Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 118

Amber’s eyes widened as he looked at the two neatly dressed attendants bowing to greet them, with a bright green lawn behind them—not large but meticulously trimmed and vividly colored, which made the somewhat gloomy sky appear gray.

In the middle was a neat pathway wide enough for a double carriage, leading to a compact but fully functional summer villa.

Every five steps along the outer circular colonnade stood a slender column, carved with intricate rose vine patterns similar to those on the main door, topped with a gas lamp that was lit even though it was still afternoon (Eugene suspected these lamps were on day and night).

Although there were no marble pools or fountains, there was a delicate tower and a back garden, making it seem like the most complete and comfortable place they had come across after their journey.

This was just one of the guest houses in the inner city of White Bridge, featuring six bedrooms and seven bathrooms, adorned with finely sculpted relief columns and gilded furniture inlaid with gems. However, there were no emblems or tapestries that could indicate status, making it seem like an opulently empty jewelry box.

Each house was staffed with a cook, laundress, gardener, coachman, and four general laborers, while the security mercenaries were housed in a separate wooden cabin next to the storage room, behind which stood a pointed-roof stable filled with hay reaching the roof.

This was the first time both Amber and Eugene had seen such a refined house, and they felt somewhat uneasy about stepping forward. Nearly the entire reception hall was covered with a huge carpet, brown with blue borders, featuring patterns with an exotic flair. Having traveled through many cities with the Duke, Eugene could guess that such a large handmade carpet must be quite valuable, and his sheepskin boots were no longer as pristine as they had been at the start of their journey—they still bore the marks of accidentally stepping into a muddy puddle at the foot of the Royfoy Mountains.

Hasting and Shivers had different concerns. They quickly inspected the house from top to bottom, opening every cupboard and paying particular attention to all the exits of the house.

The Duke stood by a large stained-glass window overlooking the back garden, frowning slightly at the spotless glass.

After descending the stairs, Shivers saw where he was standing and immediately understood that he had also noticed something of concern.

“Indeed, there are no blessing charms,” the Knight Commander said. “We’ve checked the doors, window frames, stairs, eaves, and vents, and found nothing.”

Amber stood at the edge of the carpet. Hearing their conversation, he raised his head and asked Eugene, “What’s a blessing charm? Like an amulet?”

Eugene replied, surprised, “How do you not know that—it’s a charm used to prevent witches or evil spirits from entering a house. Even the simplest houses are equipped with them. As the saying goes: even a broken house should have a stove and a daisy wreath.”

Amber remained silent.

He had been sold before he was five years old and retained little memory of “home”. Since then, he had been passed from hand to hand, never sleeping in a decent bed, let alone a proper house.

Hearing their conversation, Shivers waved Amber over.

“Blessing charms are a customary practice across the continent. It’s not specific in form, but any that can repel evil and protect against malevolent spirits. Long ago, when black magic was rampant and the fresh bones from graveyards and swamps weren’t enough to satisfy their needs, people would compel extremely evil things to squeeze into houses through door cracks or window gaps; thus, various protective measures were developed. The daisy wreath Eugene mentioned is a common one. It’s inexpensive and just requires a daisy wreath carved into a brick on each of the four walls during construction to confuse evil beings.”

He added softly, “There are also wooden exorcism charms hung behind doors and silver-coated glass pieces embedded in the windows. The methods vary, but it’s customary to have some, and houses completely without these protections are rare.”

Eugene dipped his finger in water and drew several circles within circles on the wall to show him, “See, this is a daisy wreath. When I was in Dogus, I often slept in animal sheds, and if the homeowner didn’t place a blessing charm, we would draw this with the ashes on the walls—do you need me to draw one outside? It’s simple, just give me five minutes…”

Shivers shook his head. “I’ve sent Hall and Shiloh to check if the nearby houses are the same, but actually, the comforting effect of blessing charms is greater than their actual function. Now, witches and black magic are strictly prohibited, especially in populous cities, and evil spirits hardly dare to show themselves.”

And they had Hasting, a walking humanoid blessing charm stronger than any other.

“Interesting,” Dwight muttered quietly, taking his cane and heading upstairs, followed by Shivers.

Their luggage had already been placed in the bedrooms, with the Duke naturally occupying the largest one. As guests concealing their real identities, they maintained a low profile after entering White Bridge and didn’t rent the best house, thus receiving little special treatment, but the conditions here were still surprisingly good.

“These families… at least the Wolves and Monkeys, indeed have substantial wealth,” Shivers remarked, looking at the fur on the bed.

Due to its fragmented kingdom, Doran lacked strict consumer laws, allowing wealthy commoners considerable freedom. The soft, white rabbit fur on the bed was a testament to high-quality goods, usually stored with spices in the innermost cargo holds of ships and sold at high prices.

In Pennigra, only those of knight rank and above could wear silk, and only barons and above could wear fur coats or trimmed robes.

“They do just that,” Dwight said. “For the biennial auction, countless ships carrying honey, beverages, spices, and silk converge here. The Golden Waterway is well-deserved.”

“In such a place, without strong measures, it’s easy for theft, robbery, and conflicts to arise,” Shivers analyzed. “But so far, the environment seems peaceful, and even the houses don’t set up blessing charms. What gives the Wolves such confidence?”

“Personnel stratification,” Dwight responded without hesitation. “Here, there are no nobles, only coins. They classify by wealth.”

Upon entering White Bridge, they had rented a villa in a section that likely housed guests of similar stature. If someone as wealthy as Priscilla were to visit, she would probably stay somewhere even more upscale, but likely just like this place, devoid of any emblems or ornaments to display one’s status.

“But there is no pure utopia of pleasure. There must be another part of the city, a breeding ground for theft and robbery… concentrated there.” Dwight speculated, lowering his eyes. “As long as the boundaries are clear, major conflicts won’t occur, and individual conflicts on ‘this side’ are manageable.”

“We haven’t seen such a place,” Shivers said.

They had been met by carriages upon disembarking, but due to not having female companions, chose a brighter, airier, windowless model. The scenery they saw along the way looked like a compact royal city, vibrant and ripe like a juicy, enticing peach, emitting a rotting, sweet smell.

“There’s more than one entrance,” Dwight said thoughtfully.

For the Wolves and Monkeys to demarcate and govern here appeared quite incredible and contradictory to Dwight. It was strange to see two equally powerful forces coexist peacefully within the same area.

Either they had leverage over each other, or this balance existed only superficially, being quite delicate in reality.

Unfortunately, just as nobles collectively refuse to intermarry with the Black Gold Families, the Black Gold Families are also tightly knit, making it difficult for outsiders to penetrate easily.

Even in Pennigra, Lemena was a relatively independent peninsula and had no contact with White Bridge beyond commercial activities before this, leaving him with a very limited understanding of the area.

But there were potential breakthroughs, such as Louis.

However, Dwight still didn’t know his actual stance, and considering his and Charlie’s sensitive identities, coupled with Priscilla’s impending childbirth, the Duke pondered for a moment and decided to switch perspectives.

In such a prosperous and orderly inner city, the Wolves and Monkeys likely dominated as local powers, controlling key resources.

The commoners or those of lower status probably concentrated in inferior districts or suburbs. Both families might manage those areas, but they wouldn’t be a major part of that population.

……

Eugene walked down the street, shoulders hunched, as drizzle fell from the sky. Despite wearing a waterproof cloak, the fine raindrops were blown slantwise onto his face by the wind, soon forming tiny beads of water on his eyebrows and hair.

White Bridge was a city that never slept.

He had deliberately left home at eleven at night and spent an hour walking to the bustling commercial district’s edge. Although the air no longer carried the scents of ladies’ perfume and sweet cream, it was still enticing—replaced by the strong aromas of roasted meats. Half-open or open-air stalls were everywhere, with bright lights illuminating the area as if it were daytime. People built huge roasters right there, continuously removing stacks of pancakes filled with pork, beef, and eggs. Beside these were various grills, skewering beef legs and small lambs, constantly dripping fat and juices into bowls below, then used to make another famous dish—gravy onions.

Eugene stood at a street corner, like a customer lured by the aromas and indecisive about which shop to sit down in. The bustling or dining people took no special notice of him, as the scene was quite ordinary to them.

But he was actually observing something else.

For these bustling districts, the night was just beginning. Gourmets tired of the inner city’s center, close to various auction houses and exclusive restaurants, would come here to eat, often in groups, with two servants following behind. Occasionally, some courtesans would pass by, casting flirtatious glances at the seated diners.

Eugene bypassed these brightly lit shops, stepping through puddles deeper into the area. The layout of the streets here was similar, with shiny shops typically backed by messy drainage ditches. Old oil lamps hung on bamboo poles, and a few raggedly dressed women washed dishes under the lamps while two men squatted on the ground, their fronts lined with buckets filled with heaps of chili peppers and onions, quickly chopping tuberous plants into small pieces.

People came and went from the front, picking up peeled potatoes. Those squatting or sitting didn’t raise their heads or speak, treating each other as if they were air.

The lighting was too dim, but Eugene could just make out their dark faces and tattered robes. Sometimes, multi-legged insects scurried out from the shadows, even crawling over the corners of their robes that touched the ground, causing only a numb shift in their bodies, their hands never stopping their task.

The Duke was right. Behind such opulence in White Bridge was a backbone of cheap labor. Especially in that “outsider” villa area, massive daily demands were generated: laundry, exquisite food, tedious and cumbersome household chores, and routine house maintenance—all of which couldn’t be managed by just a few assigned servants.

This was particularly evident in the streets and shops, especially in the food industry, which generated a lot of tedious and dirty work…

Eugene was familiar with these scenes. Indeed, he had been a scoundrel since childhood, rarely as engrossed in work as these people. But Eugene, the thief, and his ragamuffin friends had parents and siblings who performed these low-wage jobs day in and day out, barely making enough to scrape by.

That’s why, unlike the loud drunks in the taverns, they were very cautious, unlikely to say more than a few words to a stranger like Eugene.

After some thought, Eugene didn’t approach rashly but walked away—he ended up ordering a roasted chicken, golden-brown, and drank wine until late into the night.

Only when it grew dark and the guests gradually left, as most shops began cleaning tables and chairs, did he tighten his sleeves, stagger to his feet, and tossed a handful of coins on the table before leaving.

A faint snicker followed him from behind. He knew he was seen as a penniless gambler, but he didn’t care.

Like all incoherently drunk people, he first staggered under a streetlamp, then shuffled forward. The streets were nearly empty, and he was almost relying on luck not to lose track of the two men he had seen peeling potatoes in the back alley earlier.

Luckily, they were either completely off guard or so sure of their poverty that they attracted no covetous attention, oblivious to someone following them through several blocks back to “home”.

Eugene stood in a shadow where the streetlight couldn’t reach, watching one of the men crawl directly into a tent propped up by a stick on the roadside, seemingly flipping over to lie down inside, his feet sticking out freely.

His companion walked around the tent and entered—what Eugene could only describe as…

A jumbled mass of shanties, tents, and wooden houses crowded together, a myriad of materials and colors with seemingly no gaps between the oddly shaped windows and corners that stood out more starkly against the night sky. From his distance, it looked like a colossal, multicolored mountain of garbage.

And the ragged vegetable cutter, like a nimble rat, slipped in without needing streetlights or moonlight, familiarly navigating the maze.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 117

After the Bonadi River turned a bend in the eastern part of the Doran continent, it merged into the sea. White Bridge was conveniently located at the bend. There was also a canal that ran through east to west, which most passenger and merchant ships entered through.

The impression of White Bridge entirely depends on which “gate” one entered through.

Alexander glanced out the window before drawing the curtains. Although the ship wasn’t moving fast, the vast expanse of gray, white was no longer visible in the distance—outsiders might mistake that white for calcified reefs or something else on the shore, but only those who live there knew that it was a large, dense area of low, sun-blocking rooftops.

Describing them as rooftops might not be entirely appropriate, as most of the structures were crooked shacks, built askew, and in disrepair. If by chance some stray dogs were to fight and bump into the rotten, damp wood used for support, it could easily cause the entire shack to collapse, crushing the starving elderly inside who lack the strength to even moan.

Then, after waiting a few days, someone would drag away the rubble along with the bodies, and another “family” would build a shack on the same spot, only to relive this history again in twenty years—or maybe ten.

“Didn’t you just go back? ‘Paradise Island’.” Louis, standing by his desk, carefully put on a glove, which was exquisitely made, but what was more surprising was the material—it was light, soft, thin, and extremely elastic. It took effort to fully stretch it to put on, and once on, it fitted like a second layer of skin, reducing any discomfort that could hinder movement to a minimum.

After checking the curtains, Alexander came over to help him and pursed his lips upon hearing this.

The continent’s impression of White Bridge was universally one of a debauched gold mine, a lawless den of sin, a magical country that fulfilled all fantasies. Oddly, those who had been to White Bridge unanimously ignored its other side: crowded, dirty, poor, suffering, and madness.

These terms also came from White Bridge, where countless poor people, like never-tiring ants, had accumulated a growing anthill in this place of extravagant spending, exactly where Alexander just looked.

This slum had an interesting name: Paradise Island.

It wasn’t actually an island, but a large, rundown, crowded shantytown that was an integral part of White Bridge, where all the garbage abandoned by the adjacent glitzy world and all beings unworthy of entering that world found their place. Its boundary was clear, without a wall to separate these two worlds, but this stark coexistence had existed almost since the formation of White Bridge.

The name Paradise Island was given by the first generation of residents, and to this day, one could still faintly sense their hopeful spirit placed here for the future, although over time it had become a focal point of disease, poverty, and hardship in White Bridge. Yet, the residents of Paradise Island still chose to call it by this name.

Alexander was from there.

“I just glanced from a distance.” Alexander straightened a finger of the glove, ensuring Louis’s fingertip completely reached the end. “Things change too quickly there. I no longer recognize the way in.”

And Paradise Island would not welcome someone like Alexander.

The islanders had an instinctual sense of smell, able to sharply discern the identity of every visitor. They may outwardly show respect and fear, but deep down, they emit a “this is an outsider” warning, even if Alexander was once one of them.

“Fahim told you,” Louis said nonchalantly, picking up the second glove.

As Louis’s assistant, Alexander rarely enjoyed any holidays. His few free moments came when Louis returned to Fortuna City, and Alexander usually left half a day to a day later due to wrapping up work, occasionally having a few hours to glance at Paradise Island.

The day Fahim took him away from White Bridge, he had stood at the crossroad and said, “Take one last look at your hometown. You can never come back.”

At that time, Alexander’s mind was no bigger than a peach pit. He didn’t understand what Fahim was saying, but he obediently looked back. His sweaty-smelling neighbors also watched him from afar, their eyes filled with reluctance. Alexander felt Fahim didn’t understand. His family and friends were all here. When he made something of himself, they would surely excitedly navigate the alleys, loudly share the news, and then celebrate together with the bread and ham he brought back—however, it turned out Fahim was right.

When he wore a decent shirt, cut his hair, and learned to use utensils and read, the blood flowing through him was continuously cleansed, and by the time he stood behind Louis, capable of calmly facing all threats, the last trace of Paradise Island within him had disappeared.

His gambling-addict father disappeared in the second year after he left, presumably thrown into the Bonadi River by creditors, and his mentally unstable mother couldn’t even remember how many children she had, let alone recognize Alexander—even now, even if he brought back the finest wines and meats, his hometown would no longer recognize and accept him.

“Yes.” Alexander straightened Louis’s collar. A cleverly hidden white gauze peeked through—one that he had worked tirelessly to wrap around his neck.

Showing weakness was rare in White Bridge, and Alexander wasn’t sure what Louis hoped to gain by pretending to be injured, but as a dutiful assistant, he didn’t question his boss’ decision.

They timed it well, almost completely ready when a servant came to report that the ship had arrived, and…

“Miss Prima is waiting for you at the port,” the servant said.

This wasn’t something an unmarried lady should do conspicuously. It seemed she was truly worried. Alexander thought this as he picked up Louis’s cane and hat, glancing at the meticulously combed back of his boss’ head, feeling his boss really wasn’t a good man.

This was roughly the difference between true nobility and a pack of wolves. Although the idea of defending one’s dignity with one’s life was rigid and decadent, this push was quite too high that Priscella would never do such a thing.

Prima knew that her actions could stir rumors and mockery, like being overly forward, but she was Khalif’s daughter—who would dare say that to her face?—as long as it didn’t reach her ears, she wouldn’t care about these trivial acts.

Louis wasn’t particularly perturbed by being pursued, nor did the news elicit any special reaction from him.

Once within the domain of White Bridge, there were plenty of eyes scrutinizing his every move. Prima was just one of the rare few whose intentions were benign.

He took the cane from Alexander and boarded the carriage, waiting at the dock without a sideways glance. Nearby, the Azalea, prepared for the Countess, had its convoy in place, but due to cumbersome luggage, only the attendants were coordinating all the details.

Prima’s carriage was white and painted with golden trim. Its exquisite rooftop and detailed decorations looked quite dreamy. However, from the dock onward, the sight was filled with luxurious, costly carriages, making the Wolf Family’s seem modest in comparison.

Prima didn’t alight from her carriage but instead waited for Louis to board so they could ride side by side. It seemed the lady hadn’t entirely forsaken her modesty until they reached Louis’s inner-city mansion, where she lightly stepped down from the carriage, her bright brown eyes unwaveringly fixed on him.

“Louis, Alexander told me you were injured.” She approached naturally, her tone filled with concern. “You look pale… Was it the witch?”

“Thank you for coming to meet me, Prima.” Louis nodded to her. “Let’s not stand here talking. Alexander, have the kitchen prepare cinnamon tea and mint candies. We’ll go to the living room.”

This was Prima’s preference, but she wasn’t here just for tea. Seeing Louis move freely brightened her spirits a bit, and her tone became more cheerful.

“Those annoying people wouldn’t tell me the truth, so I came to you, Louis. Is there really a witch? Did she hurt you?”

“Oh? What did they say?” Louis removed his hat and casually handed it to a maid nearby.

“Oh, there was a rumor that you had disappeared around seven,” Prima said lightly. “They said a witch attacked the docks, and you were there, taken away by the witch.”

She didn’t realize the implications of her words: Louis had vanished in the river just as the sun set, and within an hour, White Bridge, three days and two nights from Fortuna City, had received news that couldn’t be said to be entirely inaccurate. Obviously, this didn’t come from Louis’s side, indicating someone had been closely monitoring him.

Prima was aware of this, but such surveillance was normal for the Wolf and even the Monkey families. Those in power always attracted covetous eyes waiting to take their place, and even a lady like her was constantly watched. She had just heard the news and wasn’t one of the watchers. Even if Louis resented this customary situation, his anger and resentment wouldn’t extend to her.

Louis didn’t react much to her words, instead calmly describing the incident with Elena, of course, in the version that made Alexander roll his eyes.

Prima, well-protected by her father, was easily fascinated by such thrilling stories. When Louis mentioned that the witch was dead, she sighed with relief and gracefully stated she was just checking on him and shouldn’t stay long to not disturb his rest after the journey.

Louis didn’t detain her and turned to Alexander to escort her to her carriage.

Though anticipated, Prima was still dismayed by Louis’s overly polite reception. If not for Alexander at her side, she might have turned immediately to ask Mary, the maid next to her, if she noticed her new hairstyle and the perfectly matching dress.

Alexander escorted her to the front courtyard, softly complimenting, “You look very beautiful today, Miss Prima.”

“Really?” Prima’s eyes lit up.

Alexander smiled as he had the servant open the carriage door. “It’s a style I haven’t seen before. It looks very exquisite.”

“Hand-embroidered, the pattern is my design—my brother found a workshop with skilled artisans,” Prima explained.

Alexander and Louis were inseparable, seen as Louis’s shadow. Prima felt that Alexander’s compliment was almost as if Louis had noticed her too, brightening her mood and even speculating whether Louis, being reserved, was using Alexander to compliment her.

She didn’t know that Alexander noticed this because his mother, when young, worked in a garment factory on dirty Paradise Island, not even in embroidery but in dyeing and laundering. Before losing her sanity, Alexander had listened to her and her slightly older daughter dreamily discuss how the factory in filthy Paradise Island could produce such noble, beautiful, flawless dresses for the ladies of the inner city, the cost of which could build a decent house for their family, saving them from rainy seasons. Alexander even remembered a night when the family barely had enough to eat, and the mother and daughter heatedly and needlessly debated, “If God gave you a choice, would you want the dress or the house?”

Prima wouldn’t know this. The garment factory was just a term to her. She might not even be aware of how much her dresses could sell for.

Alexander stood with his hands by his sides, watching the small two-person carriage disappear into the distance, then looked down at his own impeccably tailored, stiff long coat.

The residents of Paradise Island felt they were in paradise, trying their utmost to salvage everything they could from the scalding hellish magma, while the “real” residents of White Bridge never looked directly at Paradise Island, for it was infested with rats and filth, no different from a hell on earth.

At that moment, Alexander suddenly understood something.

The reason Louis had kept Prima at arm’s length for so many years, yet was willing to establish relatively close relationships with other women outside of White Bridge.

It wasn’t because Louis despised her family or her father Khalif and that Prima was Khalif’s daughter, but because, unlike others, Louis didn’t see a boundary between Paradise Island and the inner city.

If so, why choose to stay even after reaching maturity? Fahim had left Louis a considerable fortune and options for his future, effectively giving him a choice.

Now sitting as the head of the family, if he wished to step out of the circle of power and retire to just any distant city, none of his dim-witted (forgive his words) relatives could oppose him, and there were plenty in the Wolf Family waiting for someone to vacate a position.

Alexander had always felt that Louis’s ambition lay at the very top of White Bridge, and his elusive style was just one way to keep his opponents guessing, but now he began to doubt what his boss was really thinking.

The author has something to say:

Prima is a kind girl, but Louis prefers a more mature type. The brothers are the opposite in this regard.

Kinky Thoughts:

The gender of preference is also opposite as well … given that this is a danmei—though so far it has been so slow burn that (supposedly straight) Shivers and Yitzfa have more chemistry than the Duke and his Rabbit.

However, the story is quite good, so I can’t complain too much.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 116

The appearance of the witch Elena was like an unexpected hurricane, toppling a large swath and leaving a mess before quickly dissipating. No one knew where she had gone.

This unknown only deepened everyone’s unease.

On board the Azalea was a noble from a certain kingdom, traveling to White Bridge under the protection of two Black Gold Families. This was hardly a secret in Fortuna City, so many ships set their sights there, preparing to leave port with it, which somewhat increased their sense of security.

The only ones who felt a loss and reluctance were the various hunters who had rushed over, unwilling to believe that the witch had simply died or disappeared. Only a few focused on why a witch, who should have been reclusive, appeared in Fortuna City on the eve of the auction.

The sheriff’s department’s investigation report was either openly straightforward or covertly mysterious, and copies were placed on the desks of different individuals.

“The initial record was from a makeup artist who had signed a short-term contract with the city theater and had been walking home from work at the same time for three consecutive days—the theater was about to start a new show, and he and a partner were fitting rehearsals for twenty-seven actresses. Work hours were from eleven at night to five in the morning. That day, his partner left with an actress from the theater, so he didn’t leave together.”

Soon after, he was found collapsed on the street.

Alexander had seen the report beforehand and omitted the complex details, distilling the key points. “During the rescue, the sheriff discovered he was possessed by black magic. Two passersby drove off the demon for him, but due to insufficient strength, they ended up being chased all over the streets—later, another passerby completely expelled it with a bow and arrow on the docks.”

This report was very detailed, with elegant handwriting showing a thorough investigation. Many of the details came from eyewitness descriptions. If it weren’t for the early hour, Alexander felt the report could have been twice as thick.

In contrast, the report on the actual chaos at the docks where Elena appeared was much simpler, for an obvious reason. Apart from the foreman, Pambrick, and Louis, there were hardly any witnesses that saw the whole thing. Even the one who finally drove Elena back was…

Wait.

Louis snatched the first report from Alexander’s hand, quickly skimmed through it, and stopped at the last few lines.

[Completely expelled with a bow and arrow].

He remembered the person who drove Elena back—a bowman or perhaps also a mage—as the swarm of rats that were like a plague had no effect in front of him, and the witch was powerless against him. If he had been a minute later, Elena might have escaped. However, because it was dim, he hadn’t paid much attention to the man—Louis had thought he was just one of the bounty hunters chasing her.

Louis felt this was no coincidence. The likelihood that both bowmen were the same person was high.

Both reports lacked more records about this person, indicating two possibilities: one was that the person kept a very low profile or shouldn’t openly reveal his identity, disappearing quickly after accomplishing his goals, making it impossible for the security team to track him; the second was that although they had roughly located the target, the person wasn’t from Fortuna City and was just a passerby—without concrete evidence, the sheriff’s jurisdiction over non-local residents wasn’t extensive.

As for the report’s brief mention of Charlie’s “rabbit head”, Louis decided not to be too paranoid for the moment.

“Let them know about my street attack appropriately,” Louis said. “Turn the case around. Elena is dead. They don’t need to continue the investigation.”

Now, more than Elena, he was concerned about that mysterious archer.

Alexander understood that he was taking over this contradiction, attributing the reason for the witch’s appearance to himself. Although doing so could indeed temporarily suppress this series of disturbances, it would be difficult to follow these clues deeper—if Elena’s appearance wasn’t of her own will, but summoned to Fortuna City…

But Louis had made up his mind.

Alexander nodded. “Additionally, the Azalea is ready to sail at any time.”

……

The shipping route from the docks of Fortuna to White Bridge was well-established and not far, with a quite comprehensive commercial navigation system. Luxury passenger ships were often very opulently decorated, equipped with restaurants, card rooms, gardens, music halls, and theaters. The Azalea, being a new ship, would have made for a quite comfortable voyage if not for Priscilla feeling unwell.

The Duke’s Zephyr followed shortly, maintaining a careful distance from the Azalea. Because of the slow sailing speed, even Shiloh, who was prone to seasickness, could stay on deck to enjoy the sun and teach Amber to read.

Amber was learning diligently, having mastered over two hundred common characters to date, able to independently read short obituaries and transaction information in the newspaper, and even some simple jokes.

Emerald, having been locked up, was throwing a tantrum and had fasted for seventeen hours. While this time might seem short, equivalent to missing two meals, it was quite severe for Emerald, probably due to how many years it had been asleep. This little Pluto Owl had a good appetite. After waking up, its stomach would keep growling, disturbing the Duke so much that he couldn’t even write his letters, so he had to come up on deck as well.

Amber felt sorry for Emerald, knowing the pain of hunger all too well, but he couldn’t feed it. He wasn’t an unreasonable child and knew that taming was a mutual struggle. Now was a critical time.

But he still felt sorry for Emerald.

The cold-hearted Duke ignored the occasional glances Amber threw his way, whispering something to his Shivers.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper privately said the Duke was nearly arrogant in his confidence (and indeed, his everyday demeanor confirmed this), but ever since Witch Elena appeared in Fortuna City, he had a vague sense of foreboding, making him somewhat restless, yet unable to pinpoint the source.

This anxiety was even unrelated to Elena herself. The witch’s appearance seemed more like a lever, prying into a stinking, irresistible can of rot, terrifying him.

Only then did he truly understand Rabbit Head’s reluctance to go to White Bridge. Even he was so anxious, he wondered how the other managed to overcome this feeling, casually boarding the ship and proceeding with everyone.

…Maybe it was better not to have come at all.

If he genuinely didn’t know where Rabbit Head had taken Elena, the Duke might have wanted to say just that.

As a member of the Wolf Family, which inherited the Holy Grail bloodline, they were surely more familiar with this seemingly fantastical legend. He didn’t know if there was a way to identify someone other than the Lamp Bearers, but their thirst for power was certainly more urgent than that of the nobles. The Duke never underestimated how hideous humans could be in the face of desire, and even if he wasn’t afraid, it still disgusted him.

Moreover, Charlie must be scared. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so concerned about Elena’s safety.

Unfortunately, as long as Kurt was in White Bridge, it was likely that he would still come, and as for how to rescue the astrologer then, even the Duke couldn’t guess the shopkeeper’s plan.

It was impossible to simply buy the astrologer out. Not to mention the sky-high price that the astrologer’s annual spectacle would fetch; even if it were affordable, it would require the equivalent of two or three ships’ worth of payment, which would be virtually impossible to manage with their status as stowaways. Even the wealthy Southern Lord, Lestrop, only sought an opportunity to consult the astrologer for a prophecy.

“With Tifa gaining the support of several domestic princes, he already had the upper hand. The Queen’s family, to clear Christine of suspicion in the bedroom murder case, also made a gesture this time. Lestrop, though tough, is unpopular. Even two fists can’t beat four hands,” Shivers said softly. “Plus, he’s already suffered a setback in vigor.”

He subtly didn’t state the conclusion that “Lestrop is about to fail”, but unless a miracle happened, this Earl, once more influential than the King, would soon be branded a national traitor due to his defeat.

“Christine will persuade him to adopt a merciful King’s posture, to confine his brothers, retain his title and lands, ‘to transform him with kindness and love’.”

As part of the other princes supporting the King, the land might likely be reduced. At this time, Priscilla’s plea for mercy would timely ignite public opinion. Under the circumstances of Lestrop’s defeat, if Tifa ruthlessly expelled a weak, postpartum woman with a newborn, his previous merciful facade would be self-shattered.

And Priscilla’s years of effort would come into play at this time—whether as the Lady of the Manor or the Countess, her impeccable demeanor had always been exemplary. No one in the kingdom could find another noblewoman who treated everyone with such gentleness and consideration. She even continued some traditions from Lemena, convincing her husband to waive taxes for some of the very poor, and participating in public celebrations on major holidays; thus, her reputation in the south was quite high.

It was hard to say whether she had been laying the groundwork for today from the beginning, but her never-relaxed efforts were always bound to be rewarded.

“Let Erica write a letter to the steward in the name of the Empire, allowing me entry to Doran,” the Duke said.

Mokwen hadn’t yet entered the competition for the imperial throne for all of Doran. Tifa hesitated in decision-making, lacking courage. Once domestic public opinion formed, and the Duke of Brandenburg personally visited his postpartum sister on behalf of the Pennigra Empire, this matter would succeed.

The premise was that Priscilla and the child stayed safe.

A salty breeze blew past, and both men fell silent. They watched Eugene sit at the bow, softly blowing a handmade piccolo, his tune woeful and discordant, more like an animal crying.

But strangely, including Hasting, who was leaning against the side with his arms crossed, no one on deck stopped him.

“Has Eugene sensed something?” Shivers whispered.

The Duke didn’t speak.

In fact, more than just Eugene was worried about the rabbit-headed shopkeeper.

Although he was stubborn and irreverent, after such a long time together, even the best actor would find it difficult to completely mask their true self over this distance, especially since the shopkeeper wasn’t deceitful. He always openly carried the “I have secrets, lots of secrets” demeanor, facing curiosity and questioning without a direct response, but never lying about it.

That was precisely why Eugene and the others were more worried—Charlie always had a way to solve everything, and even a fool knew that the secrets keeping such a shopkeeper silent weren’t related to trivial honors, self-esteem, or wealth.

As time passed, it seemed everyone was getting closer to the shopkeeper’s past, but at some point, even Shiloh gradually replaced his enthusiasm with silence.

Including this time, only Amber asked where Mr. Rabbit Head had gone and why he wasn’t continuing the journey with them.

The Duke fiddled with a pine nut between his fingers.

He didn’t plan to tell anyone about his speculations regarding the Holy Grail, not because Shivers and Priscilla were untrustworthy, but because such secrets were always best kept to as few people as possible.

However, just like with Witch Elena, the Duke didn’t believe this was an unsolvable problem. If the root of the problem lay in the Black Gold Families, specifically the blasphemous ambitions of the Wolf, then solve the Wolf and let the legend remain just that.

There were always those in the other three families who didn’t wish to see the Wolves grow strong alone. At least from Yitzfa’s behavior at Thorn Manor, they didn’t want the century-long balance of the four families to be easily broken.

“Who is the current leader in White Bridge?” the Duke suddenly asked.

Shivers paused, startled. Lemena had no official dealings with Wolf, and their focus had always been on the auction itself. The Knight Commander hesitated before answering. “The last time the Wolf King was determined, a man named Khalif won, but that was when I was still a child.”

“Then let’s find out,” the Duke said, tossing the full pine nut. It flew past Amber and Shivers, hitting Eugene on the forehead, stopping his flute playing.

“Tell them Rabbit Head is fine.” The Duke stood up, deciding to go back and see if Emerald had starved into stupidity. “So don’t be so pathetic—unless you’ve resolved to save him with a handkerchief soaked with tears.”

The author has something to say:

Charlie is nice to everyone, so he actually has more friends than he knows.

Dwight is quite young, and who doesn’t have a bit of princely syndrome in their adolescence? But he’s gradually realizing how much Charlie values his friends, and how miraculous his optimism is.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 115

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, a rival.

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

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

Khalif is getting old.

Louis thought.

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

Khalif was wary of anyone being labeled as his successor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He felt he needed to remind Louis of this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Louis remained motionless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He only did it for Charlie and himself.

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

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

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

This horrifying idea kept Louis moving forward.

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

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

That was what he lived for.

The author has something to say:

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

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 114

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

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

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

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

But that was in an “adult” state.

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

In other words, it was mainly playing.

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

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

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

…It was probably asleep.

Everyone present thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we wait?” Shiloh asked.

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

They had planned to leave with the Azalea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It turned out, the visitors were there to apologize.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hasting nodded.

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

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

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

“Come with me,” he told Hasting.

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

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

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

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

Was the Duke suggesting the basket was magical?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then there was no more.

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

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

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

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

…It seemed almost excited.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The author has something to say:

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

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 113

No one expected such an event to occur.

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, they weren’t fast enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even Eugene reacted the same.

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

Hasting shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

Dwight frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet they couldn’t simply kill him.

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

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

But the question was, where had the fish gone?

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

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

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

“Amber says, Emerald is back.”

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

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

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

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

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

But it didn’t move.

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

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

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

It was a trio again.

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

But the Duke didn’t hand over the bowl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 112

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hall.

The staircase.

The corridor.

The storeroom.

The laundry room…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 111

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

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

Charlie’s attention was elsewhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m certain,” Louis replied firmly.

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

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

Louis looked at him but didn’t speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

If Fahim dared say yes, he would—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Louis thought for a moment.

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

He said.

“Very well,” Fahim said.

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

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

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

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

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

No one else.

……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charlie also felt the situation was troublesome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daisy’s castle.

The author has something to say:

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

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

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

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