Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 33

“That’s not fair,” Eugene said. “Am I not handsome?”

Martina pressed her ample chest tightly against him as she held his arm and replied, “Dear, of course you’re handsome.”

“Then why do I have to be the coachman?” Eugene asked discontentedly.

He and Martina were standing at the back door of a mansion. A quarter of an hour earlier, Shivers, fully dressed up, was led inside by a plump woman, while he and Martina clearly didn’t even have the privilege to warm up by the kitchen stove, forced to wait behind the carriage instead.

Martina’s chest was mostly exposed to the night air, but she seemed not to feel the cold at all.

“Lady Holly prefers a more gentlemanly type of young man, ideally one with refined pronunciation, who can recite poetry to her in a singing tone.”

Gentleman? Eugene thought that was because she hadn’t seen Shivers beat up a wild wolf with his bare hands—the guy’s abs were more orderly than the loaves from a bakery… But he was just grumbling. Any noblewoman would be charmed by Shivers’s face, as if the Sun God himself had descended. Eugene wasn’t foolish enough to truly compete with Shivers over looks.

Martina was actually just securing an “interview” opportunity for Shivers, who was using the alias “Green”. However, the Knight Commander unquestionably passed the test, and within an hour, someone informed Eugene that he had secured the job of coachman for the evening.

Thanks to his employers and companions, all being high-society folks, this not-too-long, not-too-short journey had turned him into a half-professional coachman, newsboy, concierge, cook… And thanks to the fact that Duke was so wealthy, he spared no expense when conditions allowed. Otherwise, just a few months prior, figuring out how to open such a sophisticated carriage door could have taken him all night.

It took Shivers a while to come out and meet them from the back door. Martina could only accompany them this far, but she was still pleased to straighten Eugene’s collar, although from her expression, she might have preferred to offer that service to Shivers.

Lady Holly and her adopted daughter left from the front door, and Eugene could only drive the understated yet expensive carriage, following at a moderate distance behind them.

The destination of the party remained a secret until their arrival because the dinner was just a pretext. In reality, while the men gathered in the salon to smoke cigars, the women had their ways of finding amusement. This kind of party, dominated by noblewomen and kept discreet, also existed in Pennigra, but Shivers had never imagined he would also one day be brought as a “male companion” to such an event.

Mokwen was established as a cavalry nation, rising rapidly during wars by seizing several iron and rare metal mines, although modern times had completely abandoned their rugged and unrestrained nomadic lifestyle compared to other ancient royal and noble families on the continent that had settled for hundreds of years.

Their aesthetic approach to life was still in the stage of believing that expensive and shiny meant sophisticated—how did that saying go? “A nouveau riche who would even inlay their toilets with gold if they could.” This was the Duke of Brandenburg’s exact words, and it was also one of the reasons he wasn’t close to his brother-in-law.

Distrust was one reason. He also felt that this nouveau-riche temperament couldn’t be remedied within three generations. Only through his sister’s efforts, perhaps proper education of the next generation might redeem them a little—just a little.

Perhaps because of Mokwen’s rich yet not too sophisticated environment, both men and women in the country had an unusual pursuit of “artistic temperament”, which naturally reflected in their preferences for the opposite sex.

This preference had opened the door for Shivers, who came from the fertile plains. He had merely concocted a tale of a down-and-out noble from a small country traveling in Doran, who just happened to qualify as a novelist and musician. Lady Holly immediately gave him a chance, although she had almost decided to bring a “distant relative” to the event. Lady Holly had been “sponsoring” that lovely young painter for some time but considered this: there were plenty of musical instruments in a high-society salon to charm the guests, but a painter couldn’t produce a magnificent piece on the spot—even if they could, music sounded more romantic.

“‘Musician,'” Eugene muttered, turning to ask. “Do you play an instrument?”

The Knight Commander sat in the carriage with a discreet smile.

Eugene sensibly turned his head back. Nobles—especially those from wealthy regions like Lemena, whether in talent or that meticulously poor posture—weren’t something a kingdom like Mokwen could compare with. The Knight Commander ignored Eugene’s subtle jealousy. His focus was always on the core of the issue.

“It’s odd for a high-ranking member of the ‘Fox’ to appear at such an event,” Shivers said. “Miss Martina’s clearance isn’t enough to know which one has come to Mokwen. I have a feeling there’s some deceit involved.”

Although the Fox was a vast family, not everyone protected by this family was entitled to the Fox family name, including most middle and lower managers who could only say they belonged to the Fox but couldn’t claim the name. Even Eugene knew, only the direct blood relatives of the current family head were entitled to use that name—these individuals were the absolute rulers within this Black Gold Family, a principle that applied equally among the other Black Gold Families.

Thus, although the Fox family was renowned for their involvement in the trade of flesh and intelligence, nobody would be foolish enough to think that a person with the surname “Fox” needed to peddle flesh themselves to acquire anything. Below these apex members, there were plenty like ants—insignificant yet supporting the massive, heavy carriages moving forward, and Martina was among them.

According to the strict hierarchical system within the family, people like Martina might never have the privilege to see Cici with their own eyes. Therefore, if it was true as Martina said, with countless beauties under his command, a ‘Fox’ personally mixing into the kingdom’s circle of noblewomen as a male companion, the reasons behind it were worth scrutinizing.

Although his identity had changed, whether it was the party or the ladies, these were areas where the Knight Commander excelled, especially when he appropriately praised a lady who was clearly the center of the party with his “poetic language”.

Soon, many gathered around him like ants around sugar, each wanting to hear another sweet word from him. Lady Holly was pleased with this, first because the occasion was meant to show off wealth, and nothing pleased her more than the envious glances of other women. Second, no matter how many people took the opportunity to touch Green’s pectorals while chatting, he would still ride the carriage back to his own residence tonight, where she could request that he make up to her for the entire evening. Besides, this gentle lover, even surrounded by a whirlwind of powder, didn’t neglect her at all.

Shivers got Lady Holly a small piece of almond cake, naturally leading her away from the crowd to sit on a small sofa in a corner, where he politely and somewhat ruefully complained to her about the party being larger than he had anticipated. Although he tried his best to maintain manners, he soon couldn’t tell who was who, hoping he hadn’t embarrassed Lady Holly.

Lady Holly was delighted, patting his arm. “Don’t worry, dear. Everyone likes you. Even during the usual social season, it’s rare to gather so many people. I’m a bit confused myself—look at Lady Tomyles from the Tomyles family. Lord have mercy, I haven’t seen her in almost three years.”

Almost without needing much prompting from Shivers, Lady Holly began to chatter away, proving Martina’s connections to be very reliable. If anyone could be so familiar with the background gossip of Mokwen’s upper class and also be eager to talk, it was Lady Holly, who could even generally comment on the identities of the male companions brought by the ladies.

“That Countess…” Shivers skillfully steered her back to his line of thought. The Countess he mentioned was Donna, the only Countess of Mokwen and the hostess of tonight’s party. In a kingdom like Mokwen, which revered strength and was male-dominated, it was somewhat miraculous for Donna to have inherited a Countess title as a woman.

After all, most noble women’s status and titles were derived from their fathers or husbands. Plus, with her unique personal charm, Countess Donna held a high position in Mokwen’s circle of noblewomen.

She was over forty, unmarried and childless, said to be an arrangement with the royal family to ensure that the Countess’ honor would end with her. However, marriage and offspring might not be what she needed, as her esteemed social position and inexhaustible wealth were enough for her to squander a lifetime.

Such a gathering as tonight’s, described by those in the know as “debauched and unprecedented”, was also initiated by Countess Donna. But peculiarly, she had no companion by her side tonight.

Lady Holly, realizing what Shivers was asking, giggled. “Oh, maybe her cat hasn’t woken up yet?”

She heard on her first day back in the capital that Countess Donna had recently adopted a stunningly beautiful young man named Yitzfa, who apparently had a bit of a temper, so much so that even Countess Donna had to coddle him.

Shivers almost immediately confirmed that this Yitzfa was the Fox that Martina had mentioned. He hadn’t yet figured out how to approach Countess Donna subtly and reconfirm whether Yitzfa would attend tonight’s gathering when the ambiguous strings of the music suddenly slipped, as if someone had pulled the hand that was strumming the strings, causing the entire piece to stall momentarily.

But no one seemed to mind this. Facing the door, Lady Holly used her folding fan to partially cover her face, uttering a soft sigh. “Is that him? This is really…”

Her next words were lost in the fluffy feathers decorating her fan. Shivers turned his head and unsurprisingly saw a man entering the venue of tonight’s gathering—the warmly decorated conservatory arranged by Countess Donna, which she proudly considered a winter miracle.

She had lavishly expended a great deal of manpower and resources to maintain an appropriate temperature in this vast greenhouse year-round, planting various exotic and vibrant flowers. It was said that there were as many as fifteen gardeners solely dedicated to maintaining these delicate plants.

However, as beautiful as the flowers were, defying the rules of seasons with their riotous blooming, they seemed to dim somewhat the moment the man walked in. He was tall and slender. His skin was an ivory white rarely seen in Mokwen, more flawless than any of the women present, with features so finely crafted they seemed to be deliberated by a painter countless times, leaving no room for fault. His long eyelashes and straight nose gave him an androgynous look, somewhere between feminine and youthful, compelling one to pause at first glance.

Yet, what caught Shivers’s attention more were the man’s golden hair and large, round eyes. Although not completely similar, he had seen such features before on a boy who liked to wear dresses.

Shivers was probably the only one at the event not moved by the man’s appearance. In fact, he barely glanced before calmly placing the small porcelain plate with almond cake back on the table.

No mistake.

He was definitely the Fox he was looking for.

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Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 32

“Things really are a bit strange, aren’t they?” Columbus sat on an armchair, his short legs happily kicking up. “That dead woman must have used that flying box to enter and exit the palace, but who was she? The King’s mistress?”

Shivers frowned. “If that’s the case, why be so secretive?” In most marriages, which were formed for benefit, the so-called “love” of married noble men was often bestowed upon other women. Honestly, most Kings had several well-known mistresses, and the Queens didn’t really care about such things.

“That woman probably isn’t just any mistress. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be that hypnotic music box in the box.” Shivers frowned. “I guess it was to conceal the destination of the flying box or Tifa’s identity.”

“It’s hard to deduce the identity of the deceased with the clues we have. We can start elsewhere,” Charlie said calmly. “After all, a box that can carry people isn’t something you see every day.”

“Who cares who the dead person was? As long as she wasn’t killed by Priscilla, I have no interest in her,” Dwight said arrogantly. “Compared to—”

He cared more about the name Priscilla had blurted out in that situation…

Ceylon.

But he stopped himself, pretending he had never said a word.

“I just think the more clues we know about at the moment, the better, since we are quite passive right now. Besides, I don’t think the events in the palace have nothing to do with Miss Priscilla,” Charlie said, seemingly oblivious to the Duke’s stern gaze. “As far as I know, Queen Christine had a sincere love affair with the Earl before she married the King, but now—”

Earl Lestrop’s wife was Priscilla.

Just this past alone, one could imagine a lot.

“What do you want to do?” Dwight asked unhappily.

“Gather as many facts as possible.” Charlie suddenly smiled. “If I may say so, My Lord has indeed attracted some fine talent.”

Columbus bounced excitedly in his chair. “You mean Eugene! Is he coming back?”

“Probably not yet.” Charlie thought for a moment, looking at the Knight Commander. “He might need a little extra help.”

Shivers: “?”

The city of Syriacochi in the Mokwen Kingdom was undoubtedly the most prosperous, but just as the shadow always clung under the light, the flip side of fragrance and beauty also bred decadence, poverty, and hunger. The lower classes naturally kept away from the city center, but they were also an essential part of the city, like a black spider quietly weaving its web of life and spreading it year by year. Occasionally, unsuspecting insects would fly into it and often have its life snuffed out before it could react.

Only creatures that shun the light could survive in such a place.

Low and dense houses squeezed the narrow paths so tightly that one could hardly breathe. The city’s drainage system seemed to fail here. Long-standing water caused floors and walls to grow patchy mold, and occasional unknown plants sprouted, mostly twisted and wilted.

The residents here seemed to dislike the sunlight. They were either draped haphazardly in scarves and cloaks or kept their heads very low. Shivers tightened his coat and squinted, trying to discern the house numbers that almost blended in with the filthy walls.

13…16…56… Definitely not right.

The paths here could drive one mad. He turned around restlessly, trying his luck at the other end, but nearly stepped on an old woman beside him—the hunched woman was half his height with sparse, spiky hair. She screamed and fell on him, grabbing his calf.

Shivers almost kicked her reflexively but immediately suppressed the impulse. He grabbed the old woman’s arm, trying to help her stand, but she clung to him like a poisonous vine, still harshly scolding in a language he couldn’t understand. The noise buzzed on the cold, damp stone walls, nearly piercing his eardrums.

The Knight Commander had never encountered such a woman before. The older women he dealt with were the noblewomen’s housekeepers, who, even if icy and mean, were at least polite and never so unreasonably noisy. His character also didn’t allow him to be rough with women, and as he was hesitating, something flew through the air and hit the old woman’s back.

It was a sturdy loaf of coarse bread, which rolled on the ground a couple of times. The old woman immediately released his arm and dove to pick it up. Shivers looked up just in time to see a man nearly clinging to the wall, sliding past the old woman. He grabbed Shivers and whispered sharply, “Let’s go!”

The alley was so narrow that two men walking side by side seemed cramped. Shivers was led through twists and turns, quickly leaving that alley.

“E—Eugene?”

The man in a local linen jacket looked back and winked at him.

“Don’t talk,” he said in a low voice.

The Knight Commander had no choice but to follow him hurriedly along the slippery cobblestone path deeper into the area, where the house numbers seemed to have no logic. They stopped next to a low stone wall covered with grapevines.

Shivers noticed a hint of black iron behind the grape leaves, pulled it aside, and sure enough, a wobbly house number hung there.

Fallen Leaf Lane.

24.

“This is—” Shivers looked at Eugene, who glanced around and gently pushed open the wooden door beside the wall, but only opened it a crack, barely enough for the two of them to squeeze through sideways.

“This door is too old. It makes noise when opened, creating too much disturbance,” Eugene explained. “In this godforsaken place, it’s best we don’t wake anyone up… or anything.”

“Where is this?” Shivers found himself standing in a surprisingly small courtyard, with a gloomy two-story stone house silently sitting in front of them.

“Let’s talk inside,” Eugene urged him.

Shivers watched as Eugene, like returning to his own home, opened the door and entered a living room not much bigger than a stable—there was no foyer, no fireplace, and every visible space was cluttered with things like umbrellas, pipes, men’s boots, and wicker travel trunks, all haphazardly piled against the walls, covered in dust and in disrepair.

“Martina’s house,” Eugene pulled over a somewhat wobbly willow chair for him to sit. “It was quite an effort to—”

“Who is Martina?” Shivers asked.

Martina was a prostitute.

In her youth, she had been quite glamorous—at that time, she could even afford to hire two maids to serve her, never getting up before three in the afternoon, with a carriage waiting at her door at five to take her to the theater. But the lavish lifestyle obviously didn’t last long. Otherwise, she wouldn’t now be living in a cold stone building on Fallen Leaf Lane, where even streetlights were absent.

However, Martina didn’t consider her life miserable. After all, most prostitutes in Syriacochi didn’t even have their own rooms, let alone their own houses.

“Eugene told me his friend was a handsome man. I thought he was deceiving me.” Martina came down the stairs, her eyes lighting up when she saw Shivers.

“I never lie,” Eugene said with a grin.

Martina rolled her eyes at him and brushed her hair back.

Shivers stood up and bent down to kiss the back of her hand.

Martina giggled uncontrollably, looking at him with affection.

“I’m Martina. Usually men come here for this name.” Her gaze traveled around the tall Knight Commander. “But you’re here for a ‘Fox’.”

Shivers glanced at Eugene and said nothing.

Eugene nodded. “We need to inquire about something, and the renowned information family on the continent is the best choice.”

Martina nodded. “The Fox family’s ‘web’ in the Doran continent isn’t very extensive, but it’s sufficient. You’re in luck. There’s a ‘Fox’ here in Syriacochi right now.”

Shivers immediately thought of the pretty child, Cici, they met in Pennigra. But it was unlikely. Cici was still a child, and Doran wasn’t a stronghold of the Fox family. The Black Gold family wouldn’t let such a young, important member stray far from their protection.

Thinking this, the Knight Commander sighed internally. If it were Cici, it would be easy. Dealing with an adult and astute ‘Fox’, the Duke might not know what price he’d have to pay to get satisfactory information.

“How can we meet them?” Eugene asked.

Martina looked at Shivers again, hesitating. “Maybe you don’t need to meet them. The Fox’s information classification system is very strict. You could first try finding the manager of Syriacochi. His decryption authority should suffice for most guests’ needs.”

“Our issue is a bit complex,” Shivers said gently.

“Alright.” If it were Eugene, Martina might have hesitated a bit longer, but Shivers’s innate noble demeanor and his gentle, yet firm attitude made her realize that haggling would only waste time.

“If you insist, then I know of a dinner happening soon. You might try there.” Martina compromised.

Eugene interjected, “There’s a dinner every night here in Syriacochi.” Nobles were always both the busiest and the idlest people. In Pennigra, there was a joke that if you put two nobles of different surnames together, the excuses for gatherings they came up with could fill a whole tablecloth. The royal city was the same. Although it wasn’t the social season, since they gathered for the King’s birthday, the large and small nobles wouldn’t be satisfied with just palace banquets. In fact, influential nobles might receive several invitations from different circles on the same day.

“We’re foreigners.” Shivers also raised a concern. “It might not be easy to blend into the local nobility circles.”

To enter any high-class social circle, having money and power were the most basic conditions, but most importantly, one needed a guide. Simply put, if the person introducing you had enough clout, even if you plucked a girl from a rural sheep pen and dressed her up as a politically persecuted princess from an obscure country for a few rounds, by the next year she might become a socialite sought after by young nobles—this was the theory, though due to superstitions about bloodlines and arrogance, no respectable noble would actually do this.

“Oh, no, this dinner is quite special.” Martina giggled again. “No invitation is needed. Just make sure this gentleman,” she looked straight at Shivers, “dresses up nicely.”

The author has something to say:

The Knight Commander is going to be busy.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 31

Before opening the door, Charlie had already mentally prepared himself, knowing that this matter might not be so easily dealt with.

Columbus tiptoed next to him, trying to peek into the room through the keyhole.

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh at his comical appearance. He patted the little tin soldier on the head, and whispered, “Wait for me outside now. It’s okay.”

He was the master of 22 Paulownia Street. In his brief yet remarkable earlier life, he had faced countless more agonizing situations. What was it to face a capricious but honest (though he might be reluctant to admit it) nobleman? And a good-looking one at that.

The rabbit-headed manager withdrew his hand, grasped the brass doorknob, and opened the door in one go.

Despite being mentally prepared, he still sighed inwardly when he saw the Duke sitting in the center of the room, seemingly carelessly crossing his legs and idly playing with his cane.

The Duke looked hard to please.

Eugene and Shivers were nowhere to be seen; there was no one to buffer the situation.

Charlie walked into the room and gently closed the door behind him.

Dwight didn’t look up at him, his fingertips lightly grazing the emerald at the top of his cane. This action slightly distracted Charlie—even in a room that was not particularly bright, the color of the gem remained clear and verdant, not to mention its rare size and craftsmanship. It was a quality so unique that even the imperial treasury would struggle to find a second gem to match it—cool, elegant, unattainable.

Charlie looked away, took off his top hat, and bowed to the Duke. “I’ve heard about the incident at the palace, and I’m relieved to see you unharmed.”

The Duke stopped fidgeting with the gem, raised his eyes mockingly at Charlie, and said nothing.

The shopkeeper unbuttoned his coat and casually pulled over a birch wood high-backed chair, sitting opposite the Duke.

This seemed to further displease the Duke. He slightly raised his chin, his fingers sliding over the handle of his cane—a sword was hidden inside. Charlie raised his hands in surrender and said helplessly, “Alright, I admit I didn’t investigate enough beforehand…”

“Oh, I think you investigated quite thoroughly.” Dwight pressed down his anger. “So you knew this was an adventure with no return.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Charlie calmly said. “I didn’t know such an incident would happen in the King’s room, nor did I know that the palace would be put under martial law, exposing your whereabouts. The Mokwen dynasty has been declining since the death of the first king, Frederic I; the royal administration has long been as decayed as driftwood in a swamp, and the tight security is just for show. With the current rulers’ incompetence, getting in and out of the palace with the right map should be no problem for you and the Knight Commander.”

Dwight didn’t speak, just silently stared at Charlie’s furry rabbit face. A storm was brewing in his eyes, making them almost transparently shallow.

“I can’t undo the accidents that have happened, but I’ve done what I can to remedy them.” Charlie placed his hand on the armrest, leaning slightly forward. “I have reliable information that this time, Tifa and his Queen—”

He hadn’t finished speaking when the enraged Duke suddenly stood up, closing in on him with a speed that left no time to react. He planted his hands on either side of the birch chair, pushing the back of the chair sharply backwards. The chair legs immediately left the floor, forming a dangerous angle with the ground. They were so close they could feel each other’s breath.

“Who asked you that?” The Duke’s words seemed squeezed out of his throat one by one.

Trapped in the chair, the shopkeeper struggled to activate his brain. The Duke seemed not angry about the murder case that had caused him great trouble, so there must be something else infuriating him, but what? Pacifying him required a targeted approach, yet this guy’s temper was so fickle that any minor detail could upset this fastidious brat…

Meanwhile, the proximity of the other’s face momentarily distracted him, as from any angle the features were stunningly beautiful, especially when viewed up close, more impactful. Those who had seen the Duke of Brandenburg said he had a face nearly that of an angel or elf, but Charlie thought otherwise—such a face suited a demon better, because with such looks, any act seemed forgivable.

Though distracted only momentarily, it was enough to further infuriate Dwight, who then grabbed Charlie by the collar with such force it nearly lifted him out of the chair.

“Am I asking about Tifa?” Dwight asked word by word. “Where were you last night?”

Charlie was startled.

Last night, he was actually involved in that absurd flight for survival as well. If not for Columbus’ cooperation, the Duke could have personally verified this on the stone bridge at sunrise.

However, the shopkeeper wasn’t yet ready to reveal his unsavory little secret to the public. He seemed to have found the reason for Dwight’s great anger. Was the other party annoyed because he didn’t act together with them? Although the Duke was known to be capricious, he had always shown an attitude of “I am the best. All you riffraff stay out of my way”. 

It was absurd that now he seemed to be saying, “How could you not share life and death with us, you traitor.”

Moreover, the other party didn’t seem to realize how childish this action looked.

Realizing this, the shopkeeper almost laughed out loud, but he restrained himself in time.

“Um… you didn’t specify beforehand that this was a collective action.”

Dwight was taken aback, and when Charlie thought he would become furiously embarrassed, the Duke instead laughed it off.

“‘Specify’? Aren’t you always one to take matters into your own hands? I thought you considered any opinion insignificant. What, do you need guidance when it’s time to take risks?”

‘Great, blaming others is always the Duke’s style,’ Charlie thought expressionlessly.

“I am really, truly sorry.” The shopkeeper, always knowing his place, admitted. “It was my mistake.”

The apology came so straightforwardly that Dwight paused for a moment.

“Actually, I did try, but as you know, my appearance greatly limits my ability to infiltrate, and we are already close to the magical radiation area of Elena, so I must be cautious.”

Seeing the Duke’s expression soften slightly, he quickly added, “But I am indeed trying to make up for it. After dark, Eugene will bring back new news, and Miss Priscilla—you met her last night.”

Dwight wasn’t surprised by the declarative sentence.

Although royal news didn’t spread in the streets, news of the Queen involved in a murder case and a Countess being held hostage by criminals spread overnight among the high society, like early spring ice breaking on a stream’s surface. With the passing of time, the ripples would continue to expand the cracks. Intelligence was Charlie’s forte, and it wasn’t unusual for him to grasp the inside information so quickly. But speaking of which, the Duke’s previously relaxed hands tensed up again.

“Speaking of intelligence, I now have doubts about your competence,” Dwight said coldly. “About Priscilla.”

“Are you referring to Kurt’s prophecy? Which part made you think this way?” Charlie asked politely.

The Duke looked at him for a while longer, finally letting go of his collar and sitting back down.

“Priscilla looks fine,” he said. “I see none of the danger the astrologer predicted.”

Charlie blinked. “Some dangers cannot be seen with the eyes.”

Dwight’s expression darkened, and he remained silent.

“Even if you don’t believe Kurt, you should believe in that rose, right?” Charlie added.

Although he hadn’t seen the velvet box since leaving Pennigra, based on the last time, if the rose was really connected to Priscilla’s life, then the petals would have likely fallen off by now.

“You’re right. That’s also why I haven’t strangled you immediately,” Dwight said sarcastically.

He remembered every word that came out of the astrologer. “Her spirit is increasingly declining, and it can no longer support her thoughts”… It wasn’t vague, but depending on how it was interpreted, different understandings could indeed arise.

During their brief meeting, Priscilla didn’t show the sickness or languor Dwight expected. Although she was a bit thin, it wasn’t to the extent that it affected her health, and her mind was clear.

Compared to that, the astrologer’s words seemed almost alarmist. If not for the rose still declining, the Duke might almost conclude that the so-called astrologer was just a charlatan who had fooled him across continents.

The perceptive shopkeeper quickly figured out the Duke’s dilemma. He was certain that the other party thought the issue of not joining the royal adventure had passed, and his shoulders relaxed. He leisurely poured himself a cup of tea.

“Kurt’s astrology is never wrong,” the shopkeeper said quietly but firmly as he watched the steam rise from the cup. “But I think it’s unnecessary to narrowly interpret that Miss Priscilla has experienced some physical trauma or illness from the prophecy’s literal text. Perhaps we should focus more on her spirit. Spiritual decline can sometimes be more fatal than physical blows, especially for a sensitive woman.”

In other words, perhaps it was the rose that misled Dwight.

Dwight frowned. “Does that mean Priscilla is dissatisfied with her current life?”

Charlie said, “Perhaps she has discovered that the reality of life is different from what she imagined… But then again, the essence of life is hard to satisfy.”

Dwight scoffed. “She’s not that kind of person.”

If Priscilla was a capricious, freedom-loving noble lady who only wanted to do as she pleased, she wouldn’t have agreed to marry far away to Mokwen in the first place.

Dwight was willing to risk his safety to confirm his sister’s safety by sneaking into another continent, but he wouldn’t advise her to give up her marriage and even bring her back to Lemena. Even if he was willing, Priscilla wouldn’t accept such a proposal.

In the education the Dwight siblings received from childhood, dignity was sometimes indeed above all else. Although Priscilla was far from home, her marriage had to some extent solidified her family’s power, allowing Brandenburg to pass through turbulent times without danger, a result of multifaceted negotiations and entirely her own decision. Now her husband was noble and wealthy, she was a Countess with countless jewels and servants, with nothing in her life requiring her to bend.

In a world where small wars were constant and slaves and civilians lived day to day, this was an advantageous life most women couldn’t imagine, and any sane noble lady wouldn’t make an undignified complaint about her husband’s lack of consideration or coldness—nobility’s marriages were rarely for love, and not having unrealistic expectations of each other was the norm in current society.

Charlie didn’t continue speaking, fully understanding Dwight’s point. The sharp and complex edges of human nature were repeatedly polished until smooth and rigid in noble education, and while it seemed cold, this was the survival wisdom summed up by ancient families through turbulent times. He… had no say in such matters.

He looked at the handsome Duke sitting in the chair, his shoulders always erect like a textbook of etiquette, but at this moment, they seemed somewhat stiff. Sunlight passed through the gaps in the curtains, and the dust in the air slowly swirled in the slender beams of light. Charlie’s gaze gradually became somewhat lost.

Through the young Duke, he seemed to see many years ago, in a similar room covered with shaggy carpet, he and a little boy sat behind a desk, grimacing as they wrote endless poetry appreciations, while listening to the movements outside the door, immediately straightening their backs at the sound of heels clicking on the corridor floor.

Otherwise, the stern woman would scold them. “A gentleman never loses his composure! Only the lowly riffraff sits like that in chairs—”

The little boy across from him had a stern face, only exchanging a quick glance with him when the tutor turned away. Although silent, they always understood each other best.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper retracted his gaze. The tea in his teacup had gradually cooled. He suddenly smiled, draining the cold tea in one gulp.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 30

Open your eyes, my beauty,

See the wildflowers in their blooming spree,

Hear the sweet songs the birdies all sing,

Tender grass blades, a fragrant spring fling.

Open your eyes, my love, don’t delay,

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

I’ll adorn your skirt with roses fair,

Weave your soft bed with herbs rare.

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

A floral bouquet for your hair, enclosed.

In colors bright, where beauty showers,

Adorn your spirit with the loveliest flowers.

— “Lullaby, Chapter Five”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clearly, the box was a magical creation.

Shivers coughed.

Oscar: “Oh.”

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

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

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

Tifa’s mistress was a mage?

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

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

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

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

“Ouch!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” Oscar was startled by his action.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of his question went unasked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-oh,” Oscar said softly.

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

Shivers cried out, “My Lord—”

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

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

“…A soft landing?” he gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oscar shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shiver couldn’t help but glance at Oscar.

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

“Late?”

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

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

Oscar stepped back two paces, looking at him.

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

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

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

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

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

Loyalty was always paramount in a knight’s heart.

Oscar sighed, reaching into his pocket.

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

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

…Good upbringing kept Oscar from uttering a curse.

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

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

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

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

All of this displeased him.

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

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

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

Dwight nodded politely. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

It seemed he was well-prepared.

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

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

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

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

Of course not.

This was a complete misunderstanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 29

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Priscilla gasped. “…Ceylon?!”

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

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

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

“…Oscar?!”

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

“There! I saw them!”

“Stop!”

“Where are the archers?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dwight frowned slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though the space was very limited.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dwight looked up; his expression now composed.

“Let’s go,” he said.

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

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

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

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

Dwight’s brow furrowed.

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

Now, they were trapped, unable to move.

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

Shivers: “……”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shivers’ eyelid twitched, but he made no move.

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

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

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

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

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

Oscar took a deep breath, then unexpectedly laughed.

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

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

The gap was that big.

A junior mage…

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

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

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

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

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

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

But no one expected the fire to start so silently.

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

The search net was unexpectedly burned through.

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

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

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

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

Shivers politely chimed in, “Sounds interesting.”

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

The Knight Commander coughed.

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

“Find the secret chamber,” he commanded succinctly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dwight’s eyes narrowed.

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

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

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

But he had no choice.

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

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

Four minutes.

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

Three minutes.

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

Two minutes.

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

“Stop,” the Duke said.

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

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

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

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 28

Conspiracy.

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

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

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

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

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

Priscilla said, “You must leave immediately.”

Dwight suddenly reached up and rubbed his furrowed brow forcefully.

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

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

Kindness…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The young Countess didn’t speak immediately.

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

The tall Earl’s face finally darkened.

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

Tifa chuckled lightly.

“What misunderstanding could I have about you?”

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

It was Priscilla who broke the escalating standoff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christine looked at her, suddenly displaying an enigmatic smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christine snapped out of it.

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

“Priscilla?” she called.

Priscilla turned back.

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

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

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