Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 102

“Just got off the boat,” Louis said.

Brooks didn’t want him to keep staring at the empty plate in his hands, so he casually pushed the plate along with the cup behind the counter and stood up straight. “The usual? An apple cinnamon roll?”

“…No.” Louis looked around. The shop looked no different from the last time he came in, which could reveal the owner’s nostalgic—if not stubborn—character from the unchanged decor that had stayed the same for a decade.

He paused, his gaze landing on the bread shelf, and for some reason, he suddenly felt like changing his mood. “The cream buns look good.”

Brooks inwardly roared in anger, cursing the gods for their joke, but managed to keep a calm expression as he packed them up for Louis, and calmly saw him out the door—until the sound of the wind chimes at the door faded away and could no longer be heard. Then, Louis began walking toward the old house.

He always felt something was off but couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. Maybe it was because Priscilla was also in Fortuna City now, which made him a bit overly sensitive.

The streetlights had all turned on, and carrying the paper bag from Brooks’, he slowly walked down the long street, occasionally glancing at the shop windows beside the road. Some shops that were open late still had their doors open, and whenever passersby lingered slightly, the shop assistants looked out hopefully.

He didn’t usually shop, but as he passed a boutique women’s clothing store, he paused for a moment.

The goods in this area were mostly fashionable and expensive. To justify the prices, a lot of effort had gone into the display windows: A pair of silver high heels was placed in the most conspicuous position, reflecting an almost liquid-like shine under the window lights. The delicate design of the shoe tips and heels was very rare, seemingly a new arrival, and probably for promotional purposes. Below these shoes, there was an unexpectedly small and cute pair of baby soft shoes in the same silver color, embroidered with a pair of delicate butterflies using colorful silk threads.

Those shoes were so exquisite and eye-catching that if held in the palm of a hand, they wouldn’t take up more space than an apple, which was irresistibly cute.

Louis looked for a while, and the shop assistant inside quietly sized him up. She had noticed this handsome young man the moment he stopped. Although it was disappointing that men who paused outside a women’s clothing store usually already had partners, his coat and cane were clearly high-end, indicating wealth. Her professional training made her brace herself, preparing to invite him in for a look, but regretfully watched as he withdrew his gaze and walked away.

“Not buying?” the shop assistant muttered to herself, hopelessly leaning to the side to watch as his figure disappeared outside the door in a moment when something black seemed to move.

What was that? A shadow from the streetlight?

But street lights aren’t candles. How could their shadows move?

The shop assistant stared out for a moment, then silently retreated back.

Louis didn’t notice the movement behind him. The streets were scarcely populated, and he walked along the perimeter wall leisurely until, without warning, he stopped.

If it was just nervous sensitivity due to his preoccupations earlier, now he truly felt something was amiss.

He lowered his eyes to his feet. The streetlight was neither bright nor dark, casting a deep black shadow from his feet onto the wall, where another shadow was approaching from above.

Louis turned, holding his cane, but there was no one behind him.

Yet, the shadow on the wall definitely existed and was still moving.

Louis took a few steps toward the streetlight, pulling his shadow away from the wall. A gust of night wind blew, rustling the vine leaves on the wall, which quivered like a bunch of restless mice. The slowly moving shadow on the wall seemed like a fish lurking underwater, surfacing through the vine leaves at the top of the wall to reveal itself as a large, glossy-feathered raven with two heads looking in different directions, both sets of eyes fixated on Louis, motionless.

“A witch?” Louis narrowed his eyes. He made sure it indeed had two heads and wasn’t just a trick of the dark.

Without warning, the streetlights along the road, both in front and behind him, went out, except for the one where Louis stood, its circular halo enveloping him like an island in an endless darkness.

This double-headed raven was one of the signs of Witch Elena. Louis lowered his gaze in thought, but couldn’t recall having offended such a renowned witch, especially since a family auction was imminent and it was unusual for family members to stir up conflicts at this time.

The large raven seemed to sense his confusion, fluttering its wings and crying out with a voice unlike a normal crow’s—hoarse and breathless, as if someone had once forced a pot of hot pepper water down its throat.

A flash of silver, accompanied by the sound of the wind, abruptly silenced the cry. The raven on the wall, like a balloon, suddenly deflated, collapsed into a black piece of skin, and slid down the wall, turning into another shadow under the vine leaves. A delicate little silver knife was pinned down where the raven had been perched, with a few black feathers gently floating in the air.

“You scared it,” a woman’s voice suddenly said, with a tone of complaint. “That’s a bit ungentlemanly.”

Louis turned his head and indeed saw a woman standing not far away.

It was his first encounter with this witch, and her appearance was quite different from the folklore: she was neither dressed in a tight, high-slit black robe nor did she wear bright red lipstick. Even her looks had nothing to do with the term “bewitching”.

She wasn’t beautiful, but not ugly either. If anything, she resembled an ordinary receptionist at an agency, earning a modest salary and occasionally worrying about colleagues gossiping if she chose a slightly unconventional lipstick color.

“Elena?” Louis didn’t let his guard down because of her harmless appearance—no normal person would think encountering a witch alone at night was just an accident.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Elena stepped forward, her gaze never leaving Louis’s face. “I’ve been looking for you for many years… Where have you been? If you don’t like rabbits, why didn’t you say? I wouldn’t be mad.”

Rabbits? What rabbits?

Louis furrowed his brow, thinking this woman was somewhat mentally unstable. “What do you want with me?”

“Are you mad at me? Because of Freya? Or Peggy? But she provoked me first, always talking about Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, and said you gave her an umbrella… so I burned her hair off.” Elena approached closer, her eyes filled with fervor. “That was punishment. Who told her to lie? Right?”

Louis didn’t understand a word she said, but it didn’t stop him from quickly realizing what was happening—the witch had mistaken him for someone else.

Usually, the best strategy when dealing with a mad person is to agree with them, not doing anything that might provoke them, especially since Elena wasn’t just any mad person but a well-known witch.

Yet, Louis responded with a sarcastic smile.

“I disagree,” he said. “You’d better stop following me, Elena.”

Elena stared at him intensely for a moment, then suddenly broke into a smile. “You’re trying to trick me again. I won’t be mad at you.”

She said sweetly, “Come with me. I’m not angry anymore, and I won’t hold your past mistakes against you. We can start over.”

Louis stood his ground, arms crossed, watching as Elena approached him—then suddenly stopped, the smile vanishing from her face.

“What have you done?” she said coldly. “That’s not your magic… What are you wearing?”

The previously blurry light at Louis’s feet now became distinctly clear, with the black shadows on its edge stirring uneasily, as if they were tangible.

Elena couldn’t take another step forward.

“A little security measure,” Louis said calmly. “After all, no one knows when an accident might happen, one must always be prepared.”

As he spoke, Elena dodged several streaks of silver light—like the silverware that injured her raven, Louis had an anti-magic artifact, preventing her puppets from approaching and forcing them to hastily dodge his moves.

“Armand!” Elena screamed as the raven swiftly dove at Louis, its sharp claws striking a crisp sound against the cane he raised to block.

The vines on the wall seemed to come to life, rising high, detaching from the wall, and swiftly crawling towards Louis. He quickly tossed aside the paper bag in his hand, flicked open a lighter, and almost a second before the vines reached him, a fireball dropped from his palm, spreading rapidly across the vine leaves.

Elena watched his actions—Louis’s series of movements had no pause, as if he had planned every step from the second she appeared. Unconcerned by the flames at his feet, he charged straight at her.

“A so-called witch,” Louis’s eyes, devoid of emotion, stared at her as he advanced, “relies on magic and contracts to transfer power, excelling in ambush from the shadows, or creating invincible domains to wait for an easy prey…”

This sentence came from “The Origins and Categories of Magic, Part II” (written by Hershey Grukenski), a text familiar to every student who studied or took elective courses in magic. Louis showed no sign of magical power, yet he recited the textbook content word for word.

As he spoke in a murmur, his icy cane stabbed towards her neck. “With proper defenses, a strong attack can break through.”

Elena’s eyes widened, clearly seeing an unfamiliar and undisguised intent to kill in him.

The sudden chill made her shudder, nearly failing to dodge the strike. Her chestnut hair was shaved off by the seemingly blunt cane, missing her face and neck by inches.

This man isn’t Charlie.

The thought flashed through Elena’s mind. Although the face had changed slightly from his younger days…

Could it be an illusion? Not only were her puppet and Armand confused, but she herself was misled?

The worst part was, as soon as this thought entered her mind, his gaze became even colder, as if he were the real witch, lurking in her mind, fully aware of her every thought.

Indeed, Elena wasn’t skilled in close combat. She turned and ran, with the burnt vines behind her, leaping at Louis like a loyal guardian beast, only to be penetrated by the firelight.

As the flames died down, the street lights lit up from near to far, the dense darkness receding, and the sounds of insects nearby and the distant noise of carriages and voices gradually became audible again.

Louis didn’t continue the pursuit but watched the direction the witch had fled with a complicated expression.

The author has something to say:

Elena is a stalker, so Charlie has always been avoiding her.

But Charlie has never killed anyone.

In a way, neither Elena nor Louis were prepared, so their first encounter ended without a clear winner.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 101

“Frankly, I didn’t expect to see you again,” the proprietor said, settling into the creaky chair with a risky squeak. “Tell me, what’s with the head?”

“Just a minor disagreement with someone,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper replied succinctly.

The proprietor chuckled briefly. “I’ve known you long enough, Louis. If someone else got tangled up in trouble with you, they wouldn’t be the ones coming out on top.”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper spread his hands helplessly. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk about. Heard any news lately?”

“About what?”

“Witch Elena.”

Hearing this name, the burly proprietor didn’t show the typical signs of fear or disgust that most would. Instead, he straightened up and looked Charlie over again from head to toe with a meaningful gaze.

“You’ve grown up,” he teased. “A witch. I should remind you, those women are trouble.”

“Cut the imagination. I’m not involved with her in that way. But since you mentioned her, it means you haven’t seen her around. Or is your tavern really going out of business? Is no one coming by anymore?”

“Fuck off! You’re not going to provoke me. Every time the auction draws near, all sorts of creatures come out of the woodwork. What’s one witch? She’s been causing a stir on Dock Street, which made the patrols tighten up. Even the old drunks dare not go out for a midnight tipple.” The proprietor raised an eyebrow. “Are you planning to catch her? Lift a curse or get revenge? I know people…”

“No, I just wanted to remind you to be careful lately. Now that you’ve got a family, don’t be as reckless as before. Thank heavens. I always thought you looked so fierce, no woman would dare marry you, and you’d be a bachelor for life. I even secretly saved some retirement money for you, hid it behind the third brick from the left under the southeast iron door.”

The proprietor’s eyebrows shot up. “You little brat—wait, how did you know I got married?”

“When did you learn to bake bread?”

The two looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh.

“And you even changed the sign. Only a fool wouldn’t notice, Brooks.”

More than a decade ago, that scruffy bachelor didn’t even bother to come up with a name for the tavern. He just welded his own name onto it. Later, when business expanded, his wife’s name was added by his own hands.

“She’s a good woman,” the proprietor said with a rare, gentle expression when he spoke of his wife. “She’s in the bakery. Let me call her out to see you.”

Charlie shook his head. “No need.”

“My old friend, she should meet you.” Brooks insisted. “Besides, you’re a rabbit now. What’s there to fear?”

“What about besides the rabbit head?” Charlie calmly countered. “The voice, stature, and mannerisms? Have people mistaken me on the street already? He comes to Fortuna City often, doesn’t he? Has she seen him?”

The proprietor fell silent.

“Occasionally. He usually stays at the old mansion… Sometimes he comes here to glance around.”

Brooks looked up at him. “Every time I watch him, I imagine your face. Every single time, Louis.”

So even though it was hard to believe, he recognized the visitor’s identity immediately.

“He’s Louis,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper corrected again. “I am Charlie.”

“Alright, alright, if you insist… Although you’re all furry now, you’re still exactly the same. I swear, not even other twins are as identical as you two.” His voice was very low, almost a whisper. “Last time I saw him, he had a brooch on his chest.”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper slightly raised his face. “Where—”

“Right here.” The proprietor seemed to know what he was thinking and waved his hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t go to White Bridge. Couldn’t even get into those events if I tried. It was once, right after some gala. He must’ve been in a rush back from there, still in his event clothes. Just popped in to grab a loaf of bread.”

Each member of the Black Gold Family had specific ways to indicate their status in formal settings, generally through attire and jewelry.

The proprietor continued, “I don’t get it. You both hated family politics as kids. Now one of you has run away for a decade without showing his face, and the other has returned to climb the family ranks. What are you really planning?”

Before Charlie could respond, the proprietor went on. “But whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me. I’m just glad you could stop by for a visit.”

He looked at the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, finally changing the way he addressed him. “Really, Charlie. Louis occasionally visits too, and I’m always happy to see him.”

Brooks hadn’t had a drink today, but the emotional atmosphere made his face glow red as if he were drunk.

Aside from a few people deep inside the old mansion, probably the entire city of Fortuna only knew that two little boys had once lived there, possessing different souls but forced to share the same face and name, and even this incomplete identity was viewed with contempt for a long time.

Brooks, coming from a poor sailor background, didn’t understand the complex inner workings of large families, but he knew that children without parents wouldn’t be happy.

Although he didn’t know exactly which family’s children they were, if they were cherished and loved, why would twins who still spoke in youthful voices be left alone in Fortuna City under only the care of servants, without any relatives?

So even though they lived inside that wall, in a large house with servants that others outside could only dream of, the young Louis still preferred to climb over the wall and head to the docks to watch the laborers load and unload for hours.

Brooks never asked him what was so interesting about the dull routine at the docks, because what mesmerized the boy wasn’t the workers or the crates, but the ships from afar. He knew Louis would eventually leave. Those luxurious silk clothes, books, and toys from White Bridge that came every quarter were just a heavy, useless anchor to him.

Eventually, he did leave, but the other child stayed behind. It was only then that Brooks first met the other Louis. He indeed looked exactly like his brother, but was quieter, uninterested in dock workers, and didn’t like mint candies.

But that wasn’t their biggest difference.

Brooks thought the biggest difference was that this Louis never mentioned his brother—although the previous Louis also rarely did, sometimes he would say things like, “I really want him to try this too. The teacher won’t let us eat outside stuff”, and then quickly pretended to be pitiful, begging Brooks to keep a secret about his brother and the candies.

And later, Louis refused to acknowledge that he had a brother or that he ever had one.

“Louis has always been the only one.” He said this to the proprietor. “Brooks, you should stop drinking. You’re always drunk and messing up your memories… It’s still me. I just don’t like mint candies anymore.”

Not just him. Others said the same.

“Did the Wolf family really once have a child placed in Fortuna City? Why didn’t we know about this? Such a big family…”

“Of course, you didn’t know. It was an illegitimate child. A naive young lady was deceived by a man, and after the irresponsible man ran away, she was pregnant and had to secretly give birth outside.”

“It can’t be. The Wolf family is so rich.”

“Of course they’re rich. Look, it’s clearly the family’s disgrace, yet they gave him such a big house. Several times a year, they transport two big trucks of stuff into it from the port.”

“Why did that man run away? What fool would do such a stupid thing?”

“Because the young lady was already engaged to a son from another family when she got pregnant. He had to run. Otherwise, they would have skinned him alive and fed him to the hyenas.”

“That child is…”

“Shh, he’s not the disgraceful illegitimate child anymore. Did you see the carriage he was in last time? The door had the Wolf Family’s crest. It means he’s been acknowledged.”

“Wow…”

“Was he only fourteen when he was recognized and brought back from Fortuna City? What exactly did he do to return to his family?”

“Did he change his name? After all, his original background wasn’t very glorious.”

“Did he change it? No, I heard he didn’t change his name.”

“I can confirm he didn’t change it. It’s still Louis.”

“He’s still called Louis.”

These rumors hadn’t stopped in the streets and alleys since the Wolf Family’s grand ship docked in Fortuna City and took a boy away.

As the saying goes, even the king’s bed hides three mice, revealing which type of slippers his favorite mistress wears, let alone these historic families.

Although Fortuna City was a place of mixed characters, it rarely saw any significant figures, so even many years later, it was still a point of pride for someone to recognize Louis, who was taken from here to White Bridge, and they tirelessly (and supposedly secretly) tell those around them, “Look, that’s Louis from the Wolf Family.”

As a subject of gossip, it was impossible for him to not be annoyed by this kind of behind-the-scenes pointing, but he couldn’t just beat up such people and throw them into the water to feed the fishes—technically, he already has the power to do so, and even the sheriff wouldn’t dare touch him, but not everyone had the potential to be a tyrant.

Not to mention, the more such families were involved in despicable deeds, the more they cared about their reputation, always willing to appear amiable and approachable in front of others, and they imposed strict controls on the young members of the family, not allowing them to openly commit such acts.

So, for the past two years, even Louis’s carriage had been custom-made, just to avoid public gossip.

Over time, his position had become more secure, past the need for ostentatious displays of status and grandeur, and he no longer engaged in the foolish act of flaunting his status in busy markets.

It wasn’t until he left Dock Street and the number of pedestrians gradually thinned that he had his attendant instruct the coachman to stop.

“I’m going to buy something. No need to wait for me.” After saying this, his attendant, who had been with him for several years, nodded as usual and put on his hat for him.

It was getting dark, but the streetlights weren’t on yet, and walking the streets for a while at this time probably wouldn’t attract too much attention.

Louis wore a casual cape coat, and if he were carrying a suitcase, he would look like a tourist who had just disembarked, looking for a place to stay.

He expertly turned a street corner, and a gust of wind blew towards him. Not far ahead, a store’s sign, missing a screw, dangerously swung back and forth. Underneath, a crack in the door leaked a warm orange light, making that small patch of the floor seem warmer, tempting passersby to push the door open.

But he suddenly stopped, looking up at the still-swinging sign.

For some reason, Louis felt an odd emotion welling up inside him, unclear whether it was joy or sorrow, only knowing that it was so intense that he hesitated for quite a while before finally pushing the door open.

The cheerful sound of a wind chime rang out, and hearing the noise, Brooks, the proprietor who was tidying up the tables, straightened up and turned around, staring at Louis, who stood at the door, stunned.

The young man’s slightly curly golden-copper hair reflected a soft halo under the light. His eyes were slightly elongated, his skin pale, and his features not particularly striking, but they combined to give him an extraordinary sense of mystery, making him look like he shouldn’t be here, but rather in an illustration of some distant ancient country.

Brooks’ first reaction was to look behind him, but the store door had already been closed again, and he saw nothing.

Louis felt bewildered. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, Louis, it’s you.” The proprietor took a step towards him but then remembered he was still holding a small porcelain dish, hurriedly put it down. “It’s nothing.”

Then he very much protested too much once again. “Nothing at all—when did you come back?”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 100

“Miss Priscilla’s judgment isn’t wrong. It concerns the life of the Earl, and Captain Sparry has already set off to return home. We hope he brings back good news,” Erica succinctly stated.

Dwight frowned. For them, the so-called good news definitely was not that Lestrop came out unscathed and victorious. In fact, almost everyone hoped he would just die soon. However, if their wishes came true, Tifa’s attention would directly turn to Priscilla—and the child in her womb.

“How’s my sister’s health?” he asked.

“In addition to her usual headaches, her dietary restrictions are increasing, and she often suffers from bone pain, making it difficult to move,” Erica replied after some thought, her face showing a hint of worry.

Pregnancy wasn’t easy for any woman, especially for a noble lady accustomed to delicacy and illness. Even though the profession of midwifery had become quite mature, childbirth still posed a life-threatening challenge for them. Priscilla’s challenges began early in her pregnancy. As her body became increasingly heavy, even relatively smooth travel by large ship became a substantial burden, necessitating her rest stop in Fortuna City.

But war waits for no one.

As soon as the domestic news arrived, Priscilla began preparations to continue her journey to White Bridge.

It wasn’t that White Bridge would necessarily be safer, but at least Tifa’s troops or assassins would be greatly weakened there.

“When are you planning to leave?” Dwight asked. “We’ll go together.”

With the auction approaching, Fortuna City was unusually lively, and many luxurious ships chose to dock here. One or two coincidentally traveling together wouldn’t attract attention.

Erica hesitated for a moment.

“Before we depart, Miss Priscilla wants to wait here for someone,” she revealed.

This had been planned in advance.

When Priscilla realized that frequent headaches and dizziness made it difficult for her to stay alert and rational for long, she prepared for contingencies. The Dwight family wouldn’t leave their safety in the hands of others, especially not a King who had long harbored grievances against Lestrop. Out of maternal instinct, she had to use every means to ensure her own safety.

“‘Ceylon’?” The Duke’s gaze sharpened.

“Yes. Miss Priscilla said he was more aware of the Earl’s secret experiments than anyone else.”

“Who is he?”

“He never fully disclosed his identity, but he once told Miss Priscilla that he could be found in Fortuna City or White Bridge—so she surmises that he’s likely a member of either the Monkey or Wolf Family.”

Despite anticipation, the Duke was still visibly choked up.

No wonder Priscilla said she wouldn’t marry the child’s father.

No wonder she was certain she would raise the child herself.

Not intermarrying with the Black Gold Families was a consensus among the nobility of both continents. Their relationship remained unexposed, and a child born of a Duke’s daughter and an illegitimate member of the Black Gold Family—anyone would know which side would be better for the child’s future.

Moreover, as he knew, the current heads of the Monkey and Wolf Families were elders near fifty. Priscilla, even if driven mad by Lestrop, wouldn’t spark a romance with them. It was evident from the partners of the members of the Brandenburg Knights and the Dwight family that being particular about appearance was a hereditary trait.

So the person wasn’t only a member of the Black Gold Family who must be kept out of the public eye, but also not one of the highest status.

Dwight didn’t pursue the topic further. These were matters Priscilla had likely considered long before him.

He turned his head, signaling Hasting to step forward and hand his own handwritten letter to Erica, which detailed everything Shivers had discovered at Lestrop’s estate and advised Priscilla to check whether she had ingested any suspicious magic potions. If not, it was very likely that the child was safe and healthy.

“Shivers will return soon,” Dwight told her. “There have been traces of witch activity in Fortuna City. Starting tonight, reestablish your contacts. No matter what happens, you cannot leave Priscilla’s side again.”

……

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper strolled casually down the dock street, a place he knew all too well.

Although he hadn’t told the young and honorable knights the whole truth, he hadn’t lied either. Fortuna City really wasn’t far from his old home. Even after being away from Doran for so long, he still remembered the city’s windmill-like main road structure, the scent of the wind blowing down from the mountain, and the local accent—slightly different in its rising intonation and pauses compared to other regions.

Because he had lived here for several years, along with “Louis”.

The residential area diagonally across from Dock Street was an upscale area, concentrating all the city’s most luxurious facilities: a large central garden, the city’s largest theater, a grand but understaffed library, and several expensive restaurants.

As expected, the residents there were either wealthy or noble. Even though there was no explicit division of territories with walls, ordinary citizens and the poor would consciously avoid the area to avoid being scolded and driven away by patrollers.

That residential area was undoubtedly comfortable, but he didn’t really like it back then because the surrounding walls not only kept out the poor but also blocked his view.

As a result, when he was still shorter than the walls, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper planned daily how to sneak past the servants and teachers to escape. He naturally loved crowds—the pain and joy that life brought to people gave him the illusion that he was part of them, allowing him to briefly forget the life within the walls that seemed as delicate and fragile as a piece of fine art.

A neatly dressed child in such a mixed and bustling place was easy to get into trouble, so this behavior was strictly prohibited. Later, he found a spot where he would change into the clothes commonly worn by laborers, asking the kind-hearted friend who owned the place to keep his secret.

This put that friend in a difficult position.

“Louis, oh Louis.” The friend would sigh whenever he saw him, saying so in a very helpless tone before welcoming him in, casually grabbing a handful of mints from the counter, and having him sit at the most secluded table.

“You can’t keep doing this. Drink your milk and go home, or I’ll tell on you,” he would say every time. “Really, I’ll tell—you’ll be punished to copy lines all night without sleep.”

As the rabbit-headed shopkeeper reminisced, he turned down the main street by memory, took a right at the end, and was supposed to see that familiar yet foreign sign swaying at the roadside. Its screws were loose, making passersby nervous when it swung in the wind…

He stopped walking and adjusted his hat to broaden his view.

Ahead was a street shaded by green trees, lined with townhouses—not all residential but mostly small detective agencies or cleaning companies. At the end was an inconspicuous shop front with a rust-red sign hanging over the sidewalk, written in cursive: “Brooks and Dee”.

The arched sign was quite old, with its hand-painted edges now blurred. It hung precariously by a single screw, dangerously tilting as if it could fall at any moment.

Below, the shop window was small, displaying several baskets of handmade bread that looked both sweet and fluffy. Upon opening the door, the crisp sound of a wind chime could be heard, and the warm air mixed with the aroma of bread enveloped the visitor.

Charlie looked around the interior of the shop, finding it void of both customers and staff. Behind the counter, a huge shelf was filled with various bottled wines, and the opposite wall was adorned with bread racks, offering an even greater variety than what was shown in the window.

A bakery and also a tavern, the shopkeeper here clearly had a bold style.

Or perhaps he had realized that merely waiting drunkenly for patrons was no longer sustainable and had thus expanded into new ventures.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper chuckled softly, leaning slightly to examine the shelves stocked with jam bread.

Before he could determine what kind of fruit produced the almost transparent jam, the curtain that led to the kitchen was swept aside, and a voice as coarse as if it had been sanded grumbled, “It won’t fall off. I’ll fix it—oh, there’s a customer!”

He shouted back into the kitchen, then turned to see Charlie. He paused, then immediately offered a smile. “Sir, would you like some bread?”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper looked at him strangely. The man’s face bore a long scar stretching from his jaw to his neck, his large nose and puffy eyes contrasted sharply with his rugged facial contours and burly physique, making his overly friendly smile seem disingenuous, almost like a clumsy pirate luring a sailor to step off the plank.

But laughing out loud would clearly be impolite. The rabbit-headed shopkeeper nodded and casually pointed at a plump cream bun.

The proprietor quickly pulled out a plate, placed the bun on it, and set a small fork beside it. “Would you like a drink with that? Vanilla tea? Or perhaps some wine?”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper tilted his head. The proprietor lowered his voice, motioning towards the wall behind the counter. “My wines are really good. Not to boast, but once people try them, they become regulars…”

“I don’t drink alcohol. Do you have milk?” Charlie asked.

Hearing him speak, the proprietor froze, stepping back to size him up from head to toe.

“Louis?” His eyes widened. “Louis! You’re Louis!”

The proprietor nearly dropped the plate he was holding—but then composed himself as the other man gestured for silence with a “shush”.

“I’m not Louis,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper stated. “My name is Charlie.”

The perplexed proprietor looked even more formidable as he gave up on thinking, forcefully ushered him to sit down, but didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he stared, trying to see past the rabbit head for any trace of a human face.

But he failed.

“Say what you will,” he eventually muttered. “But you’re Louis.”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper sat at the corner seat—the very spot closest to where he had been observing the bread shelf. The round wooden tabletop appeared newly varnished, looking quite fresh, although the iron-wire twisted back chairs were a bit unstable and smaller than he remembered, with his knees nearly touching the table as he sat.

He smiled amiably at the proprietor sitting opposite him, who looked much the same as he had a decade earlier, albeit with slightly grayer hair.

“Louis, oh Louis.” His sigh sounded just as it had years ago, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. “My tavern doesn’t sell milk, you little rascal.”

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Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 99

Hall observed the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s expression, but Charlie didn’t show any signs of surprise or guilt. In fact, he was so composed that Hall began to doubt whether he was overthinking things.

Shiloh and Hasting watched curiously. Until now, the shopkeeper had never mentioned his family or siblings to them—perhaps he had mentioned it to the Duke, but the two often conversed privately, and the knights couldn’t just intrude to listen. So, it was rare for them to hear about this, and both were very attentive.

If it wasn’t deliberate, Charlie’s rabbit head made it difficult to discern various expressions. He wasn’t stumped by Hall’s question, but he was amused by Shiloh and Hasting’s demeanor.

“I did have a brother a long time ago,” he said. “It’s not something I intentionally hide—but it really is a matter of the distant past. We did look alike as children, but we separated before becoming adults, and we haven’t been in contact since.”

Now it was the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s turn to observe the expressions of the three young men. He didn’t know if all members of the Brandenburg Knights were required to come from good backgrounds, but clearly those he knew well were privileged, well-educated young people. Probing into someone’s reluctant secrets wasn’t gentlemanly behavior.

The more historically significant and socially elevated the family, the more likely they were to have private matters, and after subtly expressing a bit of discomfort, even Hall became somewhat restless.

They were all capable, but unfortunately, still too young.

For a moment, the cunning rabbit-headed shopkeeper felt like a manipulative adult, even considering just letting the matter slide—but thinking about their unforeseen encounter in Fortuna City on their way to White Bridge, and the potential for similar incidents in the future, plus Miss Priscilla’s ‘Ceylon’ being a troubling issue, he decided against it.

There were no walls without wind, and there was no point in weaving a lie that would inevitably be punctured.

“But when we lived together years ago, that wasn’t his name,” Charlie said carefully. “Of course, after so long, he might have changed it, which I cannot confirm. Nor can I be sure the two men you encountered this morning were referring to him, or someone else who resembles me. After all, the continent is vast, isn’t it?”

Although Hall sensed Charlie’s evasive attitude, he couldn’t immediately think of a response. Charlie was right in his assumptions—although not an heir to a viscountcy like Shivers, his family was prominent in Lemena, and it was difficult for him to persistently uncover others’ scars.

“I don’t understand.” Shiloh blinked. “Why don’t you go look for him? Brothers should be together, shouldn’t they?”

Shiloh was less worldly than Hall. He simply drew from his own life experiences, naively thinking that family reunions were natural. The rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s attitude of “I have a brother I haven’t seen for a long time. He might be here or might not, and I’m not interested in knowing” baffled the baby-faced knight.

Charlie looked at them curiously, tilting his head. “That’s a nice thought. You must have a warm, harmonious, lovely family. Shiloh, do you have siblings too?”

This question made Hall feel uneasy, wanting to interject, but Shiloh had already eagerly responded, “Yes. Hasting has a brother, and I have two—plus a sister and a younger sister, though Hall has only sisters.”

Charlie nodded. “Sounds lively.”

Hasting caught on faster to the potentially evasive question from the rabbit-headed shopkeeper and looked at Hall with suspicion.

Hall’s expression was complex.

Then they heard Charlie calmly say, “My family might be a bit more unusual than most—there are few direct relatives left, and as for my brother, I didn’t even know if he was alive or dead before returning to Doran. He likely felt the same about me.”

“This status might be the most suitable for us. If there is an ideal outcome between us, it would probably be that we never see each other again until death.”

This unexpected statement silenced the three young knights for a moment before Shiloh cautiously asked, “Do you have some kind of feud?”

“Not really,” Charlie replied. “It’s related to my family. We are children not blessed. Relatives who truly cared about us made many efforts to protect us, and living apart was the best arrangement they could make. It has nothing to do with our feelings for each other. After all, staying alive is what’s most important, right?”

Shiloh opened his mouth, suddenly regretting starting this topic. The gravity of the discussion was completely unexpected.

He hadn’t considered that the rabbit-headed shopkeeper might be a bastard child. Frankly, it was common in wealthy and powerful families. There was even a trend in Pennigra where nobles bragged about the number and accomplishments of their illegitimate children, stemming from an Earl who had ignored a child for twenty years until the child invented a potion effective against the former Emperor’s chronic headaches, earning recognition. The Earl had then made a big show of adding him to the family tree and securing a well-positioned wife for him during that year’s social season, sparking other promiscuous nobles to look back at their overlooked “accidents” in hopes of finding a few who could make them stand out. However, Charlie’s last comment was more crucial: “staying alive”.

The seriousness of this issue seemed far greater than being ignored or unloved by parents, Shiloh thought. Could it be that their father’s or mother’s partner was very dominant and despised their existence?

Hasting and Hall thought deeper than Shiloh, especially Hasting, because he had always been close to the Duke and had heard quite a bit of their conversations, though he had never mentioned it to his companions.

“Our hometown is not far from here, and in the future, we might encounter some distant relatives from those days who would certainly not want to see me,” Charlie stated seriously. “For me, Elena is just an old acquaintance who has turned her face away. Even if I encounter her, it’s not a big deal. But those relatives would want my life the moment they see me, so if you are willing to keep my secret, I would appreciate it.”

Midnight.

The clouds were thick, covering much of the moon. Thankfully, the streetlights on the dock were still on. Although a bit old and not very bright, they managed to cast a round circle of light under each lamp post. Beyond that, it remained dark.

However, a few lights were still on by the roadside, belonging to shops still open—competing for time, all-night loading and unloading were common. They catered to workers who, after a cold night’s hard work, sweating and hungry, could potentially see all their stock bought up by generous employers as a reward after completion.

Erica didn’t ride a horse but walked towards the dock along the streetlights at a steady pace. If it weren’t for the inappropriate timing, she would have looked more like a leisurely strolling tourist.

Half an hour earlier, she had watched several cavalrymen ride off under the orders of the Countess. If all went well, they would reach the territory of Mokwen in a week.

As time passed, Miss Priscilla’s pregnancy symptoms became increasingly severe, making it difficult for her to adapt to sea travel. Thus, she disembarked immediately after docking at the port of Fortuna City. Meanwhile, news from home informed that the King of Mokwen had openly declared war against the Southern Lord, and Priscilla, far in Fortuna City, had already received news that both had been injured in battle. However, the Earl’s injuries had worsened rapidly, and at some unknown point, Tifa had garnered the support of several major nobles within the country, all sending troops—not to defend the royal capital but to point their swords south.

By then, anyone could guess what the King was using to bribe his allies. If the Southern Lord’s rebellion was confirmed, the fertile lands due to the old king’s favoritism and Tifa’s insecurities would be carved up like a piece of prime meat among hyenas.

Although she would have preferred Lestrop to be killed by an arrow on the battlefield, when it came to lands and property, Priscilla, after some thought, still decided to write a letter. However, it wasn’t directed to Thorn Manor or the south, but to Syriacochi.

The seemingly fragile lady said to Erica, “Mokwen must be rife with rumors now, and Tifa, with his weak character, is easily manipulated. Unless he can produce irrefutable evidence of Lestrop’s rebellion, he might sabotage himself from nervousness, perhaps even back down at the last moment, just as he had given Lestrop preferential treatment in terms of land and wealth when he first came to power. I must write a letter to the King, persuading Captain Sparry to send it back for me.”

Before leaving Lababata, Lestrop had left one of his confidants to escort Priscilla to White Bridge, a man deeply loyal to the Earl and one of the few he trusted.

“The Earl ordered him to protect you at all costs. He might not listen,” Erica said.

Because of Priscilla’s exceptional status, to avoid suspicion, Erica stayed with the Countess’ entourage disguised as a female doctor. Since she acted fairly and was favored by the lady, she was naturally able to care for her closely.

“Then tell him that this letter might preserve the Earl’s name and title,” Priscilla said. “Lestrop is obstinate and overly proud. For years, except for the King, several major nobles have been suppressed by him. Maybe he never considered that even ants can kill an elephant when gathered. I want to write two letters; one to the King saying my husband has committed unforgivable crimes, but I am pregnant, and the child is innocent. I ask that he spare him for the sake of his nephew.”

“And the other letter?” Erica asked.

“The content of the other letter is the same, but it should be sent only after confirming the Earl’s defeat—with the Earl’s family crest and my signature. The newspapers in the capital would pay a great deal for it,” Priscilla mused. “He can kill Lestrop, but he can’t kill me and the child in my womb—at least not openly. As long as the Countess’ pregnancy is public knowledge, even if the King revokes his titles later, the southern lands won’t easily fall into others’ hands.”

The premise was that she and the child could safely return to the country.

Previously, she had complied with Lestrop, even proactively offering to continue handling his affairs in White Bridge because she had sensed the imminent conflict between Tifa and Lestrop. Having only been in Mokwen for a short time and with an unstable foundation, it would have been difficult to protect the child should anything happen, so she thought of leveraging the child’s father’s power to ensure her safe delivery and return home.

Unexpectedly, her brother hadn’t left Doran but had instead transferred people from Lemena—among those who had infiltrated the entourage with Erica were two Brandenburg Knights.

Priscilla had to admit, even after getting married, having a husband and a lover, the people who could make her feel most secure were still those from Lemena and only from Lemena.

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