he had heard so often they no longer affected him.

Interestingly, as Louis began to make a name for himself within the Wolf family, there were occasional grievances about his actions. “Surely carrying blood as cold as that old White Wolf,” but Louis chose not to discuss this.

“He has always been cautious about this matter,” Louis hummed, stretching his previously bent legs wearily.

Fahim was never the type to tell fairy tales to his young nephews. On the contrary, he always emphasized the significance of the Holy Grail and the worst possible outcomes if their identities were exposed, a reality too cruel for children, such that even as an adult, Charlie still harbored great wariness towards the Lion family—they neither trusted nor accepted power granted by others and didn’t want other families to possess it, thus the Holy Grail had long topped their hit list.

“I really don’t care,” Charlie said. “Fahim is dead, but we have grown up.” Still, hearing of his uncle’s death saddened him a bit. Aside from each other, he was the last relative willing to offer them protection in this world.

“If you’ve grown up, you should know better than to come back.” Louis pointed out ruthlessly.

Unlike the optimistic Charlie, Louis habitually anticipated the worst. Although this unexpected disguise as a rabbit could deceive others, relying on a witch was indeed troublesome.

No one could ensure their powers remained stable, including mages and witches. This time, he almost assassinated Elena, and the fact that his head nearly reverted to its original form proved this.

With that said, Charlie remembered to check, touching his own furry face and long ears, finding no more shedding (?). His touch was still dry and fluffy, very pleasant to the touch.

“It seems Elena is fine.” He fumbled for a while and re-lit the small mining lamp to check on Elena. The young witch’s face was bloodless. With her eyes closed, she looked almost like a worn-out corpse, if not for the faint breathing.

Due to the urgency, the medicine Charlie used on her, although unsightly and foul-smelling, was indeed valuable and not something money could buy. He always carried it for emergencies, never expecting to use it on an adversary.

“What are you planning to do with her? Keep her?” Louis looked up, noticing that although her life was saved, she looked hardly better than dead. Louis’s strike hadn’t killed her instantly but had induced a deep coma.

Releasing her was out of the question. Her obsession with Charlie was both strange and intense. If she were let go, once recovered, she would likely continue causing trouble, especially now that Louis had exposed himself. Who knew what she might do upon seeing a face so similar to Charlie’s?

But since they were keeping her alive due to the curse, they at least needed to find a secure place to restrict her movements, which plainly meant imprisonment, which was safer. But Elena was no ordinary woman. Giving her a house and two maids to live quietly in the countryside wasn’t enough—not to mention maids, even ordinary men were no match for her. To confine her, manpower and meticulous planning were needed—something Charlie, who had spent most of his life in exile, likely couldn’t manage. Although Louis had the capability, being a Wolf cadre, his every move was monitored by the family, and any slip might lead to further investigation.

Charlie also felt the situation was troublesome.

Elena’s magical power was strong. Even assigning two mages specifically to guard her wasn’t necessarily secure, and legitimate mages had to report to the Association, not to mention participating in events like the Magic Congress and regular assessments—’guarding Witch Elena’ was certainly not a job to be made public.

He had indeed known many who later became mages, as well as some mentors with sufficient magical power to be fully trustworthy, but having vanished from the human world for years, suddenly reappearing to ask them to solve a difficult problem felt too presumptuous, even for someone as thick-skinned as Charlie.

“If it were in Pennigra, I could place her in the green forest,” Charlie worriedly said. “Without permission, she definitely can’t leave at will, and outsiders can’t easily enter—it’s a huge natural maze.”

“Don’t they have such places in Doran?” Louis asked. “Both continents are equally vast, with many unexplored, mysterious lands.” If necessary, he could commission a third party to scout suitable locations and personnel at an auction.

“I believe Doran does too. It’s just that this isn’t my territory. To restrict entry and ensure I understand enough to control the place is simply…” Charlie suddenly stopped speaking.

Doran did have such places, but he had always been reluctant to think about them.

Places that couldn’t be easily entered or left, where normal life could continue—someone had lived there for many years, and his friend had melted into a pile of tin there.

Daisy’s castle.

The author has something to say:

Regarding the child, as long as the current Holy Grail is alive, no new Holy Grail will be born.

Priscilla’s pregnancy was accidental (subjectively, she didn’t want a child by Lestrop, and since Louis isn’t her husband, she definitely wouldn’t have willingly had his child), so whether Louis allows it or not doesn’t matter.

Many guessed in the previous chapter, the uncle still played them one last time as a final precaution to keep the secret, because he was destined to die young, and no one can guarantee that brothers who depended on each other as children wouldn’t grow apart as they grew older—that’s how suspicious he was.

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