Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 30

Open your eyes, my beauty,

See the wildflowers in their blooming spree,

Hear the sweet songs the birdies all sing,

Tender grass blades, a fragrant spring fling.

Open your eyes, my love, don’t delay,

Gone is Winter’s cold grip, revival of day,

I’ll adorn your skirt with roses fair,

Weave your soft bed with herbs rare.

With the garden’s finest, I’ll composed,

A floral bouquet for your hair, enclosed.

In colors bright, where beauty showers,

Adorn your spirit with the loveliest flowers.

— “Lullaby, Chapter Five”

“Your leg—” Dwight said in a low, threatening voice.

“Please, the box is only so big. None of us are exactly delicate.” Oscar shifted awkwardly in the darkness.

“There’s always a way,” Shivers said in a pacifying tone, carefully pushing against the lid of the box.

“Can you turn that thing off?” The Duke was slightly annoyed. “Damn it, it’s jabbing me.”

There seemed to be a music box in one corner of the box. Its pleasant music filled the small, enclosed space—it was thanks to the sound of the music that they had confirmed the location of the secret chamber and squeezed in just before the lid automatically closed.

“It’s better not to,” Oscar said. “I think it might be part of the transport magic. Besides, the music is quite nice.”

Shivers said, “Transport magic… Does that mean something outside is moving this box?!”

Although no one could see his face in the dark, his tone said it all. The Knight Commander found this very absurd.

“Elves, eagles, or maybe the box itself can fly,” Dwight said wearily. “Rather than that, I’m more concerned about why there is such a thing in Tifa’s secret chamber. The first king of Mokwen was a cavalryman, long a warrior who despised magic, and there were no mages around Tifa.”

Clearly, the box was a magical creation.

Shivers coughed.

Oscar: “Oh.”

A sudden silence ensued, and in the darkness, the breathing of the three men became more noticeable.

“You two, spit it out,” the Duke said, slightly irritated.

“I guess it’s love magic,” Shivers suggested. “That woman who died mysteriously in the room… Wasn’t it said that no one had ever seen her in the palace?”

Tifa’s mistress was a mage?

It wasn’t a viable theory. Queen Christine wasn’t a robust woman. If the other party was a mage capable of creating a flying box, she wouldn’t have died silently at the hands of a noblewoman.

For a moment, no one spoke, and they couldn’t hear anything from outside in the box, but the slight movements made them feel that the box wasn’t in a stationary state.

“I still want to turn off that music box.” The Duke, who was the most prone to complaining, broke the silence again. “This soft music is making me sleepy.”

Oscar, who had already been dozing off, suddenly jolted awake at these words, and in the cramped space, his head collided with someone—

“Ouch!”

“What is wrong with you?!” Dwight cursed.

Oscar, too preoccupied to speak, strained to pull out his pocket watch.

“It’s been nine minutes since we entered this box.” Oscar squinted, feeling that despite the luminous material on the watch face, he was still having trouble seeing the numbers.

“So what?” Shivers’s voice was growing lower.

“Damn!” Dwight also suddenly thought of something, abruptly kicking the box, which dangled dangerously in the air.

“Hey!” Oscar was startled by his action.

“Turn—that—thing—off.” The Duke’s tone finally faltered. “It has a hypnotic effect.”

The Knight Commander immediately opened his eyes, feeling his eyelids were unusually heavy. He reached towards the source of the sound, quickly locating the pleasing sound of the piano even in the dark.

A wooden, small music box, smooth, without any engraved patterns.

Before Oscar could comment, a “snap” was heard.

The lid of the music box was forcefully closed, and the piano music stopped abruptly.

The box’s movement suddenly became erratic. Dwight raised his head, reaching out to feel the box walls.

Although he hadn’t thought much about turning off the music, Shivers suddenly thought of an inopportune question.

“If this is a flying box, are we now in mid-air?”

The rest of his question went unasked.

If the music from the music box was indeed controlling the flying box, could the box still fly after the music stopped?

Although he didn’t finish the question, the others in the box also immediately considered this, and their hearts sank.

The box again shook ominously, as if a giant outside was curiously flipping the box in his hands.

And then… for some reason, the giant decided to suddenly throw the box away.

Even though the box was lined with soft blankets, the three men felt that things were turning for the worse.

“Uh-oh,” Oscar said softly.

No sooner had he spoken than a terrifying sensation of weightlessness prevented him from saying another word—the box was plummeting rapidly! Even Dwight struggled to maintain his composure. If they were indeed falling from a great height, he might end up as the most embarrassingly deceased Dwight in history!

Shivers cried out, “My Lord—”

They fell so quickly that there wasn’t even time for Shivers to finish his sentence before a jolt made his head crash against the box wall.

Oscar’s cheek was grazed by something cold and hard, the stinging sensation snapping him out of his daze.

“…A soft landing?” he gasped.

Shivers was worthy of his title as a well-trained Knight Commander. He forced himself to recover his senses in the shortest time and then forcefully pushed open the lid of the box.

The box shook again, but this time Shivers saw clearly.

“Thank heavens.” He reached out to help Dwight up, letting the Duke see their current situation.

It seemed they were in a public spring, with a large stone-built pool and a narrow channel used by common women for washing clothes.

Oscar struggled to get up from the box, following Shivers and Dwight as they climbed out. It was still dark, but they could just make out the appearance of the large box.

Without magic, this box would look like any other wooden box, completely unremarkable, without even a hint of decoration.

The water in the pool barely reached their waists and was icy cold. Dwight initially wanted to head straight for the edge of the pool but, almost as if compelled, turned back to grab the wooden box.

Oscar also seemed interested in the box, reaching in to touch the blanket inside.

“Portillo’s high-quality cashmere blanket,” he commented with interest. “Hand-dyed, top-notch stuff.”

Dwight also felt around inside the box, tossing a small object to Shivers, who caught it and found it to be a small music box.

The Duke turned back to see Oscar pulling half of the blanket out, examining it closely as if trying to discern a pattern.

“Unless you’re a werewolf, you wouldn’t see any bloodstains in this light,” Dwight said coolly.

Oscar chuckled nervously and released the blanket. “I was just thinking—”

“Confirming whether that woman really died in Tifa’s room?”

Oscar shrugged.

“Gentlemen, this isn’t a good place for deductions,” the Knight Commander interjected. “We should still be within the royal city, and if we linger, we might encounter the night watch.”

Especially since so much had happened tonight, security in the royal city would be a prime topic of discussion at the council chambers for at least the next month.

His suggestion was sensible, and the three agreed, leaving the pool and quickly turning into an inconspicuous street.

“Where are we?” Oscar frowned, glancing up at the moon.

“North,” Shiver determined, recognizing the surrounding buildings. “If we keep going, we’ll leave the city, almost exactly opposite from the royal palace.”

“North is the trade district and a key area for checking foreigners,” Oscar quickly added. “West is the royal palace and the noble district, south is the military. Let’s head east.” East was the residential area, and conveniently, the inn they were staying at was in that direction.

Shiver couldn’t help but glance at Oscar.

After dawn, the sky was just beginning to brighten, and Oscar, with his golden-brown hair bouncing with his brisk steps, led the way. It was like the tips of grass dancing in the wind.

The Duke strode behind him, watching his figure. This man was well-built. Even in a cloak, it was apparent he was straight-shouldered, slim-waisted, and long-legged. Despite some anxiety, his steps were neither panicked nor sloppy, easily showing his good upbringing with almost no superfluous movements…

Almost.

Oscar wasn’t unaware of Dwight’s gaze on his back, which, frankly, was quite distracting at this time.

“What’s the rush?” The Duke quickened his pace to walk beside him through the deserted streets just before dawn. Mokwen’s royal city was built on a hill, and the terrain was uneven. Though there were no rivers, the city often used bridges to connect various elevations. If one wasn’t familiar with the routes, it was easy for outsiders to get lost among the intersecting roads and bridges. However, Oscar seemed to have no trouble navigating as he crossed a wide stone bridge leading to a quiet residential area, where beyond the dim streetlights at the corner, the end of the street was shrouded in impenetrable darkness.

The Duke noticed Oscar clutching the small golden pocket watch, glancing at it periodically as they walked.

“My time is short.” Oscar smiled and tucked the watch into his clothes. “A lot has happened tonight, and I’m a bit late.”

“Late?”

“To be honest, I had another appointment today.” Oscar quickened his pace nonchalantly. “But I didn’t expect so much to happen tonight…”

He had hardly finished speaking when he suddenly halted, stopping so abruptly that Dwight’s hand brushed his forearm in passing.

Oscar stepped back two paces, looking at him.

The temporary alliance formed under a common threat was fragile and insincere, and once the crisis was over, the caution and calculation between them resurfaced eagerly.

“Trying to run?” The Duke curled his lips, showing the first smile of the evening.

With his looks, his smile should have been quite captivating, but Oscar just shivered.

“I’m in a hurry.” Oscar conceded for once. “Maybe next time…”

Dwight glanced behind him, and Oscar didn’t need to look back to know that the tall Knight Commander had quietly blocked his path.

Loyalty was always paramount in a knight’s heart.

Oscar sighed, reaching into his pocket.

“Look,” he tried to negotiate with Dwight, “I haven’t done anything. We all escaped from the royal palace together. If not friends, then at least companions. Why suddenly turn hostile?”

“If you haven’t done anything, then what are you so nervous about?” Dwight, having failed in his sneak attack, seemed not inclined to further violence and crossed his arms leisurely. “You can explain slowly. I’m not in a hurry.”

…Good upbringing kept Oscar from uttering a curse.

“I need to leave.” His eyes, usually smiling, narrowed slightly. “My Lord, I can assure you I have no ill intentions towards you—”

“This matter has always been decided by me,” Dwight interrupted him, standing on the stone bridge with a bright morning star hanging behind him in the sky—a harbinger of the approaching dawn. The silent city was beginning to stir. Faint lights twinkled in the houses by the road, and in the distance, the sound of cartwheels rolling over small stones on the brick road could be heard.

Actually, Dwight wasn’t as confident as he appeared. He couldn’t forget that the greedy, foolish, and extremely lascivious Viscount was still eyeing his looks. In a sense, even if he was cleared of the palace drama, Dwight wasn’t exactly a free man in this royal city.

But for no reason, he wanted to trouble this man before him. He disliked the other’s careless yet effortless demeanor, as well as his habit of curling his lips in a smile that never truly reached his eyes, as if by doing so, no one could see through his hypocrisy and indifference.

All of this displeased him.

Oscar took a step back, leaning against the stone railing. He had far more experience with misfortune than the average person, often targeted by others, and it was easy to see that the Duke didn’t intend to maintain a superficial peace. Whether out of curiosity or suspicion, this arrogant nobleman wouldn’t rest until he had wrung out everything he wanted to know from him today.

Even without considering their physical disparity, being outnumbered two to one was a tricky situation.

“It seems you’re set on causing me discomfort,” Oscar said coldly.

Dwight nodded politely. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to oblige you.” Oscar smiled, then, with a swift move, he braced his hands on the railing and vaulted over it with a powerful kick, his body soaring over the barrier!

Dwight’s eyes widened as he watched him jump without hesitation. Even though the street was just below—if he landed headfirst…

Almost instantly, Shivers moved forward in a futile attempt to catch him, but soon straightened up and turned to look at his master.

Dwight quickly approached the railing, and that was when he saw it—a small flatbed cart appeared ghost-like from under the bridge, loaded with bundles of dry straw, providing a perfect landing spot for the leaping Oscar. The horse’s hooves seemed to be wrapped in cloth, making only a soft, muffled sound on the cobblestone road.

It seemed he was well-prepared.

Dwight couldn’t tell whether he should feel mocked or relieved. He turned around with a dark expression, facing his Knight Commander.

The handsome face was marked with an expression of utter disbelief.

“By the gods,” Shivers said, astounded. “Did you see that? There’s no coachman on that cart…”

How could the cart catch Oscar so precisely without a driver? Was it just a coincidence, or was the horse perhaps magically controlled?

Of course not.

This was a complete misunderstanding.

Oscar indeed practiced magic, but his skills were nowhere near that level.

What’s that old saying? The darkest hour is just before the dawn. The Knight Commander, deceived by the night, had failed to notice that the cart did indeed have a coachman.

“That was a close shave!” After the cart had traveled some distance, a small tin soldier standing on the footboard looked back. “But I knew we could do it! I knew what you were going to do the moment I saw you near the railing. We have a tacit understanding, right?”

Behind him, the straw was somewhat disheveled from the impact, and the person who had jumped from the bridge struggled a bit to free himself from the elaborate court robe he wore, his long fuzzy ears gently waving in the early morning breeze.

“You’re right.” He lay on the straw while magically producing a black top hat and placing it on his rabbit head, smiling at the little tin soldier. “Understanding is priceless, friendship is forever.”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 29

Although the Mokwen royal palace was practically a semi-open venue for nobles to celebrate the King’s birthday, the Senate’s focus was initially on identifying the victim’s identity and the channels through which one could enter the palace.

But the paradox lay in the fact that unlike the banquet hall, the King’s bedroom, unless Tifa was inside, was usually left unattended, and roughly every hour, a maid would enter to tidy the bed, change the incense, and adjust the decorations. The King himself stated that there was no one in the room the last time he left it.

The deceased woman, though nobody could recall her name, could be identified by her freckles under her makeup and high cheekbones as not a native of Mokwen. Testimonies from ladies-in-waiting and guards also confirmed that no one had seen her before.

She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere in the King’s room, then handed a sharp dagger, which ended up in her own chest, to the furious Queen (who firmly denied this).

Priscilla wasn’t very concerned about Christine’s predicament. She was preoccupied with another thought.

If it weren’t for Dwight, would she have been the one confined to a room right now? This thought made her restless, and she knew she had to find a way to verify it.

So, risking suspicion, she didn’t return to her husband after leaving Christine’s room but instead took a detour.

“My Lady?!” A lady-in-waiting hurried out, almost bumping into Priscilla. “My Lady, please leave quickly. Intruders have been spotted in the palace, and the guards are on their way!”

Priscilla instinctively thought she meant Dwight. Her face turned pale as she grabbed the lady-in-waiting’s wrist. “What—what intruder?”

“They found an unidentified man. Please leave quickly… Ah!” The lady-in-waiting suddenly stumbled as a man ran out from behind her, his elbow nearly knocking her to the ground. Priscilla looked up just in time to see the man helping the lady-in-waiting to her feet, a bit of dark hair peeking out from under his cloak—it wasn’t her brother. Priscilla had barely caught her breath when she met the man’s eyes, which were narrow and curved subtly, like those of a half-closed-eye cat.

Priscilla gasped. “…Ceylon?!”

The man didn’t respond to the name she blurted out, but he stopped running when he saw her expression. His movement was so abrupt that the hood he was half-wearing finally slipped down, revealing copper-colored hair that shone exceptionally bright under the palace’s ornate wall lamps.

The guards chasing him caught up at that moment, with the leading soldier raising his sword. “Let go of those ladies! You—”

The soldier suddenly saw the man’s face and hesitated.

“…Oscar?!”

The man, known by his mother’s surname Green and formally the captain of the Brandenburg Knights of Lemena, was now dressed as a member of the Ninth Squadron of the Mokwen’s palace guards under the alias Tommy. He hadn’t expected to encounter a friend with whom he had shared drinks and fought a few thieves in a tavern on another continent. As he stood dumbfounded, other members of the guard squad also arrived.

“There! I saw them!”

“Stop!”

“Where are the archers?”

“Don’t use arrows! The Countess is with them—”

Before he could make sense of the situation, Shivers, bewilderingly, became the leader of the escape, followed by ‘hostage’ Countess Priscilla, with Oscar, wearing a woman’s cloak, bringing up the rear.

Strictly speaking, only Oscar was seen as suspicious by the pursuing guards.

Fortunately, though brief, Shivers’ time with the Ninth Squadron wasn’t wasted, and with Priscilla’s deliberate cooperation, by the time they met up with the hidden Dwight, they had temporarily eluded their pursuers.

“So,” the Duke slowly sized up Oscar, “now the entire palace’s attention is on you.”

Being a suspicious character illegally present in the palace during sensitive times and having ‘kidnapped’ the Countess was tantamount to confessing to the Senate “the murderer is me”.

“It’s ‘our’ attention that the entire palace is on now,” Oscar replied nonchalantly, seemingly unaffected by his sarcastic tone. “The main gates are definitely closed by now, and soon no one will be allowed out. If they carry out a thorough search within the palace, we’ll be found in no more than three days.”

Dwight frowned slightly.

Priscilla’s reaction was much more significant. She suddenly pulled off Oscar’s cloak, staring intently at him.

Even if the person was a beautifully groomed noblewoman, being stared at like this for an extended period would make any well-mannered young man uncomfortable. Oscar, unable to maintain eye contact, had to look away. “Uh… My Lady?”

Priscilla, oblivious, seemed almost to be searching for clues from his pores, and it took a long while before she withdrew her gaze.

“You probably mistook me for someone else,” Oscar said softly, subtly straightening the cloak that had been pulled askew.

Everyone could see the Countess’ disappointment, but now wasn’t the time to delve into it.

“In two more hours, it will be fully light,” Shiver said practically. “We’d better think of something quickly, especially since…” especially since Priscilla is here.

Regardless of the truth, as far as the palace was concerned, their identity as kidnappers was a fait accompli, unless Dwight revealed his true identity—but sneaking into a foreign royal palace as a Duke from another continent wasn’t much better than kidnapping a Countess.

Priscilla took a deep breath and glanced at Shivers and Oscar.

Shivers had practically grown up with these siblings, and though Priscilla had been married away for years, the understanding they had developed from childhood had never faded. He immediately understood the noble lady’s intention and pulled Oscar back a few steps to give them some space.

Though the space was very limited.

Dwight approached his sister. He was only thirteen when Priscilla was married. His features, inherited from their mother, made them look almost like siblings when standing together. Now meeting again after years, the still-growing Duke appeared somewhat frail—but conversely, his height had shot up like bamboo after rain, making it impossible for Priscilla to reach his head as she used to.

Dwight leaned down, allowing Priscilla to gently kiss his forehead.

Priscilla wrapped her arms around her brother’s neck, whispering almost inaudibly in his ear, “I’ll be fine. You need to find a way to escape as soon as possible. You must promise me, never leave Pennigra lightly again.”

Dwight hummed lowly. He actually had no way to safely leave the palace under lockdown and search, but he didn’t show his anxiety, at least not in front of Priscilla.

Priscilla didn’t look up but seemed to guess his thoughts.

“You will leave safely. That’s what matters most to me,” she whispered a few more words into her brother’s ear, after which the young Duke’s expression finally changed.

But the loss of control was only momentary. From Shivers and Oscar’s perspective, they could only see Dwight straightening up, holding Priscilla tightly—so tightly that within three breaths, the slender Countess had collapsed into his arms.

Dwight looked up; his expression now composed.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Shiver’s assessment of the situation was quite accurate. Mokwen was an ancient kingdom spanning over four generations. The royal palace, having undergone several renovations and expansions, resembled a large, old house with frequently used and well-maintained living quarters and kitchens, but also attics frequented only by rats and bugs. This time, the murder and the Countess’ abduction had occurred abruptly, and even with the urgent recruitment of personnel from outside the palace, organizing and deploying command took time—this interval was brief, so Dwight and Priscilla made a decisive move, taking advantage of the night to move quickly through the dark garden. Choosing an opportune moment, they allowed a squad to spot their trail before laying down the unconscious Priscilla.

The soldiers couldn’t directly touch the Countess, so they had to temporarily abandon the chase and call for a lady-in-waiting. All three were quite agile, and ultimately, without much danger, they managed to pry open a locked, decorative stained-glass window that was broken and re-entered Tifa’s bedchamber.

Though it’s said that the most dangerous places can be the safest, this time they undoubtedly walked into a dead end.

“No way,” Shivers leaned against the door, listening carefully. “There are too many guards outside.”

Dwight’s brow furrowed.

Barely sneaking into the bedchamber was their limit, and they were still some distance from Tifa’s own bedroom—by custom, this room wasn’t safe either, as guards could enter at any time for inspection.

Now, they were trapped, unable to move.

“You go out,” He nodded towards Oscar, who had been silent. “Lead the soldiers away.”

Shivers: “……”

His master always seemed to fall ill at the most opportune times.

Oscar turned his head. “Excuse me? Do I look like a fool? Why should I go out and die for you?”

The Duke scoffed. “Then why have you been following us all this way?”

Because the Countess only told you about the secret exit, and she spoke so softly, no matter how much you strain your ears, you can’t hear it—obviously, this brutal truth couldn’t be spoken now.

Oscar gave a nervous laugh. “We could think of something else.”

Dwight remained silent, and just when Oscar thought he was weighing the pros and cons, the Duke suddenly stepped forward and grabbed him by the throat forcefully.

Shivers’ eyelid twitched, but he made no move.

Actually, as Dwight advanced, Oscar had already reacted, even reaching out to block, but he hadn’t expected the lean young man to possess a brute strength completely at odds with his refined appearance. It was merely a grabbing motion, yet like a tiger released from its cage, it was an irresistible force that pinned down the antelope before him.

The Duke of Brandenburg often used arrogance and grandeur to mask his inherent brutality. Now, it seemed he was finally abandoning the noble principle that “a gentleman’s fiercest protest is silence”. He nearly folded Oscar in half, pressing him against an enamel and silver-inlaid circular table, the edges embedded with mother-of-pearl harshly hitting Oscar’s lower back.

“Rather than that, I want to know who you are.” Dwight’s voice was even, only the veins on the back of his hand revealing the force he exerted.

He didn’t believe Oscar’s appearance was accidental—maybe it was the first time they met, but such coincidences didn’t occur easily across continents. Shivers must have noticed something odd about Oscar, but given his good upbringing and Oscar’s past help, as long as this man didn’t show a hostile stance, Shivers wouldn’t treat him as an enemy.

But the Duke of Brandenburg didn’t think he needed such manners.

Oscar took a deep breath, then unexpectedly laughed.

“I’m a junior mage.” His voice was strained under the Duke’s grip, making it almost hard to hear. “I have a way out.”

Being a mage was an interesting profession. The effectiveness of magic depended entirely on talent. If the career ceiling for a junior mage was that of a firework technician at a traveling circus, an intermediate mage could already hold their own in a regular army.

The gap was that big.

A junior mage…

No anger showed on the Duke’s face. Given his status and position, even a senior mage wouldn’t necessarily have the privilege of speaking to him, let alone a junior mage comparable to a clown in status.

But in the current situation, even being able to cast a few minor illusions could indeed slightly solve their urgent problem.

The hand clutching his neck finally loosened, and Oscar’s face, which had turned red, quickly paled, instinctively gasping for air. His normally fair complexion turned an unhealthy shade of blue.

“I must leave here as soon as possible.” Even nearly being strangled didn’t provoke anger in Oscar. Instead, he negotiated rationally: “Take me with you, and I can divert the soldiers’ attention.”

As suspected, Tifa’s bedchamber was one of the main places under scrutiny. Guards patrolled back and forth along every corridor by squad, while others specifically checked every room, ensuring no potential hiding spot was overlooked.

With such thorough inspection, everyone believed the intruders would soon be caught—even if they could fly. The mages previously invited into the palace were already prepared to monitor the sky.

But no one expected the fire to start so silently.

Almost simultaneously, the commander received multiple reports of fires—dressing rooms, corridor carpets, floor-to-ceiling drapes… The flames seemed to erupt under everyone’s watch. By the time people scrambled to extinguish them, they realized how easily these numerous, small fires had completely divided their manpower.

The search net was unexpectedly burned through.

“What is that?” Only after they had finally dragged a few isolated guards into the room, changed into their uniforms, and sneaked into Tifa’s room with the rushing crowd, Shivers couldn’t help but ask.

“My masterpiece, a portable little fire chicken,” Oscar said proudly. “Fireproof eggshell. It won’t burn a hole in your pocket—just break the eggshell when needed, and the flame chick will run to wherever you want it to go. It can burn effectively for up to three minutes.”

The Knight Commander and the Duke of Brandenburg both looked at him.

Oscar still seemed pleased with himself. “It’s the perfect little helper for outdoor trips or home cooking.”

Shivers politely chimed in, “Sounds interesting.”

Oscar seemed suddenly energized. “Would you like to buy one? I have a few more.”

The Knight Commander coughed.

Because Dwight was looking at them both with a look of infinite disgust, as if he were looking at two humanoid slugs.

“Find the secret chamber,” he commanded succinctly.

“You don’t know where the secret chamber is?” Oscar retorted.

Dwight didn’t even deign to give him a glance.

Priscilla had told him that in the entire Mokwen royal palace, there was only one secret passage that could be used without surveillance, hidden in the King’s room.

But this was also the kingdom’s top secret, and the entrance was sure to be very well concealed, not even noticeable by the King’s closest confidants.

Oscar, who hadn’t panicked even when choked, finally showed a hint of anxiety. He pulled out a pocket watch, checked the time, and turned to them to announce, “We have five minutes.”

He said, “If we don’t find it within five minutes, it’s over.”

Dwight’s eyes narrowed.

Shiver frowned. “Why? Will the passage close on a schedule?”

Oscar gave a dry laugh. “I’m not sure, but roughly.”

He knew the Duke was staring at him from behind and that every additional word he spoke only increased the suspicion Dwight held against him.

But he had no choice.

The fire chicken’s capability was limited. It couldn’t create a real conflagration. They were merely relying on quantity for a temporary advantage, and according to his calculations, the secret in Tifa’s room was indeed time-bound.

The King’s room was, of course, the epitome of luxury, and it was a bit of a stretch for three people to try to open all the drawers there within five minutes. Fine beads of sweat broke out on Oscar’s nose.

Four minutes.

“Nothing.” Shivers put down the last candlestick and began to feel the carpet with his hands.

Three minutes.

Oscar, frantic like an ant on a hot pan, started lifting every painting on the walls without any system.

Two minutes.

Dwight’s slender fingers brushed over the wallpaper by the bed, suddenly stopping.

“Stop,” the Duke said.

Shivers, who was lying against the wall, and Oscar, who was reaching for a wall painting, both turned to look at him.

“Shh.” The Duke of Brandenburg turned his face to the wall.

In the eerie silence, several intermittent, low syllables came from the other side of the wall.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 28

Conspiracy.

Other than this word, Dwight could think of no other way to describe the current chaotic situation. Who was behind the conspiracy? Priscilla, Tifa, Lestrop, or… himself, the Duke of Brandenburg, who shouldn’t have been here?

Priscilla said, “It’s different here than in Lemena.”

Though the pink roses were slowly withering, the sister standing before him still had a soft and beautiful face, and her skin and hair were as glossy as he remembered. Except occasionally revealing a faint melancholy and unease, her eyes looked at him with the usual concern and tenderness.

Was it really because she left Lemena that the roses were dying?

No matter what Priscilla’s life was like now, at least he had achieved his purpose for this visit, confirming her well-being with his own eyes. And he believed his sister wasn’t a mindless woman. She knew how to preserve herself amidst the complex interplay of power struggles.

Priscilla said, “You must leave immediately.”

Dwight suddenly reached up and rubbed his furrowed brow forcefully.

“You’re right,” he murmured to himself softly. “I should leave now.”

Priscilla sat in the room, trying hard not to let her maids notice her agitation. Since a murder had occurred, Lestrop had been busy, but he had invited a Viscountess to keep her company. Although Priscilla felt that the lady was like a cold water snake tightly coiling around her, making it hard for her to breathe, she couldn’t refuse her husband’s kindness.

Kindness…

She lowered her eyes, staring at a delicate ivory comb on the dressing table, lost in thought.

Her main concern now wasn’t this, but whether her brother had safely left the palace. With the suspected incident of the Queen killing the King’s mistress in his bedroom right before the King’s birthday, this was enough to make the nobles of neighboring countries secretly laugh for a whole year. Even just for the sake of appearance, Tifa would thoroughly investigate the murderer. If the city was under martial law, how would Dwight manage to leave the city? Although from another continent, the Duke of Brandenburg’s reputation was more widespread than everyone thought…

Priscilla unconsciously tightened her grip on the hem of her skirt, then quickly let go.

She and the Viscountess weren’t familiar, and she was too dispirited to feign interest, so she simply pretended to be unwell and wanted to go to bed early, hoping to send her away.

The Viscountess wanted to linger but was interrupted by a lady-in-waiting who rushed into the room. The lady-in-waiting dismissed all the maids before throwing herself at Priscilla’s knees. “My Lady, His Majesty and the Earl have started arguing, and it’s quite severe!”

Priscilla’s expression became serious, and she glanced at the Viscountess.

Even if clueless, matters concerning the King meant the Viscountess understood she could no longer stay, and she had to leave with a bow.

In theory, the King’s political dealings with the nobility and the Senate had nothing to do with the womenfolk, but between Tifa, Lestrop, and Priscilla, things were a bit delicate. Although they did not meet often, Tifa had always been particularly courteous to his sister-in-law, Lestrop’s wife Priscilla—this was politely put, but in reality, Tifa’s demeanor towards Priscilla had always seemed particularly indulgent, sometimes even showing a bit of excessive concern, which everyone had noticed since Priscilla first appeared as the Countess at court. But this wasn’t an inexplicable issue, as many older nobles said that in Priscilla’s gestures, there was much of Tifa’s older sister—former Princess Riley of the Mokwen Kingdom, who had died unexpectedly before she could marry and had been particularly close to Tifa.

This kind of behavior wasn’t even considered a royal secret, and Priscilla was quite restrained, never acting inappropriately despite the King’s favor; thus, the King’s unusual tenderness towards her was always maintained within reasonable limits. But now that this lady-in-waiting had come to summon her due to an argument between the King and her husband, whoever gave the order, the underlying implications were somewhat intriguing.

“That is your Queen.” Lestrop stood in the center of the room, staring at the seated King. “Insulting her will not bring you any benefits, Your Majesty.”

In the room, apart from the two brothers, there were no outsiders, and Tifa’s normally dignified expression had turned completely indifferent.

“You know that she is ‘my’ Queen,” the King said expressionlessly. “I decide where she stays, what she eats, what she wears, and who she sees. Why do you care so much?”

“I care about your reputation,” Lestrop said gravely. “Before the matter is clarified, you are treating your own wife as a murderer. If this is exploited by those with ulterior motives—”

A knock on the door interrupted the Earl. Turning around, he saw his wife walking in.

“Priscilla?” Lestrop frowned. “What are you doing here?”

The young Countess didn’t speak immediately.

“I called her here,” Tifa rotated the ring on his hand, “to remind you who the woman you should really care about is.”

The tall Earl’s face finally darkened.

“Brother, do you have some misunderstanding about me?” he said coldly.

Tifa chuckled lightly.

“What misunderstanding could I have about you?”

The two brothers stared at each other, like two regal lions in lazy poses, yet fully focused on their opponent, neither willing to look away first.

It was Priscilla who broke the escalating standoff.

“Your Majesty, the situation tonight is chaotic, and everyone is tired. Although I lack experience, I know that tired people can make irrational decisions,” she said softly. “The Queen has also been frightened. May I go see her? Even if I can’t offer much comfort, at least I want to tell her that Your Majesty and the lords are trying to prove her innocence and ask that she not worry.”

Lestrop raised an eyebrow, seemingly quite surprised she would say such a thing.

Tifa laughed again, although the smile stayed only on his lips, not reaching his eyes.

“Then, go and see Christine,” Tiffa said.

Priscilla glanced at her husband, then curtseyed and left the room.

Lestrop grimaced, but ultimately, he said nothing, leaving the room with Priscilla.

“Then I will go check on Her Majesty the Queen now,” Priscilla said, standing in the corridor. Despite the sudden events, her makeup and dress remained neat, her pink cheeks seemingly glowing under the corridor lights.

Lestrop was silent for a while before he said, “Don’t stay too long. The palace isn’t as safe as it seems.”

Priscilla nodded. Her light golden hair was styled into a beautiful braided bun; she was still young, and despite being married, she looked almost the same as the girl who had left her hometown alone years ago to marry into this far-off land.

Lestrop touched her cheek and watched as she disappeared from his sight.

Christine actually hadn’t received harsh treatment. In fact, as long as the Duchy of Lebis existed, Tifa couldn’t deal with Christine without going through the Duchy. She was well aware of this, so even though everyone accused her of being a witch who had murdered someone in her husband’s bedroom, Christine hadn’t lost her composure and dignity as the Queen.

She didn’t even show surprise at Priscilla’s arrival, nor did she attempt to plead her innocence to Priscilla.

“I have already explained everything to the King and the Senate. All that remains is to wait,” Christine said. “Thank you for coming to see me, Priscilla.”

Priscilla nodded. Both were nobly born and had received the finest education; even though they both knew that they held no affection for each other, they didn’t skimp on formalities.

“The Earl believes His Majesty’s decision was too hasty, and indeed, this small room does seem too confining for you,” Priscilla said softly. “I hope the true culprit is found soon.”

Christine looked at her, suddenly displaying an enigmatic smile.

“You’re really adorable, Priscilla,” she whispered, her words laden with ambiguous meaning. “No wonder he likes you so much.”

Priscilla’s expression remained unchanged, and she said gently, “His Majesty loves you very much. You are the only Queen of Mokwen, and although the situation is complicated, please don’t worry about this. Whoever orchestrated this conspiracy is bound to fail.”

The Queen looked at her silently. Christine was three years older than Priscilla but had no children, and Tifa having many mistresses was almost an open secret. As time passed, the Senate and the King’s dissatisfaction with her grew, and she didn’t think this matter would settle down quickly.

That person had forbidden everyone from contacting her at such a time yet had allowed Priscilla in… Was this a reminder or a warning?

Christine suddenly felt a deep weariness sweep over her, and the young Countess’ naive and delicate face even made her feel nauseated, igniting a desire to throw the cup in her hand without regard for decorum, to scream loudly, and order no one to enter the room, no one to speak to her—

“Your Majesty?” Priscilla asked, tilting her head in confusion, the light flickering in her eyes with her movement.

Christine snapped out of it.

“I’ll be alright,” Christine said. Although the Countess’ visit was of no help to her, she still patiently persuaded her to leave. However, as Priscilla was about to exit the room, she hesitated for a moment.

“Priscilla?” she called.

Priscilla turned back.

“I have a favor to ask of you.” The Queen stood there, looking somewhat haggard but with a straight back.

“Just a small favor. It won’t trouble anyone.”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 27

From the moment she saw that rose, Priscilla understood.

Why her noble brother, who was supposed to be sitting in Brandenburg enjoying wealth and power, had appeared at the other end of this distant continent, sneaking into the palace without even a single guard by his side.

The life force of the pink roses in Brandenburg was fading. He was worried about her.

Priscilla took a deep breath.

“Listen to me,” she said. “I am in good health. The roses in the castle live and bloom for me. Since I have left Lemena, they will naturally wither over time, but that doesn’t mean I will as well. I have no complaints about my life now. You should return to Lemena immediately, or at least leave Doran.”

Dwight looked at her. The concern in Priscilla’s eyes was unmistakably genuine.

“It’s different here from Lemena. And from… Pennigra,” Priscilla whispered softly. “If I had known, I would never have agreed to this. Please leave before midnight, after the court ball ends, Duke Dwight.”

Her tone became almost stern by the end of her statement.

Dwight was about to speak when he suddenly stopped. Like a keen hound sensing danger, he quickly approached the door.

Two maids approached, carrying a large silver tray, seemingly preparing to make the bed for the King.

Dwight frowned slightly. Did they not know the Queen was still in the room? If the King and Queen were talking, how could servants just enter the room? Or was the Queen’s behavior not meant to be public?

Unaware of the eyes watching through the door crack, the two maids chatted softly about the drama at the ball tonight, placing the silver tray on the ground and pushing open the door of the large room at the end of the corridor.

“Ahhhhh—!”

Almost simultaneously, a piercing scream echoed through the night, startling Priscilla almost to the ground. Dwight steadied her, quickly scanning the room for another exit.

Nobles, especially kings, commonly built secret chambers and passages in castle palaces, but not always.

Even if there were secret passages in the room they were in, it would be difficult for a Duke visiting for the first time to find one so quickly.

“What happened?” Priscilla tried to approach the door but was stopped by Dwight. The two maids were still screaming, and footsteps were already sounding in the hallway.

“Something must have happened in the room.” Dwight quickly assessed Priscilla’s attire. “Don’t go out now. Wait until more people arrive, pretend to be alarmed, and blend into the crowd. Their attention will be on the room. They won’t notice you coming from next door.”

Priscilla was uncertain. “What about you? We’ll just hide here and wait…”

“No.” The young Duke had already quickly considered several possible scenarios and responses after the scream. “If it’s a violent incident, experienced military officers will immediately check the vicinity of the incident site. This room would be the first to be scrutinized.”

He was absolutely right.

The two screaming maids were pulled up from the ground as people from all directions gathered, and the spacious corridor was nearly impassable. Petite Priscilla managed to slip out unnoticed amid the chaos, blending in with several noblewomen who had come in response to the noise.

“What—what’s happening?” she asked.

The doorway to the King’s room was already crowded, making it nearly impossible to push through.

“The Queen! The Queen is dead!” someone at the front screamed in terror.

Before the crowd could react, another voice shouted, “The Queen is alive! There’s another woman—”

“Go find His Majesty!”

“His Majesty isn’t in the room?”

“Find His Majesty!”

The guards struggled to disperse the crowd. Priscilla, concerned for her brother, lingered reluctantly. A guard approached her, and she preemptively said, “I won’t leave until I am sure the King and my husband are safe. I won’t obstruct you, but you must tell me—”

Her words faltered as the Countess stared in astonishment at the tall guard before her. Under the distinctive helmet of a Mokwen palace guard was a sunny and handsome face she knew all too well.

Priscilla quickly stepped back. “I won’t push forward. I’ll just watch from afar. Is that okay?”

It seemed the Countess’ concession persuaded him, and the guard backed away.

Priscilla’s heart pounded as she watched the guard casually lean against the door where the Duke of Brandenburg was hiding, seizing the moment to slip inside. Soon after, two guards came out.

“There’s no one in the next room,” the tall guard told others. “Check the other rooms!”

Priscilla finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Mokwen Palace was lit all night—a sudden murder in the palace prompted King Tifa to summon Duke Baylor, Earl Lestrop, and the Senate to an emergency meeting in the middle of the night.

The council hall was heavily guarded, and no one outside knew what was happening inside.

Queen Christine was finally revived by doctors, but she vehemently denied any involvement with the woman who died in the King’s room, claiming she had been drugged and left there by someone unknown.

That was what she said.

His Majesty’s promiscuity was no secret; even before Queen Christine had joined Mokwen from the Duchy of Lebis, his infamous mistress had already publicly flaunted her relationship with the King, causing the Senate to worry that Mokwen might welcome its first courtesan queen, with even a hotheaded minister considering a death plea to advise King Tifa to banish the too passionate and openly promiscuous Lady Dulie, whose nude paintings had fetched astronomical prices.

However, despite his licentious personal life, King Tifa was quite astute in politics. He took over the marriage arrangements originally belonging to his elder brother, Lamore, after he fell from a carriage and was trampled under the chaotic hooves of warhorses, leaving not even a whole corpse behind.

The Duchy of Lebis wasn’t large in terms of land, but it was rich in minerals, and its natural barriers protected its wealth from prying eyes, making it a powerful ally of the Mokwen Kingdom. Tifa’s marriage to Christine was also one of the main reasons he took up the royal crown.

Such a Queen, regardless of Tifa’s real feelings for her, couldn’t be easily abandoned, given the strong position of the Duchy of Lebis.

“Even if she killed her husband’s mistress in the King’s room?” Shivers, dressed in a Mokwen Kingdom guard uniform, leaned against the wall in a rarely trafficked corner, still keeping an eye on the outside.

Dwight paused.

“The murderer… it’s not certain yet,” he said. “The truth is unclear now. If what everyone sees is the truth, then, as the Queen, she is fully entitled to deal with her husband’s improper relations. The only issue is the identity of the woman who died beside her.”

This statement might seem a bit cruel and unfair, but it was actually very objective.

If the dead woman was a noble, then if the Mokwen royal family wanted to protect Christine (which was very likely), they would need to make some compensation and concessions to the family behind that woman, even if just for appearances, and the Queen would face some punishment. But if the woman was a commoner or lower, her death would be in vain, and afterwards, people would only talk about how the Queen must have been driven mad with anger to have taken action herself.

“So, should we leave?” Shivers asked. “There’s no moon tonight. Most of the guards are concentrated around the King. If we want to escape, now is the best time.”

Regardless of who the real culprit was, it had nothing to do with them. The Duke had already achieved his goal of personally confirming Priscilla’s situation, so the best choice was to quickly leave the palace.

Because once the Queen was declared innocent and Tifa began to investigate the real culprit, the palace would surely be under martial law. They would be like stones among wheat; if anyone conducted a thorough check, they would eventually be exposed.

The Duke fell silent.

Actually, there were many things about this night that he couldn’t understand. For example, why Priscilla went alone to Tifa’s room—as a Countess, such behavior, if seen, could spark rumors of an affair by the next day. Setting aside Tifa and Priscilla’s relationship, Dwight didn’t think his sister hadn’t considered this. Moreover, if Priscilla hadn’t been stopped, would she have entered the room before Christine, and would the suspect confined in the room with the corpse have changed from the Queen to the Countess?

Priscilla and Christine’s simultaneous decisions to go to the scene alone—was it a coincidence, or were they… guided?

Dwight lowered his eyes, his long lashes hiding his murky emotions.

One more thing.

Charlie.

That crazy, secretive rabbit. The map he provided, after sampling and verification, largely matched the actual situation; it was a real map.

But the spot he marked for their meeting was no more than twenty steps away from the King’s room. This was also one of the reasons he was able to stop Priscilla from entering Tifa’s room.

As a group of suspicious figures secretly infiltrating the palace, who, in their right mind, would set a meeting point near the most critical area of the palace?

More importantly, Charlie himself didn’t show up.

Until now, neither Shivers nor he had seen a trace of that rabbit-headed shopkeeper.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 26

Clang!

An unexpected scraping sound interrupted the performance of the instrument. The lyrist sitting on the cushion screamed as her lyre was knocked to the ground. Her composed expression twisted as she jumped up in place, utterly lacking in decorum.

Whether on the dance floor or on the sofas, everyone’s attention was drawn to the corner of the disturbance, all bewildered. But soon, another scream erupted—from beneath the pile of exquisite cushions, two frantic rats emerged.

“Rats! How can there be rats?”

“Ah—my dress!”

“Tristina, don’t… oh!”

“My God! What just ran past?!”

The sudden appearance of the rats caused a flurry of screams wherever they went, for their speed was too much for the pampered nobles to avoid. In their panic, many even blocked the rats’ path, nearly dying of fright. Within minutes, a couple of frail ladies had fainted.

A mass panic began to spread uncontrollably—while it was understood that rats were pervasive, even infiltrating palace kitchens, the nobility attending a royal ball would likely never step foot in a kitchen, nor would they know the effort servants made daily to keep such unsightly creatures out of sight.

Ladies in opulent dresses hoisted their skirts, unconcerned about exposing their undergarments, all to furiously stomp and distance themselves from the center of the chaos. The hall’s bright lights also stressed the nocturnal rodents, who scurried aimlessly, occasionally scurrying over polished shoes, triggering even louder screams and roars—this was a time when gentlemen could have drawn their swords to combat the small beasts and rescue the terrified ladies, but this was a banquet, not an arena, and the decorative sheaths beneath their clothing were, in reality, empty of any actual blade.

Frantic servants rushed in with brooms, trying to catch the disruptive rats. Who knows how many times they had cleaned the hall! All the tablecloths and curtains were new; no place could be cleaner than here, yet these rats seemed to appear as if by magic.

As people shoved each other, the well-dressed ladies became quite disheveled—a tall count quickly stopped his wife from being pushed over by a clumsy servant and swiftly led her away from the dance floor. Her skirt was inexplicably stained with wine, the beautiful and dreamy sky blue satin spreading into a purple blotch.

“I’m going back to change clothes.” The Countess clutched to her husband, who was gently patting her chest.

“His Majesty won’t come tonight,” the Count said solemnly. “You don’t need to come back.”

“But…” She looked anxiously back towards the dance floor, where the guards had mostly driven out the rats and the crowd were settling down.

“It’s alright.” The Count gently gathered her loosened hair at her cheek and personally escorted her to the banquet hall door.

The Countess looked up at her husband with a sweet, innocent smile.

“I’ll wait for you.”

The Count smiled back. “Don’t wait for me. I’ll be with His Majesty tonight. I’d rather my wife rest a bit more.”

The Countess nodded and left with the help of her maids.

From any angle, the Count was an exceptional husband.

Noble, wealthy, majestic, mature, attentive, and considerate.

In this setting, he even considered that dressing and undressing a noblewoman’s gown was very time-consuming, and having his wife rush back after changing would only waste time and energy.

One could hardly find any flaws in him.

Almost.

The Countess maintained her impeccable, gracious expression until the last second.

As soon as the maids had unlaced her corset, changed her into regular clothes, and left the room respectfully, the mask she had maintained all evening finally fell.

She waited quietly for ten minutes until there was no sound outside the door. Then, the young Countess, wearing soft-soled shoes, quietly opened the door and slipped into the corridor.

She wasn’t familiar with the layout of the palace, but her excellent memory allowed her to recall the floor plan she had seen just once. She hurried through the corridors as quickly and silently as possible, thankful that most people were focused on the evening’s festivities and many guards were redeployed there. Apart from a couple of passing maids, she encountered no obstacles.

Due to her high status, her accommodation in the palace wasn’t far from her destination. After dangerously avoiding two patrols of guards, she finally reached a broad corridor with a large room at the end. The door was closed and unguarded—suggesting it was unoccupied.

Her heart was pounding so hard it almost jumped out of her chest. She took a few deep breaths before approaching the door. Just as she reached out to grab the doorknob, a pair of hands suddenly emerged silently from behind, clamping over her mouth!

The Countess almost fainted from shock at that moment, completely forgetting to struggle, letting the person behind her half-carry and half-drag her into the room next to the large one on the left.

Who would dare abduct the Countess in the palace? Just as this thought flashed through her mind, she heard a woman’s voice from outside the door that wasn’t fully closed.

“Get out!”

Although she heard only two words, the Countess immediately recognized the speaker as the current Queen, Christine.

The Queen?

The Countess looked toward the unsecured door, thinking if she could signal somehow—

“Shh.” The man holding her seemed to sense her thoughts, lowering his head close to her ear.

The Countess’s eyes widened in shock.

“It’s me, sister.”

The hand that had been tightly covering her mouth finally loosened, and the Countess trembled all over, hardly daring to turn around.

“How can this be…” she barely managed to utter, tears uncontrollably falling from her eyes, but she was utterly unaware of them.

The young Duke placed his hand on her slender shoulder and gently turned her around.

Though they had been apart for years, the young man’s eyes, inherited from their mother, remained exactly as they had appeared in her dreams. His excessively pale skin and undeniable beauty were unmatched by anyone she had seen since leaving her homeland.

The Countess’s eyelashes trembled. “How are you…”

“I was worried about you, Priscilla.” Dwight’s expression was far colder than his sister’s, but if Eugene and the others were present, they would be shocked by his uncharacteristically gentle tone.

“I…” the Countess began but was immediately cut off by her brother.

The Duke gestured for her to be aware of the outside.

He had intentionally not closed the room’s door completely, and now a thin crack made it easy for passersby to overlook.

They heard Queen Christine scold her maids, ordering them to leave, then she entered the corridor alone.

Priscilla approached the door crack, only catching a glimpse of a skirt flitting by before the Queen entered a large room at the end of the hallway.

“Is that Tifa’s room?” Dwight whispered.

Priscilla hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”

The Duke didn’t ask why she had gone to the King’s room alone earlier, but the Countess knew her brother well—he didn’t need to voice his concerns for them to be pressing on his mind.

She should explain, but she hadn’t prepared a convincing excuse. In front of Duke Dwight, anything less than the stark truth would seem like a joke.

However, Dwight didn’t pressure her.

“I’m not here to dictate how you live your life,” the young Duke said. “I just wanted to see you.”

His words softened Priscilla’s heart, but years of etiquette training and sharp political instincts made her immediately conceal her vulnerability, lifting her chin slightly.

In a matter of seconds, she transformed from a lonely, married-away young woman, shocked to see a loved one, back into Priscilla, the reserved, self-controlled noblewoman who hid the grief of her parents’ deaths in her room.

“I didn’t hear you were coming,” she said, looking at Dwight and slowly frowning. “That shouldn’t be…”

Given Duke Dwight’s status, had he come through official channels, not just the royal palace of Mokwen but Priscilla herself should have been informed upon his entry into the continent of Doran.

Her ignorance meant only one thing.

“How did you get here?” Priscilla’s expression changed. “Where are the papers? The knights? What about Shivers?”

By the time she mentioned the last question, her voice had risen uncontrollably.

“I came privately,” the Duke admitted calmly.

“You? You! Whatever your reasons!” Priscilla’s chest heaved dramatically. “You are the head of the Dwight family! How can you disregard your own safety—”

“I’ve grown up, sister,” Dwight said patiently. “I’ll be fine.”

Priscilla glared at him, closing her mouth.

This was as angry as she ever appeared, always so gentle by nature.

Dwight continued, “I’m not here to see him. I came for this.”

He took out a black velvet box. Despite being away from soil and sunlight and after all this time, the rose inside hadn’t wilted, though it had deteriorated somewhat since the last time the rabbit-headed shopkeeper saw it.

The box’s magic, crafted by elves, kept the rose alive, closely linked to the distant lands of Lemena.

Priscilla covered her mouth with her hand.

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