Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 62

As the sun rose higher and the direct sunlight on the skin began to heat up, the balcony became less comfortable. The Duke squinted at the light spots jumping among the branches and, after a moment of silence, planned to return to his room.

However, Charlie stopped him.

Dwight turned around and, surprisingly, saw a peculiar, conflicted expression on the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s face, which was rare.

He always thought of the other as a quite reserved person, rarely showing his emotions openly, which was one of the reasons Dwight often provoked him. Despite being a cold and boundary-conscious individual, he pretended to be outgoing and approachable, which easily gave others the illusion of a growing closeness, an illusion the Duke detested.

As for what he was conflicted about, Dwight could somewhat guess.

The shopkeeper flicked his fingers, spinning the slender pipe between them as he searched for the right words. He wasn’t adept at initiating conversations that were bound to be unpleasant.

“What did that woman in the study tell you?” The Duke, uncharacteristically understanding, gave him an opening.

Charlie put away the long pipe, leaning tiredly against the balcony railing. “Do you remember the ‘Lamp Bearers’ we encountered?”

Dwight’s expression immediately became more focused, sensing that what Charlie was about to say was important—for both him and Charlie.

“I might understand why the ‘Lamp Bearers’, who should have vanished, appeared at that manor.” Out of consideration for Charlie’s emotions, aside from the Duke, no one else had followed upstairs, yet Charlie still instinctively lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “Someone is enticing them to appear in this world.”

“Oh, are you now willing to tell me what they are looking for?” The Duke had always kept this matter close to his heart, but it was information not even the higher-ups at the Fox dared to trade, and if Charlie was unwilling, probably no force in the world could compel him to speak.

But when the other was truly ready to open up, he restrained his urgency just in time, maintaining his usual nonchalant demeanor, even keeping his tone measured.

Charlie paused briefly.

This was a secret worth taking to the grave, but thanks to the woman embedded in the wall, it seemed to have become shared information touched by many in Doran, and the King of Mokwen’s peculiar actions had thus become clearer.

As Miss Priscilla was a royal family member, unless Dwight suddenly decided to abandon all actions and return home, he would eventually uncover this secret with his capabilities, but by then, it would be passive.

He sighed deeply in his mind.

“They are not looking for something. Actually, it’s the opposite. Humans have always been searching for them. Even from their names, key clues can be derived. The doctrine’s interpretation of them is wrong, but the outcome is correct.”

“I don’t understand.” The Duke frowned.

“They are ugly yet carry exquisite candelabras, and only they can walk before God.” Charlie recited the exact words of the doctrine. “’For they light the path at God’s feet.’ This phrase is wrong unless it’s changed to: ‘They can light the path for humans to become gods.'”

This statement was so shocking that even Dwight couldn’t maintain his composure anymore. He straightened his body from the wicker chair, his eyes wide as he stared at the rabbit-headed shopkeeper.

Charlie met his gaze without flinching.

“How can humans become gods?” The Duke stared into his eyes, as if looking for traces of madness or loss of reason.

“Humans indeed cannot become gods. You don’t need to look at me like that,” the shopkeeper said calmly. “I’m just repeating the wishes of those who enticed the Lamp Bearers to descend.” He told the Duke about the uncontrollable experiments of the mage in Mistress Daisy’s study before her death.

“Before Mistress Daisy inherited it, that castle had hosted many nobles. She not only opened Pandora’s box herself but also planted the seeds of blasphemy in others’ hearts.”

Blasphemy… Mortals attempting to obtain power to dominate the world was indeed akin to blasphemy.

“The church’s rule over the continents has lasted for thousands of years,” Dwight suddenly said. “After a long time of indoctrination, reverence for God has become an instinct for humans. Such blasphemous ideas cannot arise from nothing. That woman must have known something.”

He suddenly looked up. “The Holy Grail indeed exists.”

The Duke stated this as a fact.

The shopkeeper closed his eyes.

It was known that the Holy Grail was born through a mother, so the so-called Holy Grail was actually a person.

But why it was born, how it was born, and even how it became a power to manipulate the world after its birth remained unknown.

Just as reverence for God was an instinct for humans, so was the desire for power.

When mortals inadvertently glimpsed the path to godhood—even if just a few scattered clues—it could drive even a saint to go mad.

Thus, even after the woman trying to create the Holy Grail lost control, people continued to follow in her footsteps, deludedly attempting to create miracles themselves.

The Lamp Bearers were the door to the path of becoming a god, and only they could discern the authenticity of the Holy Grail.

But not just anyone could compel them to verify this. It could be seen that these blasphemous experiments didn’t cease with her death ten years ago but even achieved some results: they had seen Lamp Bearers at the Thorn Manor, meaning that at least a semi-finished product of the Holy Grail was completed there.

And more failed products silently disappeared, along with their unfortunate mothers, in various bizarre news stories.

Even now, there were new forces constantly trying to wedge into this forbidden game, like hyenas that smelled blood. Eugene once accidentally witnessed such a scene, and if not for his alertness, only silence awaited him.

“Foolish.” After listening to Charlie’s words, Dwight immediately said, “Utterly foolish.”

Charlie watched him without blinking.

“I don’t believe in the so-called Holy Grail’s power to manipulate continents, nor do I believe that humans can become gods.” The Duke of Brandenburg frowned. “But the current issue is exactly what that fool Tifa has done. It’s foolish enough that he hasn’t harmed his own wife, but believing in such things is enough to prove he’s a madman. Priscilla should know to keep her distance…”

He looked up and noticed the rabbit-headed shopkeeper was still watching him.

“What?” he raised an eyebrow.

“What if the legends are true?” Charlie said calmly. “What if the Holy Grail does exist and does possess that power?”

“Only those who doubt themselves chase after illusions as elusive as the moon reflected in water. I only believe in the power I hold in my hands.” The Duke of Brandenburg’s expression gradually became menacing. “Whether you’re testing me or tempting me, you’d better stop right now. Otherwise, I will take it as contempt and provocation.”

Charlie suddenly laughed, relaxing the somewhat tense atmosphere.

“Only those who lack security seek power beyond their limits. You clearly aren’t that kind of person,” he said. “But Tifa is.”

That statement precisely hit Dwight’s concerns.

They both remembered Kurt’s prophecy.

Priscilla had two extremely dangerous people around her, and based on the clues they’d pieced together, it was very likely that they were the King and her husband Lestrop.

The royal secrets provided by the Fox, although seemingly absurd at first glance, had been bought by Dwight for a handsome sum. Concerning family honor, Yitzfa wouldn’t sell false information.

Tifa’s relationship with his queen was strained, the Queen had a past relationship with Lestrop before their marriage, and Priscilla’s resemblance to Tifa’s deceased elder sister meant Tifa was exceptionally kind to her… What a chaotic situation, so typically aristocratic.

Tifa’s popularity wasn’t high before he ascended the throne. It was normal for him to be concerned about his position, but his abandonment of the Queen’s family as a support to instead seek the birth of the Holy Grail likely indicated not only a lack of affection between him and the Queen but also that his ambitions were probably much greater than he had shown.

Priscilla had married into such a country—the young Duke felt a headache coming on.

No, the situation in the kingdoms of the Doran continent was much the same, and Mokwen was relatively wealthy. Some countries ravaged by war were worse off than Mokwen.

Would it be feasible now to kick Lestrop out and have her return to Pennigra?

After all, noblewomen (especially wealthy ones) had no trouble marrying. He now had the ability to have his sister stay in Pennigra to marry and have children, or perhaps it would be okay if she chose to stay in Lemena for life.

Charlie could roughly guess what Dwight was thinking.

As a foreigner from another continent, no matter how powerful he was in Pennigra, stepping into Doran meant he had to act discreetly and keep a low profile.

This wasn’t just because a strong dragon can hardly suppress the local snake. His unique status made it easy to trigger political conflicts between the two continents.

The young Duke was still very young. The rabbit-headed shopkeeper felt the need to tactfully remind him. “You’d better have another talk with Miss Priscilla.”

Dwight turned to look at him, his pale pupils almost transparent in the sunlight.

The shopkeeper sensed that what he was about to say next would not be pleasing to him.

“The experiments related to the Holy Grail have spread, and Tifa is almost certainly one of the participants. As Count Lestrop is Tifa’s own brother, it’s hard to assert whether he is aware of this matter.”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but Dwight understood.

Could Lestrop possibly be one of the experiment participants too?

The Duke stood up abruptly, his face looking very unpleasant.

He turned and strode across the room, his boots striking the stone steps in an angry rhythm.

“Shivers! Shivers!” he called out loudly.

The Knight Commander, who was talking with Eugene in the smoking room, came out at the sound of the call, just in time to see the Duke walking down the last step, looking displeased.

Had he argued with Mr. Charlie?

Shivers pondered as he approached, about to speak, when the Duke sternly dropped a sentence.

“Contact Erica immediately. Have her arrange… No, I want her to personally confirm something.”

Dwight’s jaw and the curve of his lips were tense, and his gaze was stern. “I need to know if Priscilla is pregnant.”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 61

“Mr. Charlie went alone to the completely burnt room to get something, and then we came back together,” Shivers said softly.

Eugene slammed his hands heavily on the thick wooden dining table, creating a dull thud. “My money is still with Columbus… He always carries the wallet. I said, if he loses a coin, he must pay me back double.”

The young man with perpetually messy hair sobbed, “He agreed.”

“What did he bring back?” It was a while before Dwight asked.

Shivers paused.

“Nothing at all,” he said honestly.

At that time, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper indeed came out of the castle empty-handed, and by then his expression had calmed somewhat, at least not as tense as during the hours waiting for the fire to die down, when no one dared to speak to him.

In fact, only Dr. Salman had the strength to comfort everyone, as they were all very distressed.

The magic book was destroyed. Not only could the girls no longer transform back into human forms, but even the guests who had been entertaining themselves at the castle for years weren’t spared—they did not turn into flowers but became prickly nettles.

Erica stayed there temporarily. Although the magic book in the study and the woman in the wall were destroyed, everyone agreed that it was best to close off the castle to avoid disturbing those poor girls and preventing them from resting in peace.

Eugene had cried the night before, but he couldn’t help it when Columbus was mentioned again, squeezing a handkerchief hard and blowing his nose forcefully.

This time, it was rare that the Duke didn’t criticize him for his behavior at the dining table. His attention was in another room.

Shivers understood him and ordered Shiloh to see if Charlie had gotten up.

Shiloh got up listlessly and went out, quickly returning, followed by the rabbit-headed shopkeeper.

Everyone couldn’t help but stare at him.

However, it was hard to read any emotion from that fuzzy face. It seemed that the shopkeeper had lost some weight in the past two days.

But he was already quite thin, and now he was even thinner. It seemed as though the fat on his body had been consumed by his breathing after just one night’s sleep.

“Good morning,” he said softly. “What’s for breakfast—sausages? That sounds good.” He sat down in the high-backed chair that had been left empty for him, pulled over a plate of cold fried eggs and sausages, and began to eat.

“Good morning,” Shivers said, as everyone looked at him with some concern.

Charlie seemed oblivious to the gazes fixated on his expression. After devouring two large plates of sausages and then an almond pudding, he finally stopped. He looked up with a face that seemed just to realize something, and said, “Why is everyone looking at me?”

Eugene and Shivers exchanged glances without speaking.

Dwight leaned slightly forward. “So, you left him in the castle?”

This question seemed out of the blue, but everyone present understood.

Eugene looked incredulously at the Duke (not daring to glare at him) and was silently angry at the Duke’s habit of bringing up uncomfortable topics.

However, unlike what Eugene had guessed, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper didn’t react as if stepped on. Quite the contrary, he briefly paused before putting down his silver spoon, crossed his hands on the table, and thought seriously.

It was hard for him to explain his feelings at that moment.

Probably because he had been forced to face separations and losses from birth, Charlie had gotten used to self-hypnosis from a young age, constantly convincing himself to prepare mentally in advance to avoid collapsing when the real shock came.

To him, there was nothing in the world that was irreplaceable, including his own life.

He and Columbus had been each other’s company for a long time. They were deeply attached, but when the other left this world, he felt more bewildered and empty than in pain.

Because when he returned to the fire scene, no one could understand more clearly than him that this result was Columbus’s own choice—a very firm choice.

“I didn’t leave him there,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “The castle was his destination. He just arrived early, that’s all.”

“I don’t understand,” Eugene said hoarsely.

Charlie turned his head to look at Shivers. The Knight Commander shook his head. “I don’t want to discuss this behind your back, so…”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper nodded in understanding.

“After the fire was extinguished, I went back to the scene. Columbus didn’t leave anything behind. His tin soldier body melted into a pile of tin in the fire—okay, Eugene,” he called out understandingly, as Eugene made another loud nose-blowing sound.

“Listen to me. Miraculously, on top of that pile of tin, there was a small daisy. Not the kind with deep red or pure white with lush petals that are often seen in elaborate varieties, but a common white daisy with a bright yellow center that you often see on early spring hillsides among the weeds. We’ve all heard Columbus’s story. The daisy he took from the witch back then was a small one. I had never seen that daisy and always thought it had been lost halfway when I took him away from Doran… At that time, Columbus’ consciousness wasn’t clear enough, and by the time he fully recovered, he could no longer remember such details, so perhaps even he didn’t know that the daisy he brought out had always been hidden in his body, never withering.”

The Duke lowered his eyes. “In other words, he believed he had found his sister.”

“By age, Mistress Daisy indeed fits the bill.” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper seemed tired just after getting up. He unusually, without decorum, rested his head on the table, his voice somewhat muffled. “Little Balda… After Columbus’ accident, the entire village was affected. Remember? Columbus’ father was injured and could no longer work, and if they had to move due to the witch’s wrath, such a struggling family couldn’t afford the loss of relocating. The injured father deteriorated without treatment and died first, followed by the mother, who had to overwork herself raising her daughter, quickly worn down by life, and the little daughter eventually became an orphan, treated like cattle, and trafficked everywhere. The last time, she ended up in the hands of that mage, or rather, witch. If Balda was sensible before her parents died, she might remember or have heard from her parents about her unfortunate brother and the culprit behind her family’s collapse being a witch. She would naturally hate witches, and the abuse she suffered in the castle would deepen her hatred. When the master’s magic went out of control, she seized the opportunity, trying to make up for the suffering she had endured for many years with the magic left by the previous master, while keeping that half-dead woman confined in the sunless study room to suffer for a long time, probably… She saw this as a long revenge.”

“But, I mean, Columbus hasn’t been back to Doran for many years, right?” Eugene said with reddened eyes. “How could he be sure that was his sister?”

This question was even difficult for the rabbit-headed shopkeeper to answer.

The tin soldier’s memories were riddled with holes over time; sometimes he even forgot his sister’s name, Balda.

Assuming that Mistress Daisy was indeed little Balda, her appearance before her death—standing in the study, her hair disheveled, her skin sagging, and her eyes wild—would certainly have been completely different from the little girl who loved flowers back then.

There was no evidence, but Columbus recognized her at a glance.

Without a second thought, the tin soldier rushed in—but he didn’t try to pull Mistress Daisy out of the fire scene. Instead, he just held her tightly, very tightly.

Everyone said that the tin soldier was too simple-minded, but Charlie felt that at that moment, Columbus considered more things than anyone else.

He must have firmly believed that the study, ablaze with fire in the castle, was the final destination of his journey with Balda, which was why he made such a decision.

No one answered Eugene’s question. For a moment, everyone was silent, and the atmosphere was somewhat heavy. Charlie pushed away his plate, deciding to go out for some fresh air.

Due to the increased number of people, the wealthy Duke had booked the entire inn, giving them free use of the entire building.

Charlie went up to the top floor and found the largest balcony, where he sat cross-legged on the cold floor, watching the pedestrians come and go on the street below.

When he first entered the continent of Doran, he seemed to have chatted with Columbus on a balcony like this, watching the unfamiliar street scenes and crowds… What had they talked about? Ah, that’s right, they must have talked about little Balda. Columbus liked to talk about her.

Charlie suddenly felt a bit uninterested.

He aimlessly fumbled in his trouser pocket until a lazy voice came from behind him. “Got a hole in your pocket?”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper stopped and turned to look. The young Duke was leaning against the balcony’s sliding door, tossing something small up and down in his hand. Seeing him turn around, he tossed it to him.

The shopkeeper caught it and found it to be a very elegant pure silver round box, with a large blue gem set in the lid, looking like a jewel box but a bit too simple in design—he flicked open the clasp with one hand and found it contained not jewels, but fine tobacco.

He lit his pipe and took a comfortable puff.

Dwight also walked onto the balcony but didn’t come too close to the railing.

He was still sensitive about his elfish rumors, to the point where he felt the urge to punch anyone who dared give him a few extra glances.

“Seeing as it’s on the account of the tobacco,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said with a smile, “What would His Grace like to ask?”

The Duke hesitated unusually. “Shivers thinks it’s best not to ask you any questions for now.”

“Then why did you still ask at the dining table?” Charlie took another puff of his pipe.

“Do you wish I hadn’t asked?” Dwight countered.

In Pennigra, he was a revered Duke. Apart from the Emperor of the Empire, he hardly needed to consider before speaking whether his questions were appropriate.

After their return, Charlie had gone straight to sleep for a whole day and night, and everyone was eager to know exactly what had happened in the study then, but everyone thought that this wasn’t the time to ask the shopkeeper any questions.

Only the Duke baselessly believed that the rabbit-headed shopkeeper wasn’t as averse to answering questions as everyone thought, so he spoke up.

Even his Knight Commander thought this move was somewhat inappropriate.

So he came to ask again—although his actual intention was: I spoke because I thought you weren’t as averse to this matter as they thought, and not to purposely provoke you. If I guessed wrong, then I’m just letting you know that wasn’t my intention.

Miraculously, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper seemed to grasp his central idea.

In his view, the Duke’s counter-question was almost the same as saying “sorry”.

Realizing this did lighten his mood somewhat. Of course, he couldn’t let the Duke know that he had amused him.

Charlie took another puff of his pipe.

“It’s okay,” he said slowly. “Columbus told me that no matter how many years pass, he could recognize his sister Balda at a glance. I believe him. This time, he reached the end of the journey earlier than I did. As a friend, I shouldn’t presume to feel regret for him.”

“As for asking questions… Why not ask?” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s gaze turned to the street scene below the balcony, and he said softly, “Although I don’t like to say it, if only I remember him, it would be too lonely. Everyone may be distressed now, but I actually don’t want Columbus to be treated as a taboo—I hope he is often mentioned and remembered. That is the only way to truly keep him here.”

The author has something to say:

The shopkeeper had previously comforted the Duke in the same way.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 60

Apart from Dr. Salman, who was closest to Columbus, no one heard Columbus’ words.

Everyone was still unaware of what had happened when the tin soldier suddenly charged in—Dr. Salman instinctively reached out to grab him, but the other was too fast, his fingertips only barely brushing the hat on his head.

Dr. Salman’s heart sank, and before he could think further, his body reacted faster than his brain, reaching out again—this time, he forcefully stopped the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, who also wanted to rush forward.

Shiloh, completely unaware of what was happening, saw only smoke and fire everywhere in the study, and the study doorway was now impassable. He instinctively stepped forward to help Dr. Salman hold back Charlie. “You’re crazy! You can’t make it five steps in there without being burned alive. Look at all the fur on your face!”

Shiloh looked young but was surprisingly strong, pulling the rabbit-headed shopkeeper back several steps and asking, “What’s going on?!”

“The tin soldier ran in,” Dr. Salman said, looking back at the study now engulfed in flames, then anxiously at Charlie, who was struggling.

“I need to go pull Columbus out.”

“Don’t go,” Dr. Salman suddenly said. “The tin soldier doesn’t need to breathe. There’s no path left. Let me go in and find him.”

Hearing this, Charlie stopped moving.

The room was ablaze, and any ordinary person entering would surely be injured.

He immediately reached out to grab Dr. Salman’s arm and said, “Don’t—” but the next second, his hand grasped at empty air as Dr. Salman seemingly disappeared on the spot.

In his place was a pigeon, twice the size of its usual form, with a deep gray body, brown-yellow feathers on its belly, and bright, warm eyes that swept over everyone before flapping its wings towards the study.

Shiloh was stunned. “My God… what is this?”

Charlie was also stunned.

The shock of Dr. Salman turning into a pigeon somewhat calmed him from the shock of Columbus running into the inferno, silently watching the billowing smoke in the study with Shiloh.

At first, they could only see a shadow moving quickly inside. Then they saw nothing at all.

It was unclear how much time had passed before the pigeon emerged from the fire, its wings carrying tiny sparks, obviously disoriented by the smoke, nearly crashing into the corridor’s stone wall before Shiloh quickly intercepted it.

The pigeon came out alone.

It turned around on the spot and transformed back into the tall, thin, and genteel doctor.

His eyes were streaming with tears from the smoke, and his voice was hoarse and inaudible as he tightly grasped the rabbit-headed shopkeeper. “He… He wouldn’t come out.”

Given the tin soldier’s size and weight, he could have been carried out of the fire by clinging to the pigeon’s foot, but he did not do so.

Once Dr. Salman had regained a little strength, he intermittently described the last scene he saw.

Due to the high heat, the paint on the tin soldier’s body had begun to peel off, and his features were becoming indistinct—he also stood on the study’s carpet, silent, tightly holding Mistress Daisy, and didn’t respond to Dr. Salman’s rescue efforts until the end.

Mistress Daisy had already been rendered unconscious by the thick smoke, and it was hard to say whether she had seen the tin soldier rush in from the doorway, but when Dr. Salman entered, the large book she had been holding had fallen to the floor and started burning.

Dr. Salman circled the room a few times, and upon realizing it was beyond saving, turned to head towards the door but looked back one last time.

The flames and heat distorted the interior view, so he wasn’t sure if it was his imagination: he thought he saw Mistress Daisy’s other hand also embracing the tin soldier.

Once such an ancient castle caught fire, there was no way to extinguish it other than letting it burn out naturally.

The group sat disheveled in the garden, watching the thick black smoke billow from the upper rooms of the castle. No one spoke for a long time.

Shiloh, still a minor and having spent the longest time with Charlie and Columbus among them, was visibly shaken and upset, his eyes reddening.

He couldn’t fathom why the tin soldier had chosen to run to his death when everything was about to be resolved.

This was a question only Charlie could answer, but no one dared to ask him.

Charlie’s top hat and pipe lay on the ground. He sat silently, not saying a word.

The young knight, stifled and unable to vent, angrily kicked the stone-built flower bed several times.

Dr. Salman looked from one to another, wanting to say something to comfort everyone, but not knowing how to start, he too fell silent.

Erika’s expression was grim, continuously looking towards the greenhouse direction.

While everyone else had gone to support the study, she alone had stayed behind, accompanying and comforting the girls.

She sat in the greenhouse, surrounded by excited and thrilled young girls, who, despite having endured much deception, hurt, and pain, showed little sign of harboring deep-seated hatred.

On the contrary, the girls were almost overwhelmingly positive. Their cheeks were flushed, and the livelier ones asked her name, whether she was engaged; the more reserved ones began to worry whether Charlie and the others had managed to get the keys, whether they would have to walk out of the castle; and some were more silent, merely pursing their lips gently and quietly watch their companions chat excitedly.

Erika was particularly adept at interacting with such women—perhaps more so than the entire Brandenburg Knights.

She was handsome and gentle, tirelessly answering every question, never ignoring any girl because of silence.

She had also taken down every girl’s address, promising to drive them home by carriage.

And Alice, anxiously and quietly inquiring whether Mr. Charlie would let her serve as a maid in return for her services if she had no money.

They had bravely defeated the villain, fully expecting a happy ending.

No one in the greenhouse knew what was happening in the castle study, but suddenly, amidst laughter and gentle voices, it was as if someone had snuffed out all those joyful and tender sounds.

Right before Erika’s eyes, the girls, one by one, froze. Then, under the moonlight spilling from the greenhouse ceiling, all turned into flowers.

Hydrangeas, jasmines, irises, nasturtiums, dahlias… In the blink of an eye, the lively young girls had disappeared, leaving only out-of-season, silently swaying flowers. Erika stood alone among the flowers, not even having time to conceal her astonishment.

Only when the last flames had finally died out and the smoke had cleared did the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, who had been silent all this while, put on his top hat again and walk towards the castle.

He refused anyone’s company.

Seeing the expressions on Shiloh and Erika’s faces, Dr. Salman was silent for a while, then suddenly said, “Mr. Charlie might need some time, but before that, would you like to hear a story?”

He put on the glasses he had removed to disguise himself as a coachman, knelt back down on the ground, and said in a low voice, “I had previously told half of it to Erika… Shiloh hasn’t heard it yet. Let me start from the beginning.”

Although Shiloh wasn’t in the mood for stories, Erika pressed his head down to sit, and he reluctantly propped his chin with his hand, looking at the dewdrops sparkling on the grass tips in the morning light.

“…The young man fell in love with the girl, but the nymphs were angry and devised an evil plan to ruin their love. The young man had been raised by the nymphs and had deep affection for them, but upon hearing their conspiracy, he immediately fled with the girl at night.

However, in the forest, every owl was a sentinel for the nymphs, and they informed them. The nymphs, burned by jealousy of love, became witches and chased them in the forest.

But the young man had also grown up in the forest; the old willow trees and the rabbits and foxes all helped to block the pursuers.

The second nymph, unable to catch up with them, cursed the young man to turn into a pigeon; the third nymph, riding a she-wolf and unable to catch them, cursed the young man never to die; the fourth nymph, in the form of a cat, also unable to catch them, cursed their time in love to always be less than seven days.

Eventually, they escaped the forest, but the girl’s back was scratched by the fourth nymph in her cat form, and she died after running a high fever for three days.”

Hearing this, Shiloh sat up straight, looking at Dr. Salman in surprise, and then his head was forcefully pushed down again by Erika.

Dr. Salman continued, “After the girl died, the young man was devastated and wanted to die with his lover but found he could not end his life no matter what, and he also gained the ability to turn into a pigeon.

So, he turned into a pigeon and flew east until he was tired and landed. He worked as a tavern helper, a street artist, and whenever he got bored, he would turn into a pigeon and leave.

Twenty years later, the young man met a flower-selling girl in a town, and he knew she was the girl who had been picking mushrooms in the forest because they fell in love at first sight again.

They met on a Monday, and by Thursday, the flower girl was killed by her jealous fiancé with a knife.

Because the young man doesn’t age or die, he could only travel from one city to another on the continent, just like the flower girl, and after a while, he would always meet lovers of different appearances, ages, and genders, and he would always recognize her and fall in love with her again.

But their time in love was always brief—never more than seven days—and they would inevitably part again.

After each love ended, he would pack his bags and travel everywhere. No one knew where his next destination would be, but he knew that when he next stopped, his long-lost lover would be waiting for him.”

His story was finished.

Shiloh looked even sadder now, but Dr. Salman was amused by him and reached out to pat his head.

“It’s okay. There’s no need to be like this,” he said calmly. “It’s a very old story from a long, long time ago.”

He genuinely comforted the young knight because, at the start of the story, everyone, including Dr. Salman himself, was as energetic and hopeful as Shiloh.

So he hoped Shiloh would always be like that.

Unfortunately, only when the story reached its end did time reveal its true power to everyone.

He had told this story more than once and no longer felt as moved as his listeners.

He was just… like someone lost in an endless swamp, and his lover was the log under his feet.

But each log would quickly disappear, so he couldn’t stay, only stepping on the logs as he moved along.

This journey had been too long—so long that he wasn’t even sure if he would have the courage to step onto the next log when it appeared.

He was neither human nor pigeon.

He neither aged nor died, yet he had died thousands of times.

The author has something to say:

Columbus’s inspiration came from Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale “The Steadfast Tin Soldier”.

Alice and the other girls were inspired by Andersen’s “The Daisy”.

Kinky Thoughts:

What? No… I like Columbus. He can’t be dead, right?

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 59

Even Charlie instinctively stepped back upon seeing the scene. He knew what this terrifying sight meant but had never witnessed it with his own eyes.

Magic backlash.

This was one of the key reasons why great mages strove to absorb talented children into school systems to learn magic. Magic was a precious gift, but if one had abundant magic without control, it was like handing a sharp, pointed knife to a three-year-old child who was unaware of the power in their hands, making it more likely to cause harm before they realized what it meant.

Once these gifted individuals entered school, they also learned from books about another behavior that could lead to magic backlash—forcefully exploring forbidden magic.

Many mages, unwilling to be controlled by the kingdom and the church, were labeled witches or warlocks for this reason. The Mages Association classified magic very meticulously and strictly limited the range of magic that students could access according to their magic levels.

This wasn’t only because truly powerful and treasured magic must be kept in the hands of royalty, but also because attempting magic beyond one’s level could likely cause magic backlash.

At the Monterey Academy’s library, the first five pages of nearly every book on the magic classification shelves contained warnings about these taboos, printed with various bizarre outcomes of losing control: some people grew tentacles and eyes all over their bodies; some melted into a puddle of self-aware flesh that could be put into a jar; others grew skin several times their own surface area. In any case, no one could maintain a normal human appearance, and what was terrifying was they didn’t immediately die but remained temporarily conscious to endure it all. If no one ended their lives, they must continue to exist in an inhuman state, gradually losing memory and sanity over time, becoming a true monster.

The woman before them was clearly the result of a mage’s loss of control years ago. She looked like a faded plaster statue, emitting a smell akin to decay, which might be why the room always had strong incense burning.

Her physical damage was more severe than her mental state, with everything below her neck immobile, but her eyeballs could still crazily whirl around in their sockets, making her appearance nauseating.

“Ha! You ungrateful, lying little beast!” she rasped. “Got what was coming to you?”

She venomously stared at Mistress Daisy, babbling incoherently. “What day is it today? Tidy up my wardrobe. The Count is coming this afternoon. You better sew the pearls on my shoes properly. Don’t think about being lazy, or I’ll have Popo scratch your hands to shreds. You ungrateful, lying little beast, I should have thrown you into the fireplace and turned you into ashes, you dirty, shameless, vile scum—”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper had figured it all out.

Mistress Daisy, just like Alice and Daphne, had once been enslaved by this woman, enduring suffering without freedom.

As a mage (likely an unacknowledged witch), this woman had probably imposed much stricter control and oppression on the castle than Mistress Daisy ever did, to the extent that after she lost control and embedded herself into the wall, Mistress Daisy hadn’t killed her, but let her live in such a state for so long—concealed behind a curtain and strong scent of incense.

This was undoubtedly also a torment for Mistress Daisy, but…

“You once served this mage,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said to Mistress Daisy. “You know what magic she cast on this castle, and you know that even without magic, using that book could still maintain this magic operation.”

That was very likely.

For such a powerful mage, Mistress Daisy and the other servants in the castle were no different from ants in her eyes, and even handing that book of magic to Mistress Daisy wouldn’t work in front of the real master.

If it weren’t for her own magical loss of control, Mistress Daisy would likely still be just an ordinary maid in the castle to this day.

The woman in the wall was already not quite sane. Mistress Daisy looked at her coldly, saying nothing with eyes full of hatred.

Perhaps it was this hatred that made her preserve the woman’s life, wanting to watch her gradually lose her mind and become a crazed, unfree monster—perhaps even more so because the book controlling the castle came from this deranged mage’s hands. Although she was no longer able to manipulate anything, the magic remaining in her body could maximize the effective duration of this magical item.

At that moment, just as things had momentarily calmed down outside, there came a loud knock at the door. It was probably Shiloh who had dealt with the large hound, trying to figure out what exactly was happening in the locked study.

“I originally thought that this evil ball system was also part of your inherited property, but it seems not,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said softly. His usual relaxed and gentle demeanor was gone, and his voice became unusually cold and harsh. “This woman did even more evil things with young girls back then.”

Mistress Daisy looked somewhat surprised. “You’re also a mage?”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper ignored her, walking straight to the woman embedded in the wall, examining her twisted body. “What did she do before she destroyed herself? Or should I say—what magic was she trying to complete that caused her to lose control of her magic?”

“That’s why I say, they’re all ungrateful, lying little beasts,” Mistress Daisy scoffed coldly.

“If they were under this woman’s control, they wouldn’t survive a year. The castle ten years ago isn’t what it is now. No one without a title could step in. Her guests even included several kings who came secretly with their guards, followed by carriages filled with gold and gems.”

Charlie seemed not to have taken in a word, asking again, “What magic was she trying to complete that caused her to lose control?”

Mistress Daisy could tell that the quirky rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s attention was no longer on her at all. She relaxed a bit, disdainfully saying: “She was always conducting strange experiments, making girls drink her potions, then forcing them to become pregnant—”

Charlie’s pupils suddenly constricted.

Mistress Daisy couldn’t see the expression on Charlie’s face, which was turned away from her, and she went on. “She hoped the girls would give birth to something special. I can’t remember. She only mentioned it when she was in a good mood—if it had been successful, she would have become one of the most powerful people across several continents. She put nearly all her energy into it, but the experiment never succeeded. With each failure, she would furiously smash everything in the room until, finally, she could no longer endure it and decided to try it on herself, and then…”

She laughed heartily. “She also failed, self-destructed, and it all ended.”

What did she want to give birth to? The rabbit-headed shopkeeper stared at the former mage’s swollen belly, feeling as if he were standing in the snow, frozen stiff, unable to move.

“What did she want to give birth to?” Charlie heard his own querying voice.

Mistress Daisy sneered, “I don’t know. She never let anyone near her potion chamber. Only kings were worthy of speaking with her alone.” It seemed like many years had passed since she last recalled these events, and she suddenly paused.

“I once brought tea in there,” she suddenly said. “She discussed this matter with a king from some country. She said she needed the ‘Holy Grail’, but all the girls were useless trash…”

 Mistress Daisy shut her mouth because the rabbit-headed shopkeeper suddenly turned around, his face expressing something very terrible.

“I understand,” Charlie said coldly, repeating, “I understand.”

That was the true purpose of the mage hiding the castle and setting up a domain spell—not to attempt the forbidden, but to create the forbidden.

The ‘Holy Grail’ she spoke of held the power to control continents but could only be born through a mother.

But humans couldn’t even control the sex of a baby. How could they easily create something with such forbidden power?

As a result, she was punished by God and the natural laws, completely losing control of her magic, and this evil experiment was thus interrupted.

Mistress Daisy, her servant, had always been by her side. Although she had vaguely overheard some information, she didn’t truly understand the significance of her actions because she wasn’t a mage.

Thus, the ignorant Mistress Daisy merely used her inheritance to imitate her methods, repeating the past actions of exploiting girls for wealth, but she didn’t inherit the true pursuit—nor did she have the capability to do so.

But Charlie gleaned more crucial information from Mistress Daisy’s words: that the mage had sought cooperation with a [King], and not just one. This meant that, although this evil magic hadn’t reappeared in this castle, it was very likely that it had already spread out, and various forces had obtained the “experiment notes” of this mage and were attempting to continue exploring, either openly or covertly, to bring forth the “Holy Grail”.

“Give me that book,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said to Mistress Daisy, taking a step towards her. “This castle cannot remain—at least not in this form. She’s dead, but her experiments were very dangerous, and the people who dealt with her are equally dangerous. They are very likely to come knocking again if you keep these magical items.”

“No!” Mistress Daisy screamed. “I would rather burn it than give it to you. Everyone’s name is on it. Everyone has eaten the food of the castle. If this book is destroyed, everyone will die!”

“That’s just a side effect of the domain magic. Like a curse, it can be undone,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said as patiently as possible. “Give me the book. Let me have a look…”

“No one is taking this book away,” Mistress Daisy said, ignoring the shouting outside the door, her eyes flashing with fanatic light. “It’s mine. This castle is mine too. I have given everything. It must repay me. If anyone tries to take all this from me,” she paused, suddenly bending over to pull a burning log from the fireplace towards Charlie. “I’ll kill them!”

Charlie had no choice but to raise his hands. A woman like Mistress Daisy was no match for him in a fight, and rather than worry about the flaming log poking him, he was more concerned about her swinging it around, causing more severe consequences.

“Calm down!” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper warned her loudly. “Your study is full of paper and wood. It’s best not to touch fire.”

But Mistress Daisy wasn’t listening. She held the log as if it were a long sword, filled with power and a face full of unnatural fanatic expression. She seemed somewhat deranged as she waved it towards Charlie. “Get out of my castle!”

Charlie quickly reached out to block it, retreating a few steps. “Don’t do this. Watch the fire!”

He tried to restrain Mistress Daisy as best as he could to protect himself, lest the log in her hand poke into the books on the bookshelf, but the frantic Mistress Daisy swung it a few times, setting the curtains on the wall on fire.

Charlie rushed to try to stomp out the flames but was driven back by Mistress Daisy—where she passed, a few more sparks ignited, and the burning letters were very quick to catch fire, the flames suddenly growing larger, smoke gradually filling the entire study.

“Break down the door!” Charlie shouted loudly without thinking. “It’s on fire inside!”

Columbus and the others had been keeping an eye on the noise in the room, and now, seeing smoke seeping under the door, Shiloh pushed the tin soldiers back and pressed the door panel to test its thickness before starting to kick the door.

“Don’t burn it anymore!” Charlie choked on the smoke. “Throw your book away!”

“No! It’s mine! No one is allowed to take it from me!” Mistress Daisy’s face twisted, as if she had really gone mad—perhaps she had been mad for a long time.

At this time, the woman in the wall started giggling again, shouting at the woman, who paid no heed to her, continuing to laugh and sing a strange song, seemingly pleased to see the room full of flames.

It was unclear how long Mistress Daisy chased Charlie around the cramped study with the burning log, but Shiloh finally kicked the door open. The rush of heat and smoke pushed him back two steps—perhaps the influx of air made the flames even fiercer.

Charlie’s eyes were nearly closed from the smoke, barely making out the door. He took long strides and rushed towards it.

Mistress Daisy, originally chasing him, stopped when she saw the study door open, turning back to look in the direction of the woman in the wall.

“Throw down the book!” Charlie hoarsely shouted at her. “Come this way!”

He shouldn’t have shouted, for it made Mistress Daisy neurotically clutch the large book even tighter. After Charlie left the room, she no longer moved, standing in the center of the study, holding the book. The carpet at her feet had also caught fire.

Dr. Salman, who at some point also arrived, helped Shiloh kick the door open; Shiloh, gasping for breath, pulled Charlie away from the door to prevent him from being scorched by the hot air. “Forget about her. There’s no water on the third floor. This kind of fire can’t be controlled—anyway, this evil woman deserves to die. Let’s close the door and let her go to hell with that magic book.”

Columbus was also righteously indignant. “Shiloh is right! She did so many bad things. She should go to hell!”

The fire in the study was already very large, the smoke making the inside scene blurry. As Columbus squeezed forward, he peeked in to see what that terrible woman looked like.

Mistress Daisy stood on the carpet as her dress also caught fire.

Her hair was disheveled, her expression obsessed, only looking down at the book in her hands with no intention of escaping the room—the fire was too large. She wouldn’t be able to escape in a few minutes.

Dr. Salman saw Columbus trying to approach the door and had to reach out to pull him back to prevent him from getting overheated by the flames, but he couldn’t move him.

The tin soldier stood at the doorway of the study, blankly watching the woman in the flames.

“Balda?” He softly called out a name.

The author has something to say:

“You do have a sister. Do you remember her name?” Charlie asked.

“I do, my little Balda!” Columbus brightened again. “Charlie, I haven’t forgotten her! I remember now. Mom embroidered many little daisies on her apron. Everyone loved her, lovely Balda!”

Chapter 16.

Kinky Thoughts:

That was a connection I did not foresee.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 58

An unsettling silence spread. Erica took a deep breath. “Shiloh, Columbus, did you guys…?”

Shiloh had a solemn look on his face. “They refused to give us food. Because I was hungry, I (firmly) asked them to at least give us a can of milk or some coarse bread. A new dishwasher who didn’t know about this, given the high price we offered, let us in, planning to go to the kitchen to find something to appease us. But a woman saw us, yelled at them, scolded them a lot, and had someone push us into the cellar.”

With Shiloh’s combat skills, they shouldn’t have been able to throw him into the cellar, but he mischievously planned that if the legitimate transaction didn’t work, he would wait until after dinner when the kitchen was empty to sneak out and steal something—the cellar door was almost chewed through by rats, so he could punch a hole through it with one fist.

He didn’t expect that the castle, though it appeared dark and decrepit, had a sizable kitchen. He and Columbus ended up squatting in the cellar for two hours, still hearing the busy footsteps above them, both tired of waiting and inadvertently dozing off a bit.

When he was woken up by Columbus, the kitchen had quieted down—according to Dr. Salman, who pulled them out of the cellar, all the cooks, kitchen maids, stable boys, and gardeners were drugged by their medicine and were stacked on the kitchen floor.

At that time, he was overjoyed and eagerly found a plate to try the still-steaming onion soup, only to be sternly stopped by Dr. Salman.

“This logic is flawed,” Erica said calmly. “If that’s the case, why can guests who have invitations come and go from the castle for a long time? The food at the ball is supplied by the same kitchen.”

Dr. Salman said, “I’ve also thought about this issue, but that person’s expression didn’t seem like he was lying, and he had no reason to lie. In the situation where they are stockpiling a large amount of food for the ball, they would rather risk being exposed by strangers than give Shiloh and Columbus a piece of cheese. Instead, they put more effort into locking them in the cellar. I guess they planned to drive them out after the ball ends and the guests have left. Mistress Daisy certainly doesn’t want two strangers, unrelated to her business, bound in the castle for a long time.”

“Maybe eating the castle’s food isn’t the only condition.” Erica thought, suddenly frowning. “If the girls are destined never to leave the castle, why would Mistress Daisy pretend to surrender and lead Mr. Charlie to get the keys?”

Shiloh’s expression changed. “Where’s the study?”

The little tin soldier jumped up. “I’m going to find Charlie!”

Although Columbus had a simple character, he wasn’t stupid.

During his time living in Maplewood with Charlie, he learned a lot under his influence. Because he didn’t need to sleep or blink, the tin soldier actually read more than the average school student.

Also, being a victim of a curse himself, he had a natural curiosity and explorative spirit in the realm of magic. Using the clues provided by Dr. Salman and Erica, he quickly deduced that this was domain magic.

Considering that Mistress Daisy herself wasn’t a mage, there must be another magical item in the castle acting as the core. Mistress Daisy probably wasn’t the first owner of this coercive magical artifact, but magical items were expensive and feared on every continent for a reason: once made, the threshold for manipulation was virtually non-existent, and anyone with autonomy and capability could use them.

Like this castle. Once the domain magic was successfully set up, the [Rules] were supreme. Whoever controls the [Rules] could almost be considered a demigod within that range.

Mistress Daisy, being able to manipulate so many girls and juggle numerous wealthy and powerful guests, was certainly not an easy opponent. Would such a woman easily surrender in her own domain?

The little tin soldier’s legs moved quickly, almost leaping two steps at a time.

They had only known each other as friends for a long time, and no one understood Charlie better than he did.

Indeed, he was a top student at the Monterey Academy. Charlie wasn’t lying.

But he was secretive about his performance. He wasn’t just a theoretically inclined mage lacking in practical talent, as he appeared. The proud, magic-renowned witch, Eleana, wouldn’t have fallen for a mere bookworm.

His daily preference for using various small magics and auxiliary tools that hardly require magical power was partly to keep a low profile, but more importantly, because the shopkeeper actually detested magic.

More precisely, he detested unnatural forces.

Shiloh followed him closely upstairs, and as they were just about to reach the top, a burst of barking erupted.

Shiloh’s expression hardened. He pulled a shortsword from his tattered half-cloak with a swift backhand motion and stepped ahead of Columbus, blocking the large hound charging at them.

Columbus was nearly scared off the stairs, but Shiloh didn’t hesitate to thrust his elbow, interrupting the hound’s momentum, causing it to yelp and spin half around. Its claws scrabbled at the carpet, and a gash on the side of its neck started to bleed.

At that moment, Shiloh looked nothing like the giggly little vagabond Columbus knew.

Hounds were more impulsive than rational, and being hurt instead of successful in its attack made it see red. It crouched low, its growls suppressed, ready to strike.

Shiloh didn’t blink, but instead spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “When it pounces, you rush to the left, and I’ll block it. You go open the study door.”

The tin soldier agreed. Indeed, the hound couldn’t restrain itself and leapt straight for Shiloh’s neck. Columbus bent down and dashed out—Shiloh did as he said, not letting the big hound turn back.

The commotion in the corridor didn’t disturb anyone in the study. Columbus tried to turn the doorknob, only to find it locked from the inside.

“Charlie! Charlie!” Columbus shouted loudly.

Whether it was because of his loud voice or the poor soundproofing of the walnut door, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper inside actually responded to him.

“Columbus?”

“Are you in there? What’s happening?” The tin soldier asked through the keyhole.

“I’m fine.” On the other side of the walnut door, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper replied in a calm voice.

If Columbus could see inside the study, he would know that the shopkeeper was lying.

The study looked just as it did the last time Charlie snuck in—several desks crammed together, bulging cushions thrown on the carpet, and a continuously burning incense burner emitting a strong, exotic fragrance.

Mistress Daisy stood in front of Charlie with the thick black leather book now closed in her hands.

Charlie raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. They had already heard the barking of the big hound, but no one was distracted by it.

“What are you afraid of?” Mistress Daisy’s face wore a sinister smile, and she resumed her falsely gentle and soft tone. “Aren’t you here to help the girls gain their freedom? Just burn this book, and all the secrets of this castle will be destroyed. Nothing will bind them anymore. Isn’t that your purpose?” She leaned close to the fireplace, poised to throw the book into the burning flames.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper replied in a placating tone, “I do want the girls to be free, but I don’t want to destroy everything, including you.” He left unsaid that her sins should be judged by God.

Mistress Daisy looked at him coldly.

“You, who come from poverty, couldn’t have been born with this castle.” Charlie sighed, keeping his hands raised. “If my guess isn’t wrong, after spending your childhood or teenage years sweeping fireplace ashes, you must have lived here for a long time… but not as the master.”

“You are also part of this castle, just like they were, weren’t you, Daisy?” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper said. “All the girls use the names of flowers, including you and Miss Callia*—”

*Clarity: Her name is (卡利亚). Assuming it’s referencing a flower, most likely it’s referencing calla lilies, though translated Callia/Calia/Kalia is closer.

“Shut up!” Mistress Daisy snapped. “Shut up! Shut up!”

“Why?” Charlie’s round, rabbit eyes were filled with pity. “You know the pain. You have gone through it. Have the years made you forget everything, justified in inflicting the same hurt on those innocent girls?”

“What do you know!” Mistress Daisy’s chest heaved violently. “Family and friendship are the falsest things. Before you truly despair, God will take back everything that protected you, leaving you helpless except for your own efforts. My father worked from sunrise to sunset yet couldn’t earn enough for a cup of the master’s wine; my mother never wore a whole dress without patches from birth to death—but I didn’t complain! I didn’t! Even so, God took them away when I didn’t yet understand death, and I was traded like livestock. Where were you then to administer justice as you do today? You’re right, I also lived in the rooms downstairs and worked like a slave to please those who had the power to hurt me, just so I wouldn’t die miserably in a castle corner. I did well, earned the master’s trust, but then the old hag who controlled everything suddenly self-destructed, leaving everything to me, which I deserved.”

She paused to catch her breath.

“Why don’t you leave?” Charlie said, lowering his tired arms to his sides. “The one controlling you is dead. You’re free now.”

Mistress Daisy laughed ominously. “Because no one can leave. Do you really think that by defeating me and killing me, those people could go home and continue living as if nothing happened? Don’t be foolish. This book, like this castle, belonged to that old hag. [If you record a name, you can reach the garden, if you eat the food, you gain eternal life. If everything is destroyed, all will turn to ashes.] That’s the first line she wrote in this book, which I have strictly followed.”

“‘She’ was the former owner of the castle?” Charlie couldn’t help asking, “Who is she?”

“You can ask her yourself,” Mistress Daisy said maliciously. She carefully clutched the large book in one hand and reached out with the other, then suddenly pulled back the heavy velvet curtain.

A stale, foul smell wafted out from behind the curtain, but more terrifying than that, behind the curtain, was a view of a snow-white plaster wall. Embedded in the center of the wall was a half-bodied woman, as gaunt as decayed wood, with eyeballs bulging from their sockets. As if shocked by the sudden light, her features tightened and contorted.

The author has something to say:

Did anyone notice that even the antagonist’s name is that of a flower?

Kinky Thoughts:

Given the names introduced in the castle:

Alice – can refer to multiple types of flowers. My guess is the author is referring to aliciella caespitosa, which also appears in Alice in Wonderland. I drew this conclusion given how Charlie is a rabbit-head.

Daphne most likely refers to daphne odora, which happens to be native to China.

Lily and Daisy are self-explanatory.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 57

Daphne and Alice used a long tablecloth twisted into a rope to firmly tie Miss Callia to the table leg and then tightly bound Mistress Daisy’s hands together to prevent her from scheming any further.

Erica instructed the girls to wait there while she personally escorted Mistress Daisy to retrieve the keys.

Although all the guests were asleep due to Dr. Salman’s medicine, leaving the girls alone with them was still worrying, so Erica planned to take a detour to the stables to ask Dr. Salman to temporarily accompany the girls.

Perhaps because of his profession, Dr. Salman exuded a gentle and wise aura that made people feel at ease—but that was assuming he and Charlie had indeed incapacitated the castle’s effective forces.

In truth, a few rough workers weren’t much of a challenge, but several hours had passed since they infiltrated the castle and captured Mistress Daisy, and the fact that the shopkeeper and Dr. Salman hadn’t entered the greenhouse made her cautious. Otherwise, she would have tied the wicked woman up right there and gone to the study herself to fetch the keys. As a knight of Brandenburg, she wasn’t afraid of a mere dog.

However, her doubts about this issue were resolved as soon as she stepped out of the greenhouse.

Charlie was sitting on a neatly trimmed holly bush, smoking, with white smoke rising slowly from his long pipe, making his rabbit head appear somewhat unreal in the moonlight.

Seeing him donning his high-top hat again, Erica knew the fight was over and felt relieved.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper put down his pipe when he saw them come out and listened as Erica briefly explained what had happened.

“Those girls really are brave. I hardly had to do anything, and they managed it all by themselves,” Erica sincerely said. “Just as you said.”

“The ‘doctor’ went to the kitchen. He wants to examine the potions they were using,” Charlie said. “I’ve been waiting here since I couldn’t enter without an invitation—I can only see a big, dark glass house.”

He said this while staring intently at Mistress Daisy.

The woman before him was obviously not a mage, nor did she have any accessories with magical fluctuations. If it weren’t for those will-sapping soups and the bizarre invitation system, no one would associate her with mystical powers.

Erica also thought of this and frowned, turning back to ask, “What’s going on? You’re not a mage. How can you set such a broad rule?”

Mistress Daisy lifted her eyelids reluctantly and said, “It’s not me. It’s the castle. It’s been this way before I was born—don’t look at me. I don’t know who did it.”

“You’ve managed to enter the ball, which means you must have gotten an invitation somehow.” Charlie nodded slightly to Erica. “So I’ll go with her to get the keys, and you go back and comfort those girls.”

With no other choice, Erica handed Mistress Daisy over to Charlie. She was about to remind him about the hound when she saw him give her a secretive wink. Understanding his assurance, she turned and returned to the greenhouse.

“You were lying just now,” Charlie whispered softly as they left the garden and entered the dim stone hall of the castle.

Mistress Daisy didn’t speak.

“You expertly use the castle’s rules to lure women and beguile guests. That can’t be explained with a ‘don’t know’. Such range of magic is usually set by the original landowners, and this castle is very old. That person no longer exists, right? So you’ve bypassed the founder and taken over as the master to manage the rules. What’s your relationship with the castle’s previous owner?”

This made Mistress Daisy stumble a bit, but she still didn’t speak.

‘How troublesome,’ the shopkeeper thought.

If the Duke were here, he would have unraveled the logic chain of this strange event sooner and prodded Mistress Daisy into revealing everything in the most cutting way.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t here, and strictly speaking, this matter had nothing to do with him. That he had Erica come to assist was unexpected.

He pretended not to care about Mistress Daisy’s silence, continuing as they walked. “Those girls, so young yet imprisoned here as tools for your profit. You were once a girl with your moments of innocence. How can you do this to them? Aren’t you afraid—if you had children, that someone would treat them the same way?”

Mistress Daisy scoffed. “I wasn’t that fortunate to have children.”

“But you had parents,” Charlie said gently. “You know the love and expectations parents have for their children. They would give their lives to protect their own. I’m sure your parents would never let you suffer through this, yet you commit these sins against other people’s children…”

It was probably the empty corridor that made Mistress Daisy not as tense as in the greenhouse, or perhaps because her fate was entirely in his hands, but it took her a while to speak. “I said, I’m not as lucky as them. I don’t know what crazy things you’ve heard from them, but I don’t make them work. I provide them with food and beds, as well as beautiful dresses—all the most fashionable styles each year—and all sorts of earrings and bracelets. Do you know how much that costs? At their age, I only had one stiff, thick dress that I had to wear all year round, struggling for the warmest spot by the fireplace just to stay a bit warmer. Protection from parents? Hmph, I lost my parents a long time ago.”

“Is that why you decided not to have your own family and children?” Charlie asked unexpectedly.

Mistress Daisy suddenly looked up at him, then quickly lowered her gaze.

“Kinship is the most laughable thing,” she said. “Let me tell you, those girls in the castle—do you think their parents don’t know where their children have gone? Just hire a fierce guard or adopt an arrogant noble demeanor, throw them some money, and they will easily be scared off, not daring to come close. They go back home, pretend to cry for a few days, acting as if nothing happened, as if their children never existed.”

As they walked up the last step to the third floor, Mistress Daisy continued, “Do you know? All the girls have a price tag. I set their prices based on their background, looks, and age. If their families are capable of finding this place, I tell them their children were here but have died of illness. I express my regret and give them some money—money solves everything. So don’t fantasize about using kinship to persuade or move me. Regardless of whether or not I repent, you’ve won.”

“So everything you do is for money?” Charlie mused. “Because you were tormented by poverty, so you seize every opportunity to pursue wealth?”

They walked along the corridor. The hound, seeing Charlie, immediately stood up, its gaze fixed intensely on his rabbit head, as if ready to pounce.

Charlie chuckled softly, tightening the scarf that was binding Mistress Daisy’s hands.

Mistress Daisy said quietly, “Go away, sweetie.”

She had to say it twice before the hound reluctantly moved aside, its gaze never leaving Charlie.

Erica opened the greenhouse doors, coaxing the girls to come out and feel the moonlight of freedom.

“There’s no smell of cigars or alcohol outside. The moonlight is brightening the ground. We should…” celebrate our victory.

Before she could finish her sentence, she saw several figures rushing toward the greenhouse. Erica, on alert, pushed Daphne, who was at the forefront, back and grabbed the dagger in her sleeve to confront them.

Only when she got closer did she clearly see the faces of the newcomers. “Dr. Salman… Shiloh?!”

The round-faced young man looked just as surprised. “Erica?!”

Dr. Salman interjected, “You know each other?”

Erica relaxed, playfully slapping Shiloh on the head—her force causing his head to tilt. “Where have you wandered off to? I sent so many scouts and none found you, you big lost cause!”

Shiloh was indignant, but he couldn’t beat Erica yet—Erica was freakishly strong, and nothing about her was delicate.

“I’m also a member of the knights. Stealth is a compulsory course. How could ordinary scouts easily track me?” He proudly puffed up his chest.

“So you were planning to meet up with me, relying on your sense of direction?” Erica scoffed. At that moment, she noticed someone else by Shiloh’s side—a tin soldier?

The less-than-half-human-height tin soldier hadn’t had a chance to enter the conversation until Erica finally noticed him. He cheerfully said, “Hello Erica! I’m Columbus! Dr. Salman said his rabbit friend was coming to rescue the ladies. Is it Charlie? Is it Charlie?”

Erica nodded with a smile. “So you’re the shopkeeper’s friend. Nice to meet you. I’m Erica, the boss of this directionally challenged guy here. He must have been a handful for you.”

Shilo loudly claimed, “Shivers is my boss!”

Erica ignored him.

Dr. Salman, realizing everyone was indeed allies met by chance, remembered why he had rushed here and quickly asked in a low voice, “Erica, did you eat anything from the ball?”

Erica, seeing Dr. Salman’s serious expression, knew this was serious and also adopted a more sober tone. “No. I don’t eat casually in such situations.”

“Did you drink any tea? Alcohol? Or other beverages?” Dr. Salman asked urgently.

“Our plan involved the beverages, so I didn’t touch a drop,” Erica confirmed.

Dr. Salman seemed relieved, but there was a hint of sadness in his expression.

“I have something to tell you,” he said, glancing back at the greenhouse door where a few girls were cautiously peeking out, unsure of what was happening but guessing that Dr. Salman and his companions weren’t Mistress Daisy’s henchmen, though they were hesitant to come over just yet.

He turned back and sighed deeply.

“There’s an old cook in the kitchen who has been in the castle for twenty years, very timid. Mr. Charlie and I didn’t have much trouble getting him to surrender. The thing about Shiloh and Columbus being locked in the cellar was also something I got out of him after Charlie left. The key is that he also revealed some secrets of the castle… secrets only a few people know: apart from water, nothing in this castle should be eaten—whether it’s just a sip of wine or a raisin from a piece of bread, you’ll be bound by the will of the castle’s master, and without permission, you can never leave.”

Erica turned sharply back just in time to see Alice standing at the door, leaning on the frame, looking at them, her gaze full of innocent joy.

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Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 56

Before midnight, the atmosphere of the ball reached its climax.

Perhaps because of the loneliness of the winter, everyone was enjoying themselves thoroughly.

The girls danced on tiptoe, light as butterflies on grass leaves, and the moonlight streaming down from the greenhouse ceiling made the tiny beads of sweat on their noses glisten.

No one could resist being enchanted by such a beautiful sight, and the cheerful organ music seemed never to stop. The swirling skirts and lights dazzled the eyes. Even the Baron would have been absorbed in the revelry if it weren’t for the thug who followed him closely at all times.

He didn’t know what exactly the bold men who had intercepted him were after, but the young man who stuck to him like a shadow wielded a very sharp dagger. Unless a strong bodyguard could rescue him, the Baron, who was never skilled in combat even in his twenties, would never risk his life.

He feigned compliance with them, falsely claiming to the castle that he had brought a cousin with him, all the while looking for an opportunity to signal Mistress Daisy or any girl to hopefully understand his gestures and subdue the ill-intentioned man beside him.

Unfortunately, the plan wasn’t going smoothly, as Mistress Daisy, as always, was only concerned with how much money he would “donate”.

As for the naive girls, they knew only to dance and drink, and although they were inwardly anxious about their lives, the distracted Baron was still persuaded to drink several glasses of tart apple cider.

Alice breathed lightly as she stealthily glanced at Mistress Daisy, who was leaning on the long sofa, her heart pounding.

She knew Mistress Daisy was here not only as a host to accompany her so-called “noble guests” but also to monitor them. She had set very strict rules. The girls weren’t allowed to communicate alone at the ball, nor were they allowed to offer unnecessary information to the guests—which really meant any information.

There was once a guest who had become infatuated with a girl in the castle and swore during a private moment to fulfill all her wishes. The girl asked him to take her away, even if she were only to live as a humble mistress in the countryside forever.

The guest did indeed negotiate with Mistress Daisy about this in the study on the third floor of the castle, but no one knew what they discussed, and from that point on, the guest was never seen again.

As a “disobedient” example, the girl was thrown out of her room to work as a laundry maid, and in the winter, she slept in an attic without a door, where she died of illness within two months.

Even so, Mistress Daisy investigated the incident extremely severely and concluded that it was caused by a few dishonest girls whispering together, and from then on, the girls weren’t allowed to speak quietly anywhere within her and several supervising ladies’ lines of sight.

But they didn’t need to talk.

Alice, arm-in-arm with her dance partner, brushed past a girl in a pink dress, who winked at Alice and gracefully lifted her skirt and walked away. Alice saw the middle-aged man she usually danced with holding a glass of wine, tilting his head, and speaking to Mistress Daisy.

The girl trembled slightly all over, not from fear but from excitement.

Her dance partner had also drunk the cinnamon tea she had handed him fifteen minutes earlier.

Charlie had told her the doctor providing the sleeping drug was excellent, predicting the timing very accurately, so she had to complete all her plans within half an hour. During this time, he and his companion would lock the servants replenishing food in the kitchen to prevent outsiders from interfering.

Although Daphne helped her distribute the medicine, she didn’t know if everyone could understand the plan without talking: each guest would have at least one girl who was—in their words—”sympathetic” to them. Alice and Daphne, using their wide skirts and handkerchiefs, distributed all the medicine to the girls, who then relaxed the guests’ vigilance, urging them to drink a few more glasses.

When the first guest started snoring at a small round table, she knew the plan had succeeded.

Mistress Daisy initially thought Mr. Solo had drunk too much wine and was looking for a strong gardener to carry him to a room in the castle when she found that the previously lively guests began falling like dominoes, one after another, unresponsive to any shaking—even the Baron slumped over on a velvet sofa.

Miss Callia, responsible for maintaining order at the ball, gathered around a bald, wealthy banker, unable to wake him no matter how hard she tried, wringing her hands in distress.

They were good at loudly scolding and whipping disobedient people, but they weren’t skilled in first aid.

“Go! Call the coachmen, the gardeners!” Mistress Daisy commanded Miss Callia, who scurried out of the greenhouse with her skirt in hand. Only then did Mistress Daisy start to feel that something was seriously wrong.

This looked a lot like food poisoning, but even if the castle’s kitchen wasn’t serving the King, it was still more meticulous than an ordinary farm, especially when there were nobles among the guests.

The ingredients and drinks used for cooking were all inspected. Otherwise, they couldn’t appease the picky tastes of the wealthy, and nothing like this had ever happened before.

And yet… it was only the guests who had collapsed.

The girls who were their dance partners had eaten the same biscuits, drunk the same wine and tea, so why were all the girls still standing?

Mistress Daisy slowly straightened up, staring at the group of girls dressed in elegant clothes, whose cheeks were still flushed from dancing as they coldly watched her.

“Ladies,” she asked softly, congenially, “has someone done something naughty?”

If it weren’t for the malevolent light in her eyes, she might have appeared like a kind woman who always helped distribute communion at church and wept with compassion at the sight of lambs.

Unfortunately, all the girls had secretly disposed of their soup, free from the influence of any potion.

Looking at Mistress Daisy, they only remembered how she lectured them with a kind smile, flanked by two women wielding whips. Even the usually brave Daphne shivered at this moment, and several girls couldn’t help showing fearful expressions.

She smiled triumphantly and coaxed, “I understand. Someone must be up to no good… Tell me who led you to do this, and I won’t punish those who were deceived.”

She stepped closer to the silently huddled group of girls, like a serpent hissing as it approached its prey.

“It was me,” a voice sounded, its tone slightly trembling.

Alice was cold to the touch, but her cheeks were flushed. Her voice was soft, but she repeated, “It was me.”

Mistress Daisy’s smile vanished. Her eyes gleamed with malice. “It’s you, eh? What are you trying to do? Hm? You think you’re clever, trying to defy me with these low tactics? You despicable, vile…”

“It’s you who are vile!” A sharp voice interrupted as Daphne pushed Alice aside and furiously glared at her. “You’re the vile one, locking us up here and exploiting us for wealth. If God’s gaze were to fall here, you would surely be struck by lightning!”

“How dare you curse me!” Mistress Daisy screamed. “Ungrateful! I took you in, gave you food and clothes, and this is how you repay me, by sabotaging my guests and cursing me!”

Alice’s voice grew louder involuntarily. “You’re lying! You’ve locked us in here! I want to take Lily home!”

The word “home” dropped like a cold splash of water into a boiling pot, sparking an explosive reaction from all the girls, who clenched their fists and glared at her hatefully.

“I want to go home!”

“We want freedom! To go home!”

Another girl couldn’t hold back her tears. “I want to go back. My mother must miss me, crying day and night.”

“You deprive us of our freedom and our dignity, yet you expect gratitude?” Alice’s eyes shone strangely bright. “Surrender now. No one will come to help you. You must open the castle doors immediately and let us go!”

Alice knew that for utmost secrecy, Mistress Daisy would have all the castle exits securely locked after the guests arrived, only reopening them when it was time for them to leave, as most guests didn’t want any intruders during their stay, which could harm their reputations.

Although the girls were all very frail, the long-suppressed grievances and suffering seemed to endow them with boundless strength. Clutching forks and small knives, they formed a semicircle and advanced towards Mistress Daisy.

Mistress Daisy was shocked by their assertiveness and involuntarily stepped back, her eyes darting around, wondering where the coachman and gardener, who should have been there by now, had gone. In her distraction, she stepped on a tablecloth that trailed on the floor. Before she realized something was wrong, someone yanked the tablecloth from under her feet, causing her to slip and fall hard onto the ground. Wine glasses and plates from the table tumbled into her lap, leaving her in a disheveled mess.

“Oh dear, my apologies,” a voice lacking sincerity came from behind her.

Erica was holding the tablecloth in one hand and juggling a green apple in the other. “Madam, are you alright?”

“You’re the baron’s cousin!” Mrs. Daisy exclaimed in horror. “You’re still awake?”

Erica flashed a bright smile. “I’m not his cousin. We’re here to rescue these brave young ladies—and just to note, if you’re hoping for the gardeners and dishwashers to come rushing in with brooms, you’ll be disappointed. My friends have probably taken care of them.”

Despite the chaos, Erica’s smile caused several girls to exchange looks, causing a hint of excitement and a desire to whisper among themselves.

Mistress Daisy’s face turned pale and then flushed as she could no longer maintain her façade. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“They are the help I hired.” Alice stepped forward, her voice louder. “You’d better hand over the keys to the castle’s main door and let us leave, or else—”

Daphne added menacingly, “Or else we’ll hang you from the tower and let you freeze to death.”

Alice and the other girls quickly nodded in agreement.

Mistress Daisy’s face turned ashen. By now, she realized she had fallen into a well-designed trap. These girls had somehow made contact with people outside the castle, not only reaching an agreement to rescue them but also planning to catch all the guests who came to the castle for entertainment.

Those asleep here were prominent figures from Ropappas and nearby cities. Over the years, she had worked hard to maintain friendly relations with them, which had brought her many benefits. However, the consequences would also be severe if something happened to these people in her castle…

Wait. This is her castle.

“Alright.” She calmed down, flicking a long-stemmed cherry from her lap and awkwardly using the table to help herself up. Her eyes gleamed strangely.

“Alright,” she repeated.

“You win,” Mistress Daisy said slowly. “If that’s the case, as you wish… but I don’t have the keys on me.”

“Where are the keys?” Erica asked.

“In the study on the third floor, on top of the bookshelf, but I must fetch them myself,” she said. “There’s a hound there, fiercely loyal to me. It won’t move unless it sees me.”

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