Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 134

“If it weren’t for the Duke, you’d hardly see those ‘Foxes’ here,” Miss Ruby said with a mix of scorn and envy in a low voice, obviously mistaking the two as mere companions to the Duke, unaware that Yitzfa was actually a high-ranking member of the Fox Family. As a senior member of the Black Gold Families, Yitzfa didn’t need to rely on anyone to enter White Bridge.

In fact, if Shivers hadn’t had several encounters with him, he wouldn’t understand why Yitzfa, clearly inheriting the Fox name and able to live in luxury, always personally engaged in such misunderstandings. It’s one thing for Miss Ruby and others to look down on him, but dealing with the wealthy and influential was no easy task. No matter how elegantly Yitzfa danced through social events, he inevitably faced awkward and troublesome moments—and his younger brother, Sisi, with his naive and innocent appearance, obviously hadn’t experienced these complicated situations.

Given his abilities and access to classified information, his position within the Fox Family wasn’t minor.

Yitzfa, unaware of the thoughts quickly passing through Shivers’ mind from their last unpleasant parting, didn’t want to cozy up to him now. Thus, after casting a mocking glance at him, he reclined back on the sofa, pretending not to recognize him.

White Bridge operated a selective admission system, and typically, the artists and performers seen at court balls or private salons were hard to find at events like this. The few, like Yitzfa and the girl beside him, came as private companions of their employers. Despite their beauty and wit, skilled in music and poetry, and elegant in conversation, it took no more than two dances for many who covertly thought they were cheap call girls to completely change their impression, with the Duke’s sofa becoming the center of the entire ball.

This suited the middle-aged Duke just fine. He was accustomed to enjoying this level of attention. At his signal, barrels of mead and fig brandy were continuously served by the attendants on glass trays. As a guest invited by Miss Ruby, Shivers had no standing to act on a whim and ended up having one drink after another until, feeling on the verge of losing his senses due to excessive drinking, he barely excused himself from the dance floor and stepped out into the small garden adjacent to the banquet hall for some fresh air.

The night deepened, and the cold air, mixed with various perfumes lingering around him, finally refreshed Shivers a bit.

He stood under a camphor tree, staring at some rose bushes nearby, contemplating whether to induce vomiting to clear his head further.

It was a disgraceful and undignified act, but he felt so heavy-headed at the moment. Except for a small sandwich and two candied oranges, he hadn’t eaten much, which made his stomach churn even more.

The guests inside were mostly drunk by then, but other servants hadn’t indulged. Shivers wanted a few more minutes to talk to Awen about Jim.

His time was limited. Unlike Hall or Shiloh, he couldn’t use religion as a pretext to delve into Paradise Island and instill a spirit of rebellion among the natives. However, people like Awen, brought into the inner city, were also crucial. Fortunately, he met his target on the first evening. If he could further solidify that connection…

“What are you doing?” a voice suddenly asked, somewhat slurred due to the alcohol, startling Shivers. He turned too quickly, triggering a dizzy spell, and had to grab the camphor tree, blinking hard to recognize the figure by the ivory-colored satin shirt in the dim light.

“Yitzfa?” he sighed in relief.

Yitzfa didn’t approach but observed him from three steps away. “You’re drunk?”

Shivers thought for a moment. “Maybe a little.”

Then Yitzfa fell silent. When the atmosphere became somewhat awkward, he simply uttered an “Oh,” turned, and walked away.

Shivers instinctively felt something was wrong—but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was right away and reached out to stop him, missing and almost stumbling.

“Wait.” He had to call out, for Yitzfa was walking resolutely toward the light coming from a window.

Yitzfa turned around, arms folded, watching him.

“I’m sorry about last time,” Shivers said. “I shouldn’t have spoken that way. It wasn’t my intention.”

Seemingly surprised to hear this, Yitzfa took a couple of steps closer but remained silent.

Once he started, it became easier for Shivers to speak again. “I’m sorry.”

His body felt numb, and under the dim light, he couldn’t see the complexity in Yitzfa’s eyes.

“What do you mean? If you’re referring to me relying on looks and charm to manipulate people’s feelings for my own benefit, you’re right. The Foxes live off that, and that’s what I am,” Yitzfa said.

“No, that’s not it!” Shivers was a bit desperate, struggling to find the right words. “You don’t have to be that way.”

“But that’s what I am,” Yitzfa said, his expression somber.

Shivers stood there for a while, waiting for the dizziness to pass, wanting to say that Yitzfa had great analytical and daring skills and could succeed without relying on anyone. But he vaguely felt that Yitzfa wasn’t softened by his apology, and was instead somewhat confrontational, which made him tread carefully with his words to avoid further mistakes.

“I think—” he started, but then the lights behind Yitzfa brightened, and both turned toward the light, where a tall, brown-haired man squinted at them.

“What are you doing?” he asked drunkenly. He had noticed some figures in the garden and bet with two women who were also inebriated that someone was having an affair in the bushes, but they thought the garden was too small and open for such an act. Wanting to prove his point, he had leaned out to look, only to see two men standing and talking, a few steps apart from each other.

Before Shivers could reply, Yitzfa suddenly stepped forward two steps and affectionately took his hand.

“Mr. Green was trying to escape,” he said sweetly. “I caught him.”

“That’s cowardly, sir!” The man immediately forgot his initial purpose and yelled at them. “We still have the best wine—no one is allowed to leave tonight!”

Shivers didn’t want to drink anymore. His body wasn’t one to handle intoxication well, and he wanted to speak further with Yitzfa, at least to clear up the misunderstanding.

But it seemed Yitzfa wasn’t inclined to forgive his earlier faux pas. Reluctantly pulled back into the banquet hall, Shivers forced a smile as he accepted a glass of wine handed to him by Yitzfa.

……

“When Porb returned home, he found his wife, son, and daughter waiting for him, with tea brewing on the stove and his favorite stew in the pot,” Aquinas said in a calm voice. “He had conquered evil and injustice, and his adventurous spirit and courage were seen by the gods, so he was rewarded. His family, like a broken mirror, was put back together—without even a crack, brand new and bright, just like his life.”

The devout listeners in the room paid serious attention. One timidly asked, “But, sir, couldn’t Porb have just worked hard and saved up offerings, and still be reborn in a better world with his family after death?”

“Yes, that’s true.” Aquinas, experienced in persuasion, quickly found the right words. “Porb could have done that, but then he would have had to endure many more years of suffering. His family had already been whipped to death by the Lord, and he would have had to return home alone each day—alone in his thoughts of his deceased loved ones.”

He smoothly added, “It’s a matter of choice. Would you rather reunite with your loved ones immediately or wait another ten or fifteen years?”

It wasn’t a difficult question, even for those present who had never learned to calculate.

The person who asked the question was convinced, and those around him started whispering among themselves.

“Let’s end today’s evening lesson here,” Aquinas continued in a drawling tone. “Last night, in my dreams, I heard a divine decree…”

As he spoke, the somewhat noisy crowd instantly quieted down. Shiloh, standing behind Aquinas and draped in a cloak, felt a shiver down his spine as he saw the sudden, almost pathological focus and fervor in people’s eyes through his veil—more terrifying than armed enemies on a battlefield.

“God says the scales of fate are slightly unbalanced, a precursor to increasing injustice,” Aquinas proclaimed. “Starting tonight, my assistant will help me delve into your homes to listen to your sufferings and wishes, which I will collect and offer to God.”

He glanced around with his eyes rolling slightly as if sensing something. The person behind him in a cloak jabbed Aquinas in the back, causing him to grimace and reluctantly add, “This is God’s grace and also His duty bestowed upon me. My followers need not pay anything—your only task is to speak and listen.”

This was somewhat different from Aquinas’s usual approach, but undoubtedly much more popular. The crowd cheered, their faces uniformly reverent and convinced. Seeing this, Aquinas felt somewhat placated. After all, he wasn’t personally required to do these strange tasks, and his stature only seemed to grow, which was harmless and beneficial.

So far, that wicked sorcerer hadn’t meddled with his private property or status. Though forced to follow others’ directives due to an unknown curse, cunning Aquinas chose to feign submission upon realizing the power gap between them. His life hadn’t been greatly affected.

Moreover, he vaguely felt that it was his status and followers that the others desired. So, he felt secure in the foreseeable future and might even gain additional support. However, he couldn’t figure out what these strange people wanted.

Aquinas cautiously left through a secret passage and consciously stayed away from the room “they” used as an office. They were all there, altering his doctrines and planning bizarre actions.

They showed an unusually keen interest in the residents of Paradise Island. Even the Wolf and Monkey Families usually didn’t bother to look this way (a key reason he had been able to grow over the years). If these were foreign demons, what could they possibly extract from Paradise Island? Faith? But this place was almost the poorest and most hopeless in the world, where people’s faith couldn’t even buy the cheapest piece of paper in today’s auction…

Aquinas was baffled.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 133

“Ouch, what is this?” A somewhat pretentious voice rang out. Before Awen could pull back his hand, it was struck hard by a delicately made lamb leather fan, designed to match elaborate women’s dresses. However, because of the force behind it, the studs and gold embellishments on the fan quickly left his hand swollen and red.

Turning around in some panic, Awen saw a petite woman glaring at him. “I asked for napkins folded into swan shapes. Why did you bring orchid shapes? You despicable thief. If you can’t work attentively, leave here early.”

“No, madam, it’s my fault,” Awen replied, frantically trying to remember what he was supposed to do at this moment—but for heaven’s sake, he couldn’t recall any of the training content. Although he was tall, his posture shrank more and more, making him seem somewhat cringing as he mechanically repeated, “I’ll replace them right away. I’ll fold three types of swans.”

“Do you think I would use a napkin you’ve touched repeatedly to wipe my lips?” The woman raised her voice. “That’s disgusting!”

“Sita, keep your voice down. People are looking,” another seemingly gentle woman beside her whispered. “Don’t do this. It’s not worth it… for these kinds of people.”

The woman named Sita gave Awen another disdainful look, wanting to say more, but her attention was diverted when she saw an attractive southern man approaching.

“Please pass me a napkin,” the man said politely. “The windowsill over there has been dampened by dew.”

Awen instinctively extended the tray, but the man didn’t take it and instead turned his face slightly, leaning in slightly. “Ladies first.”

Sita’s and her companion’s hearts raced. The fact that the napkins weren’t folded into swans was no longer the focus. The focus was on the charming gentleman who told them that “orchids suit such beautifully elegant women like you.” They quickly followed him towards the windowsill, no one giving Awen another glance.

Awen couldn’t believe the crisis was averted just like that, but he didn’t dare rub his burning hand back. Instead, he waited until a dance tune began to play to fetch more napkins to fold into swans—he wasn’t new to these events and knew the capricious nature of the wealthy could erupt over the most trivial of details. As someone of his background, he wasn’t even supposed to endure such outbursts.

Thinking this, he involuntarily stopped in his tracks and slowly squatted down.

He was a little away from the banquet hall, not worrying about guests leaving the warmth inside for the chilly night outdoors. Awen placed the tray with napkins on the steps, feeling his eyes burning uncontrollably with heat.

Shivers stood at the corridor’s corner, watching the young man with slightly darker skin sitting on the steps, his usually hunched shoulders trembling as if he was crying.

He hesitated before approaching.

“Sir, is everything alright?” he asked.

Then he saw Awen spring up like a startled rabbit, nearly knocking over the tray at his side.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” His first instinct was to apologize. “I’ll bring the napkins right away…”

“I just came out for a smoke,” Shivers said soothingly. “Don’t be nervous. You don’t need to apologize for a mistake you didn’t make.”

His approachable demeanor relaxed Awen, who then sheepishly admitted, “I shouldn’t be loitering here. I’m not a ‘sir’. Please don’t tease me.”

“I know, you’re the napkin attendant tonight—I’m asking you to stand here with me for a while. That’s part of your job too, right?” Shivers said with a smile, pretending not to see his reddened eyes, and offered him a cigarette.

Awen thought Shivers wanted him to light it and began searching his pockets, only to be stopped.

“Don’t you smoke?” Shivers asked.

“I can’t overstep my boundaries, and I don’t know how to, nor do I smoke,” Awen answered honestly.

“That’s rare. In my hometown, even if young people’s pockets are empty, they’d still find a way to roll up some grass for a fix,” Shivers said, his expression kind throughout, which eased Awen’s nerves.

“What’s your name?” Shivers didn’t mind his well-tailored suit, unbuttoning his coat and sitting down on the step. Awen stood beside him, startled by his casual demeanor.

Shivers laughed. “Don’t be so tense. I’m not like those fussy ladies and madams inside. Actually, I’m pretty much like you—maybe even worse off. I come from a slum.”

Awen showed the first smile of the evening, though it was fleeting, “That’s impossible, sir. There’s no slum poorer than where I come from.”

If he didn’t mention it, Awen thought no one would know this. The gentleman was so handsome and courteous, unlike any noble he’d seen, yet Awen felt that a noble should be like him.

And not those women festooned with feathers who would shout about wanting swans instead of orchids, he thought a bit pettily. But knowing this gentleman wasn’t born to high-status as he had assumed, Awen indeed found it easier to let down his guard and even dared to accept the cigarette, though he didn’t light it, instead carefully hiding it under the tray.

“You can keep it in your pocket,” Shivers shrugged, a gesture Eugene had taught him to make less rowdy and more debonair.

“The supervisor checks our pockets to prevent smuggling food and utensils from the banquet home.” Awen shook his head. “If caught, there would be punishment.”

“The richer they are, the more miserly.” Shivers agreed. “You look very upset. Is it because the misses scolded you?”

“How could that be, sir? Serving guests is my job, and if I’m clumsy, it’s my own fault,” Awen said. “And I was distracted—I’ve been thinking about a friend all evening. This job was supposed to be his. I should have been moving barrels in the kitchen.”

Perhaps the cigarette gave Awen courage, for he took Shivers for a good person and blurted out his troubles. “My friend Jim was supposed to be the napkin attendant tonight, but he was suddenly replaced by the supervisor, and no one would tell me where he was taken. I’m very worried.”

“Why was he replaced?” Shivers asked.

Awen explained, “Because Jim is handsome… I mean, certainly not as much as you, but he has been the pretty boy of our area since we were kids, prettier than many girls. At such events, we servants aren’t supposed to outshine the hosts or guests, not even a little, so Jim was fired. His job was taken by me, and no one knows where he’s been taken.”

Even without Awen spelling it out, Shivers knew what he meant: people of their lowly status had no choice, being an inconspicuous attendant at such gatherings was a proper place but being taken to a bedroom because of good looks was indeed disturbing.

“The Wolf Family surely wouldn’t mistreat its own members too harshly,” Shivers comforted him. “Even if you don’t bear the family name, you’re still under their protection, just like the various mercenary corps under the Lion Family.”

“How could that be the same? You must be new to White Bridge,” Awen said in surprise. “If anyone heard you say that, I’d be the one getting beaten up, not you. We are neither the Wolf’s nor Monkey’s people. If there’s any purpose to Paradise Island, it’s for us to live as their slaves. It’s been like this for generations.”

But mostly, the cruder, dirtier, older, and weaker islanders fend for themselves inside, while people like Awen and Jim, who were somewhat decent in appearance and physical condition, were chosen to work in the inner city, providing additional entertainment value. Awen worried Jim would end up like that, but he was powerless to help, which left him unsettled.

“Why?” Shivers asked in surprise. “Who decreed that you are slaves?”

Awen scratched his head. “No one decreed it, but it’s always been like this.”

Shivers questioned further, “Is it written in the law? Carved in stone? A divine word passed down by priests? —If none of these, why do you think it’s correct?”

Awen was dumbfounded.

“But, but…” he stuttered, unable to find a rebuttal, while deep down, he found himself quietly agreeing with Shivers’s rebellious idea: Yes, who said this is definitely correct?

“If I were you, I wouldn’t give up on finding my friend.” Shivers stood up. “Look, Awen, I’m wearing silk pants and a gemstone brooch, talking to you. But ten years ago, I risked my life for a piece of sour bread and slept with livestock. If someone had told me then that I was destined to die hungry, I would have believed it. But look at me now!”

Awen looked at him, such a distinguished gentleman, even among the glamorous attendees of the earlier banquet hall, he stood out, and several ladies’ eyes never strayed from him—yet he said he had once been destitute.

“What does your friend look like? I’ll likely be attending many such gatherings in the coming days. I could keep an eye out for him,” Shivers offered.

“You are too generous!” Awen was both shocked and pleased. “Really? Can you do that?”

“I’m just a guest,” Shivers replied. “The real wealthy are those delicate ladies… and I can’t stay away for too long. I should be getting back.”

Grateful beyond words, Awen hurried along, speaking quickly to describe Jim’s features before they re-entered the hall, but he saw a figure in formal attire standing by the door and instinctively retreated a few steps, hunching over again.

Fortunately, the lady’s attention wasn’t on him. Miss Ruby’s eyes lit up from afar upon seeing Shivers, and she nearly ran up to him. Shivers quickly strode forward.

“Green, oh, I thought you’d left our conversation to escape quietly,” Miss Ruby said. Her appearance wasn’t striking, but she likely came from a notable background, exuding an air of haughtiness.

“Even death threats wouldn’t make me do something so rude,” Shivers responded. “I just stepped out for a smoke.”

“Some new friends arrived while you were away.” Miss Ruby took his arm. “You might find them interesting… Oh, they are quite fascinating. But promise you won’t become too infatuated with them. I’d be very disappointed.”

Shivers raised an eyebrow. “Infatuated?”

“Because they’re all beauties—in every sense of the word.” Miss Ruby giggled behind her feather-adorned fan. “Polite people don’t mention their names, but there’s not a man on the continent who doesn’t know of them. Someone brought them here tonight… I shouldn’t reveal this here, but that Duke doesn’t tend to hide his identity in White Bridge.”

Shivers suddenly had a bad feeling, but Miss Ruby had already turned her face, letting the doorman push open the heavy doors of the banquet hall.

A man in his forties was sitting on the best sofa, laughing heartily. Beside him sat two stunningly beautiful young people—a man and a woman, both with cheeks as flawless as porcelain and bright golden hair. They turned their heads as the doors opened.

Then their eyes met Shivers’s.

Shivers: “……”

What had he said last time? Don’t confuse me with you Foxes—I would never manipulate someone’s feelings for my own personal gain.

Reclining on the sofa, Yitzfa’s gaze deliberately and overtly fell on Miss Ruby’s arm linked with his.

The author has something to say:

Here comes the gigolo* CP.

*Soft rice (软饭) Idiom referring to a man who lives off a woman’s financial support.

Awen was the initial name I chose for Charlie, but later felt it wasn’t random enough, so I changed it.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 132

Before this meeting, Louis didn’t understand why Charlie was so trusting towards a stranger—neither Priscilla nor Alexander had ever been privy to any details about his own origins.

Although Charlie had mentioned that the Duke of Brandenburg was exceptionally perceptive and had deduced most of the facts on his own, Louis believed that if Charlie resisted, Dwight wouldn’t have had the opportunity to delve deeper continuously.

Surely he’s been bewitched by beauty, Louis thought expressionlessly. Priscilla had told him her brother possessed an angelic countenance and was known as a beauty within the empire—a rarity in the Dwight family lineage.

An angel seemed unlikely, as historical records suggested that elves hadn’t intermarried with other races for at least three hundred years. The young Duke’s features were somewhat unreasonable, Louis thought. Priscilla seemed more normal than her brother in this regard.

Louis fully trusted Charlie, but his trust didn’t extend unquestioningly to others, no matter how much Charlie vouched. Charlie had always had a weakness for beautiful people and animals, which, to some extent, made him unreliable. If it weren’t for the fact that the other party was Priscilla’s brother and that he genuinely lacked the time to hesitate, this urgent yet unrushed meeting wouldn’t have been arranged.

“The legend of the Holy Grail has always existed, but I once tried to access our family archives, and up to today, there have been only scattered records of supposed Holy Grails—either dying young or obscured by power struggles and deliberate obfuscation. Of course, if there were successful examples, considering the power of the World Dragon, the continent wouldn’t remain as it is today.” At least the Wolf family wouldn’t just be one of the Black Gold Families.

“The World Dragon… are you referring to the demon linked to the Holy Grail? Or to dragonkind?” Dwight was surprised by Louis’s frankness, but he paid more attention to the information in his words. Neither Charlie nor Shivers had delved so deeply when they searched through Lestrop’s study.

“The World Dragon isn’t a dragon. That name is just a code used by a few. It has no name and doesn’t exist in any official history. The Lamp Bearers are merely its servants. It’s the only true high dragon in the world, able to exist freely in human or dragon form—a true lord of demons. In its presence, dragonkind is like a toddler taking its first steps,” Louis explained. “These are the contents from ancient forbidden books of the Wolf family. Like the Holy Grail, most people treat it as a myth since no one has seen a living Holy Grail, let alone the World Dragon. Yet, the existence of creatures like the Lamp Bearers, like a dim candle that never goes out in the night, inevitably draws the covetous gazes of the hopeful.”

“Khalif is one of those hopefuls.” Dwight finally understood why this secret had spilled over to the Mokwen royalty and unknown mages over the past decade (or even earlier). The transcendental nature of the Holy Grail was so mysterious because it wasn’t passed down through generations without a pattern or logic to follow. In the lore before Charlie and Louis, there hadn’t been a suspected Holy Grail for at least three hundred years—a legendary treasure without a map was merely a reflection in a dream.

As a result, the birth of the twin brothers more than twenty years ago brought the Lamp Bearers, who were almost mythical, back into reality, catching the attention of Khalif, who was then freshly in charge as family head. But his pursuit of the Holy Grail was more about confirming family legends and being cautious of unknown powers rather than genuine belief. White Wolf Fahim immediately realized this and used various means to curb his curiosity.

Back then, Khalif had just taken his position as head of the family, stepping into his prime with a limited desire for external power, allowing the twins to slip through unnoticed. But people inevitably age, and as Khalif realized he was on a decline while ambitious young men lurked around him, his sense of crisis grew. He began seeking ways to reverse his fortunes, and naturally, the World Dragon, with its apocalyptic power, came into his sights, and the once-dismissed visions of the Lamp Bearers were reconsidered.

“The Wolf Family’s research into the Holy Grail didn’t start with Khalif, but there has been little progress over generations. Khalif couldn’t wait too long, so he selectively leaked this information to those he thought capable of advancing this cause,” Louis explained. “Because Fahim had been thorough initially, tracing back to those days after many years proved fruitless. Khalif’s current actions might seem absurd, but in his youth, he was undeniably pragmatic. Therefore, he decided that if a new Holy Grail didn’t emerge, he’d create one himself.”

But these efforts were doomed to be futile. Charlie and Louis were still alive, and as long as one of them was the true Holy Grail, no successor would appear until their deaths. Even if they died immediately, a new Holy Grail wouldn’t necessarily emerge right away—it could be in five minutes, a year, or even a century. Anything was possible.

“The mage and the old king of Mokwen are dead. Tifa lacks the confidence and audacity to harness demonic power. His goal has always been to kill Lestrop to prevent him from potentially overthrowing the kingdom with demonic power. In a way, his wish is about to be fulfilled,” Dwight said solemnly. “The chase for the Holy Grail is narrowing.”

“From the day Khalif started peddling the family legend as a secret recipe for cooperation, I’ve been watching him,” Louis stated candidly. “For this, I once went deep into the Mokwen kingdom.” His connection with Priscilla also started from there.

“Even if Khalif is killed, the legend won’t be erased,” Dwight said gravely. “But the consequences of failure might be more troublesome than hiding for a lifetime. You and Charlie have been apart for a long time and have only reunited recently for a few days. Have you already convinced each other?”

Louis responded, “We don’t need to convince each other.”

Dwight frowned. Louis seemed completely unaware, accepting the almost scrutinizing gaze calmly.

The Duke’s grip on his cane slightly tightened, then quickly loosened, unexpectedly revealing a nearly smiling expression.

“I’m afraid I don’t see it that way,” he said softly. “You live for Charlie—did he agree to that?”

The air fell silent for a moment. The two men in the carriage coldly observed each other, and what had been a superficially peaceful meeting finally reached an impasse.

……

“Kill Khalif?” Shiloh was initially shocked, then eagerly rubbed his hands together, “Taking down their leader in the wolf’s den—that’s what legendary heroes are supposed to do! How do we do it? Assassination? Raid?”

As he spoke, the excited young man quickly deflated. “Is this going to be a job for Hall or Hasting?”

Shiloh was a heavy sword knight, skilled in charges and melee, but his abilities in stealth and close-quarter assassinations were mediocre at best. Not to mention, his notoriously poor sense of direction often led him to lose both his target and himself.

His older teammate was more pragmatic. Hasting flicked Shiloh’s fluffy head with a finger, asking calmly, “During the auction, both the Wolves and Monkeys will be under close watch. The security will be tighter than usual.”

“Isn’t the shopkeeper part of the Wolf family? He’s coming back this time to overthrow his own family head. There must be some deep-seated hatred between them.” Shiloh tried to wedge himself into the conversation, his eyes bright with curiosity. “What does Louis look like? Is his personality like the shopkeeper’s? Did he talk about a tragic childhood?”

“I wasn’t invited into the carriage,” Shivers stated solemnly. “The Duke doesn’t want us to focus on unnecessary details. You should understand the trust represented by these secrets. Aside from the few of us, not a word should leak to anyone else.”

Hall and Hasting exchanged looks, nodding in agreement, while Shiloh made a “zipping his lips” gesture.

No one questioned the rationale behind the proposal to attack the head of the Wolf Family—the Brandenburg Knights were absolutely obedient to Duke Dwight, and the Knight Commander’s word was seen as the Duke’s will, so no one would oppose an order issued through him.

“Success is unlikely with just us,” Hall stated realistically. “Both the Wolf and Lion Families honor martial prowess, with the main difference being that the Lions are more straightforward while the Wolves are more cunning, but the combat training of their members is formidable. We’re too few in number. A direct confrontation isn’t feasible.”

“That’s true,” Shivers agreed. “But Mr. Louis provided quite a bit of intelligence. As Khalif grows older, he becomes increasingly stubborn. All his close aides were removed from the core circle five years ago. He trusts no one and is desperately seeking to regain, or rather, achieve power. No one can reverse time, thus he continues to seek various absurd methods, including getting closer to the Monkeys—because the Monkeys indulge in black magic, he seems to believe that ancient spells might reverse time and restore his youth.”

“The Wolf Family internally won’t sit by as he continues this way,” Hall immediately said. “It doesn’t align with the family interests. The Black Gold Families have thrived by never directly challenging royal or divine authority while maintaining their independence and non-interference with each other, especially true for the Wolves and Monkeys, who both rely on the White Bridge auction.”

“Exactly. Internal opposition against him is growing, with almost no senior official without their own agenda, and Khalif’s rule has weakened. It only needs someone to first step up and pry it open.”

“Is Mr. Louis that person?” Shiloh asked. “With our help, I heard half of the Wolf’s armed forces are under his command. How many is that? I can handle a group fight.”

“No, that would expose us too early—actually, our task isn’t to fight, at least not for now,” Shivers said. “He wants us to head to Paradise Island first.”

“I wholeheartedly agree! Although I don’t know what for.” Shiloh became excited again. “I’ve wanted to see it for a long time. You always say I’d get lost there—”

“So,” this time it was Hall who pushed him aside, “what are we supposed to do?”

Hearing this, Shivers showed a peculiar expression mixed with a bit of confusion.

“We’re going to do some ideological work,” he said.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 131

Dwight and Shivers were in a circular theater, watching an opera called “My Alderley”.

In his view, the script was lackluster. It was a favorite of all minstrels and wandering singers, themed around courtly love. Alderley was a beautiful castle’s mistress, living a life of delicate luxury, almost changing suitors (and husbands present) every act, with all plot and scenery serving the mistress, whose attire and jewelry indeed warranted all the praise.

The theater’s deep circular dome was draped with dark curtains, and the lavish lighting illuminated everything on stage—this was the real purpose of this opera: All the jewelry and some of the scenery on stage were genuine and up for auction, allowing the audience to admire the pins, necklaces, earrings, and swords as they sparkled with the actors’ movements on stage.

If one listened closely to the suitors’ exaggerated arias, it would make sense to interpret these as advertisements for the antique jewelry.

The opera was cliché, but this commercial format was novel. Many female spectators were entranced. Dwight would bet that at least half of them had already imagined themselves in the beautiful protagonist’s place, wearing those expensive and sparkling jewels.

While men might not be engrossed in the love story plot, Dwight and Shivers did watch the performance seriously and even bid on a few pieces of jewelry.

Their targets weren’t the most dazzling pearl robes and necklaces on stage but a few crowns and rings. Despite the dazzling lights, Dwight could still discern the highest quality items in the play.

Shivers handed a leather pad with price tags to an attendant, sighing inwardly.

He really didn’t want to do this—the Duke was asking him to sell his charms again.

Ironically, the plot of “My Alderley”, though exaggerated, did somewhat resonate with his experiences: A young knight, wounded after battle, passed through vast lands and was kept by a kind Lady of the Castle, surrounded by fountains, forests, harps, and swans. The subtle and lingering romance between the beautiful noblewoman and the knight was a story that seemed clichéd yet continuously unfolded across various lands. As they say, art imitates life, which was why it spread widely. Richly imaginative poets or knights often drew on their experiences to create these tales, which were then performed by artists.

Previously, in a romantic atmosphere, Shivers didn’t see any issue with this, but at some point—he guessed it was after facing Yitzfa’s direct use of these acts as bargaining chips—the knight began to feel there was something off about this behavior.

However, he maintained that he was different from Yitzfa. A knight’s interactions with each lady were faithful and sincere, but he couldn’t refute Yitzfa’s argument: The knight couldn’t guarantee that each romantic gesture was purely out of love and joy, even the gentlest whisper couldn’t mask his ulterior motives.

This argument was hard for Shivers to accept, so instinctively, he retorted, saying something he still somewhat regretted. “Don’t treat me like a Fox!”

He didn’t regret his words because they were wrong—after all, for centuries, the Foxes had indeed relied on the allure of soft whispers to achieve various ends openly and straightforwardly. What he regretted was the brief silence from Yitzfa afterward.

So their last collaboration ended unpleasantly. Eugene might have sensed something odd about the atmosphere, but adult disputes of propriety weren’t displayed in front of unrelated parties, just that—

“Sir?” The attendant’s query brought him back to reality. Shivers looked down to find that, due to his prolonged pause, ink had dripped from the glass pen tip, forming a large purple stain where he was supposed to sign his name on the paper.

He smiled apologetically, reinserted the pen into the inkwell with minimal movement, and shook his head slightly.

This was a gesture to cancel the bid.

The attendant understood, retreated with the tray, and less than ten minutes later, returned with a scented note.

“Miss Ruby thanks you for your generosity,” the young attendant said softly, seemingly accustomed to this back-and-forth.

Shivers stared at the note for a few seconds, as if the delicate piece of paper might bite off his fingers.

The Duke always had an excellent eye, accurately capturing the most valuable crown in the auction, raising the price to attract attention, then gracefully stepping back—a simple tactic, but it successfully hooked their target: likewise discerning, tasteful, and wealthy women.

Such characters had broader perspectives in White Bridge than they did, making it easier to enter core venues with their connections, but it made Shivers feel truly like a Fox.

“Sir?” The repeatedly distracted Shivers made the attendant softly call out again, prompting him to extend his hand and pick up the note.

Dwight didn’t watch the entire opera but left midway. This act was somewhat impolite, but the theater staff were well-trained, and the process didn’t disturb or affect other audience members. Once Dwight followed the guide out through a hidden passage, a completely black carriage was already waiting there.

There was a saying, wasn’t there? Being too understated was, in itself, a form of ostentation.

Dwight had seen this type of unadorned carriage before. He didn’t hesitate much before stepping onto the footboard, finding the interior more spacious than it appeared from the outside. A tall young man was already seated inside, waiting for him.

The door was closed from the outside, and the young man turned his face towards him and nodded.

“Apologies for not standing to greet you, Duke Dwight, due to the confined space of the carriage,” he said. “I’m Louis, and it’s an honor to meet you.”

…That’s how it should be. Dwight thought emotionlessly, considering that the rabbit-headed shopkeeper had been presumptuous in front of him before, and even his previous attempts at acting didn’t achieve this level of formality. He nodded and took a seat across from him, not knowing how the coachman outside could tell that all passengers were seated, but the next moment, he felt the carriage wheels begin to slowly turn.

“This carriage is protected with charms from roof to yoke, such that even a great mage couldn’t hear a single syllable if they pressed their ear against the window,” Louis said. “Even Charlie and I can talk here without concern.”

Hearing this, Dwight glanced at him. Louis was suggesting that there were no secrets in this carriage and also indicating… that he knew everything Charlie had told him. This slightly eased his mind. Yet, he broached a topic unrelated to their current discussion. “How is Priscilla doing?”

“Her mood is quite unstable. The doctors say it could affect the baby, but she refuses to use sedatives, fearing irreversible damage,” Louis explained. “Before the Azalea docked, I had arranged for the best doctors, but the recent situation in Mokwen is unclear, and I believe it’s the unrest that’s causing her anxiety.”

Dwight believed him as he looked into his eyes—Priscilla evidently preferred to show her more vulnerable side to the father of her child.

“I will take Priscilla’s child away.” He observed Louis’s expression. “Doran isn’t suitable for him—or her—not at the moment, at least.”

Louis nodded calmly. “I agree with that. Regardless of whether Lestrop is dead or alive, Priscilla would never want her child to call him ‘father’. She has discussed this with me.”

Dwight was silent for a moment, still unable to restrain himself. “Do you love Priscilla?”

If Priscilla were present, she might be surprised at her brother’s focus on her love life at such a time and place, but he still posed the question after some thought.

Louis also appeared slightly surprised.

He didn’t answer immediately, seemingly choosing his words carefully.

“I admire her,” Louis finally said. “Priscilla is both intelligent and strong. I never imagined myself having offspring, but if I did, she would be the ideal mother of my child.”

“So you don’t love her,” Dwight stated.

Louis was silent, uncertain if he should apologize for this, as few nobles who concern themselves with the link between feelings and marriage exist. After all, the other party was Priscilla’s brother, and it wouldn’t be strange if he thought of him as a scoundrel who toyed with women’s feelings and punched him right there.

He had thought Dwight to be a rare romantic type, but the next question immediately dispelled this impression.

“Did you discuss the pregnancy with her beforehand?” Dwight asked.

Louis: “……”

He really didn’t want to discuss such matters, even if the other party was Priscilla’s brother.

But his silence was also an answer. Dwight sighed deeply, confirming his suspicion that this child was a calculated accident: calculated for Priscilla, accidental for Louis.

Given the identities of the brothers Charlie and Louis, they weren’t the type to deliberately leave descendants to continue their bloodline, but Priscilla likely didn’t know this. She wanted a child, but it couldn’t come from the mad Lestrop, so she acted accordingly—Dwight knew his sister’s character too well. She might appear fragile, but she occasionally made rash decisions.

Of course, he wouldn’t criticize his sister in front of others. Having received the answers he sought, he shifted comfortably.

“My questions are answered,” he said. “Now it’s your turn—did you come to me because Charlie finally decided what he wants to do?”

The author has something to say:

Dwight’s last statement means that the most capricious character among the protagonists is actually Charlie. Once Rabbit Head makes a decision, those who value him have little choice but to assist. On this point, the Duke and Louis agree.

Kinky Thoughts:

That’s just hypocrisy, Shivers. You can call it “chivalry” due to your position as a knight, but at the end of the day, it’s still laced with ulterior motives. At least Yitzfa is straightforward about it.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 130

Eugene was slightly dazed.

“So, why don’t you just lift the curse?” he asked. “Since you’ve decided to revert to your original form.”

“There can only be one Louis,” Charlie said succinctly. “I’ll explain this matter later—anyway, I need you to keep this secret.”

The idea of improving spatial magic to achieve controlled form was a moment of inspiration, but even he hadn’t anticipated that this modification would immediately come in handy.

The landing point chosen by the Darby Belly Fish was cunning, right around the inner river encircling Paradise Island. Whether it was the first passerby who saw him ashore or later Aquinas, everyone made him realize that in this place, the rabbit head was likely to cause more stir than Louis’s face, prompting his choice to revert to his original appearance after a long absence.

In “playing Louis”, no one had more advantage and talent than him. At least a decade ago, he too was once Louis. The tacit understanding between the twins allowed Louis to grasp his intentions immediately after receiving his brief message, making the meeting with the Duke on Louis’s territory possible.

But Charlie wouldn’t arrogantly think that his impromptu impersonation could successfully deceive Alexander, who spent close time with Louis. Therefore, both deliberately reduced their close interactions, and aside from half-jokingly testing the Duke under the guise of Louis, Charlie hadn’t appeared prominently in this identity before others.

Their childhood spent together was too long ago, and their subsequent life paths had diverged significantly, resulting in differing temperaments. Most importantly, White Bridge wasn’t Fortuna City. For them, it might be the most dangerous place in the world.

Especially now, with the four major Black Gold Families gathered due to the auction.

“Of course, I’ll keep the secret,” Eugene said decisively. “I swear I won’t disclose this to anyone.”

He didn’t press any further.

“The auction starts tomorrow. I need to go to Louis’s place.” Charlie seemed to know Eugene would say this and smiled. “But I need someone to watch over Aquinas and Jason.”

Aquinas Eugene understood, but Jason?

“Jason is of high moral character,” Charlie stated succinctly. “His personal charm draws people to him like a streetlamp on a winter night. How much do you know about him?”

……

“What is Mr. Charlie trying to do?” Shivers asked quietly.

He and Dwight were sitting in a carriage, watching the passersby through the window. The street was flanked by neat, tall buildings, its shop windows adorned with various lights. Ladies in silk gowns strolled boldly with gentlemen, followed by servants carrying various gift boxes, struggling to keep up.

Dwight withdrew his gaze and didn’t answer Shivers’ question but instead asked, “You’ve visited many bustling cities. Compared to them, do you feel something is missing here?”

Their carriage was parked at a street corner, providing a clear view down the entire street. Shivers observed carefully before responding, “This place is more open and inclusive towards women.”

Typically, well-positioned young ladies weren’t forbidden from shopping, but they usually moved between home, carriage, and theater or store, with the only chance for onlookers to glimpse their faces being when they entered or exited their carriages. Here, however, women seemed freer and more proactive, many preferring to walk the streets in high heels as if strolling through a garden, even sampling street food, and it appeared to be the norm, with no one to judge or gossip.

“That’s because only extraordinary women come to White Bridge,” Dwight explained. “Either accompanying guests of the auction or as guests themselves.” Like Priscilla.

But that wasn’t Dwight’s point.

“There are no Foxes here,” he stated.

Realizing this, Shivers noticed that typically, city streets bustling with nightlife would feature flamboyantly dressed streetwalkers attracting patrons, often celebrated by poets and writers as a vital part of the city’s vibrant scene. However, the women in White Bridge clearly weren’t of the same status as those streetwalkers.

If it was due to a gentleman’s agreement that Foxes hadn’t set up in Whitebridge, what about guests who arrived without companions? Shivers doubted that those coming to play would forego pursuits of pleasure, especially after stimulation from food, alcohol, and gambling.

“They are called Black Gold Families, but in a place like White Bridge, the numbers of the Wolf and Monkey Families are much more limited than those of Foxes and Lions. They couldn’t spare so many family members to provide those services,” Dwight explained. “Moreover, known for its insanity, White Bridge isn’t just a beast’s den. To these people, it might be the most dangerous place on earth. They not only need a vast number of lower-class workers to maintain this prosperous utopia but also sacrifice some to cater to those who’ve lost their sanity.”

Shivers was unnerved by his words.

“Does this have anything to do with Mr. Charlie’s intentions?” he asked.

“A sheepdog can manage a flock of sheep. The Wolves and Monkeys are just a few sheepdogs… I guess he’s found his flock.” Dwight concluded, then asked seemingly out of nowhere, “What kind of person do you think Charlie is?”

Though puzzled, Shivers answered seriously, “He is a gentle and powerful man.”

Dwight seemed unsurprised by Shivers’ assessment. “You think he’s powerful?”

“Yes,” Shivers said, sincerely believing Charlie to be strong.

This evaluation wasn’t just because he always faced difficulties with a relaxed demeanor, nor just because of his seemingly playful magical tricks, nor even due to his physical strength—at this, the Knight Commander had absolute confidence.

Charlie had never shown any transcendent abilities or even assertive attitudes in their presence, nor had he ever shown anger, even when opinions differed or during his cold war with the Duke. He had always maintained enough decorum, but these didn’t stop Shivers from seeing him as a formidable person.

“Then do you think a strong person would submit to shackles?” Dwight asked next.

Shivers paused, vaguely grasping the Duke’s intention with the question.

For the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, the shackles clearly refer to his identity, which couldn’t be exposed. But the shopkeeper who opened that incredible little shop in Maplewood, who entered the top magic academy, and who had traveled through so many countries, surely couldn’t be content to be bound, right?

“Do you think he wants to use this opportunity to break free from his shackles?” Shivers asked.

Dwight didn’t speak.

A small brass ring still lay in his coat pocket, and despite being insulated by layers of fabric, he seemed to still feel its cold touch.

He had long understood that the choice to maintain the rabbit’s head lay in Charlie’s hands. He chose to maintain the status quo because it was his way of erasing himself, to protect Louis. Thus, before deciding to head to White Bridge, he had always steadfastly avoided discussing it.

Now, he had decided to revert to his original appearance and had given him the magic ring that symbolized control.

Without words, Charlie’s actions spoke of his unique trust in Dwight—there was even a bit of capriciousness hidden within: I’m entrusting you with my vulnerability, confident that you won’t use it against me.

But before Dwight could feel touched by this wholehearted trust, he sensed a foreboding meaning.

Charlie was just about the most confident person he had ever met, even potentially possessing the world’s most dangerous identity.

For such a person to hand over his vulnerability so straightforwardly, aside from making a grand gesture to impress, there was another possibility: He was determined to make what was a vulnerability no longer a vulnerability.

“Their identity secrets are held by the Wolf Family, and right now, we are all in Wolf’s stronghold,” Shivers analyzed, seeing the Duke silent. “Is he planning to take action against Khalif?”

“Or replace him,” Dwight said.

Shivers almost instinctively said, “He wouldn’t want to be the Wolf King.”

“He has a brother who stands behind the Wolf King.”

Shivers paused. “This is White Bridge. If they really want to… it’s too rushed and too dangerous.”

Danger—that was the last word Dwight wanted to hear at that moment.

“They’ve been in danger from the moment they were born. If it were you, what are the chances you wouldn’t have turned mad living so long?” he asked quietly.

But his voice was too low. Apart from himself, no one heard it.

Shivers watched a stunningly beautiful blonde lady in a fashionable satin gown cross the street—her appearance and hair even more dazzling under the streetlights, causing the carriages to slow down to let her pass.

Behind her were two equally outstanding young men with noses and jawlines that were impeccably sharp. Their fiery red hair cascaded smoothly over their shoulders, catching the attention of nearly every passerby, but they seemed accustomed to such attention, exuding a natural charm in every gesture—a feeling that was somewhat familiar to the Knight Commander.

“They’re here,” Shivers said subconsciously.

The Duke followed his gaze, pausing on those few people for a second before looking away.

“The four major families will always attend every auction. Tomorrow is the first day. Of course, they would come,” he mused. “Speaking of which, how is your splendidly furred Fox doing?”

It took a moment for the Knight Commander to be sure he hadn’t misheard the Duke’s wording.

“Our cooperation has ended. There’s been no further contact,” he said, suddenly feeling an odd sense of guilt and quickly changing the subject. “The auction starts tomorrow, but since it’s the first day, it mostly involves lighter, semi-entertainment events with different venues scheduled. Shall we…?”

The Duke gave him a peculiar look.

“We’ll go to the opera,” he said.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 129

Dwight felt slightly odd about Louis, perhaps influenced by his preconceptions.

This feeling was very faint, like a beetle crawling up a glass window—trivial enough to be brushed away with a light flick of the hand.

“Mr. Dwight.” The other party called out his name as soon as he spoke, inviting him to sit with a polite and gentle demeanor.

The odd feeling intensified a bit.

Knowing his identity suggested that Priscilla had told him everything—it wasn’t a secret that the Countess was the daughter of a Duke in Pennigra before marrying, but Dwight’s own secret visit to the Doran continent was highly confidential, indicating Priscilla’s deep trust in him.

Dwight gracefully sat down on the single sofa opposite him, nodding. “I apologize for the intrusion.”

“Not at all,” Louis said warmly. “I’ve been looking forward to this meeting.”

Dwight relaxed his grip on his cane.

This voice… If he closed his eyes, he might think he was speaking to Rabbit Head.

Could twins have such similar voices? Although he had seen identical twins before, he rarely paid much attention to unrelated people, suddenly unsure.

“Have we met before?” he asked, studying Louis’s face.

If the chaotic and dimly lit scene at the Stonewall Inn might have confused his memory, the face and demeanor in front of him matched exactly with the person he had encountered in the Mokwen Palace.

However, both motive and timing suggested that the person at that time should have been Charlie, not Louis, especially since Priscilla had confirmed it herself. Though they looked the same, they were not the same person.

“I’m afraid this is our first meeting.” Louis’s expression showed a slight, appropriate puzzlement. “I think… ah.”

He paused mid-sentence—because Dwight suddenly stood up from his sofa, moving with a speed that left no time for reaction. He stepped over the low table between them, one hand braced on the sofa armrest, the other’s fingertips pressed against Louis’s tie, almost as a threat too close to the throat.

Louis stopped smiling.

“Have we met before?” Dwight asked again.

Their faces were very close, close enough to study his own reflection in his eyes. The tone was completely unrelated to their ambiguous proximity.

If it weren’t for the harsh, nearly pathological aristocratic upbringing ingrained into the Duke, the other might have heard the grinding of his teeth through the words.

The atmosphere abruptly tensed, both men silently staring at each other, when suddenly, the click of the door lock breaking the silence signaled the study door being opened.

Louis’s genteel assistant, Alexander, stood dumbfounded at the sight, pausing before asking, “Sir?”

But no one turned to look at him.

Louis, pressed into the sofa, grumbled out the words, “Get out.”

Alexander wanted to say something else, but ultimately didn’t. His face was a mixture of indescribable expressions as he closed the door behind him.

“You’re being rather uncouth, aren’t you?” Louis muttered a complaint.

He wasn’t incapable of struggling. Both men’s weight was almost tipping the sofa, and any further imbalance might cause them both to tumble backward, entangled.

Dwight sneered, “This is quite courteous for someone pretending to be a fraud.”

“Why am I a pretending fraud?”

Dwight slightly adjusted his hold, pressing it against his chin. His eyes were still fixed on his face. “Don’t be foolish. You’re not Louis.”

“You’ve never met him.”

“I don’t need to have met him.” Dwight bent one leg, pressing his knee against him, and the sofa tilted slightly more precariously. “Perhaps it’s your misunderstanding about your acting skills? Where’s the rabbit’s head?”

He actually had no concrete evidence that the person before him was Charlie and not Louis, but Dwight never doubted his instincts—every time the other spoke, he almost felt an illusion of seeing that rabbit head through this face—too abnormal if not for his being affected by confusing magic or sudden madness, then there was something amiss with the person in front of him.

“Alexander didn’t notice.” Charlie finally raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Can you let me go first? I don’t like talking in this posture.”

It should be said that no man likes to be dominated in such a situation.

But Dwight’s anger was still burning hot, and upon hearing this, he instead intensified his grip. “That depends on your answer.”

“I was just joking,” Charlie sincerely said. “Really. I even brought you a gift. Don’t you want to see it?”

Unfortunately, this coaxing tone only worked on Dwight before he was seven.

“I’ll ask you one more time—”

“I just arrived not long ago. Elena isn’t dead. Louis agreed to cooperate. I really have a gift.” Charlie blurted out everything in one breath.

Dwight paused for a moment to grasp what he was saying. As his attention was diverted, Charlie managed to push him back a bit, fluidly stood up in place, and sat down on the back of the chair, instantly reversing their positions, now looking down at the Duke from a height.

“This appearance isn’t meant to mock you. It’s just a brilliant idea I had right after I managed to control Elena.” Charlie proudly boasted, then elaborated on how he had a flash of inspiration for the abandoned castle and how he masterfully understood and transformed the magic formulas there.

“If we just relied on the space magic created by Mistress Daisy’s former owner, the effect would eventually be exhausted after her death. If we could find an alternative source of magical energy, there would be no issue. So I—”

“So you used Elena as a power source.” Dwight furrowed his brows, knowing he was discussing serious matters, finally released him.

Dwight had studied magical theory. Such an approach was theoretically feasible, but no normal person would voluntarily serve as fuel for the fire, so respectable magic texts wouldn’t mention these methods.

This was essentially sealing Elena in the castle. As long as she lived, the space magic would be effective, and if she died, the magic would no longer be necessary.

“Exactly,” Charlie said. “Then I thought, why just fix someone else’s magic when I could improve it… Do you remember Mistress Daisy’s big book?”

It was the key to the castle, already burned in the fire. Charlie could replicate it, but he didn’t particularly like the form of a book, so after completing the entire magic setup, he made a brand new key.

Dwight watched as Charlie reached out his hand. A simple double-loop brass ring resting in his palm.

“I turned the key into this. It was originally a hook on the hall’s coat rack. I improved it based on the original, enabling the adjustment of the drawn magical power.”

Simply put, it was a magic controller—Charlie had tuned it several times, basically confirming the threshold for curse visualization, ensuring the original appearance could be maintained as long as the magic drawn exceeded the threshold.

“So you’re appearing like this, planning to use Louis’s identity?” Dwight immediately understood his reason.

“Don’t say it like that. I was also ‘Louis’s once.” Charlie spoke easily, pulling his hand over, the brass ring sliding down.

“Here, a gift,” Charlie said.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 128

“Who are you?” Eugene asked warily.

“I—”

“Don’t talk to me in that voice!” Eugene interrupted him.

Charlie: “……”

This request was a bit unreasonable, so he decided not to adopt it.

“I’m Charlie. It’s good to be vigilant but being surprised for too long will only waste time,” Charlie said. “You can verify my identity.”

“How do I verify it?”

“Say a code, something only we know about,” Charlie suggested.

Eugene thought it made sense.

But what would be something only they knew about? Eugene was puzzled.

Charlie suggested again, “Like your feet are stinky, Shiloh is directionally challenged, and Hasting…”

“Alright, alright, alright.” Eugene was somewhat convinced and looked at the other carefully again. “But why does your face look familiar to me?”

Charlie hinted again. “At the Stonewall Inn in Pennigra, the night you attempted to steal.”

Eugene suddenly realized.

That night was chaotic. Eugene’s attention was all on the Witch’s Pot, only to reluctantly scrape up a bit of an impression from the depths of his memory.

“That person was you?” Eugene finally believed. “But why didn’t you appear like that again after that?”

“That’s a long story,” Charlie said. “Now is not a good time to explain.”

Eugene felt he had a hundred questions to ask. He considered for a moment and chose the most pressing one. “What was going on just now? How come you were following… Aquinas’s preaching?”

He promptly swallowed the words “crazy old man” to prevent the shopkeeper from having any unclear relations with this cult.

“Do you know Aquinas?” Charlie didn’t mind but instead gave him an approving look. “His theory is interesting, but what’s more interesting is his power, which is very important for us.”

Eugene couldn’t see any power in that rambling old man and his indescribable followers. After listening to stories all night, the core content was nothing but repeatedly indoctrinating everyone with his theory of accumulating virtue for the afterlife. He just thought the guy was a thorough fraud.

That’s what he thought, and that’s what he said.

“What can he do?” Eugene asked. “I’ve lived on Paradise Island for a few days. Not many people, like Jason, have the spare energy to think. The vast majority are struggling for the next day’s thin porridge. If they have any extra energy, it’s mostly spent on following swindlers.”

Actually, Eugene didn’t hate poverty, having experienced it for most of his life. He didn’t know what word to describe it with, only instinctively feeling that although they were also poor, the people sitting under Aquinas tonight were completely different from the thief Eugene.

Charlie saw through everything.

“Eugene, you don’t believe they have power. Do you think you are superior to them?” he asked.

Eugene instinctively wanted to refute, but being stared at by Charlie, he felt somewhat uneasy.

“My understanding of Paradise Island comes from Aquinas. Your feelings aren’t entirely wrong. Aquinas’s teachings are basically a placebo. Those who follow him are indeed the weakest and most numb group. For them, Aquinas numbs their present suffering, giving them the strength to keep living,” Charlie said. “I don’t agree with Aquinas’s method of sustaining himself with lies, but he has accumulated more followers than you saw tonight. The power of belief is very strong. If Aquinas says sacrificing life can bring happiness in the next world, those willing to end themselves are probably not a few.”

Eugene vaguely understood something. “So you…?”

“I took him hostage,” Charlie said calmly.

When he returned to White Bridge the night after settling Elena, unfortunately, a hapless bystander witnessed everything and was quite frightened. This also made Charlie keenly aware that the ecology here and the external mainland were completely different—the overly distressed and narrow perspective made them unable to understand his unusual parts.

In theory, he could have bypassed this place and entered the inner city, where the auction of White Bridge existed for rare and exotic items, and curses and rare species were nothing new. Like all open mainland cities, seeing his rabbit head would only be seen as a symbol of some accident or enmity.

But to find such a place in the world-famous den of inequity—moreover, completely unknown to the outside world—piqued Charlie’s interest. He entered Paradise Island under the cover of night and, quite by chance, bumped into Aquinas’s “evening class”.

Then the unfortunate Aquinas was caught by Charlie. The shopkeeper, who usually preferred to convince with reason, rarely used violence, but being a spiritual leader for too long, Aquinas had forgotten that he was quite weak—if without followers. When he saw the shopkeeper, he took him as some sort of half-human, half-beast evil presence and immediately decided to make him part of his “miracle”, not even waiting for Charlie to speak up before trying to take action.

Instead, Charlie easily subdued him (and a few bodyguards), and when a desperate Aquinas thought he was an assassin sent by a hostile force about to lose his life, he swore to give everything to preserve his life. Charlie used his mouth to learn about the existence of Paradise Island, which had been “invisible” on the mainland for a long time. Then he realized that Aquinas’s prestige on Paradise Island was an existence beyond the rules, and seemingly unknown to the actual controllers of White Bridge, the Wolves and Monkeys, who had allowed him to develop and grow for a long time without taking any action against him.

“I’ve heard of Jason. He and Aquinas are completely different types, but they possess similar power,” Charlie said. “It’s a pleasant surprise that you know him.”

Eugene held back, but eventually couldn’t resist.

“What’s with your head?” he asked. “Has the curse been lifted? Is Elena dead?”

Then, inspired, he added, “The Duke must want to see what you really look like.”

Not just the Duke—practically everyone was curious about the shopkeeper’s true appearance, but it felt a bit strange to say it out loud.

Charlie winked at him. “Of course, Elena isn’t dead. As for the Duke…”

Eugene saw a somewhat triumphant expression on his face.

……

A few hours earlier.

Annie knocked on Alexander’s door, telling him the guest’s carriage had arrived.

This was a guest scheduled by the Countess, and Louis had also specifically instructed to take care in receiving, so Alexander personally went out to greet, only to be stunned by the visitor’s appearance, secretly guessing whether the other party might have elven blood.

Dwight was used to being the center of attention and didn’t give Alexander and Annie a second glance. His focus was entirely on the upcoming meeting.

Louis wasn’t only Priscilla’s ex-lover but also Charlie’s twin brother, which meant…

Their appearances should be exactly the same.

Dwight had imagined what Louis might look like. He knew Priscilla and knew that the other’s appearance definitely wouldn’t be unpleasant—in fact, just from Rabbit Head’s body proportions, one could roughly guess.

But when he saw the man sitting on the sofa, he was still taken aback.

Because he had seen that face, more than once!

At the Stonewall Inn and the Mokwen Palace—although he had a vague feeling, realizing that Rabbit Head had indeed been pretending for so long, he was still infuriated.

But his upbringing and temperament didn’t allow him to make a scene on the spot. Dwight gripped his cane tightly and watched as the other stood up and flashed him a smile.

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Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 127

The core meeting on the eve of the auction was a tradition of the Wolf Family, intended to confirm that the domains managed by the five top executives were functioning normally. In other words, everything that needed to be done had been pretty much completed, and any last-minute changes were too late to implement, making the gathering more ceremonial than substantive.

But Khalif didn’t see it that way this time.

“The catalog was finalized and distributed to all corners of the continent four months ago. There’s no time to adjust the auction items now,” Adan murmured under his breath. Louis caught a glimpse of his normally interlaced hands on his lap, now twisted together in tension.

“And this would affect the Wolf’s—”

“Of course,” Khalif interrupted him nonchalantly. “You misunderstand me. I mean setting up a few sub-venues during the main auction breaks, to clear out some… ah, items that aren’t suitable for public display.”

Adan almost laughed out loud. What could possibly be inappropriate for display at a White Bridge auction? They even sold lives! He understood what Khalif meant. “Inappropriate” didn’t just mean contraband or ethically questionable items, but things that didn’t align with the Wolf’s interests. What could possibly infringe on the Wolf’s interests more than expanding the Monkey Family’s share of the auction?

“Your mind has always been agile, which is why you handle our transactions,” Khalif said sternly. “Incorporating two or three small trades within seven days won’t affect our business.”

Adan forcibly suppressed his anger. “But if they are contraband, we need time to prepare in advance to avoid accidents.” He turned to Louis. “We’re short on manpower and energy.”

Like “Sharon’s Crown”, many items in White Bridge could easily cause turmoil if brought onto the continent. For instance, just to seal that crown before it was displayed in the Monkey’s window, two transport workers and a sigil artist had died, not to mention the lives lost from mere contact with it before that—White Bridge’s auction’s reputation wasn’t only for monopolizing the continent’s resources or its efficiency in goods distribution but also for its impregnable security measures. None of this fell from the sky. It all required years of experience, trial and error, and sufficiently cautious pre-planning.

Louis furrowed his brows sharply. Adan rarely saw this typically impassive peer reveal so much emotion in a meeting. He was first shocked, then quickly realized what was happening, his expression darkening even further.

He shouldn’t have said that!

But Khalif couldn’t possibly be so foolish…

Khalif’s gaze was piercing. “Arthur and Louis, what do you think?”

Red-haired Arthur shifted uncomfortably. Louis was in charge of defense, and he handled magic-related security. Among the five Elders, they collaborated the most, so it was natural for them to be named together now. But Adan’s impulsive speech made it tricky, and from Louis’s expression, he too realized this.

Adan’s point was valid. Security required meticulous preparation, and there simply wasn’t time now—but if they expressed that, he feared Khalif would propose working with the Monkeys.

That would be no different than ceding territory.

Seeing Khalif’s expression, Arthur feared he really might be that forgetful of his origins.

Their alpha wolf was becoming senile, but even an aged, senile wolf still had sharp fangs, likely to bite anyone who opposed him face-to-face.

Arthur, an unregistered mage who had long focused solely on his craft and not on physical combat, quickly calculated his options and decided to pass the buck.

“It’s very difficult,” Arthur said. “It depends on whether Louis can spare the manpower—a lot of manpower.”

His words brought an awkward silence to the room. Even those who disliked Louis internally cursed Arthur for his shameless act but had to admit they would have done the same in his position.

Because…

“We can’t cooperate.” Louis responded immediately. Adan and Arthur both secretly breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone among the five Elders was going to oppose and contradict Khalif first, it was Louis.

Khalif’s expression darkened.

“Oh? Why?” he asked softly.

This was a prelude to his anger.

“There’s no time, no manpower,” Louis said, as if he hadn’t noticed his tone. “Before setting up a sub-venue, Azman has added a lot of ancillary events this year, and the security team’s strength has already been weakened. The remaining personnel must fully support the main auction.”

Azman, named directly, also looked displeased. “I said it wasn’t necessary—”

“Many of your event items come from the Monkeys. The instability of black magic is well known. You can’t afford the consequences if it gets out of control,” Louis said bluntly, looking straight at him. “Either you cut ties with the Monkeys and let them handle those parties and events themselves, or don’t set the venue within White Bridge or the inner river area. Otherwise, I won’t lift a finger. This isn’t for you.”

Louis didn’t spell it out, but his few words positioned his stance with the Wolf Family, almost pointing a finger at Azman for lacking a grand vision and accusing the Monkeys of definitely causing trouble if left unchecked, perhaps even insinuating an indirect slap to Khalif’s face.

Khalif snapped. “Enough!”

Azman snorted.

“If you can’t do it, find someone to help you,” Khalif said coldly. “Don’t make excuses for your incompetence.”

Louis hummed. “Then let Azman provide some people. After all, he’s the one who made the mess.”

?!?!?!

Adan nearly jumped from his seat.

What did that mean? Was Louis agreeing to the suggestion to set up a sub-venue? Was he joking—?

The other Elders’ faces were more shocked than Adan’s. Wasn’t Louis supposed to be the rebel?

Khalif was about to explode, but Louis mentioned Azman…

Still pondering, Arthur and Adan could no longer sit still.

“This is still too rushed!”

“There’s never been such a precedent. It’s better to try it next time. The interests of the Wolf Family…”

It seemed Khalif hadn’t expected the stubborn nail Louis to give in, and now that others were getting involved, the frustration he’d been suppressing flared up, loudly reprimanding them for their uselessness.

In just a few exchanges, the focus completely shifted.

Louis smirked audibly, quietly watching the dispute continue without further involvement.

Meanwhile, on Paradise Island, where night had already fallen, because the auction was starting tomorrow, many tasks still required all-night work, so many people hadn’t gone home yet—some were even just leaving now, while children had already been tucked into bed. The bustling streets of the day were now eerily quiet.

Most residents of this area didn’t waste energy lighting lamps at night, and if there was no moon, it was pitch black, making it impossible to see even the ground beneath one’s feet.

Eugene, however, was accustomed to the dark, but the uneven roads still made his progress difficult.

In fact, he had a tinderbox and candles in his coat pocket, but the locals rarely indulged in the luxury of carrying lanterns or lighting candles while traveling. He didn’t want to draw attention by behaving differently, so he had to grope his way forward while trying hard to discern the direction.

He didn’t know the exact destination. Charlie’s Gray Sentinel had only relayed a brief message, instructing him to go alone to a certain place on Paradise Island in the middle of the night.

Trusting the shopkeeper, Eugene had followed the instructions without hesitation, though diarrhea and hunger from fasting had impaired his thinking, and he hadn’t delved into the peculiar directive—why had the shopkeeper reached White Bridge but not met with the Duke and others, instead entering Paradise Island?

And at this hour, aside from those working at night, only owls were awake. The houses around him were all dark without a trace of light, and streetlamps were a fanciful thought. Eugene corrected his direction several times with great effort, guided only towards the area the shopkeeper had mentioned.

He was now deep within Paradise Island, surrounded by the lingering scent of onion soup and fried fish, as if a large meal had just concluded. A relatively sturdy and decent house surprisingly showed light through, its ground floor door wide open, inviting anyone to enter freely.

Eugene didn’t rashly approach but observed from a distance for a while. Thanks to the cover of night, he simply squatted in the corner of a shack and blended completely into the background, unnoticed by anyone. Additionally, due to malnutrition, many residents of Paradise Island suffer from night blindness, and due to their extreme poverty, they lack a sense of vigilance, so no one would bother to check if someone was hiding by the roadside.

While he observed, people gradually arrived under the moonlight, some in groups of two or three, others alone. They were dressed casually and without hesitation, entered the building as naturally as if visiting their aunt.

Thinking it over, Eugene stood up before his legs became numb and followed behind two skinny men, casually approaching the house.

For Paradise Island’s standards, this house was exceptional. Though it was also constructed of wooden planks, its two-story boxy structure appeared meticulous, and besides the door, it was painted white, setting it apart from the colorful residences around it.

Eugene was prepared to feign ignorance, but surprisingly, from entering to ascending the stairs, no one stopped him—in fact, no one even seemed curious about his arrival, as if it was normal for strangers to enter. The skinny men ahead of him only glanced back once when they sensed someone following, then quickly turned away.

Upon entering, he saw a woman in a wrap dress who smiled at them as they came in.

“Good evening,” she said softly. “No questions are arranged for tonight. Please make an appointment for tomorrow if you have any queries.”

Eugene was full of questions, but his face showed none of it. Instead, he clasped his hands and returned a good evening, like the two men ahead of him. He was unaware that his unchallenged entry wasn’t only due to new faces being common here but also because he looked as thin and frail as the other two men—the difference being they looked that way due to poverty, whereas Eugene was actually sick.

The group ascended the stairs and turned into a corridor, where they found the entire second floor had been converted into a small auditorium with a thin carpet on the floor. Many people were already seated there, and from the corridor, all Eugene could see was the backs of heads—men and women, old and young.

Now Eugene understood why he hadn’t been suspected. The room was tightly packed with around a hundred or two hundred people. It was impossible that they were all from one family or knew each other. Sitting next to strangers was nothing unusual.

The room was nearly full, and latecomers had to squeeze into spaces near the back door. Because of his weak competitive spirit, Eugene had to sit awkwardly half-off the corridor to find a spot. Even then, people continued to come upstairs, gradually filling even the corridor.

Eugene realized what this place was for. When he saw an elderly man draped in silk emerge from a hidden door and everyone raised their arms in a low chant, only Eugene was confused. Wasn’t this the religion Jason mentioned? That profound-looking man must be Aquinas!

Aquinas was accompanied by two assistants, heads to toes in veils, revealing only their eyes, and holding golden basins behind him. Used to worshipful adoration, Aquinas sat cross-legged on the platform, starting his session without greeting, diving straight into storytelling.

Yes, storytelling.

Eugene had never been so attentive in class—he estimated Aquinas told five stories that evening, all quite similar. Each involved someone from some place who had committed certain sins, saw the God of Judgment before dying, and realized their wrongs, giving all their wealth as tribute to cleanse their sins. Aquinas was an eloquent speaker, making the stories vivid, especially contrasting the afterlives of those who had atoned and those who hadn’t, and how the living spared no expense to ease the suffering of their deceased loved ones. His storytelling was far better than the erotic novels Eugene secretly bought.

After the stories, Aquinas summarized a table of criminal behaviors for the congregants to compare against themselves, to tally how much sin they had accumulated with their age and what its monetary value was. This part was reasonable, involving actions like “harboring malice”, “theft”, and “slandering others”.

Eugene didn’t participate in the tallying. Instead, he watched Aquinas exit through a side door by the platform. Judging by the house’s outer structure, it could only lead downstairs.

As soon as Aquinas turned to leave, Eugene scrambled up and rushed down the stairs, navigating the now empty reception hall to the inner room, where Aquinas and his group were indeed located. The keen-feeling person in the full veil noticed Eugene as soon as he peeked in and immediately approached him.

Eugene instinctively wanted to flee, but his rationality held him back. As a “believer”, it was too late to kneel down, and seeing his idol, how could he run?

He adjusted his expression, ready to shout fervently, “I want to see Lord Aquinas!” when the person preempted him. “Eugene.”

Eugene paused.

That was the shopkeeper’s voice.

The person swiftly grabbed Eugene’s arm, pulling him into a tiny broom closet.

This house was luxurious by Paradise Island standards. Even a utility room had a small wall lamp. The shopkeeper fumbled on the wall, and the light turned on, causing a few spiders, startled by the brightness, to scurry down the wall.

Eugene was relieved. “It’s you!” Mainly because he wasn’t wearing his top hat. Otherwise, even in a large cloak, Eugene was confident he’d recognize him.

Charlie struggled to roll up his cloak from the ground and then flipped it off in one swift motion—

Eugene’s wide smile froze as he instinctively stepped back.

Facing him was a man with the shopkeeper’s voice but without a rabbit’s head, smiling at him. The slightly elongated eyes, overly pale skin, and slightly curled copper-gold hair, though unfamiliar, felt strangely familiar.

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