Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 16
Charlie’s smile hadn’t fully faded from his face, and his tone was even a bit casual. “I was disowned from the family tree a long time ago, or so it seems.”
“That’s not a wise decision. After all, not everyone can graduate as the top student.” The Duke offered him a polite yet insincere smile.
“Yes, a major, irreparable loss,” Charlie said seriously. “Like a hole in a pocket, once the gold coins fall out, they’re lost forever. But I guess a nobleman of your stature wouldn’t make such mistakes, right? Surely there are plenty of charming maids in your castle, always ready to mend your pockets.”
He winked mischievously with his round rabbit eyes and briskly urged his donkey to catch up with the group.
Dwight hadn’t had the chance to retort about the impossibility of his clothes ever being worn enough to tear when something stirred in his mind, prompting him to reach into the pocket of his cloak.
The pocket of his heavy winter cloak was open, and his gloved fingers touched something hard.
Looking down, the Duke discovered a small round tin box, tightly sealed, filled with fennel candies. He recognized this inexpensive treat, which Priscilla used to make with the castle’s cook during long nights each autumn before distributing them to all families with children in the domain before the onset of winter.
However, Dwight had always had his own pastry chef from a young age and had no interest in such common sweets, having never tried them.
The box of vanilla-flavored fennel candy seemed to momentarily transport him to a well-maintained, lush summer garden.
It was surprisingly calming.
The young Duke then realized what the real purpose behind the shopkeeper’s rambling had been, but the sensation of being cajoled with candy was quite irritating.
He wasn’t a child.
Children couldn’t be dukes of vast lands.
Dwight put the box back into his pocket and quickened his pace.
The journey was just as unsuitable for Cici, the young man who had been untied long ago—on the desolate wilderness with no people in sight, he couldn’t outrun a coyote even if he tried.
During the day, he mostly lay listlessly draped over the back of the donkey, lifting his skirt high in a rather unbecoming manner, sighing deeply.
The threat of demanding a ransom from the Fox family was just a scare tactic by Dwight, and while he wasn’t intimidated by the Fox family, one of the Black Gold Families, he was preoccupied with important matters and didn’t want any complications.
Thus, after tormenting Cici for a couple of days, he had effectively granted him a form of freedom, just without explicitly stating it.
Cici was very astute and quickly recovered from the shock of having his identity exposed. He knew that someone like Dwight, whose cloak buttons alone were intricately crafted and who carried himself with noble demeanor, wouldn’t intentionally make enemies.
He had only stolen a magic pot and would probably be slapped around for a couple of days and then be fine.
Indeed, this proved to be the case, as the fascinating little tin soldier, although initially devastated, couldn’t suppress his enthusiasm and awkwardly began chatting with him again.
While the big man and the rabbit-headed guy had been quite polite to him from the start, only the most good-looking and worst-tempered of them kept giving him dirty looks.
Once Cici was assured of his safety, he became restless. With the towns far ahead and behind, and the journey dreadfully dull, he eagerly tried to extract from Shivers their purpose and direction of travel.
Though the Knight Commander was as patient and courteous with men as he was with women, he was tight-lipped about matters concerning the Dwight family. Columbus, however, who didn’t require being asked, started spilling his own stories.
Many families of power had some ties with mages, and though curses weren’t unfamiliar to Cici, Columbus’s situation was somewhat unique.
The warm-hearted little tin soldier, eager to extend a friendly hand to anyone, was liked by Cici, who offered to help, but he immediately shut up when he learned the curse came from the witch Elena.
Elena’s infamy had even reached the corners of the Pennigra continent, and the Fox family was of course familiar with her.
Cici questioned, “Will Elena easily satisfy your request?” According to the shopkeeper, they clearly weren’t friends. If it were so easy, why had they stayed so long away from the Doran continent in Maplewood?
Columbus thought seriously for a moment. “I guess she won’t.”
Charlie softly said, “We have to try. And my teacher is there. He’s the greatest mage I’ve ever met. We can seek his help.”
Columbus turned to him. “Charlie, are you sure?”
Only he seemed to sense that the closer they got to the Doran continent, the more nervous this man became—a very, very rare sentiment for Charlie.
The shopkeeper reached out and patted Columbus’s head. “Don’t worry.”
Cici watched Charlie for a while, then suddenly asked, “Did you stay away from the Doran continent because of Elena?”
Though young, he wasn’t inexperienced. He could clearly see that when talking about the witch Elena, the shopkeeper’s eyes didn’t show the usual dread and fear of witches. His tone was as calm as if discussing an old friend not seen for years.
Charlie paused, and in a moment of distraction, he glanced at the slowly advancing Dwight.
He seemed to understand a bit why Dwight wasn’t very fond of Cici. The kid had a keenness that was over the top—a trait somewhat similar to that of the Duke himself.
Such people could catch clues and doubts more swiftly than others, often making those they converse with feel utterly transparent.
“Yes,” Charlie said gently. “Columbus’ curse isn’t just transformation. It includes soul control. The farther away from Elena, the less influence she has over Columbus.”
Soul control.
Everyone’s face changed at the mention of the word. If there was anything more terrifying than death, it was the loss of freedom for the soul.
The most recent major event related to soul control in human history occurred less than a century ago—it involved seven kingdoms across the continents of Pennigra and Doran. During that time, one of the kings, in a desperate bid to escape a dire situation, prayed to his ancestors for help but ended up summoning a demon. This quickly turned the tide on the battlefield and expanded his territory by a third.
The demon’s method was to control the souls of enemy soldiers. As expected, those who lost their souls raised their weapons against innocent civilians, their comrades, and even their family members. Panic spread across the continents like a plague, and trust among people completely disintegrated.
Even though the demon was eventually destroyed by a coalition of the six other kings, the shadow this war cast on humanity was indelible.
To this day, older people might curse, “May your soul be dragged to the gutter by a demon!”
“But Columbus is conscious,” Eugene said skeptically. “I’ve heard that people whose souls are controlled are like puppets.”
“Columbus is an exception.” Charlie smiled. “In every possible way.”
The little tin soldier tilted his head in thought.
“There are things I don’t remember,” he said.
“I remember. You’ve told me many times,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said gently. “It happened in autumn, right?”
The little soldier replied, “It seems so. I feel like there should also be a water wheel.”
“That was your home. A small stream ran by the front, and your father had installed the water wheel himself,” the shopkeeper explained. “That year was very hot. The river dried up early, and the water wheel stopped working.”
“Right!” Columbus exclaimed. “My little sister thought the water wheel was broken and cried for days—”
He paused, thoughtful. “So, I have a sister.”
“You do have a sister. Do you remember her name?” Charlie asked.
“I do, my little Balda!” Columbus brightened again. “Charlie, I haven’t forgotten her! I remember now. Mom embroidered many daisies on her apron. Everyone loved her, lovely Balda!”
“If he remembers all that, does it mean the curse didn’t fully work?” Cici asked.
“I’m not sure.” The shopkeeper hesitated. “Compared to others, Columbus’s curse doesn’t seem… complete.”
“Others?” Dwight furrowed his brows. “Are there others who were cursed along with him?”
“Not only that, but the number might also be more than you expect,” Charlie hinted subtly.
Dwight formed a rough guess.
“An army?” he suggested.
“It’s more accurate to call it a guard than an army,” Charlie replied. “I’ve told you before. Elena inherited a significant part of her power from a previous witch, but that legacy included a castle and some ‘attachments’ as well.”
“Such as curses,” Shivers added.
“Such as curses.” Charlie nodded.
“So, why exactly were you cursed?” Cici asked Columbus.
If the painted features on the tin soldier’s face could move, they would be tightly furrowed at that moment.
“You told me it was on your seventeenth birthday,” the shopkeeper said softly.
“Right.” Columbus realized. “My birthday is in autumn. I told my mother that after the harvest, I’d look for a job in the neighboring town.”
“Mother was reluctant, but Balda was too young and often fell ill in winter. We needed money. She finally agreed, letting me go after my birthday. She got up early to bake me a big jam pie.” Columbus’s voice faded. “It was too hot that year. The entire village’s harvest wasn’t good, and everyone was irritable. That morning, the heads of several neighboring villages suddenly came. They gathered all the men in the village, brought along hunting dogs, and planned to cross the forest to…”
His tin body suddenly shivered.
“…hunt a witch.” Charlie finished for him.
Everyone was silent for a while before Eugene asked softly, “At that time, was it Elena?”
“At that time, Elena hadn’t been born yet,” Charlie said. “I don’t know her name, but later Elena called her Lady Eve.”
Witch hunts, a persistent activity across continents, varied in nature. Though witches could freely persecute humans, they weren’t immortal demons. They could be injured by weapons and suffer from depleted magical power; thus, both sides maintained a bizarre balance of power over the long term.
The dramatic witch hunts led to the elimination of many witches with impure or weakened magical powers, while those who survived were fewer but more powerful, resulting in even more human casualties.
Columbus had almost no memory of Lady Eve—he could only vaguely recall following behind the adults with a hay fork, overhearing their discussions. Some said they saw Lady Eve hosting demons in the forest on a full moon night, with only a giant cauldron and the witch herself visible, but the shadows on the ground were crowded and bizarre, as if filled with guests. When she threw strange spices into the fire, skulls of cats bubbled up in the boiling water; others said she built a secret castle deep in the forest, filled with gold and treasures, diverting nearby rivers under her castle to fill a moat and breeding winged, ugly pigs to guard her wealth, threatening the local crops and people with drought and thirst…
Columbus’ father had injured his leg days before, and he had to replace his father in the hunt. Although he couldn’t even beat a ram, he was so inspired by the angry crowd that he was determined to rid the village of this menace.
“Nobody knows how long Lady Eve had lived, but by the time Columbus and the others went to confront her, she was probably already at the end of her life,” Charlie explained.
Columbus nodded. “There really was a castle in the forest, but there was no moat. The garden had a little maze of holly, and although it was autumn, the grass was full of various flowers. We didn’t see Lady Eve. It was almost dark, and everyone decided to burn down the entire castle. But when we entered the hall, we found it full of gold.”
“Gold?” Eugene asked eagerly.
Columbus nodded blankly.
“A lot of gold. Gold tables with gold plates and cups; floor-standing candlesticks made of gold; stair handrails of gold; carpets embroidered with large chrysanthemums in gold thread.”
The castle was empty.
The villagers searched from the ground floor to the top of the tower, finding countless desirable items: closets full of lavish dresses inlaid with pearls; various jewels carelessly tossed on gold-framed dressing tables, colors and types never seen before; many fashionable hats and fans; even a room with nothing but piles of gold coins.
Some said these treasures were stolen from humans by the witch, urging everyone to take them home. So, everyone tried to stuff their pockets with gold coins.
At that time, Columbus had never even touched a gold coin and couldn’t understand everyone’s frenzy. But when the village head handed him a gold cup, he hesitated. He didn’t know the value of these items. He only knew that if he took gold home without working for it, his mother would be angry.
Everyone stuffed their pockets and hats, except for Columbus, who remained empty-handed. They all urged him to take something home.
“Your father is injured. Take a bag of gold coins. You can afford the best doctor and even buy a fine horse.”
“Your mother always wears a faded old dress. Give her this beautiful dress and a matching hat.”
“Your little sister has never had a toy. There’s a delicate dollhouse and a music box that sings when opened.”
People advised him from all sides and sighed at his naive perspective.
“If you don’t take something now, we’re going back. The witch could return at any moment, and we can’t stay in the forest overnight,” they told Columbus.
Blinded by the treasures in the castle, Columbus didn’t know what to take. Everyone was leaving for the village, so in a hurry, he plucked a perfectly blooming daisy from the lawn.
“I’ll take this back for little Balda,” Columbus said cheerily.
“You’re a fool. With all that gold in front of you, you took a common flower,” a farmer scolded him.
Columbus replied, “This isn’t a common flower. It’s a daisy blooming in autumn, a treasure you can’t find anywhere else.”
No one could convince him otherwise, so they just made him hold his torch properly and not get lost in the group.
But after they left the castle, they never made it out of the forest.
“I only remember following behind everyone, walking and walking, but we never reached the end,” the little tin soldier said. “I put the daisy in my coat pocket and occasionally looked down at it. The last time I looked up, I saw Charlie.”
When Charlie met Columbus, the castle had changed hands. At that time, the shopkeeper, not yet a rabbit-headed man, had fashioned a rope ladder from bed sheets and slipped out of the tower, encountering a bewildered little tin soldier, Columbus, as he crawled out of a hole in the garden.
“I initially wanted to kidnap him,” Charlie said. “I was afraid he’d shout and alert the others—but he didn’t attack me. Instead, he asked my name. I didn’t think those tin soldiers could even talk.”
“Those?” Cici was captivated. “Are there other tin soldiers?”
The shopkeeper’s round eyes looked at him. “There are. Tall as humans, unable to speak, devoid of their own will, only acting on commands—that castle was full of such tin soldiers.”
“If Columbus’ memory is correct,” Dwight said solemnly, “then those normal-sized tin soldiers—”
The shopkeeper pushed his top hat down over his eyes.
“Are probably the villages back then,” he said.
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