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.
“Charge! Charge! The spirit of freedom will not submit!” a robust voice shouted. As the crowd turned to look, some couldn’t help but cry out in surprise.
In front of a hay bale, an old goat stood majestically at the forefront, flanked by several fierce-looking geese and a hen. Behind these animals, a pair of disheveled young man and woman looked on in bewilderment, trembling incessantly.
“Isn’t that John’s old goat? Why is it speaking?” a bearded farmer asked in amazement.
“It’s the demons! It must be the demons! They’re driving the beasts to attack humans!” an elderly woman shouted shrilly. “Drive them away! Stab them with pitchforks! Burn their bones!”
The two young people, surrounded by the farmers, trembled even more.
At that moment, the old goat called out again, “They’re not demons—just a pair of unfortunate lovers. Just let them pass—”
A sharp-eyed person noticed something. “Is there something in the hay bale?”
“Please,” said the girl among the two young people, pleading. She had a few freckles on her nose, and her long brown hair was braided. If it weren’t for the mud and hay on her, she would look quite charming.
“We’re not thieves, just passing through—please let us leave. I swear to Lord Oelde, we will not take even a single straw.”
“You are not from Horn Village. Why are you in my orchard?” the leading bearded farmer shouted. “If you are from a good family, why are you sneaking around? What are your names? Where are you from?”
The two young people looked at each other, but neither spoke. The brown-haired, skinny boy cautiously pulled the girl’s hand and took a step back.
At this, anyone with a bit of understanding knew what was happening: a young couple appearing disheveled in a strange land—they were most likely eloping lovers.
Unlike the romantic tales sung by bards, rural elopements weren’t about noble ladies or young masters falling in love with lowly commoners and fleeing their families in overly fantastical plots. Instead, they often involved parents displeased with a boy’s family wealth and unwilling to follow their daughter’s wishes, looking to trade for greater benefits.
“Have you betrayed your parents and fled your home?” the bearded farmer bellowed.
The brown-haired boy shook his head, gathering the courage to speak. “We do not wish to betray our families, but my fiancée’s life was in danger, and we had to flee at night to survive. Please open the fence. We will leave immediately and cause no trouble.”
His words made things worse. An inebriated old man jumped up. “Did you offend some nobleman to end up here?! Now those knights will soon flatten our village! You two evil, despicable villains!”
His words were like a drop of water in hot oil. The farmers clenched their pitchforks, their faces turning purple with anger. The leading bearded man took a step forward.
“Noble souls do not fear war!” that strange, highly emotional voice shouted again. “Comrades! The time to charge for justice has come!”
An old woman screamed miserably—a plump hen flew at her, wings flapping hard over her face, frightening her into tripping over her apron and falling to the ground.
The old goat stood up on its hind legs like a steed, with several geese flapping their wings vigorously, charging at the people. The farmers were busy helping the old woman and defending against these animals, very afraid of this abnormal situation and, for a moment, unable to subdue them.
The voice shouting to charge had now moved from the old goat’s back to the hay bale. In the chaos, not many noticed that a little tin soldier lay there, commanding loudly, “Léfou! His weakness is on the left foot! Watch out! Their pitchforks are very sharp!”
The red-haired girl was initially stunned by the scene, but regaining her senses, she quickly bent down to pick up a broken old bucket and slammed it hard onto the head of a man wrestling with a white goose, causing him to stagger and fall. The goose triumphantly stepped onto his chest, stretching its neck and squawking twice.
“Emily…” the brown-haired boy stared at her in shock.
Emily lifted her skirt, speaking with a formidable aura. “Don’t just stand there! Do you want us all to lose our lives here?”
The boy, as if awakening from a dream, hurriedly climbed onto the hay bale and picked up the little tin soldier. He tucked it under his arm while pushing away a woman trying to grab Emily’s arm and dragging her stumbling towards the depths of the orchard.
The little tin soldier’s thin legs dangled under his arm. “Charge! Our souls will never submit!”
Charlie suddenly stopped and looked out the window.
He had just felt something strange. It was indescribable, but odd.
Outside was Mrs. Milou’s small garden, where two pink butterflies danced among the cabbage, all quiet, nothing unusual.
He frowned, withdrew his gaze, and wiped a speck of dirt from his walking stick with a tiny square handkerchief. The Duke’s belongings were of the finest quality, but the drawbacks of not having a professional maid along after a long journey were inevitably apparent—unlike clothes that could be worn and discarded, especially when they currently lacked even the facilities to discard clothes.
Dwight glanced at him silently, clearly displeased, unwilling to continue the conversation.
The Duke was in a bad mood, having not changed clothes for three days. At Brandenburg, clothes Dwight took off were usually not worn again. His estate had a tailor shop serving the Dwight family, and even without counting the new outfits bought annually, the shop’s efficiency ensured the Duke could change into four different sets of clothes daily without repetition for a year.
But that wasn’t feasible here. Although they had ample funds, their quasi-legal status forced the Duke to keep a low profile in most situations, even after a series of escapes, necessitating a temporary stay in an oil-stained, cluttered farmhouse, making him feel itchy all over.
“Alright.” Charlie stood the walking stick upright, examined it, and returned it to the Duke, neatly folding the handkerchief back into his pocket. “Don’t look so grim, Your Grace. I believe Dave will soon bring us suitable horses, and if we’re lucky, we’ll reach the town the villagers spoke of by tomorrow, where you’ll find the bathtub and nightgown you need.”
Dwight grimaced. “Anything made of material other than silk can only be called a potato sack, not a nightgown.”
Charlie shrugged.
The conditions in Horn Village were too primitive for His Grace to bear, so they planned to head to the nearest town to make further plans.
Among the scattered group, Shivers could keep himself safe with either force or looks, Eugene knew various survival skills under extreme conditions, and as for Columbus, as long as he wasn’t thrown into a burning stove, even a bear wouldn’t pose a life-threatening danger.
So Charlie agreed to the duke’s plan, not because he was also fastidious, but out of self-interest, he too wanted to quickly distance himself from the Lamp Bearers of Thorn Manor—the sooner, the better, the further, the better.
Thus, the two devised a compromise. Citing the long-term life of luxury as unbearable for further travel, they gave Dave some money to buy two horses at Thorn Manor on their behalf.
Because the reward was substantial, Dave urgently recruited a few trustworthy people and headed to Thorn Manor in the morning, indeed returning with two horses.
The Duke of Brandenburg was always generous, leaving the remaining money from the horse purchase to Dave as a reward, exciting the burly farmer to the point of incoherence. He insisted on driving them to the main road in a cart.
If one could view Horn Village from above, it would appear as a crescent-shaped, narrow village, surrounded on three sides by slopes, with one side bordered by a river with ample water, the villagers’ crops concentrated in the relatively flat valleys, and many fruit trees planted on the slopes, but with the winter just over, the new buds on the branches were sparse.
Dave, wary of conversing with Dwight, diligently stayed close to Charlie’s side, attempting to introduce Horn Village—but the ordinary little village had little to offer in terms of novelty. Luckily, a piece of recent news barely sufficed as something novel to tell the Lord.
“Just today at noon, something strange happened in the village next door,” Dave said. “A pair of eloping lovers ran into a fruit farmer’s orchard, and the owner of the orchard was furious. That unlucky guy—I’ve seen him during the Boal festival. He has a terrible temper. Anyway, he went to check his orchard and found the couple. He tried to drive them out, but then something bizarre happened—an old goat started talking, loudly scolding him.”
The Duke: “……”
Rabbit-headed shopkeeper: “……”
If it weren’t for his belief that Dave lacked such sophisticated social skills, he might almost think this man was deliberately telling this story in front of his rabbit-headed self.
Indeed, Dave hadn’t noticed the Lords’ odd reactions and thought he’d found a good topic to continue with. “That farmer was terrified. He called for some helpers, wanting to tie up that evil old goat along with the chickens and dogs around it, but the couple and the animals escaped deeper into the orchard. Who knows their own orchard better than the farmer? He gathered more people to corner and capture them all. But guess what?”
Rabbit-headed shopkeeper: “……”
Dave lowered his voice. “The old goat was still there, but out of nowhere, a highly skilled ally appeared and quickly knocked everyone to the ground before they all escaped—even the goat and the hen and geese!”
…Okay. Although it was a love story, the shopkeeper and the Duke, a bit overwhelmed by their own problems, had little interest in rumors that were half fact, half hearsay. The usually gentle shopkeeper managed a polite response. “That’s indeed strange. I hope no one was hurt.”
They were nearly at the end of the country road when Dave, a bit reluctant to end the conversation, hesitated before saying, “Speaking of coincidences, I went to Thorn Manor today and heard that a maid had run away. Several skilled people from the manor were organized to chase her, but they didn’t mention any man running with her.”
If that girl was a runaway serf from the manor, this would be very different from the nature of rural youths freely falling in love, as everyone except the owner and the management at the manor had no personal freedom. Everything about them belonged to the owner. Leaving the owner’s territory without permission counted as escaping serfdom, and according to the laws of most countries, the owner had the right to dispose of their lives—typically they were caught and executed on the spot.
It wasn’t that losing one or two workers would cause any real damage to the owner. It was the direct challenge to the owner’s authority that was deadly. If they encountered an unreasonable noble, it was possible that their anger could extend to the village or town where they hid.
This was precisely why Dave dared not directly suggest that the eloping couple might have come from Thorn Manor, fearing it might bring trouble to the neighboring village or even Horn Village. It was only because he saw that Charlie and Dwight were about to leave this place and would have no contact with Thorn Manor that he ventured to discuss it, showcasing a bit of cunning on Dave’s part.
As Dave expected, the two beleaguered Lords weren’t particularly interested in other people’s secrets. Charlie didn’t make any connection with the absurdity of a talking goat, clearly having forgotten his own entirely absurd circumstances.
Dave courteously saw them onto the main road, savoring the extra fortune these nobles had brought him from the skies, then happily turned back home, soon forgetting about the orchard next door and the rebellious maid’s story from Thorn Manor.
After returning to his room, Yu Ruoyun didn’t rest and soon received a call from his father.
“You’re gay, right?” His father immediately questioned.
“Yes.” Having already mentioned it once, there was no point to hiding it anymore.
“Why did you only tell your mother?” his father asked, veering off-topic.
Yu Ruoyun felt somewhat speechless. “She was definitely going to tell you anyway.”
“We don’t need you to tell us that!” His father became even angrier. “Do you think we were blind and couldn’t guess? Especially in the past few years… Forget it. Who is it anyway? You should at least tell me that.”
He seemed to want to know first. But it made sense. By the time someone reached their thirties or forties, they had their own social circles and were no longer under their parents’ control. His parents likely had suspicions all along.
Yu Ruoyun said, “I’m not sure it matters now. His name is Jiang Yu.”
His father had heard of the name. “Jiang Yu? Isn’t he dead? That Jiang Yu, right?”
“Yes.”
“Dead for a year, and now you bring it up. What do you mean by that?” His father’s anger rose further. “And it’s been a year since he died, and you just now decided to call and tell us. What, do you want us to arrange a posthumous wedding?”
Yu Ruoyun: “……”
He said, “I just felt that it was unfair to him—you didn’t know of his existence even after his death.”
“So you were just being a scumbag these past few years?” His father said. “The entertainment industry has really corrupted you. Not only did you have a homosexual relationship, but you also hid it from your family. Tsk.”
Thinking about it, even though he didn’t remember what happened before, it did sound like something a scumbag would do. If Jiang Yu were a woman, they would probably have gotten married after she had gotten pregnant.
“Maybe I wanted him to turn into a vengeful ghost and haunt me,” Yu Ruoyun said.
……
When Long Xingyu thought of watching the award ceremony, it was already halfway through.
He had intended to keep track but got busy and forgot. The tasks at this lousy company piled up. Just as he was about to leave the crew, new work came up, and they told him to prepare early. Although his singing performance last time was impressive, his dancing was lacking. Long Xingyu spent his break practicing those dance moves. Only today did he remember there was something he had forgotten.
The award ceremony was already more than halfway through when Long Xingyu turned on the TV. The presenter on stage was familiar, leisurely opening the envelope and slowly announcing into the microphone, “The Lifetime Achievement Award goes to…”
“Jiang Yu.”
Typically, they only dialed up the suspense for awards like Best Actor and Best Actress. Even the shortlisted actors were made so nervous to the point of tears sometimes. . The Lifetime Achievement Award, in comparison, was less suspenseful. It wasn’t even a regular award, usually given to senior film veterans. When the presenter said Jiang Yu’s name, Long Xingyu could hear the reaction from the audience even outside the TV screen.
Long Xingyu was also shocked, like all the other viewers. Then the presenter called for someone to accept the award on his behalf. Who the hell could that be?!
Oh, his mother.
That made sense. Only a family member would be appropriate to accept the award on his behalf. He, as Long Xingyu, Jiang Yu’s “illegitimate son”, couldn’t. Nor could Yu Ruoyun…
Thinking of Yu Ruoyun, he wanted to see Yu Ruoyun’s expression. Unfortunately, his mother was already on stage, and the camera focused on her. She seemed in good spirits, which relieved Long Xingyu somewhat.
He had resented his mother as a child but gradually forgot about it as he grew up. His mother had almost been recruited into an art troupe but gave up the opportunity due to her pregnancy. She pinned her hopes on Jiang Yu, enrolling him in various extracurricular classes and taking him to competitions and TV performances. Jiang Yu thought this tedious game would end when his mother realized how hard it was for a child star to become famous, and he could finally go back to school. Only after meeting Yu Ruoyun did he realize that he wasn’t alive only for the sake of achieving someone else’s dreams, and that he, too, had something he wanted to pursue. Without Yu Ruoyun, he might have left the industry and wouldn’t have been hit by a car on his way to find Yu Ruoyun. In the end, it was all Yu Ruoyun’s fault. Yu Ruoyun was still in the audience, clapping, when he should be in jail, shedding tears of remorse.
He had imagined this scene before, imagined how things would have gone when he was the one receiving the award, with Yu Ruoyun applauding for him. The price he’d paid for this to come true was too absurd. If Jiang Yu were alive and received the Best Actor award, he might indeed cry tears of joy. People would say Jiang Yu finally got the award he deserved after years and years of trying. The award itself might still be controversial, though. Jiang Yu had the acting skills but lacked luck, but awarding him the Lifetime Achievement Award was simply ridiculous—he was too young and unqualified.
Now it was different. Dead people were more easily forgiven, and Jiang Yu’s life was indeed over.
Long Xingyu turned off the TV.
……
After the award ceremony, several after-parties were held, by individuals and film crews both, and Yu Ruoyun was invited to all of them. As he approached the venue, reporters were already waiting, and seeing Yu Ruoyun, they bombarded him with questions. Yu Ruoyun smiled and walked in. As he was about to enter, a reporter asked, “Jiang Yu won the Lifetime Achievement Award…”
Yu Ruoyun paused and said, “Yes.”
The reporter didn’t expect an answer, and the sharp question remained unfinished as the reporter remained rooted on the spot in shock.
Yu Ruoyun continued, “I have actually always waited for the chance to tell him, ‘Congratulations on your award, new Best Actor.'”
He wanted to tell Jiang Yu, that self-righteous fool, that he never thought Jiang Yu as inferior to him.
The cameras flashed brightly, hurting his eyes. Yu Ruoyun turned and entered.
The party’s star was the actress who had just won Best Actress, and Yu Ruoyun had some acquaintance with her. However, he came for someone else. Shortly after arriving, someone tapped his shoulder from behind. “It’s rare to see you at such events.”
“Uncle Wu,” Yu Ruoyun greeted. “Long time no see.”
Wu Yi, the director of Yu Ruoyun’s first film and chairman of this Golden Phoenix Award, was known in the industry as Uncle Wu.
After making Yu Ruoyun a young Best Actor, Wu Yi thought he’d directed every film he should have, and thus he announced his retirement. A few years later, unable to rest, he found a loophole and returned as a producer, still making great films. For someone who never stopped working, Yu Ruoyun’s recent actions annoyed him.
“What have you been doing lately?” Wu Yi grabbed a drink from a passing waiter. “Is that web series finished?”
“No,” Yu Ruoyun replied, knowing a lecture was coming.
“Not finished? When I heard about it, I thought it was fake news! If you needed a script, why didn’t you tell me…” Wu Yi paused, his tone softening. “Is this because of Jiang Yu?”
Hearing that name from his mentor made Yu Ruoyun’s heart skip a beat. “Why would you think that?”
He didn’t outright deny it, which made Wu Yi even angrier. He downed his drink in one gulp. “When you called to ask if there was a Lifetime Achievement Award this year, I thought it was odd. You’re not the type to dig for information. Then you suggested considering Jiang Yu, saying you admired his dedication to film. And I believed it! Damn!”
He reached for another drink, but Yu Ruoyun stopped him. “Your liver isn’t good. Drink less.”
Wu Yi said, “I wondered why you hadn’t arrived. Just as I was about to find you, I heard you talking to reporters. Jiang Yu was your colleague and competitor, and you never worked together. Your tone shouldn’t have been like that.”
Wu Yi could exaggerate when directing an actress who lacked the emotional acuity needed, saying things like, “Imagine returning home to find your house flooded, with your limited edition bag soaking and dead rats floating nearby. Yes, that’s how shocked and sad you should be!”
Said actress cried without complicated emotions,, but that wasn’t the case for Yu Ruoyun. He sounded like Wu Yi’s wife, whose bag had been slashed in Italy.. She had sat at a corner in the square, and she didn’t cry or leave; she just sat there. Wu Yi promised to buy her another, but she said, “The salesgirl said it was the last one.”
Couldn’t she get another model? Another color, another leather—there’s always something! But she insisted it wasn’t the same. She just liked that one.
“I only suggested it,” Yu Ruoyun said.
But Wu Yi had seriously considered it. “We initially wanted to give him an award even before you did. We debated awarding him the Professional Spirit Award, but I suggested the Lifetime Achievement Award. It’s a bit too heavy a honor for him, but he’d missed out on a lot of awards in the past.”
In the end, the vote passed. The Lifetime Achievement Award was heavy but uncontested. Though there was no precedent for giving it posthumously, it wasn’t forbidden. Jiang Yu had only been dead a year, and his popularity remained. He could be a highlight of the ceremony.
“Was I right?” Wu Yi wondered. “Or were you close friends in private? You’re always nice to your friends..”
“No,” Yu Ruoyun interrupted. “We were lovers, as you suspected.”
Luckily, Wu Yi hadn’t taken another drink; he might have sprayed it everywhere.
“How did you get involved with him?” Wu Yu was quite curious. “Your secrecy was impressive.”
Amidst the chatter, people congratulated the Best Actress, exchanged pleasantries, dropped pastries, and posted on social media. In the noise, Yu Ruoyun heard himself say, “I can’t remember.”
It was easy to make cutting remarks, but Long Xingyu suddenly felt somewhat powerless. He could certainly mock Yu Ruoyun for being outdated and discarded by the market, just like when they first “met”. It was easy; no one stayed at the top forever. But it was hard to make demands of Yu Ruoyun. What right did he have to stick his nose in Yu Ruoyun’s business? Only Yu Ruoyun wouldn’t show him any resentment.
Long Xingyu did not want to speak, so he remained silent while he began eating. This university’s cafeteria was quite famous. Aside from the strange dishes, the other foods were pretty good, though everything tasted bland to Long Xingyu. In his peripheral vision, he could still see Yu Ruoyun, who still had makeup on from the scene—a bit haggard to fit the character and storyline, with darkened skin and heavy eye circles. In this light, Yu Ruoyun seemed like an ordinary middle-aged man.
The first time he saw Yu Ruoyun was backstage at an event. Jiang Yu had clothes draped over his arm, thinking of finding a changing room. Amid the chaos, someone called out, “Xiao* Yu.”
*Little (小) Generally used on someone younger (in terms of age or rank) than the person, it’s a term of endearment or familiarity with the person.
Jiang Yu instinctively responded, but the person walked past him without noticing*. They walked to the crowded area ahead and pulled out Yu Ruoyun, who turned out to be Yu Ruoyun’s agent.
*Clarity: She was using (Yu) [俞] as in Yu Ruoyun, not the Yu in Jiang Yu.
The agent, Xu Ye, had been Yu Ruoyun’s agent from the start. As they walked, he complained, “The media interview is about to start, and you’re still dawdling here.”
Yu Ruoyun only smiled apologetically. Though there was no spotlight backstage, Yu Ruoyun seemed to have one. The crowd was his spotlight.
These memories tormented Long Xingyu.
……
A few hours later, they were filming a night scene where Long Xingyu’s character’s identity was exposed, leading to a confrontation and fight with the protagonist before fleeing. Long Xingyu calculated that he didn’t have many scenes left. The next time he’d meet Yu Ruoyun in the story would likely be in a jail cell for an emotional monologue. After all, he was just a small boss on Yu Ruoyun’s road to success. Once defeated, the main story would progress, and he was just an inconsequential actor.
Thinking this, Long Xingyu decided to perform better, at least to secure his next job opportunity. However, it seemed he overdid it. By the end, the director’s look wasn’t exactly approving. But he said nothing and began preparing to wrap up.
Yu Ruoyun and Long Xingyu were both splattered with fake blood, and despite wiping off with a wet towel, it still felt uncomfortable. Yu Ruoyun’s assistant, who had returned from a vacation in Japan, brought a blanket for him against the evening chill. Yu Ruoyun, wrapped in the blanket, looked up and told the assistant, “I remember there’s a spare in the car. Bring one for him too.”
Long Xingyu didn’t hesitate, wrapping himself in the same kind of blanket. He recognized the assistant from before. He climbed into Yu Ruoyun’s van and sat down beside him.
He fell silent again, though he had many things to say to Yu Ruoyun. But in Long Xingyu’s current position, he couldn’t voice them, like, “Why did you hire my assistant?”
He initially thought it was a coincidence. The assistant Jiang Yu used to have was also fond of traveling to Japan, always bringing back thoughtless gifts of popular snacks. Jiang Yu would get a share, which was why he knew about them. After all these years, Long Xingyu started to wonder if Yu Ruoyun was some sort of secret pervert.
Yu Ruoyun spoke first. “Is this your first time acting?”
“…Yes,” Long Xingyu said, then improvised. “Do school performances count?”
Of course not, and this Long Xingyu hadn’t even finished high school before becoming a trainee.
Yu Ruoyun said, “It doesn’t seem like it’s your first time.”
He didn’t say Long Xingyu had talent, just that he didn’t seem like a beginner. This omission was interesting, as if Long Xingyu was pretending to be a virgin in bed, and Yu Ruoyun saw through it while Long Xingyu still planned to deny it.
“Maybe I’m an undiscovered acting genius,” Long Xingyu said. “You could consider being my mentor.”
“The director asked if we should reshoot,” Yu Ruoyun said. “He thinks you stole the show a little and worried I might mind.”
Only then did Long Xingyu understand the director’s look from earlier. He found it amusing. “Worried I’ll overshadow you? I should thank him for having so much faith in me.”
Yu Ruoyun reached over to drape the fallen blanket back over Long Xingyu. While Long Xingyu was talking, he noticed the blanket had slipped and reached out to grab it. When their hands touched, Long Xingyu was stunned for a moment before saying, “Senior, if you keep being this nice to me, it’ll be easy for us to progress further. Don’t forget, I said I’d pursue you.”
“I remember.” Yu Ruoyun suddenly asked, “How did you and Jiang Yu meet?”
Fortunately, Long Xingyu had prepared. “I argued with my family, ran away, and my money was stolen. He helped me.”
There was no way Yu Ruoyun could verify if Jiang Yu had ever given him money, so Long Xingyu lied freely.
Yu Ruoyun looked at him for a long time. Long Xingyu wasn’t sure if he believed him. The crew was ready to return, and as the car started, Long Xingyu heard Yu Ruoyun say, “If not for your ages, which don’t match up, I’d think you were his illegitimate child.”
Mrs. Milou always got up early. As a diligent housewife, she had too much to do—light the fire, sweep the floor, feed the chickens, wake up the entire family, cook a big pot of steaming oatmeal, and after breakfast, send her husband and children to work in the fields. Then she would head to the well to draw water and bring it back home—only then would her day truly begin.
But today, her routine faced a minor disruption.
“Sir, I’m not sure…” she said nervously. She glanced at the fuzzy rabbit head of the other and quickly lowered her gaze.
Good heavens, how could a rabbit’s head be on a human body? Could this be the demons the priest spoke of? But everyone says devils don’t exist, and the stranger seems very polite…
“We didn’t mean to disturb. We just accidentally fell into the river while traveling overnight, and most of our luggage was washed away, but the kind God Oelde still looked after us, leaving us with a little bit of pocket money. I hope this is enough to buy a jug of milk and a loaf of bread from such a kind-hearted lady as yourself.”
Hearing the revered name of Oelde, the God of War, Mrs. Milou immediately calmed down, as it was the god her family worshiped.
Anyone who could invoke and pray to such a god couldn’t be evil, so perhaps this rabbit-headed man was under some kind of curse… She didn’t immediately open the garden gate, but politely asked the two gentlemen to wait a moment and then turned to wake her husband.
The Duke, standing silently behind the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, slowly asked, “How do you know their family worships the God of War?”
He admitted it was a clever trick. In the countryside, where basic education was rare, devotion to gods was almost blind, and indeed, this was the fastest way to gain trust.
“There was a wooden axe symbolizing the God of War in the mill last night. Sharing the same faith usually attracts the surrounding ants like a piece of candy, and neither locusts nor earthworms would come near. The village isn’t far from the manor, so it’s likely the same faith. I just took a small bet.”
And the bet paid off. The smug, rabbit-headed shopkeeper winked at the Duke, who disliked interacting with strangers.
Dwight almost lost his gentlemanly composure with a roll of his eyes.
“Dave! Dave!” Mrs. Milou said. “There are two outsiders at our yard wanting to come in for a rest.”
Dave, a red-haired man with a thick beard, got out of bed upon hearing this and put on his short coat. “Who are they? Do they carry weapons?”
“No weapons, and no horses. They said they fell into the river last night, and their luggage was washed away.” Mrs. Milou followed behind her husband. “They are dressed neatly and very polite gentlemen.”
The children were still asleep. Mrs. Milou quietly mentioned to her husband about the man with the rabbit head.
“Those who worship the God of War are forthright people. That poor man must be under some curse. Don’t make a big deal out of it and lose decorum,” Dave advised his wife.
Dave, who had once been a carpentry apprentice in the city, was more worldly than Mrs. Milou. Reassured by his words, she gathered her skirt and welcomed the two men inside. Only then did the couple get a clear look at their visitors—
Despite her husband’s reminder, Mrs. Milou couldn’t help but gasp. Not because of the rabbit head, but because the gentleman who followed him inside was so exquisitely handsome, she had never seen anyone so good-looking—almost unreal! The visitor’s features, demeanor, and presence seemed to strike a tangible impact, not just on Mrs. Milou, but Dave was also stunned.
Dwight glanced coldly at the dazed couple.
“This is my Lord, Xavier, from Syriacochi,” Charlie hurried to introduce before Dwight reacted.
His Lordship—a nobleman! No, of course, he must be a noble, for how else could one possess such looks and bearings? Dave, the head of the household, was the first to recover, immediately nudging his wife, no longer daring to look directly at the visitors, bowing as he invited them to sit, and hastily wiping the most formal chairs in the house.
Honestly, Dave, nearly a carpenter, was considered quite capable and well-off in the village, and the furniture was the most respectable in the area, but now, in the presence of such distinguished guests, everything seemed so modest. The couple suddenly felt anxious, and the unusual rabbit head of the other gentleman was momentarily forgotten.
Fortunately, the gentleman was very gracious, not minding their rudeness. Dave served the best apple cider and bread they had, and Mrs. Milou quietly woke the children and unusually allowed them to have some coarse bread to send them out.
“We set off from Syriacochi intending to visit relatives in the Holy City of Franly, but our guide led us astray, and we encountered an accident. Fortunately, the God of War is merciful to His lost followers, guiding us to follow the river downstream, and indeed, we encountered this kind and prosperous village. What is the name of this village?” Charlie asked.
“Your Lordship, this is Horn Village, fifty miles south of Ropappas City,” Dave carefully said. “I once heard from a merchant in the city that it takes five days to ride the fastest horse from Ropappas to the Royal City, and ten to fifteen days by carriage.”
He felt the noble lord surely wanted to return as soon as possible.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper said gently, “We need to buy servants and a carriage… Perhaps there is a workshop in the village that sells carriages?”
Dave shook his head. “Your Lordship, carriages are for the gentry. People in Horn Village don’t have that luxury. We make what we need in the village, and what we can’t make, we buy in the city.”
The shopkeeper showed a fittingly troubled expression. “Fifty miles isn’t a short distance for those weary in body and mind. I can barely manage, but my master absolutely cannot endure another such journey. Perhaps we could buy two horses?”
Dave found himself even more troubled.
Compared to private estates and manors, although Horn Village was relatively autonomous under administrative governance, it also faced heavy taxes. No household could afford to use horses for work.
They had donkeys, but even if they were willing to sell, a noble lord couldn’t possibly travel on a donkey…
As Mrs. Milou came in with a plate of fried eggs and heard this, she hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “Then, how about buying from Thorn Manor? That lord is very wealthy…”
Dave nodded. “There’s a manor over the hill. The lord of that manor is wealthy, and it’s said that he has dozens of fine horses in his stables. He would surely be willing to extend his hand to Your Lordship.”
Charlie noted that Dave referred to the manor’s owner as “Lord”.
“Does the manor owner not have a title?” Charlie asked casually.
“Thorn Manor was originally the property of a Viscount from Syriacochi, but after he fell into hardship, it was bought by the current lord. The manor would certainly be eager to assist such an esteemed person,” Dave said. “That was just five years ago. The manor doesn’t really interact much with the surrounding towns. We’re the nearest village to them, and our relationship is neither close nor distant, but the people in their village are quite decent.”
Mrs. Milou and Dave clearly weren’t in a social class that had direct access to the lord of the manor, and after racking their brains, they could say no more about Thorn Manor. They left apologetically, rubbing their hands and leaving the brightest living room for their guests to “enjoy” their food.
Mokwen was a typical inland kingdom, and small villages like Horn Village still used crude salt with a backward processing method, which itself carried a harsh taste. Mrs. Milou, probably fearing that she might neglect her distinguished guests, added quite a bit more, making the fried eggs both salty and bitter. Even the Duke, who had become accustomed to camping outdoors, found it hard to swallow, whereas the rabbit-headed shopkeeper seemed to enjoy everything and showed no signs of last night’s distress.
“So, are we going back to the manor where the carriages are?” the Duke purposely asked him. “That’s the only place with a carriage.”
The shopkeeper’s eyes widened. “Did you throw everything I said last night into the garden? We—absolutely—cannot—get close—to the Lamp Bearers. Although I don’t know what the background of the lord of Thorn Manor is, anyone associated with the Lamp Bearers cannot be good. Hmm, this explains the actions of dragging bodies into the forest to bury at midnight and the tales of maids disappearing like fairy tales. That manor must be exploring some sort of clandestine ritual… But usually, those fond of dark magic don’t have the means or the ability to contact the Lamp Bearers. Only groups with sufficient power and authority can.”
“What does the appearance of the Lamp Bearers imply?” the Duke pressed.
Judging from the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s demeanor, he sensed that these ominous beings were a taboo, but the shopkeeper clung tightly to his silence.
This only piqued his curiosity more.
“In the noble circles of Pennigra, there are followers of the God of Darkness, but the Dwight family has never heard of the Lamp Bearers from them.” Dwight sat in the cluttered little farmhouse, yet his demeanor was still as if he were sitting in a magnificent hall. “If they are not what you call ‘groups with sufficient power and authority’, then it must be the Black Gold Families. After centuries of mutual containment and attrition, their territories have waxed and waned. Could someone be attempting to reshuffle powers using the strength of a dark god? If Thorn Manor is backed by one of the Black Gold Families, then who could it be?”
The Duke of Brandenburg turned his face towards the window. The sunlight gently dusted his nose with gold, but his profile remained sharply cold. “Is it the Foxs, who master passion and intelligence? Or the Lions, who deal in forbidden drugs and violence? Or perhaps the Monkeys who oversee the underground trade, or the irrational gamblers, the Wolfs?”
Mrs. Milou had planted some insect-repelling herbs under the window. Their fragrance slightly diluted the smell of the fried eggs in the room.
The young Duke unconsciously tapped on the wooden table contemplatively. “These monstrous creatures in the sewers depend on each other yet resist one another. It’s very likely that any one of them might resort to underhanded tactics.”
Charlie drank the last of his wine, not joining the conversation.
These names, like summoning demons in any city’s underbelly, spoken by the Duke in a careless, half-mocking tone, suddenly gave him a sense of absurd unreality.
Monstrous creatures… Indeed, he thought the description couldn’t be more apt.
“Whoever it is, we have no need to get involved with them,” he pointed out calmly. “The best thing now is to find Columbus and then stay away from these suspicious people and events. It’s unwise to invite complications at any time.”
The Duke’s train of thought was interrupted, and he glanced at him with displeasure, but he inwardly admitted the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s point was valid.
If they were in Lemema, he had wealth and power at his disposal and could track down anything that interested him—even the color of the Emperor’s underwear—of course, a respectable nobleman would never do such a thing.
But on the vulnerable continent of Doran, excessive curiosity could very well bring deadly trouble.
“Ridiculous. Why would we get involved with them?” The Duke snorted. “Let that peasant woman clean my cloak, and then we’ll have a decent dinner. Shivers should be able to find us by the markers soon. As for that tin soldier, if folding hands in prayer and your little magic tricks for finding people work, his safety won’t be a problem. We’ll be able to leave here quietly soon enough.”
“What is that?” Shivers squinted, straining to see more clearly. “Is that a light?”
Eugene, like a deflated balloon, lay lifelessly at his feet, barely looking up. “Where do you see light? I only see the moon.”
“Get up,” Shivers said unsympathetically, half-pulling him to his feet. “You’re too weak. Even the youngest squire in my team is stronger than you.”
Eugene was dissatisfied. “After choking nearly to death and walking most of the night, it’s amazing I can still breathe—is it a crime to be an ordinary person?”
“Stop complaining. We need to find them quickly.” Shivers tried to recognize the surroundings, looking for any signs left by the Duke, but it was too dark to see any trace on the trees and rocks.
This made the Knight Commander a bit anxious. Although the Duke himself wasn’t weak in combat, he always felt uneasy not having him in sight—after all, his master wasn’t someone who had to personally deal with every little trouble. All he could do now was pray that at least Charlie was with the Duke, looking out for each other. Thinking of this, he exhaled roughly, pushing Eugene a bit rudely, urging him to walk towards the faint light in the distance.
In most cases, Shivers was willing to be a gentleman, but if the other party was a lazy pig who wouldn’t move without a whip, he had no choice but to adopt the stern attitude he used to train new knights.
“Can’t we walk when it’s light?” Eugene reluctantly dragged his feet. The fatigue from escaping death in the water made him just want to close his eyes and sleep.
“No. We can’t be separated for too long,” Shivers said succinctly. “In the dark, people instinctively move towards the light, and it will be hard to determine that direction once it’s light.”
It took a while for Eugene to realize what the Knight Commander was saying, and he perked up a bit. “Is it really a light?”
He immediately thought of the farmhouses in the fields, with their heavy wooden doors blocking the cold wind outside, warm gas lamps inside, the smell of pine burning in the fireplace, and the scent of roasted chicken from dinner. A plump hostess would kindly offer the spot nearest to the fireplace to lost travelers, diligently serving bread and hot milk… Suddenly, he felt strength return to his legs.
Shivers, frowning, hurried him along without an immediate response. Initially, it was a flickering, very small light point, moving quite fast, probably a carriage lamp. Later, it became a fixed patch of light, likely stopped at a tavern or inn—the people who had already gone to bed lit lamps had rekindled the stove for the arriving carriage, making the light bright enough that even Eugene could see. This was a reasonable assumption, but for some reason, he felt a vague unease, like walking in a pitch-dark sewer, sensing creatures lurking in the dark—although invisible, that evil aura heightened his entire body’s defensive instincts to the extreme.
He worried about the Duke facing unpleasant malice head-on. It was his duty to stand guard with his sword before danger approached, but at the moment, he…
“They should be fine,” Eugene suddenly muttered.
Shivers turned to look at him.
“Your Lord, when he fights, he’s ruthlessly unlike a person. Over in the Green Woods, he broke a horse trader’s nose with a single cane strike, and that trader was a former soldier,” Eugene said. “So, no matter his appearance… Nobody dares underestimate him.”
Eugene considered himself a rakish scoundrel, and in a different setting, although he wouldn’t act disrespectfully in the presence of a crowd of nobles, he would still make jokes about Dwight in private. But after a fight on the edge of the Green Woods, to be honest, Eugene still didn’t dare to look directly at this Duke, who, despite his gentle appearance, had fists much harder than his own.
Shivers paused, realizing that the other seemed to sense his anxiety and was trying to reassure him, and suddenly smiled.
“You’re right. The Duke is strong.” The Knight Commander’s blond hair, dried by the wind, shone under the moonlight.
Eugene just breathed a sigh of relief when his collar was yanked again.
“But letting the master worry is also a knight’s dereliction of duty.” Shivers’s bright smile disappeared in an instant. “We must reach his side to support him as soon as possible, so move your lazy ass. We can’t let them touch him.”
“‘Them’?” Noticing Shivers’ word choice, Eugene was puzzled. In this wilderness, he didn’t think there were any creatures other than field mice and owls.
“I don’t know, but my gut tells me, those guys behind the lights, they’re not…” Shivers adjusted his wording carefully, cautiously saying, “Humans. At least not ordinary humans.”
“What do you mean they’re not human?”
Two figures quickly slid down the slope. The dew on the grass tips before dawn wetted their hems.
The invisibility potion didn’t make them truly invisible, but after drinking it, their scent completely merged with the surrounding environment, making them undetectable even to trained hunting dogs, as long as they remained hidden.
Charlie didn’t look back the whole way. Dwight felt that even the rabbit fur on his face was stiffly bristled, the whole person was like a perpetually alert giant hedgehog.
“They’re not natural creations. They’re the poisonous weeds that sprout at the feet of demons—the incarnations of dry bones in graves, immortal and evil creatures.” His voice, which was normally comforting and effortless, was now cold and hard, as if the words themselves could collide with a crisp clatter. “Extremely ominous, not to be tested, looked at, or touched.”
Dwight watched his firm back, feeling a strange sensation.
It was as if a delicate and novel but lifeless ornament that had been hanging on the wall suddenly gained a bit of warmth, sparking a bit of interest to look more closely.
‘He’s scared,’ Dwight thought.
The Duke, like a child who had discovered a new toy, was no longer particularly concerned about the other’s impolite act of forcing him to drink the strange potion. Instead, he observed the rabbit-headed shopkeeper’s back under the dim light of the North Star.
“So, they’re demons?” The Duke drawled. In this era when gods had fallen and demons had vanished, there still existed evil beings, neither human nor ghost. Sometimes these were remnants of the power left by demons who once roamed the land, and sometimes they were the nefarious products of black magic or alchemy, existing in various forms, but they could be destroyed by the church and mages. They were collectively known as demons.
They stopped only when they were as far away from the manor as possible.
“Strictly speaking, they’re not demons, as holy water and magic have little direct effect on them,” Charlie said, panting. It was just beginning to dawn, but he still pulled out a palm-sized pocket lighter from his coat pocket, briefly used the light to check the surroundings, then snapped it shut.
“They are ‘Lamp Bearers’,” he said in a whisper, finding a relatively flat piece of ground to sit. “No one knows where they come from or how long they have existed. They are immortal spirits that exist only for an ancient mission and cannot be commanded by outsiders.”
“Lamp Bearers… I remember similar beings in the scriptures of Legolas, the God of Darkness” Dwight said slowly. “I once visited their Starry Cathedral when I was a child. Inside, the murals depicted cloaked figures holding candlesticks, bowing as they led the way for the gods, named Chimichus, which in ancient Guchira language means ‘Gravedigger’.”
The sky gradually tinted crimson, and the air became moist and fresh.
Charlie gradually regained his composure, tipping the brim of his hat at Dwight. “Nowadays, people’s main worship has shifted from the three great gods of Darkness, Light, and Life to the gods of Sky, Earth, Sea, as well as War, Harvest, and Wealth. The once mighty three main gods have become historical symbols over time, greater in symbolic than actual significance, and even scholars studying these beliefs are no longer active. That you could accurately identify Chimichus is truly indicative of your extensive knowledge.”
“The Church’s definition of Chimichus does indeed have similarities with the Lamp Bearers. It might be a symbol rewritten from the Lamp Bearers after historical distortions. On the surface, ‘lamp bearing’ and ‘grave digging’ indeed convey the same idea—’searching’, but deeper aspects have not been unearthed or expressed… In the teachings of the God of Darkness, Chimichus exists to light the way for the gods, but the Lamp Bearers aren’t actually lighting the way for their masters. They carry the light, passing through forests, swamps, and busy streets, and following their steps, one can find a certain hidden and forbidden existence.”
He stopped there, shutting his mouth. Dwight, clearly unsatisfied, pressed, “What existence?”
Charlie made a strange expression between a smile and a frown, seemingly trying to lighten the serious atmosphere, but failed. “It’s taboo. Those who know wouldn’t easily disclose it. Everything about the Lamp Bearers is something I’ve deduced from appearances, which may not be accurate.”
Seeing Dwight’s face fall, he added, “But one thing I am sure of is that the ‘Lamp Bearers’ are as ominous as a plague. They have no emotions or logic, nor do they attack humans, but once humans come into contact with them, only regrettable outcomes follow. The wise course is to stay as far away from them as possible before the curse takes effect.”
Dwight looked at him with a half-smile, his customary mocking expression clearly conveying, “I know you’re not telling the whole truth”. But one of the old nobility’s virtues was being very perceptive, usually not indulging in unsightly prying when the other party was unwilling.
Besides, the shopkeeper had thick skin even before he turned into a rabbit-headed man, and now with an extra layer of fur, he cared even less, nonchalantly saying, “So it’s best we don’t go near that manor. The Lord of that manor’s problems are worse than we thought.”
“Let’s go downstream along the river. There should be more villages along it to buy a carriage… or a fine horse. Shivers will catch up,” Dwight said with disgust as he glanced at his coat, smeared with mud and grass. As the daylight grew brighter, he became increasingly intolerant of his own disheveled appearance.
Charlie was somewhat surprised by the Duke’s agreeableness, as it was usually the case that “if Rabbit Head dislikes something, he has to try doing it”. However, a night of disarray must have been quite unbearable for the Duke of Brandenburg, whose need for a hot bath and clean sheets surpassed his usual penchant for troubling Charlie.
Once the Duke recovered, he would probably continue to pursue the matter of the Lamp Bearers, Charlie thought, his head buzzing. Earlier, he had anticipated that they might encounter traces of the Lamp Bearers on the continent of Doran, but he didn’t expect to nearly face them so soon. It was the worst-case scenario—just seeing them from afar still left him with the shudder of a venomous reptile slithering over his spine, a threat to his life lingering long after.
They must find Columbus as soon as possible and leave this dangerous area. If necessary, he could summon Darby Belly Fish again… With this thought, Charlie turned to look deeply in the direction of the manor, pressed the brim of his top hat, and hurriedly followed the Duke, stepping on the dew, along the river.
The author has something to say:
Charlie’s words and actions are somewhat contradictory, but it’s not a bug. He just isn’t telling the whole truth.
“What did you put in the tea?” Dwight tightened his finally dried cloak. His light golden hair cast a faint halo under the moonlight, making his expressionless face appear particularly indifferent.
“Just a bit of strong liquor to warm the body,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said casually. “It has a good sedative effect, perfect for Tom tired from crying.”
Behind them, the light leaking from the mill was dim, and the sleeping Tom was oblivious, curled up beside the stove, trying to soak up some warmth before the fire went out completely.
The two quietly crossed the silent village, whispering their thoughts to each other.
“Only the darkest of black magic would use living sacrifices,” Charlie analyzed. “Tom said we’re at least 140 miles from Syriacochi, far from the central nobility’s power. There might be a few small towns nearby, so it’s possible to deceive country girls looking for work. The manor is highly autonomous, so there haven’t been any slip-ups…”
Unlike the relatively stable situation in Pennigra, the continent of Doran had been plagued by wars due to fragmented kingdoms, breeding seeds of misfortune beyond death and poverty—it was also a breeding ground for illegal faiths. During his stay in Mokwen’s Royal City, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper noticed that apart from the widespread Church of Light, the spiritual beliefs among the citizens were quite mixed, including some sects deemed by those in power as worshiping evil gods, which followers called the New Faith. In less affluent and stable areas, these misleading beliefs were a lifeline for the common folk.
“Is the lord of this manor a follower of the New Faith?” Dwight said wearily. “Either way, it’s none of our business.”
Rather than peculiar cases of missing women, he was more concerned about meeting up with his Knight Commander. The Duke was confident in his combat and survival skills, but that didn’t mean he liked to handle everything personally, especially now, with only a clumsy Rabbit Head by his side.
This wasn’t to say that Charlie was an unqualified companion. On the contrary, he was accustomed to treating everyone around him with meticulous care. Even without servants, the shopkeeper could manage the Duke from head to toe under limited conditions. But Charlie and the Knight Commander were fundamentally different; Shivers was wholeheartedly dedicated to his master, but this Rabbit Head—Dwight still couldn’t fully see through him. His rabbit brain seemed like a mask, hiding something deep beneath his demeanor.
This was a trait all nobles disliked. They preferred simple-minded fools who were easy to manipulate and control, like the sobbing Tom…
“The guys in the woods mentioned a witch,” Charlie said frankly, unaware of Dwight’s complex thoughts. “We’re close to Elena’s territory, and witches are territorial. If Elena is still alive, she likely wouldn’t allow another of her kind on her doorstep.”
“Do you think those bodies are related to Elena?” Dwight frowned. “If so, she’s probably not the little schoolgirl you knew—”
The Duke paused, then added in a mockingly sweet tone, “Anymore.”
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper tipped his hat and smiled at the Duke. “Your Grace, I understand the danger she poses. Right now, we’re on our own, and whether it’s Elena or not, confronting a witch head-on is unwise, but a side investigation could yield useful information and help us reconnect with our lost companions.”
The Duke looked at him with a “go ahead, I’m listening” expression on his face.
“First rule of getting lost: don’t wander off. Stay where you are and wait for the lord to return and find you.” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper winked. “So before we reunite with everyone, it’s best not to stray more than 15 miles from the point where we got separated…”
“Cut the crap. You just want to know the truth about that mansion,” Dwight said expressionlessly. Growing up in a superior family environment didn’t make the Duke a sheltered flower. On the contrary, learning how to survive in dangerous or extreme conditions was a mandatory part of the Dwight family curriculum—only for heirs.
As far as family succession was concerned, aside from natural changes, the presence of the head of the family was always the primary priority. After determining the Knight Commander was lost, the Duke had already left codes only a Dwight family knight could decipher, and if Shivers wasn’t too far off, he would eventually find his way.
“Right,” Charlie said cheerfully. “My intuition tells me this information will be useful.”
The Duke crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “Alright, assuming your intuition is correct, how do we “investigate sideways”? No matter if it’s a witch or a whore, they won’t be unprotected for us to just spy on.”
A quarter of an hour later, under the cover of the last of the night and roadside bushes, the two quietly ascended a hillside. The mansion, unlit, sat like a quiet, black beast perched halfway up the hill, silently and dangerously watching everything that approached.
Charlie didn’t choose the main road. The manor owner usually had a security system set up far from the mansion’s outer perimeter, and he didn’t want to risk it.
When they stopped a distance from the servant quarters and stables around the mansion, they took a very thin notebook from their coats. His fingers were long and nimble, almost not needing illumination to quickly fold a beautiful little bird.
“A friend and I once specialized in studying the transformations of magical formations in Monterey. By making slight adjustments to the basic formula, there’s a good chance of obtaining additional benefits… I call this transformation formula the ‘Gray Sentinel’,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said proudly, pulling out a dry-ink pen and quickly drawing a magical formation on the wings of a small bird. “It doesn’t require borrowing or converting life, has no attack capability, but possesses a very sensitive warning mechanism, and can explore within a limited range on behalf of its master. My friend likes to use human-shaped paper figures for the operation, but I think small animal forms are fuller.”
Dwight watched his movements without speaking. Although the rabbit-headed shopkeeper had never shown any extraordinary magical talent, his thinking pattern and theoretical application in magic were undoubtedly exceptional. Dwight had seen many great mages who stubbornly believed magic was a divine gift, and any research or experimentation born of skepticism was a blasphemy against the gods. If those old coots saw Rabbit Head so casually altering magical formations, even if not for any critical purposes, it would be enough to raise their blood pressure and make them scream heresy…
Charlie didn’t notice the Duke’s slight distraction. As he finished the last stroke, the paper bird immediately fluttered its wings, lively in his palm.
“Your name is,” Charlie glanced at the bushes, “‘Berry’. I need you to go into that mansion above for me and…”
Before he could finish, the little bird suddenly trembled nervously, as if an invisible hurricane was brewing in Charlie’s palm—next second, its sharp beak opened wide, and a burst of flame shot out from the tips of its wings, engulfing the half-palm-sized bird almost instantly.
“What does this mean?” Dwight frowned. “Is self-immolation part of the magic too?”
Charlie stared at the little ash left in his palm for half a second, then suddenly grabbed Dwight and ran back the way they came. His top hat dangerously wobbled as he ran, but Charlie ignored it, clutching Dwight’s wrist tightly and running as if the mansion would explode and swallow them at any moment.
Without needing an explanation, Dwight also immediately realized something was wrong. He wanted to look back to see what had happened, but Charlie, holding him tightly, suddenly made a sharp turn and pulled him into a small hollow, then forcefully suppressed his heavy breathing.
The Duke followed his gaze down to the foothill. The sky before dawn was still dark, the creatures on the farm were all asleep, and it seemed no different from before. But on the distant road, several faint lights flickered like will-o’-wisps.
Although dim, the lights moved quickly, growing larger in just a few breaths. By the time the two were hiding behind a large stone covered with wet, slippery moss, the sharp-eyed Duke could make out that these were wind lamps swaying with the jolting of a carriage.
It was still not daylight. Who would visit this manor before dawn? Was it the owner returning? Dwight withdrew his gaze and looked at Charlie. The rabbit-headed shopkeeper, unusually out of breath, was taking out several crystal vials of different sizes and shapes from his coat. By the moonlight, some bottles contained strangely colored liquids, while others clearly held man-made crystals. Whether due to the cold night or nervousness, his fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly, but he skillfully poured the contents of the vials into a large-bellied bottle. In the eerily quiet surroundings, the clinking of the vials was particularly clear. Charlie quickly screwed on the cap of the large bottle and peeked out.
The carriage was nearing the foothill. “I’ll explain later—” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said quickly, shaking the large bottle vigorously, then unscrewing the cap and handing it to the Duke.
“Take a sip, just a small one,” he urged. “Quick.”
“Wait… What is this?” Dwight almost instinctively resisted. As Duke Dwight, he would never drink an unknown substance under such mysterious circumstances.
“It’s an invisibility potion.” The shopkeeper became more frantic, almost pressing the bottle to the Duke’s lips. “You don’t understand. I—we can’t be seen. They must not find us.”
“They” were undoubtedly the sudden appearance of the carriage. But it was just a carriage—why was Charlie acting as if he suddenly faced a great enemy? From such a distance, he couldn’t possibly know who was sitting in the carriage, and yet the usually composed Charlie was nervous. This sudden change was prompted by… the paper bird’s warning? Why the warning? They were from Pennigra. What force on the continent of Doran could pose a threat to them?
Dwight’s light-colored eyes narrowed slightly as he took the vial but didn’t drink immediately.
“Who’s in the carriage?”
His fingers touched the shopkeeper’s, which were as cold as ice in the middle of a winter river.
The rabbit-headed shopkeeper withdrew his hand and said in a low, sigh-like tone, “They are the ‘Lamp Bearers’.”
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