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.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 15

Cici visibly stiffened, then batted his big eyes innocently. “Fox? No, not me.”

Dwight scoffed, then loudly said, “Shivers, once we get to Hilly City, let’s turn his cloak inside out and tie him up. Just drop him off at a brothel door and see if anyone pays to take him back.”

Cici: “…You’re too cruel!”

Eugene looked shocked. “You’re from the Fox family?”

Kingdom conflicts and noble secrets were too far removed from Eugene’s life. No matter how they joked and discussed it, it was all just a legend to him.

But the Fox name, he knew.

Not only did he know it, but he had also heard quite a bit.

Where there was light, there was shadow, and where people congregated, there was often an unspoken rule hidden in secrecy. Such as the black market, casinos, the red-light district, pharmacies, and even monasteries. The noble class held all the overt power, but in places that light didn’t reach, there were always those who, over time, through monopolies in certain trades, amassed wealth and strengthened their families, climbing to the very top. These families, able to speak with nobility on equal footing, were known as the “Black Gold Families”. Their names were older than some noble families, having built their power over several generations, extending their reach to every notable mid-to-large-sized city on the Pennigra continent.

Fox was one of these ancient Black Gold Families. They may never receive medals or titles of nobility, but their accumulated wealth was by no means inferior to that of the nobles. If there was anything they lacked compared to nobles, it was that they couldn’t possess a legal armed force. From birth to death, theirs was a journey kept low-key, not allowed to be openly displayed.

—This was all Eugene knew about the Fox family.

But if it were Dwight, there would be more thought-provoking details to consider.

With the recent decay of the empire, these underground elements had gradually infiltrated some of the noble families, using each other for balance and to gain more benefits—this was an unspoken secret among the upper class.

But the truly established old nobility disdained such actions, arrogantly considering those nobles as debasing themselves, “shaking hands with rats in the gutter”—the Dwight family belonged to this camp.

Still, looking down on and being unconcerned were two different things. Out of an inherited caution and meticulous character, every generation of Dwight had never relaxed their vigilance and monitoring of this power.

However, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper had also grasped some clues. Among them, only Columbus and Eugene were truly naïve. Cici, though crafty, was still young and had given himself away after talking a bit too much.

Living in luxury, perfectly imitating a girl despite being male, and with an understanding of the secrets of women’s quarters far beyond anyone else’s at such a young age—Charlie could almost picture Cici growing up in an exquisite boudoir surrounded by whispers and the scent of powders.

A proper noble child wouldn’t live such a life. This scenario only occurred in high-class brothels, and among the Black Gold Families known for their dealings in pleasure, it was the Fox family. This wasn’t to say that all brothels were monopolized by the Fox family, but the real power they held through these powder trades was their control over information.

Not every brothel on the Lemena continent bore the name Fox, but wherever there was a brothel, there were Fox family members, and the information exchanged through whispers and intimacies was controlled solely by them.

“Normally, they wouldn’t meticulously groom an adopted child unless you’re one of the direct heirs of the Fox family.” Cici’s expression, as if struck by lightning, confirmed his deduction was spot on, and the sleep-deprived Duke’s mood finally improved, his face breaking into a sinister smile. “I might estimate how much old Christopher is willing to pay to get you back.”

Christopher, the current patriarch of the Fox family, Cici’s grandfather.

Surprised, anxious, hungry, and tired, the beautiful young man finally couldn’t bear the strain and fainted with a “plop”.

The pleasure of tormenting Cici only lasted less than an hour for Dwight.

The Duke soon realized that from the Pennigra continent to the Doran continent, what was merely a thin line easily drawn with a quill in the study, when placed in the vast wilderness, turned into an infuriatingly arduous and exhausting journey.

The narrow and shabby paths couldn’t accommodate spacious carriages. They had no choice but to rely on horses for transportation; the prolonged riding caused him soreness from his pelvis to his back. The food was also monotonously unbearable—fresh fruits and vegetables couldn’t be preserved or carried. They only had dried, salted meat and hard bread, and in the lingering cold of late winter, wild game was scarce. Most terrifying was that a small church in Popomia turned out to be the most comfortable accommodation they could find for the next few days. Otherwise, they had to set up windproof tents on the spot or stay overnight at farmhouses they encountered on the road—most farmhouses were far from comfortable, with not enough rooms to accommodate their party, and no amount of gold could buy a remotely comfortable bed.

This harsh trek finally made the Duke of Brandenburg realize that wealth still couldn’t buy everything.

Apart from the pampered Cici, who was also half-dead from the journey, whether it was Charlie or Shivers, they still managed to maintain their composure, and Eugene seemed to think this kind of travel was nothing special. Even the little tin soldier, Columbus, was energetically keeping up, and driven by a strong sense of pride, Dwight couldn’t allow himself to complain out loud, undoubtedly worsening his mood.

Foreseeing this situation, Charlie slowed down, walking behind with Dwight to give them some distance from the others. Shivers, sensing they probably had things to discuss, quickened his pace and moved further ahead.

Dwight glanced at the rabbit-headed shopkeeper from the corner of his eye silently.

Days of sleep deprivation made it hard for him to focus. Thankfully, Araceae was excellent enough to proceed securely without his command. Even so, the Duke didn’t like seeing others manage more comfortably than himself, hence he wasn’t inclined to speak with Charlie.

The shopkeeper didn’t mind his cold demeanor.

“Did Priscilla leave in the winter too?” he asked.

The Duke pursed his lips.

“She didn’t take this route,” Dwight said stiffly, not wanting to elaborate.

“I guessed as much. If there had been enough hands, crossing the Labrada Valley from Popomia directly to Hilly City would have been the optimal route, and the caravan at that time must have been long.”

Naturally.

Priscilla, born physically frail, didn’t receive as much praise for her looks as her brother, but her resilient character and noble disposition made her invaluable. More than Dwight, the destined heir, Priscilla was the angel in their parents’ palms, the true treasure of Brandenburg.

Everyone thought Dwight grew up pampered, almost angelically untouched by worldly concerns, but in reality, as the only heir, not a day of his childhood was spent outside strict self-demands and learning, while Priscilla was the carefree one.

Until their parents died unexpectedly, when everyone thought Miss Priscilla would be too heartbroken to cope, she unexpectedly stood firm, standing by her young brother, surprisingly strong in refusing all insincere visits and ‘help’, and personally helped him ascend to his title.

Recalling the past only worsened Dwight’s mood.

If he had set out with his entire order of knights, he could have taken the main roads without fear of bandits. His current party… Although everyone (except Columbus) was capable, would still be in danger if they really faced a sizable group of robbers. Taking the detour was a necessity.

The shopkeeper continued to provoke him. “It’s a pity we don’t have enough people, so we have to take these back roads, without any pomp…”

The Duke gave him a sidelong glance, warning him to stop.

Charlie laughed. “You must love her very much.”

Dwight withdrew his gaze. “Don’t you have any siblings?”

Charlie didn’t answer immediately, and for a moment, only the whooshing of the wind past Dwight’s ears could be heard. The sudden change in atmosphere almost made the Duke think he had said something wrong.

But he wasn’t about to turn his head to check what expression was on that ridiculous rabbit face.

As if he seemed to care.

Fortunately, the awkward silence didn’t last long. The shopkeeper straightened the top hat on his head. “Yes, I do.”

His voice was so low it was almost inaudible, but the Duke still caught it sharply.

“I had a brother—very smart, very talented. He was the hope of our family.” Charlie’s voice was very low, with a faint hint of nostalgia. “We lived together when we were kids, but that was a very long time ago. My memories of him are even blurrier than Columbus’ memories of his hometown.”

Two brothers, only one the hope of the family, separated for many years—

It was somewhat illogical, but Dwight was arrogant, not stupid. He knew that no old family was without its secrets, and he understood this wasn’t an issue worth probing.

Not now, at least.

Dwight asked nonchalantly, “And now? Where is your brother?”

Charlie said sadly, “He’s no longer with us.”

Dwight: “……”

The shopkeeper stared at him for a long while until Dwight glared back fiercely, then he burst into laughter.

“I thought you’d fall for that,” Charlie said regretfully. “Yes, he’s not dead, although I don’t know where he is, but he’s probably doing fine.”

The Duke looked like he wanted to whack his rabbit head, but he restrained himself.

“What’s your family name?” he asked irritably.

Charlie had just mentioned ‘family’ and, combined with his previous boasts about his scholarly achievements, it seemed he wasn’t a nameless nobody. At least people below the commoner class rarely had the opportunity for education.

Charlie shrugged.

“I don’t have one,” he said calmly. “Like my brother, I used to have one, but not anymore.”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 14

Dwight rode ahead on Araceae with a straight face, remaining silent.

Charlie cast a sympathetic glance at the person securely tied and laid across the white horse.

“What’s your name?” asked the always-amiable rabbit-headed shopkeeper.

“Cici,” the other replied listlessly. “Why is he so angry? Is it because I stole his stuff, or because I’m bigger?”

The red-cloaked girl—now properly called a boy—Cici, no longer looked pitiful at all. Probably realizing there was no escape, he started to provoke deliberately.

Charlie thought about it seriously, and from what he knew, he figured Dwight was angry because he felt fooled by Cici.

As for the matter of size, he didn’t think the Duke’s attention would have been on “who’s bigger” under those circumstances.

Moreover, appearances could be deceiving about certain features, and Cici was living proof of that.

“When did you start targeting us?” Charlie cleverly shifted the topic away from Dwight’s issues. “Was it in Kamal City?”

“Stonewall Inn,” Cici said. “Your magic pot is quite famous. I knew many were after it, but none succeeded.”

“So you figured out a way to blend in with the group.” Charlie understood.

They would be wary of strangers in the store, wary of thieves on the road, but probably not a distressed girl they met by chance, especially one who appeared beautiful and delicate—Cici was right, this was a common weakness among most men.

In fact, he had almost succeeded if not for one among them who, disliking the hardness of the bench, chose to stay awake all night rather than sleep—an aristocrat with the temperament of a princess.

Cici’s failed theft and unsuccessful escape shocked everyone when they woke up the next morning, most of all Columbus and Eugene, who, even after breakfast and hitting the road, hadn’t recovered, occasionally glancing back at Cici with long sighs.

“How much is that pot worth? I’ll pay double to compensate,” Cici negotiated with what seemed to be the most approachable rabbit-headed shopkeeper. “Let me go.”

Charlie replied cheerily, “Genuine female coquetry might work on me.”

Cici’s expression turned serious. “Let me go.”

“If you have money to compensate, why turn to thievery?” the shopkeeper asked. “Your cloak is exquisite, not typical of a common thief.”

What he didn’t say out loud was, even without considering the clothes, this young man didn’t look like a starving thief. His fair, delicate cheeks, bright blue eyes, smooth skin like a girl’s, and thick, glossy golden hair all spoke of a nurtured life, visible in his appearance just as it was in the arrogant Duke leading the way.

Of course, the kind of “angelic appearance” Dwight required was a foundation and daily maintenance even more upscale than Cici’s.

“I just thought the pot was interesting,” Cici confessed. “And since you declared in Kamal that the magic pot was absolutely not for sale, I decided—” to use my looks to my advantage.

He sneakily glanced at the Duke, whose silhouette even exuded, “I am not pleased”.

Though not for sale, no one really cared about that pot. Charlie felt even more sympathetic towards the young man. If not for his own meddling, Cici would already be happily home with the pot—after all, the Duke had watched him take it without even planning to budge.

So, the gears of fate were precise, inexorable.

In any case, a severe lack of sleep somewhat soured Dwight’s mood, the most direct consequence being his displeasure with everyone, Cici most of all.

Thus, Cici, who had been well-attended by gentlemen the day before, spent the entire day strapped to a donkey’s back (according to the Duke, even his horse was suspect and couldn’t be allowed to collude), with his wrists bound uncomfortably tight. If not for Charlie’s insistence on padding the ropes with a towel, just the day’s journey would have been enough to make his fair wrists swell from congestion, or at least chafe the skin raw.

Eugene, however, quickly recovered from his shattered worldview. He finally mounted the high-headed great horse he had longed for and, all along the way, chatted affectionately with Cici’s white horse, fancifully feeling ever closer to the image of a prince on a white horse. By the time they reached the next town, he was sure to meet a heart-fluttering, naive girl who would ask him to slow down by her low wall to have a glass of lemonade she made, her cheeks blushing with shyness, her eyes pleading for him to stay…

Walking beside him, Shivers said, “Ah, that’s not very likely. Country girls are so shy they hardly dare speak up, while city women are more forward. I’ve encountered women who throw things out of windows, then send a maid to invite you to bring it back up.”

Eugene snapped out of his daydream and gave Shivers a wary look. The tall, handsome Knight Commander inexplicably met his gaze.

“Things like that do happen sometimes.” The first half of Eugene’s life was a struggle for survival, barely fitting into the popular gentlemen’s circle. “They also craft cute lies, like brushing their hair by the window and accidentally letting their comb fall down…”

“A comb?” Shivers echoed blankly.

“Or a handkerchief, a fan, something like that,” Eugene hurriedly added.

Charlie chuckled lightly but didn’t join in the conversation, while Cici made an odd “Oh—” sound.

Walking ahead, the Duke suddenly said coolly, “None of those. It’s garters. Do you think women invite him upstairs to discuss the latest hairstyles?”

Eugene: “!”

Shivers said gently, “When I encounter such situations, I’m usually busy, so it’s hard to choose between accepting the invitation and excusing myself, but you’re right, they are all quite charming.”

Eugene looked around.

Shivers: Women fall for me at first sight, shamelessly dropping their garters as an excuse to invite me into their bedrooms. It’s nothing, quite common.

Duke: Only virgins would guess ridiculous answers like combs or handkerchiefs. Of course, it’s garters. Real men understand. It’s nothing, quite common.

Charlie: Smiles silently. It’s nothing, quite common.

He was clearly the oldest and most experienced man present, but why was he treated like a greenhorn by those around him?

Charlie noticed Eugene’s dissatisfaction and comforted him, saying, “Actually, it’s quite normal. Knights are always the closest to love stories, especially handsome knights. Wherever they are, even a monastery can become a place of romance.”

This was a minor social class rule. From top to bottom, kings, dukes, and other high nobles were in positions that certainly didn’t lack exciting nightlife, but these often came with various scheming and multifaceted negotiations of interests. Ordinary civilian merchants, more focused on making a living and limited by their cultural level, were unlikely to have famous love letters or poems circulating, essentially lacking dissemination. Only knights, usually not high-ranking but at least part of the carefree noble class, also carried the aura of a wartime background. Women of any class were happy to engage in a brief, secret romance with knights—this wasn’t even considered a moral issue. So, in this regard, let alone Knight Shivers, even the youngest knight in Brandenburg, Shiloh, who barely looked like an adult and still had freckles, probably got more opportunities than the Duke.

Whether to accept these kinds of love stories entirely depends on the individual. Shivers was a man with high standards and great self-discipline, so his team had almost no precedents of getting into trouble over romantic escapades, and he also strictly prohibited young lads, in the age where hormones exceeded reason, from misbehaving with women. Compared with knights from other domains, the Brandenburg Knights were considered as pure as the Duke they served, earning a reputation for integrity even abroad.

Eugene, with his thief background and previously unkempt hair and beard, probably didn’t even have the chance to glance at a noblewoman—let alone the prostitutes in the alleyways, who probably required a settled price before they would smile at him.

“It’s not entirely about status,” Cici, hanging like a prey carcass, swayed with the donkey’s steps but that didn’t stop his eagerness for gossip.

“A handsome coachman always attracts women more than a corpulent lord. My brother often didn’t have a penny to his name, yet nearly every day he woke up in a different woman’s bedroom. They were willing to spend a lot of money to make clothes for him and flaunt him on their arms when going out to see plays.”

Such was the way of purely male gatherings; the conversation easily drifted towards amorous subjects. What’s most surprising was that Cici, only fifteen, could describe various romantic tales vividly, not limited to Kamal City. He knew well the famous amorous tales of major city socialites and even obscure stories from various noble families. Shivers and Dwight weren’t gossipy by nature, but when the conversation involved people they both knew and frequently interacted with, they couldn’t help but listen closely.

Eugene, on the other hand, was more interested in some crude urban jokes and quickly became engrossed, urging Cici to continue the story about a ‘beautiful woman with a voluptuous figure renowned for her secret manor filled only with young farmhands, where no women were allowed. After the social season, several carriages discreetly entered the manor, rumored to be filled with noblewomen going for a vacation there.’ The story continued.

Cici lowered his voice mysteriously. “The manor is surrounded by roses. Only a horse that knows the path can avoid the thorns and enter smoothly. The lady has a secret large room filled with various toys crafted by skilled artisans, described by the ladies who have been there as a ‘museum that makes one linger and forget to return’.”

“What kind of toys?” Eugene asked with a lewd expression.

At that moment, Cici clammed up. “It’s very uncomfortable hanging here. I don’t have the energy to tell stories anymore.”

Charlie timely intervened. “Cici, do you know any of the ladies who have been to that manor?”

Cici responded without thinking, “I don’t know any, but my…”

He suddenly stopped, his beautiful blue eyes blinked. “I won’t tell you.”

It was then that the Duke, who had been treating him like air, slowed down to walk beside him, thoughtfully asking, “Are you, by any chance, from the Fox family?”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 13

To be honest, Dwight himself was quite surprised that Elena’s magic pot was so sought-after.

Eugene and those thieves from the Stonewall Inn were inexperienced. Treasuring a broken pot as if it were precious was one thing, but that a random suspicious woman they met on the road also stole the pot was something he found contemptible.

Magic had its limits. Who knows how long the magic on that pot would last. Maybe in a couple of days, it would be no different from an ordinary ceramic pot—let’s say the magic didn’t fade. It would be just a pot that could pour an endless amount of wine, not gold. Why would it be worth fighting over?

The wealthy Duke, owning three large vineyards, couldn’t understand, so he just watched as the blonde girl sneaked away with the magic pot, completely unbothered to intervene.

“Even if she’s a thief, I’m going after her.” Charlie didn’t stop what he was doing, and he didn’t ask the Duke to accompany him. The donkey, who was forced to work overtime in the middle of the night, still followed him out of the stable.

“Is it really necessary?” Dwight frowned.

Charlie mounted the donkey, his large, round rabbit eyes looking gently at the Duke.

“You might not believe it, but my life hasn’t been easy for a single second. Although it’s mostly been tough, it’s still taught me many important things, one of which is to respect all life.”

“Not everyone deserves respect,” the young Duke said. “She might have accomplices waiting outside the village. If you chase after her alone, you might be the one who ends up in the wolf’s den.”

Although they hadn’t known each other long, Dwight saw many qualities in Charlie that he didn’t think a person who could run a mysterious little shop in Maplewood alone and had many intriguing background stories would be so reckless and sanctimoniously generous.

Charlie seemed to see what he was thinking.

“Since I have ways to keep you from the wolves, I also have ways to avoid them. I won’t just rush into the woods alone, but at least—”

At least make sure that pretty thief doesn’t stupidly run into a pack of wolves.

Five minutes later, the scowling Duke and Araceae joined Charlie on the stone path.

‘I won’t intervene. It’s just making sure this brainless rabbit doesn’t get torn apart by wolves for some inexplicable thief’s sake. I haven’t even reached the Doran continent yet and still need this rabbit,’ the Duke told himself.

What actually bothered him more was that Charlie seemed to have anticipated that he would come along.

“What if her stupidity gets us all killed?” Dwight grumbled all the way, unhappy about being dragged into this.

“If we encounter a situation beyond our ability, the first choice is, of course, to flee.” Charlie said, “I’m no knight. I don’t have such chivalry—if I have to choose between her and me, I’d rather stay alive myself.”

That sounded reasonable.

But the Duke still wasn’t pleased with his saintly actions and was about to critique further when Araceae slowed down.

By then, they had reached the outskirts of the village. Rabbit ears were apparently more sensitive than human ears, and Charlie also stopped, tilting his head slightly, puzzled. “What’s that sound ahead?”

Popomia was a semi-circular village surrounded by mountains, with forests both on the mountain and the plains, so most villagers’ houses had solid stone walls to defend against wild animals. They had seen some defensive barriers on the outskirts during the day, and now they finally understood why the villagers had expanded their defensive perimeter so much.

In the silent night, the howling of hungry wolves carried especially far.

“Wolves. The same pack from the day?” Dwight squinted, trying to spot the gleaming green eyes in the pitch darkness.

“Not necessarily.” Charlie’s donkey was also frightened, and he had to calm it down. “It looks like we won’t need to go too far. No sensible person would head towards the woods at this hour.”

“They wouldn’t head up the mountain either. If I were her…” Dwight paused significantly, “I’d find a nearby hiding spot to conceal myself until the early morning when the wolves disperse and ‘we’ haven’t woken up yet, then quickly make an escape.”

But the problem was that the area of Popomia Village wasn’t small. Forget streetlights, they hadn’t seen a single wind-shielded lamp under an eave all the way there, relying entirely on Araceae’s excellent sense of direction and experience to walk so smoothly. Otherwise, it would be easy to stumble and fall.

On such a starless night, a slender girl could simply hide in any family’s haystack, and even ten people would find it hard to locate her.

“Ah, that’s no problem.” Charlie said, “As long as we’re close enough, it will be easy to find her.”

Dwight turned his head, watching him pull out a piece of paper from his coat pocket.

“I found a strand of golden hair on the blanket just now.” Charlie said proudly, “You didn’t think I came unprepared, did you?”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.” The Duke posed a polite and courteous inquiry, “What can we do with a single strand of hair?”

He emphasized the word ‘single’. Duke Dwight went hunting in the countryside every autumn. He knew well that even the best-bred hounds could hardly track by a single strand of hair, let alone when they only had a rabbit, not a hound.

And from what he observed, apart from looking like a rabbit, Charlie didn’t seem to have any non-human talents, such as being able to live on grass alone.

Charlie ignored his comment, and skillfully folded a small, cute pinwheel from that paper and a small twig, wrapping the strand of golden hair around the pinwheel’s handle.

“Look.” He presented it like a treasure.

“I’m past the age of needing toys, sir.” The Duke wasn’t ready to be supportive.

“It’s a seeker pinwheel.” Charlie patiently explained, “I’m a top graduate from Monterey Academy, and this title wasn’t won by being voted most popular male student for three consecutive years.”

Dwight was no stranger to tracing magic, but the proper operation of such magic was supposed to be “using a compass, sand, or clear water as a medium, with the accuracy and effective duration directly influenced by the operator’s magical depth”. This came from “Origins and Basic Principles of Magic, Volume One” (by Hershey Gruskinsky)—indeed, although he had no intention to study magic, Duke Dwight was educated intensively from childhood and could be considered well-read in all aspects. Thus, he had a solid theoretical foundation.

He was certain that even in derivative magic, there was no use of pinwheels to perform operations.

Charlie seemed oblivious to the Duke’s disdain for his unconventional magic, cheerfully attaching the pinwheel to the harness of the large donkey below him. In the absence of wind, the little pinwheel began to rotate slowly.

“This kind of magic can’t last very long.” This time, Charlie took the lead. “As long as the direction is correct, the pinwheel won’t stop spinning, so we just need to adjust according to the pinwheel… Ouch.”

He rubbed his head and glared at the Duke. The latter was tossing a small pinecone up and down. Clearly, this was the object that had just hit him.

“If you know magic, why not find a way to break the curse?” Dwight asked.

People who had never studied magic treated it almost like a miracle; they could neither understand nor perform it, nor could they defend against it. Only those who had systematically studied it could understand its mechanisms.

However, most ordinary people also didn’t have the opportunity to learn, and even literate individuals were rare—cultural heritage was always in the hands of the privileged.

“The curse on Columbus is very complex, and it’s been a long time that the residual traces have almost been worn away.” The shopkeeper glared at him. “To unravel a magic formula, you need to meet at least several basic known conditions, and with just a little clue from Columbus, it’s difficult to deduce the rest. And Elena, who has inherited this kind of power, could quickly undo the curse if she wanted to.”

“What about your own?” Dwight asked slowly. “I remember your head is Elena’s masterpiece. Strictly speaking, aren’t you her senior?”

The implication was that Charlie couldn’t break Elena’s curse = was overtaken by a junior = was embarrassingly outmatched.

Charlie paused for a moment before reluctantly saying, “I’ve never been good at arithmetic.”

“I thought ‘excellence’ included ‘in all subjects’.”

“It does! When I say not so good, I mean at least above the standard line. Actually, my other…”

“So Elena at least far exceeded the standard line, right? Including practical operations?”

The shopkeeper was a bit angry, feeling this kid was very unreasonable and unwilling to give face.

Fortunately, at this moment, his little pinwheel started to spin faster, understandingly. To avoid startling their target with the noise of hooves, both men dismounted and walked forward quietly in the dark.

They passed through a wheat field with some uncut remnants of snow on the ground, making the walk a bit strenuous. At the end of the field, down a small slope, was a low barn that, if viewed from afar, only showed a shallow straw roof and was easily overlooked.

The barn seemed long unmaintained, some of its planks were askew, and through the gaps, one could see some farm tools and a white horse.

But there was no one inside.

“I told you. Her horse and cloak are as conspicuous as streetlamps at night. She would definitely hide.” Dwight scoffed.

“Shh.” Charlie nudged him, signaling for him to listen quietly.

From a nearby bush came the rustling sound of someone moving. They didn’t light their lamps but followed the noise as silently as possible.

The footsteps soon stopped, followed by the sound of a cloak rustling.

Dwight, whose temper was worsening from staying up late, was clearly tired of this hide-and-seek game. He stepped forward hastily, and before Charlie could stop him, he struck a flint and lit the lantern in his hand—

Long golden curls gracefully fell down her back. The previously crimson cloak was apparently worn reversed, now black velvet blending with the night. The owner of the cloak, startled by Dwight’s movements, turned around, her large blue eyes dazzled by the lantern light, forcing her to close them.

And her hand, holding her privates, even forgot to withdraw it.

As a nobleman who prided himself on a remarkably clean private life, Dwight was shocked by the bizarre scene before him and involuntarily took a step back.

Behind him, Charlie stepped forward, peering over the Duke’s shoulder to assess the situation.

“It seems we’re being a bit rude.” The rabbit-headed shopkeeper commented subtly. “Got frightened back.”

The author has something to say:

Little Red Riding Hood was peeing standing up.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 12

“The previous heir? I thought witches never died,” Eugene muttered.

“There is no eternal life in this world except for God. Both angels and demons have their times of demise. It’s just that their lifespans are so exceedingly long, they nearly amount to eternity. Witches aren’t demons; they might extend their lifespans through magic, but they will still age and weaken and cannot forever sustain the consumption of their magical power,” Shivers said. “Our clergy once told me that magic isn’t omnipotent. When magical power is abundant, many methods can be used to maintain a youthful appearance, but once the power is exhausted and can no longer be maintained, the appearance will rapidly revert to its natural age—most end up looking terribly old, wrinkled, and dried up, not unlike a dead tree trunk.”

Everyone fell silent. No one spoke for a while. They just watch the fire in silence. Occasionally, a spark would jump out and quickly extinguish.

Perhaps because he had spoken of his youth, that night Charlie dreamt of the past.

In his dream, his face wasn’t covered by this appearance, nor did he have a rabbit’s all-encompassing keen vision and soft, long ears.

He lay on the grass beside a fountain, napping with a thick book as a pillow, a breeze blowing on his face, making him want to sneeze.

As he was half-asleep, he felt someone sit down next to him, gently removing some blades of grass from his face.

Just as he was about to open his eyes, he felt the person’s fingers trace down his cheek, the cool fingertips causing his skin to shiver slightly. The cool fingertips slid across his neck, following a strange, unnatural trajectory—

It was his carotid artery!

Charlie suddenly opened his eyes, almost springing up on the spot. The blanket slid off him due to his movement.

The next second, he realized he was dreaming and took a deep breath, pushing the heavy breaths back into his chest.

The fire was still burning. Charlie glanced at the flames, then turned to see the young Duke sitting on his own bench, staring intently at him.

Charlie was so startled he nearly jumped again.

Take a deep breath, he reminded himself. After taking a moment to collect himself, he met Dwight’s gaze.

Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the late night or the light from the fire, but the Duke’s expression wasn’t his usual arrogance but rather intensely focused, even somewhat childishly curious.

Even the most patient person disliked being stared at in the middle of the night. Not wanting to disturb the others who were asleep, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper mouthed irritably at him.

“What?” he asked.

Dwight nodded in a direction.

Following his gaze, Charlie saw that the bench where the girl in the red cloak had been lying now only held a sleeping little tin soldier. He jerked awake, pulled the blanket aside, and tiptoed over to look.

The bench was empty, and the girl’s whereabouts were unknown. The blanket on the bench was still warm, indicating the person lying there hadn’t left long ago.

Even the stable doors in the courtyard were open. When Charlie and Dwight entered, Araceae and Midnight were also awake, watching them warily.

“The white horse is gone,” Charlie said, setting a lantern on the feed trough and carefully examining the footprints on the ground.

“Even if being thrown off a horse made her a fool, she wouldn’t leave on foot unless she grew up with wolves,” Dwight said with his usual sarcasm. “Moreover, she’s not foolish. I’m sure she thought everyone was asleep when she sneaked away.”

Charlie then turned to look at him. “You knew when she left? You weren’t asleep?”

Dwight suppressed the urge to shrug, leaning against a pillar in the stable, his beautiful eyes calmly meeting his. “I have never slept on a bench in my life, thank you.”

The shopkeeper looked at him morosely. “Your Lordship, assuming I’m not wrong, you’re planning to go find Miss Priscilla.”

Dwight nodded gracefully.

“Miss Priscilla has married into the southern continent, far from Lemena.”

“Mm.”

“This journey will be long. Do you plan to stay awake the entire way?”

“I certainly will sleep, but I must sleep in a bed,” Dwight arrogantly declared, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “That’s a baseline.”

Charlie felt his rabbit head ache. “You’re definitely going to fall off your horse.”

Dwight stated boldly, “Staying up one night is nothing to me—besides, if that woman had decided to stab us in the heart earlier, you’d be thanking me for not sleeping.”

The shopkeeper gave him a stifled look.

According to their itinerary, the distance to Hilly City, the next stop after Popomia, wasn’t something that could be endured ‘just one night’.

The Duke might know the map of Lemena like the back of his hand in his castle’s study, but once he actually started on the road, he would find that without making compromises to the rough conditions, the bad roads and weather could totally sap all his willpower on the way.

However, seeing the other’s expression, the shopkeeper decided it was wise to keep his mouth shut about this.

The night wind blew in from the roof of the stable, making him shrink his neck and reach to untie his donkey.

Dwight put a hand out, pressing it neither too lightly nor too heavily. “What are you doing?”

“Going after her,” Charlie said without hesitation. “It’s not safe to leave the village at night. The wolf pack is likely nearby.”

Dwight didn’t pull his hand away. “I have something to ask you.”

“Wait till dawn, then—”

“No,” the Duke unyieldingly said, unfamiliar with compromise. “Are you going to find the witch Elena?”

Charlie paused, finally focusing all his attention on the Duke.

He didn’t answer, but Dwight saw the answer in his eyes.

“As you said, she cursed you and still doesn’t intend to reconcile. Why go? I thought you’d prefer to stay far from her in Maplewood.”

The shopkeeper hesitated. He originally assumed the other didn’t really need his answer and was only concerned only with his own interests, typical of nobility.

“Because of that little tin soldier, Columbus?” Dwight continued.

Charlie was genuinely surprised. He knew the Duke was very perceptive but didn’t realize his thoughts were so meticulous, capable of quickly deducing the most likely close-to-truth answer under the scarce conditions.

“The curse on Columbus is a bit more complicated.” The shopkeeper took a deep breath. “He hasn’t gained immortality because of this body. Apart from the wear on his soul, his movements will gradually be limited with age until he becomes a true tin soldier. The last time we went to the mines, his movements were already less agile, and this isn’t something that can be solved by oiling the joints.”

If possible, Charlie didn’t want to face Elena, but he was even less willing to let Columbus walk towards death as a tin soldier.

“If possible, I hope to negotiate with Elena to lift Columbus’s curse. If that fails, at least to send Columbus back to his hometown, to the warm countryside farms in the east of Doran.”

“That would be nice,” Dwight slowly said. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but I happen to also be going to the Doran continent.”

Charlie gave him a disingenuous smile.

The Duke didn’t continue speaking, instead silently watching him, the two remaining at an impasse for a moment.

The shopkeeper already found dealing with nobility troublesome enough, but this young Duke was ten times more troublesome than ordinary nobility.

“Since that’s the case, let’s travel together.” The shopkeeper surrendered after five minutes.

The Duke was finally satisfied, courteously adding, “I thought so too. I’m glad we could reach such a pleasant agreement so quickly.”

“Let’s go then,” Charlie continued, untying the reins. “There’s no moon tonight. The horse won’t go fast. If we hurry now, we can still catch up…”

Although delayed by ten minutes, the night road in the countryside was difficult to navigate, and this bit of time shouldn’t cause much delay.

“No, Mr. Charlie, I suggest we all go back to sleep,” Dwight said as if it were obvious. “Why should we chase after a stranger in the middle of the night?”

“Because it’s not safe,” Charlie said patiently. “Although I don’t know her intentions, we shouldn’t just watch a young person gamble with their life.”

Dwight looked at him oddly, though he didn’t speak. Charlie swore he saw a sentence in the other’s beautiful eyes: So?

“I think she has ulterior motives,” Dwight said. “So there’s no need to bother with her.”

“Have you ever considered that she might just be scared and not necessarily have ulterior motives—”

“She stole from us.” Dwight cut him off decisively.

Charlie was stunned.

“She secretly took Elena’s magic pot,” Dwight smirked. “A simple lost girl wouldn’t rummage through someone else’s luggage. Eugene is truly a complete fool.”

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 11

Transformation magic wasn’t impossible to achieve, but its principles were very complex. Not only could terrifying accidents occur during the process, but it also involved evil motives and ethical issues, making it taboo in every continent and country. A rule-abiding mage might never come across such information in their entire life.

Charlie casually added a log to the fire. The flames reflected in his large, round eyes, showing no discernible emotion.

“It doesn’t necessarily require proper magic. A curse can also accomplish it,” he said softly.

Shivers fell silent.

Mages capable of such advanced magic were very rare, but the scope became much broader if it involved a curse.

Everyone knew that there was a significant difference between magic and curses—regardless of the type of magic, it all originated from the mage’s own magical power, hence the system of classifying mages based on talent and the amount of magical power.

However, the threshold for curses was somewhat lower. Although they also required a certain amount of magical power, curses often involved various evil forces, and the results depended on whose power was being utilized—having a demon from the abyss or a lost spirit perform the same curse could lead to vastly different outcomes.

“When I met Columbus, he had already been in this form for thirty years. He was very young when it happened, and he has forgotten many details since then. I hope you won’t ask him directly. Even though he’s generally cheerful, he’s always lacked a sense of security.”

Everyone was surprised.

“I thought he was a child?” Shivers said hesitantly.

Perhaps it was his cute and amusing appearance that first gave off an impression of childlike innocence, plus his personality was exceptionally lively—honestly, a bit too lively, like an energetic little locomotive.

“The last day he lived as a human was on his fifteenth birthday,” the rabbit-headed shopkeeper said, staring into the jumping flames. “Strictly speaking, he was still a child, just like other kids his age, always running around getting into trouble, never full, lying in bed each night looking forward to what breakfast would be the next day.”

Then, this vivid and full life abruptly ended, and Columbus’ soul was placed into this colorful, cold tin soldier shell, with time forever stopped on that hot summer afternoon many years ago.

“What exactly happened?” Eugene couldn’t help asking.

“That’s something you might have to ask your old friend,” the shopkeeper said with a wry smile.

Eugene looked puzzled.

“The witch, Elena,” Dwight said softly.

“A tin soldier’s body doesn’t feel pain or age, but the wear on Columbus’ soul is more apparent with each passing year, and his memories are gradually fading,” Charlie said. “He doesn’t remember much about the past, including the reason he became a tin soldier.”

The Duke looked at him. “How did you meet him?”

Charlie’s long ears twitched. The other’s keen, almost inhumane way of thinking was what he was least adept at handling.

He thought for a moment and said slowly, “My meeting with Columbus was purely accidental. If you’re asking how I know Columbus, you might as well ask…”

Charlie paused, casting a mischievous glance at the fully attentive Eugene. “How I know Elena.”

Eugene, who had been drinking onion soup, spilled it all over the front of his shirt. Shivers, shocked, instinctively placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper raised his hands innocently. “Calm down. I never said Elena and I were friends.”

Dwight sized him up, his tone eerie and eager, as if about to explore a new toy. “I think I’m starting to understand what’s going on with your head.”

Charlie coughed uncomfortably.

“At that time, I was also fifteen, handsome, dashing, and elegant,” the shopkeeper reminisced with emotion. “Attractive and intelligent. I entered Monterey Academy at eleven—don’t make that face. It’s a very, very famous school on the Doran continent. Many historical figures came from there.”

“I think what everyone’s questioning is the ‘attractive and intelligent’ part,” Dwight drawled.

Charlie ignored him and continued, “Because I was so outstanding, every teacher wanted to personally instruct me, so I was the only student that year who chose all the courses—a truly remarkable record that I think has not been broken to this day… The point is, this of course included magic classes.”

While there weren’t many qualified mages on the market, the threshold for studying magic was actually lower than most people think.

Magic wasn’t just the well-known skills of transformation, flying, or summoning various weather effects, which were visually stunning. It also included many minor branches like hypnosis, concocting magic potions, prophecy—including magical theory as a part of the magic curriculum.

In reality, humans were born with a basic aptitude for magic, but for most, this talent was so slight that it was almost negligible, and they never had the opportunity to systematically explore and learn it. That was the real difference between mages and ordinary people.

Regardless, magic sounded very cool—who didn’t want to command the elements or fly?

So when various schools first offered magic courses, nearly 100% of students enrolled.

However, after generations of testing, most students eventually realized that some could command crows without even opening a textbook, while others could study magic textbooks for years and only manage to make a feather quill struggle to turn over on a desk. People gradually accepted the fact that talent couldn’t be forced and made rational career choices.

But young Charlie wasn’t driven by a desire to become a powerful mage who could summon storms. He was simply curious about all subjects. To him, even if he couldn’t make his mark in this area, studying magical theory and history was quite interesting.

“Elena and I are different. She was very talented and had clear goals early on. In fact, she was one of the students our teachers had great hopes for,” Charlie said. “She enrolled when I was fifteen and was quickly attracted by my charming demeanor, expressing her affection for me fervently, even after I graduated. Because I consistently rejected her, she turned her love into hatred and turned me into a rabbit-headed being.”

He concluded briskly, “That’s the history between me and the witch Elena.”

Everyone: “……”

“Forgive my bluntness, but that curse seems quite extraordinary.” Shivers hesitated. “If she was going to curse you, why not turn you into a complete rabbit?”

He logically skipped over the part about unrequited love, as Charlie seemed very eager to continue elaborating on his romantic adventures.

“Because she liked me too much,” Charlie stated decisively. “Thus, at the last moment of cursing me, she was still pleading with me, saying if I would be with her, she would lift the curse. Such a vicious spell requires firm belief and strong willpower to be fully successful, but unfortunately, she couldn’t help but waver when she saw my handsome face, so the curse was only half-completed.”

The group fell silent again.

Although everyone was eager to know more about the reasons and details, they tacitly chose not to give him the stage anymore.

At this point, however, the rabbit-headed man was visibly excited.

“Actually, Elena hasn’t completely forgotten about me to this day. Whenever I appear within her sight, she chases me relentlessly. This kind of life is really too burdensome, which is why I left Doran to escape from her.”

“I heard Elena is a seductive beauty who was once a mistress to a king.” Dwight pondered. “Why did you always refuse her?”

Charlie replied righteously, “The first time she confessed to me, she was only twelve years old, not even developed yet. As for later…”

He suddenly paused.

What happened later?

Honestly, Charlie realized at that moment that his memory of the past was also a bit vague.

Why had he never felt any affection for Elena from the beginning to the end? He barely remembered Elena before she became a witch, when she was still properly dressed in a school uniform, holding textbooks, because by the time they became enemies, Elena’s radical actions had left a much deeper impression on him than her face.

“Would you fall in love with a woman who could turn you into a rabbit at any time?” he retorted. “Elena is a genius and willing to put in the effort, but she was tempted in her pursuit of excellence and strayed from the right path. She had the potential to become a great mage but chose a path filled with thorns instead.”

What Charlie left unsaid was that Elena had paid a price beyond most people’s imagination to obtain the powers of a witch. Many people thought that selling one’s soul was a simple and effortless act, but in reality, the more evil power one gained, the more terrifying and painful experiences one endured. And the most terrifying part was that there was no turning back from corruption; once you lightly hooked a finger with a demon extending from the darkness, you could never let go again.

“I graduated a few years before her, and during that time I traveled around. When I met her again, she had already become the heir to some evil power. She had inherited powerful forces, hatred, and a castle not meant for her. Columbus came from there.”

“Our mutual mentor once investigated where Elena was led astray. He believed the power she obtained came from an evil queen in history. Legend has it this queen committed countless atrocities to achieve immortality, building her dominion with human blood, and after her death, her powers and spirit lingered in something that wouldn’t fade away. Some speculate she managed to separate her spirit from her human shell, becoming a malevolent spirit, or in layman’s terms, a demon. This queen continuously seeks an heir among humans, continuing her wickedness through a shared soul. Columbus was probably a ‘creation’ of Elena’s previous heir.”

Finally tired from talking, Charlie stretched out his long legs as the night unknowingly fell. Outside the church was very quiet. Once they stopped talking, the only sound was the crackling of burning wood, making it hard not to feel sleepy.

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 10

The startled horse bolted from the woods, and the young girl on its back was jostled up and down, looking as if she might fall off at any moment.

Three people spurred their horses to chase, and four gray shadows also sprang from the woods in relentless pursuit. Shivers tried to catch up to the white horse, but the crazed speed of the white horse was too fast, and the watchful gray wolves continuously tried to cut into their path, attempting to scatter the group.

Eugene’s horse, Catherine, was far less courageous and adaptable than Araceae and Midnight. Confronted directly by the gray wolves, it panicked, nearly throwing Eugene off, who had to cling tightly to it, unable to lend a hand.

The white horse in the lead, in its panic, rushed into a thick fog not far ahead. Dwight slowed down, only to find that the fog wasn’t mist but thick smoke from burning wood, so choking that Araceae slowed down, unwilling to run further.

Not only were the horses and humans baffled by this sudden smoke, but the persistently chasing wolves also halted their advance. They seemed unable to understand this strange smoke and hesitated on the spot before quickly retreating back into the woods.

Shivers instructed Eugene to wait with Dwight on the spot while he went to investigate. As he walked forward, the smoke thickened. Avoiding the wind, he saw, not far ahead, only two fire pits. The wood found under the snow couldn’t really catch fire, but it was the windy season, and the smoke-filled fire pits, when blown by the wind, spread a great deal of smoke. The Knight Commander, still on his horse, saw a small figure busily fanning the flames by one of the fire pits. Even through the white smoke, its red and blue uniform was particularly striking.

It was the little tin soldier from the rabbit shopkeeper’s side.

“I’ve wanted to ask for a long time,” Shivers said, puzzled. “Are you also a magical item?”

The little tin soldier looked offended.

“Of course, I am a person,” it said seriously. “You really are rude.”

The Duke, riding Araceae through the gradually clearing smoke, just heard this exchange. The assertive tone raised his eyebrows. “You’re a person? What about that rabbit then?”

The little tin soldier said, “Charlie isn’t a rabbit either!”

“Suit yourself,” Dwight said nonchalantly. “So he went off to play the hero?”

The little tin soldier clearly thought he was as rude as Shivers and refused to speak further. Dwight didn’t mind, and after nearly an hour, they saw the now calm white horse return, led by Charlie. The fluffy rabbit wore a finely made silk top hat on his fuzzy head.

Indeed, the young girl on horseback had fainted.

After a brief discussion, they decided to move forward with her, as the smoke had mostly cleared, and in this season of scarce prey, no one could guarantee that the hungry gray wolves wouldn’t follow again. Moreover, no one wanted to spend the night outdoors in this weather.

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper seemed not at all surprised to encounter Dwight and Shivers here. Both parties (mainly Dwight and Shivers) had things to say, but now wasn’t the time for reminiscing. They were still farther from the predetermined stopover at Popomia Village than indicated on the map, so to reach their destination before sunset, everyone quietly focused on the road.

Despite each having a mount, the bad road conditions, constant vigilance against wolf attacks, and fear of thieves left everyone exhausted. When Eugene finally saw a wisp of smoke and a low fence, he instantly perked up and rode his donkey forward to ask for directions.

A squat woman was feeding chickens behind the fence. She poured Eugene a glass of milk and directed them around the hillside to a spacious church that provided free firewood to passing travelers.

The dark brown stone path wound around the base of the hill, with fields still showing patches of white snow and low farm houses scattered about. Children dressed like round balls played with puppies and lambs, shyly running back into their houses when strangers passed, their dogs bravely barking at them, followed by adults’ scolding.

The dwellings here looked similar to those in Brandenburg’s territory. Once they reached populated areas, wild wolves rarely approached, so everyone slowed down, leisurely walking on the rural path, occasionally commenting on the smells wafting from a small window, guessing whether the dish being prepared was a fruit tart or apple pie.

The church the farm woman mentioned was on the east side of the village, situated on a large open space used for regular gatherings.

Unlike the grand churches Dwight had visited, with elaborate carvings, stained glass windows, and hand-painted ceilings, this modest church looked just a bit more refined than the farmhouses they had passed. Its flat stone walls were painted white, with dry coral vines hanging up to its highest point, easily imagining it covered in green leaves and red flowers in summer.

The church had no fireplace, only an old iron stove with a huge kettle rusted at the bottom.

In the corner of the courtyard, a shed shielded from snowstorms was filled with firewood.

Currently, the only guests in Popomia Village were them. When they pushed open the thick wooden door, the stirred dust made Dwight frown and step back several paces.

The severe winter season clearly left the church seldom tended; the benches were covered in dust, and the air smelled of rotting wood, forcing everyone to climb up to open all the windows.

Charlie and Shivers brought in firewood, and it took some time to start a fire as the ashes in the hearth hadn’t been cleaned for a while.

Hiring Eugene proved an exceedingly wise decision; even Dwight hadn’t recognized his skills beyond thievery. As Shivers started the fire, Eugene deftly used the church’s benches to make several makeshift beds, laid out blankets, and double-checked the doors and windows.

Charlie found a well behind the church, so he set up a large iron pot on the stove and cooked a pot of steaming onion soup.

Perhaps it was the aroma of the onion soup that finally awoke the sleeping girl.

She was placed on a bench by Shivers, and before she could fully open her eyes, her stomach growled loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

As people were preparing to dine, they all quieted down, watching the girl in the red cloak slowly sit up and face them.

She had long, golden curly hair and a pair of beautiful eyes as blue as forget-me-nots, which reminded Dwight of the delicate handmade dolls in Priscilla’s room.

Beautiful women were a catalyst for the hormones of all bachelors. Eugene almost instinctively began to court her, lowering his voice, thinking he sounded deep and sexy. “You’re awake? Come over here (to the fire).”

The girl immediately widened her eyes in terror, trying to flee on all fours, unaware she was only lying on a narrow bench. Tripping over her cloak, she fell to the ground with a thud that made everyone wince in pain.

Eugene hurried forward to help her up but was pushed away by her as she scrambled behind the overturned bench.

Dwight had enough of the spectacle and finally drawled, “Excuse me, can someone remind that fool that he really looks like a creep?”

Their group was all male: two hooded men, a scraggly bearded man, and a bizarre rabbit-headed creature—ignoring the little tin soldier, they were indeed an odd bunch.

Anyone waking up to see such a group—and the first words from the obvious ruffian being a threat (?) to offer herself up—would be frightened.

Charlie quietly lowered his head and took a sip of onion soup with a “slurping” sound.

Shivers’ upbringing didn’t allow him to turn a blind eye to women in distress, so he rubbed his forehead. “Eugene, don’t get so close to her. You’ll give this young lady another fright, and she’ll faint again.”

His tone was steady and reassuring, and the girl turned her gaze to him upon hearing this.

The reliable Knight Commander didn’t make the same basic error as Eugene. He removed his hood and smiled warmly at the girl.

“We mean no harm,” Shivers said in a soothing tone. “We’re just passing merchants and leaving you alone in the wilderness would be too dangerous. We decided to take you along to a safe stopover. If you want, you can leave at any time.”

The girl seemed to calm down a bit, but she still eyed Eugene warily.

Shivers felt a headache coming on. “Eugene, no lady wants a strange man to get so close.”

Eugene looked at the girl.

She nodded without hesitation.

Deeply wounded, Eugene returned to the fire, not only having his confidence shattered but also enduring the unreserved ridicule from his employer.

Charlie patted the little tin soldier and sent it to offer a bowl of soup to the girl. Dwight glanced at him.

Though a moving tin soldier was quite odd, its cute and cheerful appearance greatly reduced any sense of threat, so the girl didn’t refuse the offer.

Saving someone from near-death was basic decency, but Dwight and Shivers both carried the coldness and self-interest typical of nobles. Shivers, in particular, was generally willing to show more gentleness and care to women, provided it didn’t conflict with his duties or beliefs. However, with Dwight around, the Duke’s safety and wishes always took top priority, so he didn’t intend to pay the girl much attention during their journey.

Dwight understood his Knight Commander, but Charlie’s attitude was intriguing. He had used the smoke to scare off the wolves, calmed the frightened horse, and saved the girl, but otherwise, the rabbit-headed shopkeeper was distant yet polite.

Charlie was the kind of man who could kiss the sheriff’s wife’s chubby hand without batting an eye and describe her as a “delicate flower”, so there was no reason for him to be so aloof when faced with an actual vulnerable girl.

Unfortunately, Eugene, the one willing to show interest in a pretty girl, was let down by his appearance. He had to sit by the fire, toasting dry bread to make it softer, while trying to listen in on the soft conversation between the little tin soldier and the girl.

They were a bit too far, and Eugene couldn’t hear anything.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, ‘What’s with it?'” The picky Duke hadn’t eaten much and was determined not to let those around him focus on eating either.

Charlie put down his bowl and saw Dwight tilting his head, looking at the little tin soldier sitting beside the girl.

“Are you talking about Columbus? He’s human,” Charlie replied.

Dwight let out a scoff.

Charlie seemed somewhat helpless. “What do you want me to say? He is indeed human. He just had an unfortunate accident that turned him into what he is now.”

Eugene’s attention was drawn to the conversation. “What kind of accident turns a person into a tin soldier?” He knew that fires and carriage accidents could cause injuries and deformities, but turning into a completely different, non-living entity was simply too bizarre.

“If it’s due to magic, it would take a very skilled mage to achieve that. Most wizards at the Clerical Institute can only change hair and skin color with potions,” Shivers said in a lowered voice. “Transforming a human being is highly evil magic and strictly forbidden. Who would be so bold?”

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Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

Chapter 9

In Lemena, the existence of witches was considered very ominous—along with everything related to witches.

In some extreme villages and towns, there were still occurrences of people suspected of affiliating with witches being burned alive. Most people who heard about such events were only grateful that the local residents were saved from a terrible disaster.

Therefore, Dwight’s method of fishing this time could be described as quite hardcore. After it was revealed that the treasure they had was a product of a witch, the Stonewall Inn lost most of its guests within a day, and even those who were most enthusiastic about discussing the miraculous jug clammed up.

Thus, old Barry gleefully kicked them out.

The Duke and the Knight Commander suffered no losses—their original goal was merely to find Eugene, and after the matter was handled, they covered their faces with hoods, ensuring no one would recognize them.

Shivers was a bit uneasy because his savior had also disappeared, and he felt he hadn’t properly repaid him.

If he had revealed his identity as Shivers, the Knight Commander of Brandenburg, he could have offered gold or jewels as a thank you, but as Traveler Green, it was unwise to display wealth.

Dwight didn’t comment on this. Unlike Shivers, who was innately upright and transparent, Dwight’s suspicious nature made him distrust any coincidence, so he kept a watchful eye on the man who had unexpectedly helped them, maintaining an impassive facade.

His intuition told him that this man was hiding something from everyone. If they weren’t in Kamal without anyone to deploy, the typical approach of the Duke of Brandenburg would be to have someone secretly follow Oscar until he learned what the name of his family pet was or ensure that he wouldn’t ‘coincidentally’ appear before them again.

Unfortunately, being away from home meant simplifying matters.

The naturally paranoid Duke no longer bothered with his Knight Commander, turning his attention instead to a new member of their travel group.

Eugene was forced to bathe in the dead of winter, with Shivers personally overseeing the stable boy scrubbing Eugene as if he was scrubbing a pot, until Eugene was as clean as a freshly prepared pig ready for the slaughter. His matted, tangled hair was neatly trimmed, and after much negotiation, Eugene’s large beard was shortened and tidied into a neat style. Cleanly dressed, the formerly disreputable thief now looked quite handsome.

Only Eugene wasn’t satisfied; losing his beard made him feel very insecure, and he covered himself up tightly, more afraid of revealing his identity than Dwight and Shivers.

It took Shivers only one night to thoroughly unravel Eugene’s background. Born in a remote village, his parents had many children but could not support them. Since the age of eight, when Eugene realized that even defeating all his siblings for oatmeal porridge wouldn’t satisfy his hunger, he resolutely ran away from home.

A child under ten growing up alone naturally experiences all sorts of dirty deeds and situations, but it must be said that Eugene had a talent for survival that far exceeded that of ordinary people, which was why Dwight took an interest in him.

In the carriage robbery incident, Eugene was the only one who wasn’t blinded by greed and accurately predicted the situation to escape. Although it was chaotic, Dwight instantly distinguished him from the other two brainless fools.

And Eugene’s obsession with the magic jug he threw away in desperation and his return to steal it confirmed Dwight’s judgment. Despicable yet fearful, shrewd yet low-key, and most importantly, poor.

A broken jug could hook him so deeply that the wealthy Duke was confident he could manipulate him as he wished.

Knowing it was a witch’s artifact, Eugene completely gave up on his ‘treasure’, even wanting to distance himself as much as possible from it.

There were many rumors about witches on the continent, one of which was that every witch’s emblem was her eye, through which she could see everything she wanted to see scattered around the emblem.

Eugene certainly didn’t want to appear within a witch’s field of vision. But the jug was the only valuable thing he owned, and the substantial loss left Eugene disheartened until Dwight offered a generous reward, making Eugene shamelessly commit on the spot—Eugene still remembered the extravagantly luxurious carriage at the edge of the forest.

After leaving the Stonewall Inn, they didn’t immediately leave the city but split up from Eugene. Wrapped in an old cloak, Eugene quickly disappeared into the alleys with the crowd, returning before dark with the information Dwight wanted.

“Indeed, someone saw a man with a high-top hat and a rabbit head,” Eugene reported to Dwight. “He wasn’t hiding his movements. It was easy to inquire about him. The night before last, he was drinking in a small tavern on Hyena Alley, and everyone thought he was from the circus because he performed a few impromptu card tricks.”

As Eugene said, for someone with an unusual appearance, Charlie’s movements weren’t discreet. He stayed in Kamal for two days, shopping, drinking, watching plays, and even winning a robust donkey in a card game at a tavern.

This information inspired Dwight. When they left Kamal, Eugene also received a small donkey as transportation. Even compared to ordinary horses, the mounts Dwight and Shivers rode, Araceae and Midnight, were exceptionally distinguished. Looking at their fine horses, Eugene sweet-talked Dwight.

“Sir, we are on a long journey. For someone of your noble status, such meager luggage is too modest. If we don’t find a place to stay overnight, we should at least bring a tent, a pot, and a pillow, and pack more warm clothing. It’s difficult without a carriage.”

“We’ll follow the main road. There will be villages until the next city. Driving a carriage is inconvenient if we encounter pine forests and streams.” Shivers, of course, knew what Eugene was up to. “Buying you a donkey to carry the luggage was already a great kindness. You should know that in our territory, attendants are expected to walk.”

Eugene assessed Shivers’ combat capabilities and, although reluctant, he kept quiet. The coldest part of winter had passed, and each day was warmer than the last. Thanks to Dwight, Eugene found himself in the most elaborate underwear, robes, wool coats, and snow hats he’d ever worn. He even had long boots, and truly, there was nothing left to complain about.

For Shivers, it was his Duke who exhibited astonishing adaptability. At Brandenburg, even slightly uncomfortable cushions could irritate the Duke, but since they’d set out, he’d shown remarkable tolerance for their less-than-ideal conditions, which made Shivers feel quite guilty. Although they ensured as much comfort as possible during their journey, their nomadic lifestyle couldn’t compare to the luxuries of Brandenburg. And considering the witch’s jug, they were never short of ill-intentioned encounters on the road.

In such circumstances, Eugene’s presence was quite essential since he was one of those who could harbor ‘ill intentions’ towards others’ possessions. Having such a character in the group indeed helped to detect dangers that Dwight and Shivers, with their noble upbringing, might overlook.

Eugene, a natural wanderer, persuaded Dwight and Shivers to take a detour on lesser paths without straying from the main road’s direction.

Typically, these rugged paths were harder to navigate than well-paved roads, especially during the rainy season, when even the largest horses could get stuck in the mud.

However, the conditions were better in winter, and unless one was part of a heavily-armed caravan, experienced travelers seldom took the main roads ostentatiously. Every major road had its share of unpredictable robbers and bandits, making unarmed travelers exceedingly cautious. Dwight and Shivers weren’t afraid of a fight, but they suspected that the shopkeeper, with only his tin soldier, wouldn’t foolishly attract highway robbers by traveling the main roads. Taking the lesser paths could increase their chances of catching up with him.

The reasons Eugene, a former thief, gave for taking these routes were quite persuasive. His extensive experience allowed him to read the signs of nature, like the moss on trees and the shapes of puddles, and on a few occasions, he even spotted some inconspicuous footprints.

“These must be donkey prints,” he stated confidently. “They look just like the ones made by my Catherine.”

As Shivers was about to dismount to take a closer look, Midnight and Araceae became restless, stomping small pits into the damp soil.

Eugene, who was crouching on the ground, reacted quickly and clambered onto his Catherine, scanning the surroundings vigilantly.

“What is it?” Shivers asked, noticing something was off and lowering his voice.

“Wolves,” Eugene muttered from the corner of his mouth.

Behind them, several gray shapes had followed unnoticed, concealing themselves behind trees and rocks, revealing only small sections of their forms. Their green, glowing eyes would have been more visible at night, but even under the fading sun, these cunning creatures merely followed at a safe distance, like ominous shadows.

“Let’s keep moving forward,” Eugene suddenly declared loudly. “We’ll reach a village before dark.”

Then he added in a much lower voice, “We can’t run now. If we do, the wolf pack will catch up quickly since horses can’t run fast in the forest. Let’s move forward until we reach the open plains, then we can run for it. Once we get to the village, they won’t follow.”

This wasn’t Shivers’ first encounter with wolves, but usually, he led a squadron of knights, so a few hungry gray wolves were no threat. However, now he had to prioritize the Duke’s safety and needed to be extra cautious. Subconsciously, he didn’t include Dwight in his calculations of combat strength—if he had to defend himself with a sword, it would be a disgrace.

Wolves were said to smell human fear. Knowing the wolves would wait patiently for an opportunity, Eugene deliberately talked and laughed loudly, repeatedly boasting about a time he fought off two bandits alone.

Shivers half-heartedly engaged in the conversation while keeping an eye on the wolves. Perhaps Eugene’s bravado was effective; the distance between them and the wolves increased until they were no longer visible as they exited the forest.

Forest wolves were notoriously cunning hunters, and no one would think they’d give up that easily. They were about to speed up to reach the village by sunset when they suddenly heard a commotion from the woods behind them.

“What’s that sound?” Eugene asked, puzzled.

“Wolves!” Shivers’ face fell as he heard a wolf howl.

But instead of wolves, a white horse burst from the trees behind them, carrying a young girl draped in a crimson cloak with long golden hair spilling from under her hat, clutching the reins tightly. She appeared to have lost control of the horse and was likely unconscious, as she made no cry for help.

The author has something to say:

The design of the girl’s red cloak is inspired by the Grimm Brothers’ fairy tale “Little Red Riding Hood”.

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