Long Xingyu avoided Yu Ruoyun for several days. He would immediately change direction whenever he saw Yu Ruoyun, knocking over several people’s water cups, props, and phones, until he finally realized that Yu Ruoyun wasn’t even trying to find him.
His script had been revised a bit, generally adding more scenes for his character. It was very obvious that his supporting role had been given a tragic backstory, increasing Long Xingyu’s workload significantly. He didn’t mind. Memorizing lines, understanding the character, and practicing dancing filled his time completely, allowing him to forget about Yu Ruoyun.
“Why was the last scene cut?” Long Xingyu realized something was off as they neared the end of filming. The scene where Yu Ruoyun visited him before his character’s execution was gone. This was the part Long Xingyu had prepared for the longest, figuring out the dialogue and his character’s emotions before death. He even planned to discuss modifying the storyboard with the director. Was it really because they were afraid he’d outshine Yu Ruoyun?!
“Yu Ruoyun decided that. He’s the co-producer,” the director said. “He’s very kind to you.”
Kind? Adding a few tragic scenes and then cutting the final one—how was that kind?
“Yeah,” Long Xingyu finally said. “I should really thank him.”
The director expressed polite regret. “You’re wrapping up today. Next time we meet, it will probably be next year.”
“Next year?” Long Xingyu was confused.
“For the second season, if we keep the same director,” the director said. “Didn’t you know?”
Yu Ruoyun had mentioned investing more to shoot a second season, but Long Xingyu hadn’t considered it would involve him. Now it dawned on him. “So the open ending is to keep my character for the next season?”
“Exactly,” the director said. “I think you have a lot of talent. I hope you get more opportunities to develop.”
“Talent?” Long Xingyu smiled. He could tell the director genuinely believed it. “I don’t have any talent—just a lot of experience with failure.”
“Didn’t you say this is your first time acting?” the director asked.
“I’ve failed in other areas.” Long Xingyu realized he needed to maintain his facade as a newcomer. He continued his lie.
The director offered some comforting words about being young and having a bright future, with some setbacks being minor. Long Xingyu listened absentmindedly, remembering only the final sentence.
“You’re already doing better than many, and you have Yu Ruoyun helping you,” the director said.
He went to find Yu Ruoyun, who was always on set, even when others were filming. Xiao Qi held his phone, only giving it to him when necessary.
Long Xingyu grabbed a chair and shamelessly sat next to Yu Ruoyun, chatting as if nothing had happened, ignoring the looks from others.
“I’m wrapping up soon,” Long Xingyu said. “People think we’re having an affair. You’ll soon be betraying Jiang Yu.”
“Xiao Qi bought cold drinks for everyone earlier,” Yu Ruoyun said. “You were talking to the director, so she saved you some.”
Long Xingyu took it out. It was a few bottles of frozen drinks. With the hot weather and the remote filming location, Yu Ruoyun having his assistant buy some drinks earned him a lot of goodwill.
“I want that.” Long Xingyu pointed to the ice dessert with fruit syrup in Yu Ruoyun’s hand. “Do you have more?”
“She only got one of this,” Yu Ruoyun said.
“Never mind then.” Long Xingyu knew his request was a bit much. He just suddenly wanted to try ice again, not having had it for a long time.
In the past, filming in remote areas without timely medical attention had ruined his stomach. Since then, he couldn’t eat anything too cold or spicy, even bringing his own water, making everyone think Jiang Yu was ridiculously picky.
“She ordered a large one.” Yu Ruoyun found another spoon from the bag. “Have a little.”
Taking a dessert that Yu Ruoyun had already eaten in broad daylight felt inappropriate, so Long Xingyu did just that. “Am I being too much? This will only fuel the rumors.”
“Do you think they’re just rumors?” Yu Ruoyun said gently. “Didn’t you say you’d pursue me the first time we met?”
“Not anymore,” Long Xingyu lied. “I’m touched by your deep love for Jiang Yu. I can’t intrude on such a beautiful romance and am content to stay in the shadows.”
Yu Ruoyun watched as the ice dessert slowly disappeared, suddenly thinking it might taste really good. He said, “Because I never said it.”
“Said what?”
“Even though I’ve remembered many things, I don’t think I’ve ever told him I loved him,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Such a simple thing, but it never happened. He was sensitive and always overthinking. I thought actions were more important than words, and we would be together for many years. We’d have our respective careers, and he could always chase after me and even surpass me eventually, but maybe, one day after many years had passed, he’d realize that we’d still be together outside all that. Those heartfelt lines in movies were all well-written, but there was no point to saying it out loud in our daily lives—he’d realize it eventually anyway, after we’d been together for so long. Or so I thought. But I forgot that saying all that out loud was also an action in itself.”
So, during this time, he kept telling those around him—his father, his mother, Wu Yi. And he asked Xiao Qi, “Did Jiang Yu ever mention me?”
Xiao Qi hesitated. “A few times.”
“What did he say?” Yu Ruoyun asked.
“Nothing important,” Xiao Qi evaded. “You’re so famous. He just mentioned your name.”
Again and again, he told others and himself that the relationship existed. It wasn’t a hallucination brought on by his brain injury. If there was no pain in dreams, then hallucinations couldn’t be so painful.
Long Xingyu finished the ice dessert without any stomach ache and felt satisfied, with no regrets.
“He would know,” Long Xingyu told Yu Ruoyun. “But look, he’s dead. Maybe in his next life, he’ll be a better person, less sensitive and petty, less like a ticking time bomb. You should move on with your life.”
“Of course I will,” Yu Ruoyun said, making Long Xingyu finally feel at ease.
“He’s dead, but I can’t die, right?” Yu Ruoyun’s gaze fell on Long Xingyu. “I have to live well, continue acting, find someone else worth loving, go swimming at the beach in summer, see snow on the mountaintop in winter, make love in bed—there are so many things to do. I have a long time ahead.”
“Then he will know that I am living well and have moved on, loving someone else. He won’t find peace even in reincarnation, so he’ll come back as a ghost to haunt me.”
Yu Ruoyun woke up in the middle of the night after falling asleep too early.
Long Xingyu, who was sleeping beside him, was a light sleeper and was awakened as soon as the light was turned on.
“What are you doing here?” Yu Ruoyun asked.
Still groggy, Long Xingyu slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? You got drunk, lost control, and slept with me. I kept shouting ‘no’ but couldn’t resist. You need to take responsibility.”
“I didn’t sleep with you. You haven’t even taken your clothes off,” Yu Ruoyun said. “It’s my clothes that are missing.”
“There’s only one robe in this room,” Long Xingyu pouted. “This is supposed to be the most expensive room, but the hotel is so stingy.”
“You should change out of it,” Yu Ruoyun said gently. “Your clothes are all wrinkled.”
“It’s three in the morning!” Long Xingyu protested. “If I go back now, people will say I failed to seduce you.”
Even though it was unlikely anyone would be outside at this hour, and he indeed hadn’t succeeded in his seduction attempt.
To avoid such a fate, Long Xingyu decided to stay put. He turned on the TV, recalling the award ceremony he hadn’t finished watching. Long Xingyu pressed the replay button and rewound to the part where the Lifetime Achievement Award was announced.
Watching TV naturally meant reclining. Yu Ruoyun’s bed was large, and Long Xingyu shamelessly lay on the other side. Yu Ruoyun said, “I just had a dream.”
“Did you dream of your old lover?” Long Xingyu asked.
“I dreamed someone was bearing down on me,” Yu Ruoyun said. “I turned over, but they kept draping themself over me, and we eventually fell off the bed together.”
“That usually means you’re going to have bad luck,” Long Xingyu said without changing his expression. “If you’re willing to pay, I can find a feng shui master to help change your fate.”
On the TV, clips of Jiang Yu’s classic movies, accompanied by sentimental music, caught Long Xingyu’s attention.
It was a short video, so each clip only appeared for a few seconds, but they were all recognizable. As for the less successful films, they were cut out without any regret.
“Why did you suddenly stop talking?” Yu Ruoyun asked when he saw Long Xingyu fall silent.
Long Xingyu waited until the video ended before speaking. “So, he did leave something behind. That’s good. He can reincarnate peacefully.”
He looked at Yu Ruoyun. “Don’t you think that a person’s life is made up of fragments, not a continuous timeline? No one cares what someone ate for lunch ten years ago. When people look back, they think of significant moments like university entrance exams, marriages, and childbirth. These are the nodes. For celebrities, some actors or singers leave behind only one role or one song. No one cares about the rest of their careers, even if they lived many more years. What people remember and replay are the most brilliant moments. If you can’t achieve that, it’s like having nothing at all.”
Jiang Yu had always thought that way, believing that he needed to leave something behind before the wave of his era turned into foam. He thought he would live to see the day he was forgotten, without any more roles, reminiscing about the old days that no one cared about.
He knew Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t necessarily agree with this view. As expected, Yu Ruoyun said, “The entertainment industry isn’t just made up of these glamorous moments. You’re still young. You shouldn’t think like this.”
He wanted to listen to Yu Ruoyun’s lecture, but Yu Ruoyun didn’t continue.
“Then what else is there?” Long Xingyu had to ask. “Please, great Film Emperor, enlighten this newcomer.”
Yu Ruoyun said slowly, “It seems there’s no need to say it. Suddenly, I feel you might already know.”
Long Xingyu looked at Yu Ruoyun and smiled mischievously. He had only said half of what he wanted to say, and Yu Ruoyun didn’t want to complete the other half for him. Success wasn’t the only thing that mattered; failure also had value and could define a person. Mention Nixon, and people think of Watergate. Mention Gorbachev, and they think of the Soviet Union’s collapse. The same went for celebrities’ failures. Mental breakdowns, unhappy families, being abandoned, heavy debts—these could also be memorable points that attract attention and sympathy.
Just like Jiang Yu’s bad luck and tragic end.
Long Xingyu said, “When we slept together, you kept calling Jiang Yu’s name.”
“Okay, we didn’t.” Long Xingyu changed his story. “But you did tell me about Jiang Yu.”
That wasn’t a lie.
“What did I say?” Yu Ruoyun asked.
“You said you loved Jiang Yu to death.” Long Xingyu began to fabricate. “You said you cried every day at home, wishing you could trade all your awards to bring him back…”
“That’s unlikely,” Yu Ruoyun interrupted.
“What’s unlikely?”
“The last part. I wouldn’t say that.”
“Crying every day?” Long Xingyu asked.
“The part about trading my awards.”
Long Xingyu’s confidence, built up just moments ago, crumbled instantly. “You wouldn’t trade your awards to bring him back?!”
“Leaving aside whether such a premise is possible,” Yu Ruoyun said. “Let’s assume it is. I would be willing to trade all my honors to bring him back, but I wouldn’t make that assumption myself. Because—”
“If I didn’t have those awards, those accolades, would he still love me? I don’t know about that.”
Long Xingyu was furious.
He wanted to argue but found himself tongue-tied, glaring at Yu Ruoyun. He couldn’t speak. So this was how he’d react when someone else hit the nail on the head and he felt guilty about it. He realized he still didn’t understand life enough.
It shouldn’t be like this. He should tell Yu Ruoyun it wasn’t just about that and that he shouldn’t think that way.
“Idiot,” Long Xingyu said. He jumped off the bed. “You motherfucking 24k pure idiot. Turns out you think he loved you because of that!”
He started walking out, or rather, fleeing, as if a fire were chasing him, forcing him to confront his own feelings, demanding an answer.
He didn’t know the answer.
But Yu Ruoyun had found the answer to another question.
This was a weapon effective only against one person. He had taken a gamble, and it cut deep. His suspicion about that person’s identity had taken shape. But this gamble couldn’t be considered a win. If not for the accident, he wouldn’t have wanted Jiang Yu to know he had ever thought this way. He wouldn’t have wanted Jiang Yu to start thinking about it.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked.
Long Xingyu felt more dejected than before. “I lost my room key. Can you get me another one?”
Running out of Yu Ruoyun’s room at three in the morning, with wrinkled clothes and messy hair, to report a lost room key wasn’t a wise choice. Tomorrow, there would be more rumors that he had been kicked out by Yu Ruoyun, for the second time. At this hour, they might even say he had been kicked out after sex.
Let them talk. He didn’t care anymore. There was no way he was going back to ask for his key. Right now, Yu Ruoyun was like a terrifying demon to him. He’d rather throw himself onto the road and get run over again than see Yu Ruoyun.
He didn’t want to know how much pain Yu Ruoyun was in because of him, for him to start pondering this matter.
The media shouldn’t have whitewashed him just because he died—he was indeed a selfish and despicable person.
Alice watched as the flames ignited out of nowhere and screamed, dropping the small glass vial she was holding. The vial rolled at her feet. The liquid contents inside quickly drained away—but she was too distraught to care because a tall, thin shadow stepped out from the fire!
Though she had imagined such a scenario countless times, the reality of seeing it left Alice both shocked and frightened. A sliver of rational thought reminded her that her ritual had succeeded.
She had actually succeeded.
She was successful.
The trembling girl went blank, all her mental preparations dissolving in extreme terror. She didn’t even dare to look up, instead remaining stiffly in a kneeling position with her head low, exposing her fragile, slender nape—a posture of complete submission.
“Who are you?” the “person” who emerged from the fire asked in a low voice.
Alice visibly shuddered, bowing her head even lower.
“My name is Alice.”
“Why have you summoned me?”
“I… I beg you to lend me your power.” Alice was a determined girl. Although the voice clearly belonged to a man—contrary to her original intent to summon a witch—she heard that witches could change their appearances at will, so changing gender might also be within their capabilities. Moreover, she was already resolved. Though she couldn’t help feeling scared, she was prepared for the worst, no matter what she had summoned.
The figure remained silent. Alice gathered her thoughts and courageously continued, “My sister and I have been imprisoned, facing a future of endless humiliation and torture. I seek assistance from the dark and unknown. If my sister can be safe and free, I am willing to offer everything in seeking your help, including my soul of flesh and blood… I beg you.”
Despite feeling an icy chill in her stomach and being stiff with fear, her good upbringing allowed her to keep the conversation going. The ritual fire had already extinguished, and she felt the figure approaching her in the dark. Her forehead began to ache, and the feeling of dizziness intensified—
“Breathe,” the voice instructed.
Alice paused, realizing she had been so tense that she had forgotten to breathe.
But more surprises were to follow.
“—Miss Alice, you know in your heart that such a half-baked magic circle can’t fulfill your wishes, right?”
Charlie crouched down. Even in the darkness, he tried to make eye contact with the girl, who couldn’t stop trembling. “I’m sorry, but you’ve summoned just an innocent bystander.”
Alice raised her head, barely making out a vague humanoid silhouette. The conversation seemed to have drained all her energy, rendering her momentarily voiceless.
The shopkeeper, summoned by the mysterious magical fire, looked around. It seemed they were in a huge wooden box. The surroundings were empty and dimly lit, allowing him to see some stones (perhaps salt crystals) on the ground, slowly burning sage and mint, and weirdly shaped mummies, possibly lizards or geckos.
An unorganized summoning spell. Perhaps even the incantations were cobbled together without any effect.
Such disorganized “magic” wasn’t uncommon among the folk, but most of the time it yielded no results. Honestly, it was evident that the girl knew nothing about magic, and the ritual and procedures were full of errors. Yet, she somehow managed to summon him from an alley in Ropappas, which was indeed odd.
“You… aren’t a witch?” Alice slowly processed Charlie’s words, suddenly engulfed by immense despair. “But you…”
Have a rabbit head.
And don’t look human at all.
Charlie knew what she was thinking but could only shrug regretfully. “I didn’t choose to look like this. It’s just an evil curse. I’d be happy to tell you my story under the sunlight, but please move aside, miss. You don’t mind if I open the door, right? Sorry, I’m a bit allergic to boxes…”
He found something resembling a door seam. As he was about to push it open, Alice suddenly came to her senses and stopped him.
“No! They might be right outside.”
Charlie raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture, reluctant to meddle but unable to remain indifferent to a frightened girl’s tears.
“Who’s outside?” he asked in a lowered voice.
“‘Mother’s’ people,” Alice said, looking at him without showing any surprise or fear at the rabbit-headed figure in front of her. “She never allows girls to escape. I wasn’t trying to run away. I just wanted to find a place where no one was to summon…”
Charlie promptly interrupted her.
“Holch’s Second Principle: No matter what you find, never casually recite their names around magical items,” he said sternly. “Belief can resonate with their names and cause magical fluctuations. Without preparation, a trade can turn into a sacrifice.”
Alice looked at his fuzzy, prominently eared head silhouette, speechless.
“Seeking the unknown is like pouring water into boiling oil, miss. Why would you do something so dangerous?”
Alice seemed to be jolted back to reality by his question, suddenly convulsing a bit then quietly sobbing.
Just as Charlie had observed, she knew nothing about magic, but she was educated enough to recite some complex ancient texts, which allowed her to barely manage the incantations and complete the ritual.
Three months ago, Alice herself would never have imagined resorting to such ludicrous means for help. She and her sister, Lily, were the daughters of a country gentleman—not the most respectable nobility, but still well-off and carefree.
Five months ago, while on a holiday in the south with their governess, they encountered bandits; the coachman and governess were killed, and only she, her sister, and a maid were taken to a secluded castle, along with many other unfortunate girls.
They told Alice that the castle’s mistress, a woman named Mistress Daisy, claimed to be all the girls’ “Mother”.
The castle held secret balls every moonlit night, during which the girls were required to dress up, do their hair, and dance with all the guests. To Mistress Daisy, these young girls were no different from the bacon and champagne on the table.
Once the music stopped and the lights went out, the guests left the castle, and like sheep briefly allowed to graze, the girls were trapped in the castle with no freedom. Any girl who resisted would be starved, and indeed, some did starve to death.
Because Alice and her sister Lily were educated and could play the piano and recite poetry, “Mother” would provide them with embroidered gowns and introduce them to pickier guests.
Lily had always been sickly. Their vacation was also to let her spend winter in a warmer place to ease her cough. There had been no balls for a long time due to the cold winter, giving the girls a break, but lately, Lily had been feverish repeatedly, and Mistress Daisy’s patience was running thin. Desperate, Alice turned to black magic, remembered from her random readings, hoping at least to save Lily.
Charlie frowned in the darkness. This type of coercion wasn’t typical for the Fox family, and no small workshop could operate on such a scale—truthfully, even in those chaotic underground cities, such events were rare.
He considerately kept his distance from the still-trembling, frail girl. The manager of the castle she mentioned seemed to be a tyrannical woman. She would mercilessly torture any girl who dared to flee or resist, ensuring their screams and struggles would be deeply imprinted on everyone’s mind.
Over time, almost everyone gave up resisting. If not for her sister, Alice wouldn’t have had the courage to gather ritual supplies and sneak out of her room unnoticed to hastily perform a summoning spell.
Unfortunately, the magic didn’t succeed.
Although the shopkeeper believed himself to be quite capable, he wasn’t the powerful magical creature Alice had hoped for, able to summon thunder and lightning to level the ugly castle.
But the shopkeeper had his ways.
He convinced Alice, who was deeply mired in sorrow, to calm down. To comfort her, he agreed to help investigate the mysterious castle and, if possible, seek outside assistance for her.
“You will help me…?” Alice looked at him blankly, her vision blurred by tears.
“Though I am not a witch, I may have something of interest to you. We could make a trade if you like,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said.
Alice struggled to pull herself from her sadness, sounding uncertain. “Can you get me out of here?”
“No, I am not a mercenary, and it’s best not to confront bad people directly,” Charlie said in a soothing, low voice. “But perhaps I can help you achieve your wish.”
Alice’s wish was clear. She wanted to leave with her sister.
Despite her chaotic emotions, she maintained some clarity while still sniffling. “A trade… What do you want from me? I have nothing but my soul to offer right now.”
“Like I said, I am not a witch.” Charlie sighed, handing her a clean, plain handkerchief. “I’ve seen situations like yours before… Don’t worry. I don’t intend to use our deal for any nefarious purposes. As for compensation, we can discuss that once this is all over.”
He looked at the young girl calmly, knowing the deal was settled. There was nothing more compelling to a person in desperation than hope itself, and this girl was ready to sacrifice her soul.
According to the rules of 22 Paulownia Street, it was up to the shopkeeper to judge whether a client truly had nothing left.
In the eyes of the girls, the closed-off castle was much like a heavily guarded prison, but to the shopkeeper, who had managed to infiltrate even royal palaces, it was another matter.
With agile skills and a bit of misdirection, the patrolling guards almost never stood a chance of catching him, and if he wished to leave, he didn’t even need to wait for nightfall.
Charlie crouched in the shadow of an ornate cabinet, rubbing his fingers.
Even if he hadn’t made a deal with Alice, a gentleman couldn’t simply ignore the tears of a frightened girl. True to his nature as a women’s advocate and troublemaker, Charlie decided to conduct some preliminary investigations before leaving temporarily—entirely out of a sense of justice and not as an excuse to leave the Duke hanging in the inn.
Alice returned to her cramped room, where she was greeted by her roommate Daphne’s shrieking accusations of stealing her hair ribbon.
The castle strictly forbade girls from staying alone in a room. Each room had to house at least three girls so they could keep an eye on each other. Informants reporting unfaithful thoughts among roommates were rewarded.
Daphne wasn’t easy to get along with. Under normal circumstances, Alice would have argued with her, but her mind was so consumed by what the rabbit-headed Charlie had told her that she could hardly hear Daphne’s ranting.
Daphne, getting no response, grew angrier and pushed her. “Give me back my hair ribbon!”
Alice stumbled back, then suddenly looked up sharply at Daphne. Daphne paused, sensing something was off. She knew Alice had been under a lot of pressure because of Lily’s condition, but…
Alice, still staring intently into Daphne’s eyes with an abnormal, fervent zeal, said, “I want to leave here.”
Although called a city, Ropappas couldn’t compare at all with Maplewood or any other towns near the royal city. The local officials seemed to follow a policy of seclusion and self-sufficiency, with the main city of Ropappas heavily guarded and even the population flow between its satellite towns considerably sluggish.
However, for the Duke and the shopkeeper, slipping past a few guards and entering the city was relatively easy. But in such rural areas, both the furry rabbit head and the Duke of Brandenburg’s hereditary good looks tended to attract attention and potentially cause a sensation, forcing them to don long gray cloaks again—probably because the cloaks were unattractive. Unless necessary, Dwight was reluctant to even step out of the inn room.
Isolation most often directly indicated poverty.
Without the flow of goods, money, and people, the whole city-state was like a sluggish puddle, lacking any vitality. Apart from the upper city area, most houses along the main streets were low and old. The oxen and horses pulling carts were skinny, and the cries of the street vendors sounded lethargic.
Charlie had his own way of dealing with people. Even with his head tightly wrapped, it didn’t stop him from operating effectively. He casually spent a few copper coins on a small handmade pottery jug, chatting with the owner while observing the passersby.
High taxes and isolation made the faces of ordinary people in Ropappas look gray and gloomy. The shepherds in Lemena seemed much happier by comparison.
This explained why Thorn Manor could easily recruit so many young girls. Let alone the surrounding towns, even Ropappas was in such a state. Who could refuse a job that offers a solution to hunger in such times?
If one could eat coarse bread without twigs and stones, who would care whether the employer was suspicious and dangerous?
Charlie left the main road, buying some towels, change of clothes, flint, and tobacco (on the Duke’s expense), and deliberately took a few extra turns, using his experience to navigate to the lower city area teeming with a mix of characters, targeting a vendor selling black magic items.
If it were Eugene, he would have a better way to quickly blend into the local environment, but dealing with a down-and-out vendor was also something the rabbit-headed shopkeeper was confident in.
The vendor by the wall had dirty, tangled hair, and his old, long coat was adorned with a jumble of necklaces and trinkets. He also held some grimy items, haphazardly trying to sell his cursed ingredients to the passersby.
It was just the beginning of spring, and after a long winter, most people didn’t have extra food or money to trade. Given his filthy appearance, no one stopped to give him a second look for a long while.
So when Charlie stopped in front of him, the vendor immediately straightened up with delight.
“Good day, sir,” he said in a gruff voice. “No troubles bothering you, I hope?”
Charlie lowered his voice. “What good items do you have?” He spoke in Mokwen’s common language, but somewhat awkwardly.
The vendor, hearing the foreign accent, shifted his eyes and led him into a deeper, sunless part of the alley, ready to fleece this unfamiliar rich man.
But after only a few sentences, he sensed something was off. This man was no novice to magic. Not only did he see through the fakes the vendor wore, but he also caught several mistakes about curse magic.
Good heavens, he was just an ordinary second-hand dealer. Although he claimed he had the most powerful black magic items, he knew nothing about magic—people without money or power couldn’t even learn to write, let alone study magic. Even low-level black magic required strong backing and finances to research, which wasn’t something he could access.
If this man was a mage, then he wasn’t someone the vendor could afford to provoke. The vendor regretted a bit, but after he slipped up, the stranger seemed to lose interest and turned to leave.
Normally, the vendor wouldn’t have said another word, but he hadn’t had bread for two days now, and he had no wood to heat water that night. The desperate hunger made him hoarsely shout, “Please wait!”
Charlie stopped but didn’t turn around.
“I can take you to ‘Crazy Kyle’,” the vendor said quickly. “He’s my boss… He has real stuff—truly magical, good stuff. If even he doesn’t have what you need, I guarantee, the whole of Ropappas won’t satisfy you.”
The fish had bitten the hook. Although no one could see, Charlie restrained a pleased expression and slightly turned his head. “I only want the best.”
“Can a witch who disappeared for years still be considered ‘the best’?” Dwight frowned, looking at a raven skull on the table, and said with disgust.
“That at least shows my journey is in the right direction,” Charlie said. “So far.”
He had just visited that “shop” selling black magic items and seen for himself. There weren’t many items genuinely imbued with magic, but this raven skull was one, with a trace of magic residue that was indeed Elena’s aura.
Like autonomous nobles, mages also had their territories.
White mages under the church who worshiped the God of Light usually controlled the power structures; thus, they received support in wealth and influence. The academy where Charlie and Elena studied in their youth was part of this power branch.
This system effectively spreads their influence to major cities but also subjects them to royal constraints.
Black magic, actually freer in magical study, could delve into various taboos strictly prohibited by the church but also got branded as evil, easily provoking persecution, thus avoiding the church for self-preservation.
Black magic was like the shadow of white magic. They didn’t intersect directly, but they coexisted in the dark. Unlike white mages, black mages operated independently, rarely banding together, were very territorial, though covert, and also left various traces to warn peers not to encroach on their activity area.
In a royal city like Syriacochi, it was difficult to find traces of black magic, but in Ropappas, it was quite straightforward, and this raven skull proved it.
Dwight wasn’t interested in witches, but Ropappas was part of Mokwen, and though Mokwen didn’t ban magic, it didn’t revere the church like other magic-embracing countries. Even the large royal palace couldn’t find two decent mages, let alone nobles below the King.
In this environment, secretly connecting with mages for some underhanded business wasn’t difficult. If any royal family member—even secretly—had connections with the church, Elena, a witch, wouldn’t have so brazenly left one of her totems in Ropappas.
To common folk, the royal city seemed distant, needing several days of fast riding, but to those who knew magic, it wasn’t an impossible distance for a quick response. Recalling the bizarre murder in the palace, Dwight frowned, suddenly feeling uneasy.
Whether it was the distance between southern lord Lestrop and his brother Tifa or Priscilla’s distance from the Mokwen monarchy, it all felt too close, giving him a sense of foreboding.
He knew his sister. Priscilla wasn’t the kind of woman who merely managed her castle and manor with maids. The Dwight family had an innate grasp for power, especially Priscilla, who’d seen downturns and rock bottoms. She would never be blind to her surroundings, following her husband without question.
Lemena and Mokwen were far apart, but regular messengers connected them. Yet he had never received any help or even hints from his sister. If it weren’t for the wilting of Priscilla’s rose, he wouldn’t have noticed anything was wrong.
Even though he had come all this way, Priscilla still wouldn’t say anything, merely asking him to leave immediately.
Immediately.
That was highly unusual. While Dwight’s unauthorized entry into Doran wasn’t something to make public, it wasn’t entirely without room for maneuvering.
To suddenly see her brother after several years, the expected reaction from Priscilla would have been surprise, then a slight rebuke, followed by taking him back to her domain, exchanging stories, letting him rest, and then sending him back to Pennigra with extra people to ensure safety. Instead, she hurriedly sent him away.
Her response only indicated one thing: Priscilla currently lacked power, so her quick judgment to have her brother immediately return to the Dwight family’s territory was the safest option—when she was struggling to manage on her own, her brother’s unexpected arrival would only make matters more chaotic.
Though their meeting was brief, Dwight wasn’t really questioning the words of Astrologer Kurt—it was just his excuse to lash out at Charlie.
He and Priscilla were full siblings and had always been close. Just as Priscilla quickly decided her brother should leave Mokwen, Dwight immediately sensed that Priscilla’s situation wasn’t as relaxed as she let on.
Out of caution, he wouldn’t approach Syriacochi or his brother-in-law Lestrop’s domain soon, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take any action.
Dwight leaned back in his chair, unconsciously twisting the silver ring on his middle finger.
Before leaving Pennigra, he had made arrangements. Besides Shivers, another group from his order of knights and household staff had covertly infiltrated Doran to provide backup.
If all went well, Shivers had already delivered his message, and although the two were temporarily separated, Charlie could somewhat fill in for Shivers, making life not too unbearable.
Thinking of this, Dwight looked over at the desk. Charlie was carefully wrapping the raven skull, intending to throw it into a corner where stray dogs gathered after dark. He unintentionally looked up to see the young Duke staring at him, causing the fur on the back of his head to stand on end.
With their close interaction over time, the perceptive shopkeeper gradually deciphered the Duke of Brandenburg’s expression code. This look was all too familiar; it meant the Duke was inexplicably annoyed again, plotting to mess with him.
Heaven knows, he’d never seen the Duke in a good mood!
Before, Shivers had acted as a buffer, and the friction wasn’t so apparent. But after spending more time with the Duke, Charlie realized he was even more difficult to serve than he appeared.
Dwight could tell from Charlie’s rabbit face that he was silently mocking him. He snorted, but before he could speak, there was a knock at the door.
The affluent Duke had reserved two large suites on the inn’s top floor to avoid being disturbed by other guests, so it could only be a servant knocking.
Charlie silently breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed his cloak, walked through the sitting room, and opened the door. A boy, about thirteen or fourteen, stood in the hallway. He was a little sweaty and nervous, suggesting he had run quite a bit.
Charlie didn’t open the door entirely, blocking half his body behind it. He spoke quietly with the boy for a moment, then shut the door and returned to the study—though it was more like a sitting area between the living room and bedroom with half a corridor and half a bay window. The inn utilized space well, placing a relatively elegant desk, a single chair, and a small, low bookcase in the area with a large, bright window. The Duke sat at the desk without looking up.
“The kid says he’s registered the advertisement per your instructions and thanks you for your generosity,” Charlie said thoughtfully.
Any city of considerable size had a hall, cathedral, or square. The Duke had instructed a young employee from the inn to run an errand, posting a notice on the public square’s bulletin board in Ropappas (the content was just a regular missing person ad or obituary). Only Shivers or people from Brandenburg could understand the coded message indicating the Duke’s location.
After sending the boy away, Charlie thought that since he already had his cloak on, he might as well leave to deal with the raven skull and keep his distance from the grumpy young Duke.
Ever since he made that joke about long-haired dogs, the Duke had become like a snarling pup, always finding a moment to nip at him. This time, he seemed genuinely angry. No matter what he said, the Duke wouldn’t make peace.
Charlie was deep in thought as he went downstairs. Before leaving, he reflexively tried to tip his hat to an unfamiliar gentleman entering the lobby, but then realized he was wearing a thick cloak and sighed inwardly, pretending nothing had happened as he walked out the inn’s front door into the sunny, bustling street.
If possible, he preferred not to confront Elena face-to-face.
That witch’s hatred toward him was hard to dissolve. Even after all these years, Charlie didn’t believe her rage would be dampened by time, and she certainly wouldn’t be eager to break the curse for Columbus.
The best approach would be to sneak into her home without alerting her. If he could obtain her notes or potion formulas, he could decipher her magical properties…
Charlie kept thinking while quickly stepping into a dark and damp alleyway, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the paper bag with the raven skull, intending to burn it.
If his occult teacher saw this, he’d likely be furious and scold him for disregarding the “Three Principles of Holch” when dealing with magical items to avoid any accidents.
But Charlie was never a well-behaved student. He always came up with random ideas during experiments, ruining his teacher’s patience. Thinking of this, he smiled slightly and extended his right hand to snap his fingers. A small, bright blue flame flickered from his knuckles.
“I won’t recite your name,” Charlie said in a low voice, playfully flicking the flame with his finger, allowing it to catch the paper bag and slowly spread. “So you’ll never find me—” Before he could finish, the flame suddenly roared up to half a person’s height, changing from blue to purple, reflecting a startled face.
Charlie instinctively took a step back but stumbled on thick moss. Before he could regain his footing, the flame rushed at him, engulfing him in less than a second before quickly dying out, leaving the alleyway dark again. The half-burnt paper bag rolled into a corner.
Charlie’s shirt sleeves were rolled up high as he stared at the comfortable back of the head in front of him, unable to suppress a flare of irritation.
Although he knew that nobility—especially old-fashioned aristocrats like Dwight, who had inherited their titles for nearly three centuries—had long since lost traits like “shame” and “politeness” through the sieve of time, when the Duke haughtily ordered him to rearrange the bathroom to his liking and took it for granted that he should wash his hair, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper felt a slight urge to slam the desk lamp onto that glittering golden head.
Resigned to the idea that the one who pays calls the shots, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper mentally prepared himself and humiliatingly rolled up his sleeves. Still, the Duke was hardly satisfied, claiming that “since birth he had never been bathed by anyone but young maids with unblemished skin and soft hands that never calloused. After leaving his estate, first by the coarse-handed Shivers and now by Rabbit Head, barely even human—if his grandfather and father were still alive, they certainly wouldn’t forgive his fall from grace.”
Charlie listened expressionlessly to Dwight’s picky rant, thinking to himself that God truly is fair. While giving this lord a face sharp enough to be considered a weapon, He also seemed to have stripped away any likable aspect of his personality.
The Duke of Brandenburg didn’t need to look back to know that Rabbit Head wasn’t in a good mood. Rather than being oblivious to social cues—which wasn’t an option for the Dwight family—he was probably doing it on purpose.
Ever since their bizarre encounter with the Lamp Bearers, he noticed a subtle and delicate shift in the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s perpetually unflappable demeanor. His emotional changes became more direct, more outward, more controllable, albeit only slightly.
So, the mischievously inclined Duke developed a new game: trying various methods to make that furry façade crumble—whether through fear, worry, or anger.
But this guy was more tolerant than he expected. While he anticipated that the shopkeeper would agree to bathe him, provoking him with grandiose talk clearly wasn’t effective.
But it didn’t matter. It was still enough to amuse the Duke.
As long as Dwight kept quiet, his presence was a picture that was hard to look away from.
His normally well-kept light golden hair had grown a bit longer and hung in a more compliant manner when wet.
Charlie hooked a finger around a crystal bottle, expertly pouring out the powder within and mixing it with fragrant oil before applying it to the hair, starting to knead it in.
Regardless of his inner thoughts, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s movements were as gentle as ever. He seemed to have a knack for massaging the scalp. The way his knuckles pressed brought a pleasurable sensation that traveled from Dwight’s spine up to the top of his head, almost raising goosebumps.
The Duke opened his eyes, and the fuzzy reflection of that Rabbit Head in the stained-glass window opposite the bathtub was impressively proficient.
Dwight couldn’t help but recall how every woman who the rabbit-headed shopkeeper had struck up a conversation with since their time in Maplewood and now in this inn had ended up giggling endlessly, and he snorted softly through his nose.
Charlie found the Duke’s behavior utterly baffling but maintained a polite and puzzled demeanor.
“Well done,” Dwight unexpectedly praised him. “Is the popularity of your general store among women due to these skills?”
Across the continents, leveraging charm and tact in business wasn’t uncommon, but that didn’t mean there was less disdain for these methods.
22 Paulownia Street certainly didn’t gain its reputation by pleasing women, but with just a few inches of rabbit fur on his head, other than getting enough practice on women’s long hair, the Duke couldn’t think of any other possibility.
“Ah, that’s not it,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper cheerfully replied. “My neighbor, Mr. Fran, has several long-haired dogs. I help him bathe them when he’s too busy.”
The Duke refused to speak to him until lunchtime the next day.
Charlie wasn’t particularly bothered by the lack of conversation. After all, apart from mockery and orders, only someone suffering from Stockholm syndrome like Shivers would enjoy their interactions.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper asked for several newspapers and a cup of strong tea from the innkeeper, sitting alone in his room to reassess his situation and plan.
While carefree farmers and pampered nobles might live each day untroubled, for those who must carefully navigate a path through hidden traps, maintaining a clear head and avoiding every possible mistake was key to survival.
Charlie wasn’t overly concerned about Columbus’ whereabouts, as strictly speaking, this was Columbus’ homeland.
Although Columbus’ naturally cheerful and lively demeanor sometimes made the tin soldier seem a bit reckless, after so many years living together with the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, he wasn’t short on wits or experience. As long as he was unimpeded, years of tacit understanding would enable them to find each other.
In contrast, the disappearance of Elena was more troubling to the rabbit-headed shopkeeper. The curse on Columbus was increasingly hard to suppress, which didn’t mean that the witch’s power had suddenly grown stronger; rather, the strength of the curse was gradually weakening over time.
However, a weakening curse didn’t mean it would disappear. The little tin soldier seemed like a vessel for a soul created in violation of natural laws, and his body kept him from sickness and injury, even granting him additional life. The curse’s power was the adhesive holding it all together.
But just like living beings, artificial creations also had a lifespan, and when the glue holding the parts together began to fail, the vessel would crumble and collapse.
Even at this point, the shopkeeper hadn’t found a good solution to this problem.
Not to mention whether Elena’s hatred for him had slightly dissipated enough to cooperate, what if Elena suddenly had a change of heart and became utterly loyal to Charlie? Would that be enough to break the curse? No god could conjure a new body for Columbus out of thin air.
Reinforcing or improving the existing curse? Charlie could manage that on his own. Otherwise, Columbus wouldn’t have been able to live safely in Pennigra for so many years without the witch’s influence. But if the foundation was already shaky, reinforcing it would only be a temporary fix.
Fixing it himself or having Elena do it would only extend the collapse from three months to six months. Charlie absentmindedly played with his teacup, the deep sense of exhaustion making him sigh heavily.
Leaving Pennigra to come to Doran was extremely dangerous for him, and Columbus knew this, which made him feel guilty. Charlie decided to clear his mind of these thoughts and switch to his employer’s perspective, trying to piece together the clues from this journey.
The Mokwen royal family was more chaotic than he expected. The fact that the King and the Earl’s families were at odds was practically written on the city walls, and one of the main players was Duke Dwight’s sister. If he didn’t grasp the inside story, it was unlikely that the headstrong lord would plan on returning home.
But aimlessly waiting around wasn’t the Duke’s style. Even with his identity carefully concealed, staying one more day meant more danger. A competent leader wouldn’t carelessly put himself at risk, so Dwight must have other plans and contingencies, but he wouldn’t confide them in Charlie. This was understandable. Charlie also kept things from him. This mutually beneficial yet uncomfortable arrangement was as convenient as it was irritating.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper sighed deeply again.
He had left Doran for a long time, taking care not to leave any traces for safety reasons. If he wanted to avoid disturbing old friends and act independently, ample funds were crucial.
Aside from that, reliable and discreet information wasn’t cheap anywhere. If their lovable little Cici were with them, perhaps they could rely on the Fox family, but the Fox family wasn’t foolish enough to let someone so naive run around in a dangerous place like this, so they had to deal with the more cunning and three-gutted Yitzfa.
Someone like him could only be handled by a wealthy and unflinching Duke like Dwight. Charlie’s years of running a business had brought some stability, but he couldn’t freely use money as Dwight did.
He refocused on the Mokwen royal family.
The bizarre death of a woman in the King’s bedroom, the murder Eugene encountered in the alley, the maid at Thorn Manor, and—different local tabloid reports. Charlie’s big, round rabbit eyes stared at the now-cold teacup, deep in thought.
This clearly wasn’t right. In tumultuous times, death often loomed in the shadows, but the events they encountered still seemed abnormal, with a high frequency of women—especially young women—meeting tragic ends.
Both women and children, whether in times of peace or war, were valuable population resources. From households and villages to entire kingdoms and alliances, they were protected from conflict and warfare.
So, this unusually frequent and wide-ranging death of women felt like a coal chunk in a bowl of sugar, glaringly out of place…
No, something’s off! Charlie sat up straight.
Because Doran didn’t have the strong empire alliance like Pennigra, news between its various kingdoms and regions was closed off and difficult to flow. Given their lack of legal status and specific objectives, traversing multiple locations in a short time, most common mercenary groups and bandits wouldn’t notice the small local newspapers or tabloid scandals.
This indicated that nothing was a coincidence or an accident but was simply not yet noticed! But why? The dead women were either prostitutes or rural farm girls, with the common trait of low status, and all quite young. The King’s mistress was pregnant, but the Mokwen royal family was so large and complex that even replacing a Queen wouldn’t allow a low-born, illegitimate child to ascend the throne.
Charlie rubbed his face, trying to uncover the source of his uneasiness.
The brutal murder Eugene witnessed, with a mutilated body, symbolized pregnancy in a disturbing way… Could all those women have an overt or covert connection to pregnancy?
The young maids recruited by Thorn Manor were also of childbearing age… Thinking of the carriage dragging body bags through the woods, Charlie unconsciously tightened his grip on his pen.
“So, they were chased so desperately, not just because they eloped?”
The little tin soldier, riding on the back of an old goat, interjected, “No! Because they stumbled upon an even more sinister secret!”
He then became worried. “Emily is strong, but Tom really cries a lot. Are they okay? They will be okay, right?”
“I gave them enough money to leave the country,” said the boy with a baby face, grumbling. “Thinking about it now, it was kind of impulsive… Do you really have a way to find your boss?”
Columbus looked at him. “No. So you should go.”
“Hey! I helped you guys get rid of that group of farmers, and even contributed a lot of money—” the boy shouted. “Otherwise, just with you, a few sheep, and dogs, could you have beaten those people?”
Columbus immediately fell silent.
“Anyway, you owe me money.” The boy poked the little tin soldier’s head with his finger. “Don’t think of ditching me before you pay me. By the way, what is this evil secret you mentioned?”
At this, Columbus became animated. “That manor—where Emily escaped from—its owner is dabbling in black magic!”
The boy: “……”
“Pfft,” he scoffed. “I thought it was something earth-shattering. What’s so strange about black magic?”
Black magic was strictly forbidden on any continent in a broad sense, but it also varied by degree. Using items like black cats, crows, and the souls of the dead was black magic, as was using dead bodies, blood sacrifices, or even names to communicate with hidden beings. But even witches, who were shunned by most, rarely dared to openly declare their study of the latter.
The difference was, the former was merely ominous, while the latter was purely evil. Either way, both were officially banned, especially in nations protected by the church, where people of status, even nobles, weren’t allowed to engage in or even discuss the dark arts.
That said, thoughts were always the hardest thing to control and scrutinize, so people had secretly used black magic to fulfill their desires since ancient times, including some from the nobility, despite all prohibitions.
The owner of Thorn Manor, although not a noble, owned land and property, and was considered wealthy in the kingdom without other assets.
It wasn’t surprising that such people turn to black magic. When wealth accumulated to a certain level, they instinctively sought a change in class and status, something that couldn’t be achieved by effort alone in conservative and closed countries. Even if one could rise from the bottom to immense wealth, it would be difficult to gain even the title of Baron.
Marrying into a declining noble family was one way, but even if successful, it brought empty prestige, hardly accepted by the mainstream nobility—like buying loneliness. Even the lowest servants would feel that purchased titles were fundamentally different from inherent nobility.
These desires, hard to fulfill by normal means, could potentially be met through the evil of black magic, which excelled in seduction. If one could hypnotize those in power, not only titles but also status and wealth, and in the future, any wants could be effortlessly gained. In fact, every century had rumors of a family rising improperly. These rumors attracted all sorts of people, like moths to a flame, all desperately striving for more.
“That kind of black magic is particularly evil,” Columbus said in a low voice. “Emily said, there are many terrible rumors about Thorn Manor, half of which are true.”
Especially in recent years, more and more people had disappeared from the mansion, but oddly, there was always a new supply of young and healthy girls. This horrific cycle, though not openly discussed, always left traces that couldn’t be completely hidden.
Because of this, the mansion rarely recruited girls from the estate, as these were serfs who had served the master’s family for generations. Though they had no right to refuse or resist, the gaps they left weren’t easily filled, so almost all who disappeared were “outsiders.”
A few capable people from the estate were assigned to work around the manor and would hint to their families not to discuss or pry into matters occurring there.
Emily was also of serf origin, but for some reason, was promoted to work inside the manor this year.
Her brother disapproved, but her father, hoping against hope, believed that girls from the manor were different from “outsiders”, thinking Emily was just there to work and might not encounter anything bad—after all, they had no room to refuse.
Emily, a determined girl, knew she couldn’t change her fate but also refused to sit idly by.
The people at the manor probably didn’t expect someone who came from the estate like Emily to think this way, and indeed, she secretly discovered the fact that the manor’s master and his wife were using young girls for some evil ritual. However, her actions raised suspicions, and the decisive girl, before the master could take measures against her, eloped with her fiancé, who had gathered the courage to come for her—both having grown up in the estate, they stumbled upon Columbus hanging in the middle of a tree stump during their chaotic escape and encountered the orchard incident, almost running into a dead end but unexpectedly meeting the real fruit thief with a baby face.
The baby-faced, but shrewd thief, thinking the farmer was after him, knocked out a bunch unwittingly, and they managed to escape, later realizing he was the one accidentally involved.
But since he had already beaten them and was impressed by Emily and Tom’s courageous spirit for love, he generously provided travel funds for the young lovers (charging it to Columbus’ account).
“Using young girls for magical rituals, is this a pursuit of eternal life or youth?” The baby-faced boy pondered, stroking his chin. “Some lunatics believe that the blood of young girls is the key to reversing aging. Is that manor owner very old? That said, where do they find so many girls to harm? It’s just a private manor, not a lawless zone, so many free citizens disappearing should raise suspicions.”
Columbus said, “Emily said those girls entered the manor under the guise of employment.” But given the scale of Thorn Manor, it wouldn’t need so many young female servants annually. This one-way pattern was highly unusual. Even the serfs tied to the estate could easily spot the anomaly.
The baby-faced boy’s expression became serious. “If that’s the case, then it’s very likely the lord of the manor has ties to human traffickers. For manor serfs like Emily, they can kill many without being convicted, but it’s entirely different with free citizens. They’d rather risk this to lure girls from outside, indicating the girls from the manor are far from meeting their anticipated consumption.” The baby-faced boy thought for a moment. “It’s theoretically possible to buy new female slaves from outside, but the costs of employment contracts and outright slave purchase are worlds apart. Regardless of the reasons, this behavior only shows one thing: they need a lot of girls. But what kind of channel could continuously ‘supply’ this manor?”
“I asked Emily. Charlie has never been to Thorn Manor.” Columbus hadn’t thought so deeply. The little tin soldier dispiritedly said, “Charlie is the smartest person in the world. He would definitely figure out what’s going on.”
“Your boss’ name is Charlie? That’s a pretty common name.”
“How nice is your name?” Columbus retorted unhappily.
The baby-faced boy puffed out his chest. “I’m called Shiloh. In my homeland… it means ‘gem’!”
“Weird name.” The little tin soldier turned away.
“It’s the name my master gave me. What’s weird about it? Columbus is a weird name, if you ask me. Your boss must be odd to give you such a name!” The baby-faced boy was also displeased.
“Don’t you say bad things about Charlie!” Columbus got angry. “He has a great personality! He’s the most popular person in town!”
“Come on, my master is the best person in the world! The best looking! The strongest swordsman! The smartest brain!”
“Charlie is the best! The best looking! Knows a lot of magic! Defeated many big bad guys! Has read a lot of books! There’s nothing he can’t handle!”
The two bickered like roosters for a while, then suddenly both became depressed.
“My master hates traveling and the outdoors. This kind of backwater lacks everything—there are no maids or servants following us. He must be so uncomfortable.” Shiloh’s usually buoyant, curly hair drooped down, mirroring his master’s dispirited expression.
“Charlie didn’t have to travel this far. It’s all because of me that he took the risk… It’s so hard,” Columbus said softly. “Haa, and now he’s lost. I don’t know when we’ll find him.”
“This godforsaken place is too poor,” Shiloh said dissatisfiedly, swatting away a branch blocking the path. “We’ve walked so long and haven’t found a decent town. If it weren’t for the lack of people, I wouldn’t have been hungry enough to pick fruit to eat, which wasn’t even ripe, and got into a ridiculous fight, and now I’m even hungrier. Tin men are better off. They don’t need to eat.”
Columbus immediately countered, “I am a tin soldier! Not a tin man! Although I don’t need to eat, I still need maintenance. If I don’t get oiled soon, I won’t even be able to turn my neck.”
The old goat he was riding bleated in agreement.
Under the curse’s effect, Columbus’s mobility was increasingly stiff, requiring frequent oiling of his joints by the rabbit-headed shopkeeper. Since being washed into the river, his condition had worsened, necessitating the help of the old goat for prolonged movement.
“I hope Charlie is okay. My oil better not have been washed away by the river,” Columbus fretted. “I have a feeling I’m not far from my homeland, and if I find Balda, I can’t meet my little sister looking like this.” He had to be repainted and polished, shiny and bright, for the meeting—his memories were often blurred, and he couldn’t even remember Balda’s age anymore.
Charlie always said time changes people beyond recognition, but Columbus knew, whether Balda had grown into a diligent housewife or turned into a white-haired grandmother, he would recognize his sister at first glance. Ah, after so many years, she probably had married and had children by now. He wondered if her children would be happy to see him…
Shiloh sighed maturely. “It doesn’t matter to me. I just hope my master is doing well. Alas, with his noble status, he’s not meant to be sleeping outdoors. Maybe he doesn’t even have a place to stay or food, traveling in hunger and cold…” The more he spoke, the more horrified he felt, making his teeth begin to chatter.
Dwight looked out the window, where the last bit of the sunset’s afterglow barely clung to the sky. This city on the southwest side of the Mokwen Kingdom was indeed bustling, but it still couldn’t compare to the capital. Even the prevalence of streetlamps was far less than in Syriacochi, and the lights were turned on later. Right now, the outside was dimly lit, making the indoors seem all the warmer and brighter.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper carefully examined two differently colored handmade soaps, then, catching the Duke’s thoughtful gaze, he coughed. “Are you satisfied with this incense?”
Dwight withdrew his gaze, glanced around at the changes of incense, the smooth bathtub, the just-right water temperature, a cup of the finest apple wine the inn could offer, and—
“It’s fine.” He suppressed the sudden strange feeling that had welled up inside him, leaned back comfortably, and said nonchalantly, “You can start.”
At the airport, Yu Ruoyun’s assistant Xiao Qi approached him to take his documents for check-in and to retrieve his boarding pass. While standing there waiting, Yu Ruoyun started to remember a few things.
For instance, when Xiao Qi first started working, Yu Ruoyun wasn’t quite used to it and often said he could handle things himself. But Xiao Qi would insist, saying she was being paid to do these tasks and that Yu Ruoyun shouldn’t decline her help.
“When I worked with Jiang Yu, there were even more things to do,” Xiao Qi said. “I’ve been well trained, so don’t hesitate to ask me for help.”
At the mention of Jiang Yu, Yu Ruoyun hadn’t even responded before Xiao Qi’s mood turned somber.
“The day before he left, he asked me to organize and send him the schedule for the upcoming month. I was supposed to give it to him that day, but I was having a breakup with my boyfriend and delayed it. He scolded me, saying, ‘Do you want to be an assistant all your life, running errands, or do you want to be abandoned by a man and cry at home? Block him and come back to work now.’ He always scolded me, but I thought he would always be my boss.”
“Did you and your boyfriend get back together?” Yu Ruoyun asked.
“We did,” Xiao Qi replied. “He promised never to fight with me again.”
It sounded like a happy ending. Yu Ruoyun said, “Don’t believe him. Blocking your boyfriend at every turn isn’t a good habit.”
It sounded like he was speaking from experience.
Later, Yu Ruoyun eventually got used to letting Xiao Qi handle some of the trivial matters because Jiang Yu had done the same. The difference was that Jiang Yu was much busier. For Jiang Yu, fame was a hard battle. At his busiest, he took on three films a year, working non-stop. If he had to manage his tickets, meals, and medication, it would have been exhausting.
“Teacher Yu,” Xiao Qi called. “It’s done. You can board now.”
In addition to the in-flight meals, the flight attendants offered a glass of white wine to the first-class passengers, saying they could refill it if needed. Yu Ruoyun rarely drank, but today he accepted. As the plane cruised through the clouds, his wine glass gradually emptied. Yu Ruoyun called a flight attendant to refill his glass.
As his nerves dulled and sleepiness washed over him, he realized he wouldn’t act drunk and disorderly like Jiang Yu. But maybe Jiang Yu had just pretended to be drunk, glaring with reddened, wet eyes, saying, “You’re annoying. Get away from me!” But if Yu Ruoyun stepped back, Jiang Yu would cling to him, biting his neck. The smell of alcohol and heat didn’t bother Yu Ruoyun. He would hold Jiang Yu in return.
Memories of Jiang Yu were like glass that Yu Ruoyun had accidentally broken. Every time he picked up a piece, he didn’t know which parts he was picking up, and he’d get cut, but he couldn’t stop.
Thus, Long Xingyu found a slightly drunk Yu Ruoyun when he returned, who went straight to the hotel to sleep upon arriving at the set.
“Let me carry the luggage.” Long Xingyu told Xiao Qi, taking the suitcase from her. “It’s heavy. Give me the room card, and I’ll help him upstairs.”
Xiao Qi stood there, holding onto one of Yu Ruoyun’s arms and refusing to move.
Long Xingyu had to stop. “What’s wrong?”
“Teacher Yu will never like you,” Xiao Qi said.
She had only been back for a few days and already heard the rumors going around the set.
Long Xingyu sighed. The old Qi Yiren had never called him Teacher Jiang.
“I know. So don’t worry. I’m going to drag him upstairs now, rape him first, then kill him, then I’ll stuff him into a black garbage bag and dispose of the body where no one will find it,” Long Xingyu said. “What are you afraid of? What can I possibly do to him?”
Xiao Qi thought about it and let go.
Long Xingyu snorted. “You look sleep-deprived and exhausted. I’m just trying to help you out.”
Yu Ruoyun wasn’t asleep. He was still conscious with his eyes open, but it looked sluggish. When the elevator doors closed, Yu Ruoyun said, “He threatened me like this too.”
Long Xingyu knew exactly who “he” referred to.
“He liked to talk tough,” Yu Ruoyun said. “But at most, he could only leave two types of marks: bite marks and scratches.”
The conversation took a lewd turn, but the content mocked Jiang Yu’s lack of prowess.
Long Xingyu felt displeased. “Stop talking.”
“I want to talk.” Yu Ruoyun became a bit obstinate.
“If you keep nattering on about Jiang Yu, I’ll strangle you,” Long Xingyu threatened the drunkard.
Yu Ruoyun laughed. “You’re nineteen this year. If Jiang Yu had started dating in middle school and had a child, he’d be about your age.”
Long Xingyu nearly lost it. Why did Yu Ruoyun keep questioning Jiang Yu’s sexual orientation, even after his death, forcibly making him straight?
“Why else would you two be so alike?” Yu Ruoyun asked.
Long Xingyu refused to admit it. “How are we alike? I have a much better temper than he did.”
This was true. If Yu Ruoyun had asked before if he had a child with a woman, Long Xingyu might have really disposed of his body.
The elevator door opened. Long Xingyu dragged the suitcase and Yu Ruoyun, swiped the room card, and opened the door. He dumped Yu Ruoyun onto the bed and began to unbutton his shirt.
But Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t shut up. Maybe he really wanted Long Xingyu to strangle him. “But your bad temper makes you most like him.”
“Not bad tempered. He wasn’t bad-tempered at all,” Yu Ruoyun corrected himself. He yawned, seeming finally tired. “I should have told him earlier.”
Told him what? Long Xingyu didn’t know, because Yu Ruoyun had fallen asleep. When Long Xingyu wanted him to shut up, he wouldn’t. When Long Xingyu wanted him to talk, he stayed silent. The buttons on Yu Ruoyun’s shirt felt like red-hot stones, but Long Xingyu wouldn’t let go.
He had realized it but refused to believe it. To him, Jiang Yu was a career failure who never won awards, known for his temper, and had a strained relationship with his family. Jiang Yu had persistently pursued Yu Ruoyun for years. Of course, Yu Ruoyun would quickly forget him and start a new life with someone else.
So waking up as another person, Long Xingyu wanted to start over, to become Long Xingyu. He even thought, maybe when Yu Ruoyun remembered what Jiang Yu was like, he wouldn’t be so hung up over him anymore, because Jiang Yu wasn’t worth it.
Yu Ruoyun’s love suddenly dropped in front of him with a thud, like the Lifetime Achievement Award that was too big for him.
Before leaving the Dragon’s Lair, Dorothy made a special appointment to meet with Nol and her group.
Amazon’s project at the Dragon’s Lair had already begun. The Players diligently cultivated the mountain peak, turning the desolate, rocky summit into a small town with a rocky theme. It must be said, the Players’ abilities were frighteningly strong; by the time Nol climbed the mountain, they had already chiseled the steps into proper shape.
The barren land was filled with flame scale fruit trees, and bushes grew vigorously under the guidance of spellcasters. In addition to common vegetables, some fodder crops had already started to grow. A flock of fat chickens strutted through the vegetable fields, making the mysterious Dragon’s Lair seem not so… erm, mysterious.
Dorothy prepared fresh mint tea for them, along with freshly baked sweet potatoes.
“There’s something I must inform you all about as soon as possible,” she said with a worried look, pushing forward a stack of documents. “This is something Miss Lynn asked me to investigate, and I’ve looked into it.”
“It’s the magic that summoned Nol to the vicinity of the Claw Scar Mountains,” Lynn said quietly. “Remember? ‘Wanted By Fate’ as that old fox said.”
“I remember your job was to interrogate Barto.” Teest, realizing it was serious business, didn’t joke.
“Barto’s head is emptier than a frequent urinator’s bladder,” Lynn scorned. “He only knew it was ‘commissioned by the higher-ups’, and almost nothing else—the magic was also accidentally triggered by his own careless hands. Rather than his side of the story, I’m more concerned about this.”
She snapped her fingers, and a smoky gray eyeball floated in mid-air. It now looked fresh and intact, as if it had just been gouged out of someone’s eye socket.
“I’ve restored the material used for the ‘Seeking Core’. It’s someone’s eye. This eye has seen Nol, without a doubt.”
Nol and Teest exchanged glances, finding the same judgment in each other’s gaze.
The eye of Golden Sword Enbillick Alva.
Not long ago, in the Claw Scars Mountains, Golden Sword forcibly joined their team, indeed witnessing “Teesti” and “Noli” dressed as nuns. Golden Sword himself may not have recognized Nol’s disguise, but for black magic with absolute effect, this level of eyewitness was enough.
“The interesting part is here.”
Dorothy curled her knuckles, tapping on the document in front of her. “Officially, it’s ‘goods consigned by a member of Amazon’, but in reality, no one within Amazon ordered such a thing.”
“The recipient of the goods itself was also conveniently blurred. Barto’s job was more like simply bringing it here and activating it.”
“Golden Sword’s Alva Merchant Group~ The Alva Merchant Group that delivered the goods,” Teest sang out. “Isn’t it a bit too obvious?”
“But we have no other choice,” Nol said.
Leading him to the vicinity of the Claw Scar Mountains and manipulating the quest, it was definitely Star Stealer Sol’s doing. “The Alva Merchant Group” was currently their biggest clue and the only clear one.
Dorothy: “That’s all I can confirm. By the way, I’ve already sent out the introduction letter to ‘Mentor’. According to that person’s character, he should visit the Lost Tower.”
Lynn pressed her temples hard. “I’ve got to go tell Uncle Ma and the others…”
“Oh, I think there’s no need to bother.” Dorothy shrugged. “As long as they ensure their own safety, Mentor can enter any place he wishes.”
Nol was still thinking about the Alva Merchant Group. From the beginning, this impressive conglomerate had a very strong presence. Merchants always had the fastest news, and Star Stealer Sol inserting spies among them was quite natural. Now, he was more curious about the current situation of Golden Sword Enbillick Alva.
The “Wanted by Fate” was undoubtedly a black magic artifact. Golden Sword’s eye being used as a material for black magic certainly couldn’t be simply restored.
Perhaps finding Golden Sword could provide a faster entry into the matter. On the other hand, Golden Sword himself might be Star Stealer Sol’s spy…
“We’ll return to the Lost Tower,” Nol concluded.
He was actually the one with the most urgent situation, but unfortunately, this matter absolutely couldn’t be rushed.
Dorothy nodded, indicating she understood. “If there’s new information, I’ll contact you through the Dragon’s Lair.”
“You’ll have a nice room in Lost Tower, Perradat.” Nol turned to Lilith. “But until we get Star Stealer Sol’s flesh, Lilith can’t go anywhere. How about that?”
Teest clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Truth be told, Nol also didn’t want Perradat to come into contact with the Lost Tower.
However, since this guy was using Lilith’s body, they couldn’t just leave Lilith herself outside—not to mention the safety issues, Kando, the “Knight of Fate”, once uncooperative, would greatly limit their actions.
Lilith, tilting her head, listened for a while. “She requests clean honey water, fruit juice, or sweet wine, preferably with fresh meat, white bread, and fruits. Also, a single room. The bedding must be clean. Can’t sleep on mud or straw. If you can provide these, She has no objections.”
Nol: “……”
Nol: “No problem.”
How to put this… This was basically the standard living of their neighbors. The last time he went back, the most troublesome neighbors were already developing carbonated drinks and ice cream.
For a second, he even felt a bit of sympathy for Perradat.
Two hours later, he really started feeling sympathy for Perradat.
Lilith—accurately, the Perradat version of blue-eyed Lilith—stood dumbfounded in front of the grand hall of the Lost Tower. She looked at the floor of the grand hall, which could reflect one’s image, and the neighbors coming in and out of the cafeteria, holding food, tears streaming down her face.
This contender for the divine throne cried as soon as she said she would, startling Nol.
“Star Stealer Sol has two religions worshiping him.” Perradat sniffled. “You’ve only just awakened for a bit and… sob… It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed such prosperity…”
“You’re indeed the most miserable,” Teest empathetically concluded.
“Having food, drink, and a head—these aren’t any superior conditions. Poor guy.” Up to now, there were four False Gods qualified to compete for the divine throne. Nol and himself definitely counted as bound. Looking at Perradat and Star Stealer Sol, indeed, only this “God of Fate” was the most miserable.
“Noli! Teesti!”
Knight Saint Bernard, holding his ball, ran over. The good knight had gained weight, and his fur had become fluffy and clean. He no longer had the smell of armor and sheep but rather the fresh scent of soap.
“Good knight.” Nol petted the head of Saint Bernard, who lowered it. “How are you all adapting?”
“The sheep are producing milk!” Saint Bernard joyfully said. “The village chief really likes it here, but he just won’t properly admit it. Hehe, everyone loves the sheep milk. Soon we’ll be able to sell cheese and mutton—by the way, these are the freshest apples I’ve ever eaten!”
The Border Collie village chief was old and didn’t like to move much. This good knight had essentially become the representative of the Sheepskin Ball Village. His tail was wagging so fast behind him, it almost left afterimages. “Others are also very good. They’re willing to pet our heads for free, astonishingly.”
He whispered mysteriously, “A while ago, the village chief said, he’s now only in charge of the sheep trade. The surrounding patrol matters can be left to Mr. Rosen.”
This was a complete acceptance of the Lost Tower, Nol thought. Officer Luo, having transmigrated to another world and been promoted to Knight Commander of the dog-headed beastmen, still had a police dog squad upon returning.
Judging by Officer Luo’s wide smile, he clearly loved this job.
As last time he was here, the tower became warmer and livelier, like an endless night market. The neighbors’ spirits were increasingly better. Most could smile and greet others.
The excited to tears Lilith—Perradat—or both, were led by Lynn towards the dormitory area. Nol believed Lynn wouldn’t make a mistake in this matter. The Supreme Domination Witch would definitely arrange a very suitable room.
The two tower masters stopped on the second floor.
Teest grabbed a plate of roasted lamb legs, eating attentively.
Nol, propping his chin, quietly watched the happy neighbors, enjoying this brief peace. Thank God, this time, no bothersome voices drilled into Nol’s head.
However, he did encounter one—no, a bothersome creature. From the highest point of the stone sculpture came the flapping of wings. The harpy Granny Meng turned towards Nol, the eyes on that human face protruding high.
“You’ve deceived everyone, but you can’t deceive me. You can’t deceive me, hee hee.” The old lady’s claws left several white marks on the stone sculpture. “Monster, monster, monster.”
Nol watched her somewhat sentimentally. “Maybe.”
People’s acceptance could really be worked out. Facing this mentally abnormal elderly woman, Nol wasn’t only unafraid but even felt that the old woman made some sense. He was certain that, no matter what, Granny Meng wasn’t crazier than himself.
Teest was choked by his calmness, unsure whether to be surprised or to laugh.
“Miss, do you remember anything else?” Nol continued to ask good-naturedly, in a very humble tone. “Aside from me peeping at you, me not installing curtains, me killing everyone, is there anything else? Anything is fine.”
Granny Meng was startled by his honesty for a half second, her face turning from ninety degrees left to ninety degrees right.
After a long look that yielded no results, she muttered a few words, then raised her voice again. “You never come downstairs. You don’t take out the trash! You’ve filled up your room, always pressing against the glass. Your house is too small! Too small!”
“Such big eyes, sliding against the glass, all slippery and dirty!”
“Oh, you know.” Teest swallowed the meat in his mouth. “At this point, I suddenly feel her description might actually be true, at least to some extent. I mean, aside from the ‘dirty’ part.”
His Nol might have been many things, but the possibility that “Nol is a regular, law-abiding person” was definitely not one of them.
Nol just quietly listened.
His knowledge seal was still in slumber, but Granny Meng’s description no longer gave him that eerie sense of discord, but rather seemed quite natural, as if things should be that way.
He wasn’t only unafraid but actually felt reassured.
“Do you remember when I moved in? I seem to stand out.” After the old lady finished muttering, the good neighbor Nol continued to inquire.
“I don’t remember.” Granny Meng’s voice was hoarse, revealing a somewhat low mood. “Suddenly there was. Suddenly there was. I say it’s not right, but no one listens… No one listens. My daughter even wanted to send me to the hospital…”
At this point, her tone became harsh again. “This time there’s a policeman. They’ll take you away! Hee hee.”
“Do you really not remember?” Nol asked gently. “I’m so big, I definitely couldn’t take the elevator, and climbing stairs would be very difficult. You’re always downstairs. You must have seen something.”
For the first time, Granny Meng looked doubtful—no outsider had ever talked to her so smoothly. Perhaps they should go to the hospital together. This thought popped into her muddled mind.
But having someone talk to her for so long, even if it was a monster, moved her a little.
“The situation of ‘Xu Yue’ moving in. ‘Xu Yue’ moving in…”
“Star, no.” She pondered. “At night, the stars above were missing a large piece… Something’s blocking. You’re blocking?”
Nol was so composed that she spoke uncertainly, even forgetting to cackle.
“Not all bad things are done by me.” Nol’s smile remained. “Anyway, thank you for your help.”
With that, he took some of Teest’s untouched lamb and shared it with the elderly woman on the magical plate.
After all this, Nol returned to his posture of propping his chin, gazing down at the happy neighbors.
“You seem very calm.” Teest clicked his tongue in disbelief, even forgetting his lamb that was shared.
“Whether it was becoming a monster or the instability of the knowledge seal, I never harmed you guys intentionally. These are all things you’ve proven for me, Teest.”
Nol looked towards his cheerful neighbors. “So, rather than being suspicious, I prefer to believe that there was a compelling reason behind ‘me killing everyone’ in the past—even if I was a monster, I’d be a good one. At least for now, let me think that way.”
How interesting. Along the way, the more he walked, the crazier and yet more calm he became.
Even his last fear, the fear of controlling those he loved, was diluted by his mad lover—
“Believe me, you’re the best monster.”
Teest casually poured a glass of water, symbolically raising his glass. “As a witness, I definitely have the right to say this.”
Nol flicked his fingers, and silver cups with clear water appeared out of thin air. He was getting more proficient with the skill [Creator].
“You too.” Nol raised his cup, clinking it with Teest’s.
…
Painter was walking through the Black Forest.
The order to gather the Drifting Mercenary Group had been sent out, and he needed to head to the Lost Tower first to discuss terms with the person in charge there. Although he knew Nol wouldn’t really refuse him, the necessary politeness was still needed.
Paradise was quite generous. The reward for the last quest was quite substantial. Painter indulged himself a bit—he got a decent bottle of wine from the General, fresh white bread, and properly cured salt beef. Even though their flavors couldn’t compare to Paradise’s products, they were delicious enough for him.
They cost him two silver hooks!
Humming a tune, Painter stepped over the thick fallen leaves of the Black Forest. For the average adventurer, this forest was full of dangers, but for the former Pope, the outer ring of the Black Forest was almost like his own backyard.
No, maybe the Black Forest’s outer ring was better. Biting into bread with salted butter, Painter had no home, let alone a backyard—at least the Black Forest still existed.
He should reach the Lost Tower before dinner, likely to find delicious soup. Recently, the dog-headed beastmen moved in, so it was probably going to be warm mutton soup.
The weather hadn’t warmed up yet. He needed this, preferably with plenty of pepper…
Painter suddenly stopped, sniffing the air.
The smell of blood.
Specifically, the stench of corrupted human blood with a filthy curse.
Judging from the scent, the owner of the blood should still be alive. But without timely intervention, this unfortunate soul wouldn’t last much longer. Painter swiftly packed up his unfinished bread and ran towards the source of the blood scent.
The closer he got, the more evident the magical fluctuations became. Painter frowned. Waiting for him ahead seemed to be an old acquaintance.
Indeed.
Seconds later, he found the unfortunate soul in a melted snow patch—Golden Sword Enbillick Alva lay in the snow, surrounded by shattered gemstone artifacts. One of his eye sockets was empty, emitting a sweet, rotten smell.
The famous Golden Sword’s cheeks were hollow. His breathing was rapid and turned into thick white mist. From several meters away, Painter could feel the heat. Billy was undoubtedly feverish, and left alone like this, he was bound to die tonight.
Painter sighed.
He snapped his fingers, and the surrounding snow melted quickly. The mud beneath Billy turned green. The wet and cold ground rapidly transformed into a soft lawn. A light green magical barrier rose, warming the air inside.
Painter stopped next to Billy, mixing healing potions with sugar and heating them with the wine. Then he lifted Billy’s head and neck, slowly feeding him the warm and sweet wine.
During this process, he nearly stumbled from the curse emanating from Billy. Fortunately, he wasn’t intending to deal with it for now and just wanted to suppress this deadly fever.
Billy coughed a few times from the wine, slowly opening his eyes. His remaining smoky gray right eye was somewhat cloudy, filled with bloodshot.
“Godfrey.” He smiled weakly. “God, if this is my deathbed illusion, can I get a different one?”
“Call me Painter, sir. Your statement is saddening. It seems our relationship isn’t there yet.” Painter grinned.
“The famous Golden Sword, how did you fall so low as to be without even a healing artifact?”
Billy closed his eyes, gulping down the remaining wine. He wiped his mouth harshly; his lips were still cracked and bleeding. “Naturally, I used them all up. It’s a long story. But you, my friend, what are you doing in the Black Forest?”
Painter’s eyes shifted. “You know, the Drifting Mercenary Group always has some odd tasks. I show up in all sorts of odd places.”
“Indeed.” Billy slowly sat up.
“Anyway, thank you for the wine. I think it’s enough for me to speak the truth now—unfortunately, I seem to have concocted a rather difficult curse.”
“Oh?” Painter broke off half a piece of bread, handing it to Billy.
Billy gratefully accepted the bread. “I lost some memories before. You and I both know what that means. I’ve been trying to figure out if I was tampered with. In case I was, and it affects my family…”
“Understood.” Painter pretended to be unaware. “So you’re carrying a curse?”
“No, not at all.” Billy laughed at himself. “In the process of trying to restore my memory, I lost it again, along with my left eye. Once is an accident, twice starts to get scary. As for this curse, it came when I tried to recover my memory again.”
He touched his empty eye socket. “Whoever did it, this time they were much harsher. I must find them, or I can’t return home in peace.”
“Oh.” Painter sighed. “Why didn’t you use the power of your conglomerate?”
Golden Sword was silent.
After a while, he spoke again. “It’s because I used the conglomerate’s power that I lost my eye—these days, you can’t trust anyone.”
Saying this, he chuckled lowly, his eyes filled with an indecipherable emotion.
“Even now, I don’t know if you’re a friend or foe, my friend.”
The author has something to say:
Early-stage Granny Meng: Hiss— (scaring with a ninety-degree face turn)
Mid-stage Granny Meng: Hiss— (going crazy with a ninety-degree face turn)
Current Granny Meng: …Young man, wait, you seem sicker than me.jpg
Nol: Can turn face 360 degrees √
Nol starts to communicate smoothly with a real mental patient. How much he’s grown!
This family lacks healthy sunshine (……) Teest dispersed.
After a moment, Alayne suddenly spoke up. “This is… a complete sacrifice.”
“To whom?” Bai Zhou asked.
“The Red God,” Alayne said. “People from the other world… like red. The moment Samhain arrives, the world turns upside down, and they take the opportunity to come over.”
“Are all people from the other world Red Gods?” Bai Zhou asked again.
Alayne shook her head. “No. As far as I know, they are not. There are many Red Gods… Each of them owns an inn, and all the inns are red. Hence, the owners of the red inns are called Red Gods.
“The inns are used to attract passersby. I’ve heard there are countless delicacies and endless banquets held there. Every guest who enters the inn can eat unlimited food. The other world is actually a good place, but only for the people there. For us, going to the other world means death, saying goodbye to our loved ones now…”
Inns? Unlimited food?
Bai Zhou remembered that the owner of the Tartar Inn, Tartar, had said that everyone could freely eat the meat in the seven pots at the inn’s entrance.
So he asked further, “Is Tartar related to the Red God?”
“Tartar?” Alayne blinked, then shook her head. “Oh no… Of course not. She runs a legitimate inn. The inns in the other world should be quite different from here.”
“Then back to standing night watch. What did you mean by sacrifice?” Bai Zhou said.
“Although the Red Gods run inns, providing selflessly for those from the other world, or ghosts… It seems, they are good people, but that’s only towards ghosts. They are not kind to humans. They will consume us to gain energy, to nourish those spirits.”
Alayne said. “I’ve heard our village offended a very powerful Red God. He wasn’t an ordinary visitor from the other world, who could be scared away by the Bone Fire, or by every household’s lights. That Red God is powerful, and if angered, the entire village could be destroyed.”
“Every year… that Red God consumes people from our village. 32 is his maximum demand. Exactly how many he consumes each time depends on his mood.”
“At most, he consumed all 32 people, and at least, he only ate 8. Anyway, these 32 people will be sacrifices. We use their lives in exchange for the safety of everyone else.”
Alayne suddenly paused, then looked at Bai Zhou and asked, “So… are you fast?”
“Being fast can improve the Red God’s mood and avoid death?” Bai Zhou countered.
“I’ve heard the Red God likes to play the ‘Drop the Handkerchief’ game. If someone can outrun the Red God and catch up with him, that person will be spared by the Red God. But…” Alayne said, “Who can outrun a ghost that comes and goes without a trace?”
After saying these words, Alayne looked up at Bai Zhou again.
“I’ve told you everything I know. I was practicing running for my parents, for my clan, but now… it’s your turn to answer me.”
Alayne asked him, “If you’ve had my experience, have you ever lost? Tell me, what should I do?”
As the twilight deepened, the outline of the crescent moon became clearer.
Corresponding to it were the torches around the square and the huge fire in the center.
The flames fluttered like a flag in the wind.
The central fire gradually lost its yellow hue, turning into a ghostly blue, like will-o’-wisps dancing in the night—that was the color of the Bone Fire.
Bai Zhou’s tall figure stood against such a backdrop, his expression hidden in the darkness, away from the firelight.
“I haven’t lost, and I won’t lose. Someone like me can’t afford to lose.”
After a long while, Bai Zhou spoke gravely.
“I don’t understand.” Alayne frowned. “You just said it, didn’t you? It’s not fair. Why do we have to bear such a burden from birth? Everyone is just using us. When we’re useful, they praise us. Once we lose and become useless, they discard us and even blame us…”
Bai Zhou looked at her and said, “But your mother didn’t do that, right?”
Alayne frowned and didn’t speak.
Bai Zhou continued, “As long as there are people in this village you want to protect, what you do still has meaning. You’re fighting for your mother and for yourself. My situation is the same.”
“But I’ve already lost…” Alayne said. “What should I do at a time like this?”
“This time, I will stand guard for you. You must survive. As long as you live, there’s a chance to win. Then, next, you just need to become stronger.”
“When you’re strong enough, no one can hurt you. When you’re strong enough, the father who hurt you and even the rest of the villagers will only kneel on the ground, begging for your protection. Talent may burden you, but it also brings you power.”
Alayne thought for a moment, then asked him, “Begging me? Like… like begging a god?”
“Exactly. Just like begging a god.” Bai Zhou nodded.
Alayne said, “If one day the god becomes useless to mortals, will they still beg him? If people abandon the god, would the god be disappointed? Would the god be cursed?”
Bai Zhou continued walking forward.
“When you become a god, you won’t care anymore about how so-called mortals view you.”
Watching Bai Zhou’s back, eight-year-old Alayne fell into deep thought.
—If she truly became like a god, indifferent to all mortals… would she still know how to protect her mother? Would she even forget her mother?
Suddenly feeling something, she looked down and saw a red lotus blooming in the palm of her hand.
……
On the square, Zhou Qian, after a long wait, finally managed to get two offerings for burning for himself and He Xiaowei.
The villagers were lined up to receive the offerings, then went to the side to get the meat soup for the dogs.
The voice of Innkeeper Tartar kept ringing. “I remind you to bring bowls, so don’t forget them. The iron bowls I have here aren’t enough to share with you all.”
After receiving the offerings and meat soup, the villagers began to leave one by one.
Of course, Zhou Qian didn’t leave. Besides him, the remaining players included Hidden Blade, Ke Yuxiao, Yun Xiangrong, and Yin Jiujiu. Bai Zhou had ventured off to explore the night watch line, and Qi Liuhuang, not quite at ease leaving He Xiaowei alone, had gone with him to find flammable minerals and wasn’t present either.
Eventually, even Village Chief Ab temporarily left, leaving only Tartar as the NPC who hadn’t departed. She seemed thoughtful as she looked at Zhou Qian, then scooped out two more bowls of meat from the pot.
Then Tartar said, “You don’t need to take these. There’s plenty more in the inn. It’s just… two families haven’t come to collect yet. I wonder if they haven’t found their dogs yet.”
Naturally, Tartar was referring to Tara and Brega.
Zhou Qian had managed to send them away in the game, as they were looking for extremely important dogs and hadn’t returned yet.
Speaking of which… the deserters from the Land of Silence were under three prohibitions.
Who issued these prohibitions?
Why does it seem specifically targeted at the deserters?
In an instance that clearly involves magic and undead, such prohibitions seem unusual, almost like a curse.
With a vague guess in mind but still unsure of the specifics, Zhou Qian turned to Tartar and said, “We seem to have lost our memories during our escape. Other than the fact that we come from the Land of Silence, we know nothing else.”
Tartar smiled, seemingly not understanding the purpose of Zhou Qian’s question. “So?”
“So, we’ll stay here with you, waiting for those two to return. But just waiting is so boring.” Zhou Qian smiled. “We could chat.”
Tartar threw Zhou Qian a coquettish wink. “Chat? It’s boring to chat here. Maybe you want to date me? I’m free all day tomorrow.”
Before Zhou Qian could respond, Hidden Blade, who was standing by, was taken aback—damn, the god just left, and he’s already moving on? No, as a brother, he couldn’t stand by and watch the god be cuckolded.
With a cough, Hidden Blade stepped forward. Contrary to the tumultuous waves in his heart, his face was cold and almost rigid. He said, “I’ll accompany you! How do you want to date?”
Zhou Qian looked at Hidden Blade in surprise, then back at the innkeeper. “I’m in a hurry. Can’t wait until tomorrow.”
Hidden Blade: “……”
Zhou Qian had a slightly malicious smile in his eyes. “With so much meat and soup in the inn, they’ll still be useful, right? I’m really worried my pet might knock them all over…”
The innkeeper’s expression changed. She looked at Zhou Qian with a somewhat angry gaze. “Are you threatening me?”
“Getting angry makes you age faster, which isn’t attractive. I’m not threatening you. I genuinely want to chat with you,” Zhou Qian said. “You dared to let us stay in your inn, so you must know something about us, right?
“I guess, you don’t want to say because you might want to use our background as leverage later, to make us do more work for you?”
“Don’t worry. We’re very diligent and won’t slack off.”
Seemingly hit by Zhou Qian’s guess, Tartar’s expression fluctuated for a while before she finally said, “This is Nameless Village, which belongs to the Kingdom of Words. People from the Land of Silence certainly wouldn’t dare come here.”
Hearing this, all the players present exchanged glances.
The “Silence” of the Land of Silence and the “Words” of the Kingdom of Words expressed completely opposite meanings.
Is there a story between the two?
“I learned about you from a horseman in the Land of Silence. You are deserters. He took your money and sent you through a secret channel to me. From now on, you’ll be doing manual labor for the villagers, and I’m supposed to get a cut. You’ve made an agreement with the horseman about this, so don’t think about reneging. As for why you’ve lost your memories…”
“I think it was probably the work of a powerful magician,” Tartar continued. “He’s called Liu Shui, always working for the king of the Land of Silence. The king, of course, is furious about deserters, so he would definitely send a magician to punish you.”
“The king probably wanted Liu Shui to kill you. But magic that kills brings backlash, and the conditions are very strict, especially over such a distance. It would be difficult for Liu Shui to directly kill you with magic.”
“So, I think, besides making you lose your memories, the magician also placed other restrictions on you. If you break those restrictions, you will die.”
Tartar’s words indeed answered many questions related to the players’ identities.
At the same time, the origin of the prohibitions was also explained.
The three prohibitions were set by Liu Shui for the players, or rather, the deserters.
He predicted that the deserters would be in the Nameless Village of the Kingdom of Words but couldn’t come to execute them himself. So, he placed a curse of prohibitions, hoping they would violate them and thus die, fulfilling the task given by the king.
This meant he had enough understanding of the customs of the Kingdom of Words and even Nameless Village—
Firstly, he knew that the inn’s glass would turn blue at night, and the bones the village chief asked the deserters to burn would emit blue flames, perfectly visible through the blue glass.
Secondly, he knew about the game of “Drop the Handkerchief” held here at night.
Lastly, he was aware of two villagers named Brega and Tara.
Beyond this, there were other issues.
First, of the three prohibitions related to the deserters, two were obtained by Zhou Qian in the matching center of Blue Harbor City, considered external hints.
If they ignore external hints, where in the story of the instance were the other two prohibitions hidden?
Second, in this instance, players directly saw only one prohibition related to Brega.
It was discovered when they investigated the second floor of the inn and went up to the roof, where the prohibition was inscribed on a stone tablet.
But who was responsible for this?
Likely, they were helping the deserters. But why would they help the deserters, and how did they know about the prohibitions placed by the magician Liu Shui?
Thinking this, Zhou Qian immediately took out his binoculars to look at the stone tablet, wondering if Tartar knew when it had appeared there.
But then he found—the stone tablet was gone. Where the stone tablet used to be, there was now just a wheat field.
The magician Liu Shui from the Land of Silence hadn’t succeeded, so there might still be other prohibitions to be imposed.
Perhaps there was still a chance to find this NPC, who seemed to be helping the players by alerting them to the existence of the prohibitions.
As Zhou Qian was contemplating this, he saw Ke Yuxiao approaching the innkeeper, politely asking, “I want to ask. Are the Land of Silence and the Kingdom of Words enemies? After all, magicians from there don’t dare to come here. We, who have completely betrayed the Land of Silence and are deserters, dare to come here to hide, thinking that people from the Land of Silence won’t come here looking for trouble, right?”
“Yes. They are indeed enemies now. But before… it seems these two countries had a good relationship,” Tartar said. “I’ve only been in this village for two or three years, so I’m not clear about the past. I’ve only vaguely heard that the Land of Silence once married the most beautiful girl from the Kingdom of Words.”
Ke Yuxiao quickly followed up. “Who was that girl?”
“It was a girl born in this Nameless Village. Her name was Amei. Amei, the most beautiful flower of the Kingdom of Words.”
Tartar’s gaze showed a hint of longing.
But soon, that longing turned into a sigh. “But later, she became a criminal in both the Kingdom of Words and the Land of Silence.
“Don’t ever mention this name in front of the villagers. I’ve heard they all deeply hate this woman.”
As Tartar said this, Zhou Qian heard footsteps coming from behind him. Putting away his binoculars, he turned around and saw Tara and Brega. They were hurriedly running towards the square, both looking as pale as if they hadn’t found their dogs.
Of course, they hadn’t been able to find it. Zhou Qian thought to himself—the little dragon was still playing with the dogs.
Observing them closely, Zhou Qian noticed that this man and woman weren’t young. Perhaps, then, more of the village’s stories could be learned from them.
Eugene was chewing on a stalk of grass, lying back with his legs crossed under an apple tree, lost in thought.
He and Shivers had agreed to meet here at noon, but it was already two hours past noon, and the other hadn’t shown up. The sunlight filtering through the sparse leaves was warm enough to make one sleepy, but Eugene felt no such drowsiness.
Neither of them had ventured close to that strange mansion on the hill, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t gather intelligence. Eugene, with his unscrupulous ways, had disguised himself as a starving vagrant and managed to scrounge half a jug of milk on the outskirts of the estate at the foot of the mountain. However, the peasants were much more cautious than he had anticipated. They were tight-lipped to this foreigner, even showing a peculiar wariness and scrutiny.
This was interesting. Normally, even in private estates, the lower-class farmers wouldn’t exhibit such a uniformly strange xenophobic demeanor. After all, the master’s secrets shouldn’t leak to their level unless their lives and property were threatened—the hostility Eugene sensed was inexplicable and unreasonable.
Though those people revealed nothing, their attitude was enough to infer many problems.
Eugene sat up and drew several lines on the ground with a stick. This was a method he had secretly learned from the Duke, listing existing clues to find potential logical connections and thus deduce the most likely truths—Eugene sometimes found the Duke’s ability a bit eerie (he believed the rabbit-headed shopkeeper felt the same), but he didn’t show it given the man was their boss that controlled his food, clothing, housing, and transportation.
Eugene couldn’t write, but he could draw.
Throughout their travels, they had encountered private estates. Based on experience, the benefit of such a semi-closed loop system was peace and security, and the downside was its isolation. More remote estates might not see a new face for years, so outsiders bringing fresh news and items were generally welcomed—except those armed with cavalry and bandits. The rabbit-headed shopkeeper had even once dazzled a manor’s women and children with simple magic tricks, and when leaving, a child had even tried to sneak onto their carriage to go “learn magic” with them.
Compared to that, this estate’s guarded demeanor was intriguing. Eugene marked the first circle on his lines.
“One possibility is that this estate was recently attacked, or something unfortunate involving outsiders happened,” Eugene muttered to himself, then drew a second circle. “The walls are intact, and women and children can be seen around, which rules out an attack. Outsiders… Fraud? Theft? A minor incident wouldn’t make the whole estate cautious. The second possibility is that it’s an order from above. Why would the master order increased security? Something must have happened recently at the manor. Could it be related to that glowing thing?”
Eugene and Shivers had watched those “things”. They had entered the manor and left within an hour, and before dawn, another group also left the estate. Although they didn’t see it firsthand, the Knight Commander made an accurate judgment based on the direction and hoofprints on the road.
They had decided to split up to gather information: Eugene would approach the lower estate looking for any trace of the Duke—such a conspicuous appearance once seen would surely cause a stir in these rural parts.
Shivers, with his exceptional skills, planned to secretly infiltrate the surroundings of the manor and try to overhear some intelligence. They had agreed to meet under this apple tree at noon, regardless of their findings, to plan further.
Besides, Shivers had also specifically instructed him on some things. Normally, the armed forces of a private estate would be concentrated around the main house, and the lower estate wouldn’t have much fighting quality. As long as they avoid direct conflict, Eugene’s skills should at least allow him to avoid life threatening situations.
But scouting the manor was different. The strength of the opposition was unknown, and Shivers going in alone couldn’t guarantee there wouldn’t be accidents. So he told Eugene, if he didn’t appear by the agreed time, don’t go back to the estate and try to find the nearest town—the lowest standard being an inn with a hot bath, which was most likely a place where the unrestricted Duke might be found.
Actually, without Shivers explaining, Eugene would have done the same. Firstly, if even Shivers couldn’t handle it, it was just a waste of life for Eugene to try, and secondly… after all, they were just in an employment relationship. Eugene didn’t need to risk his own life for him.
Eugene spat out the grass stalk and hesitantly drew a cross on the ground. “Trouble at the manor, heightened alert, misfortune if approached. The nearest village is twenty-five miles southeast, the town even farther…” He stared at the diagram he had drawn for a while before finally looking up in the direction of the sun. If he didn’t set off now, it would be hard to reach the next populated place before dark.
“I’m just a little guy with no real skills. Even if I went, I wouldn’t be much help.” Eugene comforted himself, then, pushing off his knees, stood up, thought for a moment, and picked up a stick about as long as his arm. He took a deep breath and strode forward. He had only taken a few steps when a ghostly voice behind him made his hair stand on end.
“That way leads to the estate.”
Eugene froze for a moment, then spun around. The tall Knight Commander stood behind him, smiling with his arms crossed.
“Shivers!” Eugene exclaimed excitedly. “You’re not dead!”
Knight Commander: “……”
“Did you think I was dead?” Shivers raised an eyebrow.
Eugene truly sighed with relief. “Yes!”
Shivers said irritably, “Disappointed?”
Though startled, Eugene was still very happy. “The time came, and you didn’t show, so I—”
Shivers suddenly grabbed his neck. “Thinking of scouting the manor? You’re more thoughtful than I thought.”
Eugene: “So I thought to avenge you!”
Shivers: “…Tone down the boasting a bit. My earlier sentiment is nearly gone. But I’m still glad, you know you’re not very useful. If I had failed, you going there would be a death sentence. But you decided to look for me anyway.”
That praise sounded a bit strange.
Eugene looked slightly disgruntled and a bit embarrassed, his expression very complex. “Why were you late?”
“Got delayed a bit,” Shivers said solemnly. “But not without gain. That estate…”
The Knight Commander paused, seemingly considering his words.
“The Duke isn’t there,” he finally said. “We’re leaving now.”
Eugene’s curiosity was immediately piqued, clamoring to exchange detailed information—Shivers, fearing his loud voice might attract unwanted attention, had to cover his mouth, telling him they must talk while walking.
Before infiltrating the manor, Shivers thought it was just a closed, conservative, and xenophobic private estate. However, with the innate aristocratic smoothness (hypocrisy) of Duke Dwight and the resourcefulness of Shopkeeper Charlie, entering the estate should have been straightforward. But once he had smoothly entered and realized the Duke hadn’t been there, he inadvertently discovered the dark secrets of the estate that must not see the light of day.
“Dr. Salman.”
Only a three-branched candelabra on the left wall provided light in the tall entrance hall, which seemed insufficient before dawn had arrived. The tall, thin man in a stiff coat took off his hat and turned around.
“Mr. Foley.” The doctor bowed slightly to the man who had spoken. A boy of about thirteen or fourteen, holding a medicine box, stepped back to not obstruct the view between the two men.
“Dr. Salman, I…” Mr. Foley hesitated; his urgency mixed with hesitation. “Her condition isn’t good. You’d better take another look.”
Dr. Salman’s half-profile was hidden in the shadows. He was about to say something when footsteps echoed from the corridor behind the hall. It was the sound of a refined lady’s shoes tapping on the floor. The man known as Mr. Foley’s face changed, he looked back, then turned around again without saying anything further.
“If you need, I will come again tomorrow,” Dr. Salman said in a steady voice. “Please forgive me. I left in too much of a hurry last night, leaving many things unexplained. Even the apprentice came along, and at nine this morning I have an appointment with Sir Hippel…”
The footsteps stopped.
“Ah, then…” Mr. Foley stuttered. “Okay, then I will send someone to fetch you at the appropriate time.”
Dr. Salman nodded, and at this moment, a servant stepped forward.
“Let Archie take you there,” Mr. Foley said. “Because we’ve had—you know, a—a thief, so—”
“Proper caution is very necessary,” Dr. Salman said softly.
“Yes.” Mr. Foley sighed in relief.
It was more of a precaution than an escort. The dark-skinned servant almost shadowed the doctor out of the manor, straight to the stables, without a word exchanged on the way. Dr. Salman didn’t look around, but just as he was about to step into the carriage, he suddenly tapped his hat and stated that he had forgotten his cane in the entrance hall, asking the servant to retrieve it for him.
The servant glanced at the stable hands, bowed to the doctor, and hurried back to the manor. By the time he returned with the cane, Dr. Salman and his apprentice were already securely seated in the carriage.
Dr. Salman’s comment to Mr. Foley about “proper caution” was actually an understatement. As they left the mansion’s gate and even as they departed the estate, they were checked three or four times.
“…They nearly wanted to open and check the medical box,” the apprentice grumbled. Now that the carriage had left the estate, he finally began to complain.
“What happened last night must not be mentioned to anyone,” Dr. Salman said quietly. “Pretend as if nothing happened.”
“Why? It was just a miscarriage operation—” The apprentice was puzzled. “The child was already beyond saving. Why do we need to come back tomorrow? Doctor, didn’t you already prescribe the medication?”
Dr. Salman lowered his eyes. “We will not come tomorrow, nor will we ever return.”
The apprentice’s eyes widened.
“Moreover, what was lost last night wasn’t just any ‘child’.” The normally polite Dr. Salman’s tone suddenly carried a hint of sarcasm.
The apprentice shuddered at these words: “Doctor?”
“If you wish to continue learning, I will give you a letter. Take it to Labelle City, where my friend resides. If you do not wish to travel far, you may return to your hometown,” Dr. Salman said calmly.
“Wait, doctor, why? I’ve felt something was odd from the beginning! Why did you say we would come again tomorrow, and we clearly had no appointment today—”
“If I hadn’t said that, we would not have been able to leave the estate alive today,” the doctor interrupted. “But that was just a temporary measure, so you must leave immediately, and you are not to return to Bonan Town for ten years—better not even step into Ropappas City.”
The apprentice was stunned.
“But why, doctor?” he asked weakly. Dr. Salman wasn’t an unreasonable man. On the contrary, his cautious and calm character always made him think deeply about each step. The apprentice knew there must be a serious reason. “Can I go with you?”
“Just stay away from here. They won’t pursue you relentlessly. You were waiting outside all last night, so you didn’t see anything,” Dr. Salman whispered almost inaudibly. “But I personally disposed of ‘that thing’. If my judgment isn’t wrong, Mr. Foley and his wife wanted to bury me and ‘it’ together at that moment.”
The apprentice was even more shocked. “Wasn’t that Mr. Foley’s child?”
Dr. Salman shook his head. “That was not a child. It was…” He adjusted his wording. “Fortunately, it didn’t survive. Do not ask any more, for your own sake and for your family’s.”
He sternly cut off the apprentice’s burgeoning questions, and after that, no more words were spoken. The carriage was silent as it finally traveled the bumpy forest road and turned onto the main road leading to the town.
Kinky Translations 