Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

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Chapter 132

Before this meeting, Louis didn’t understand why Charlie was so trusting towards a stranger—neither Priscilla nor Alexander had ever been privy to any details about his own origins.

Although Charlie had mentioned that the Duke of Brandenburg was exceptionally perceptive and had deduced most of the facts on his own, Louis believed that if Charlie resisted, Dwight wouldn’t have had the opportunity to delve deeper continuously.

Surely he’s been bewitched by beauty, Louis thought expressionlessly. Priscilla had told him her brother possessed an angelic countenance and was known as a beauty within the empire—a rarity in the Dwight family lineage.

An angel seemed unlikely, as historical records suggested that elves hadn’t intermarried with other races for at least three hundred years. The young Duke’s features were somewhat unreasonable, Louis thought. Priscilla seemed more normal than her brother in this regard.

Louis fully trusted Charlie, but his trust didn’t extend unquestioningly to others, no matter how much Charlie vouched. Charlie had always had a weakness for beautiful people and animals, which, to some extent, made him unreliable. If it weren’t for the fact that the other party was Priscilla’s brother and that he genuinely lacked the time to hesitate, this urgent yet unrushed meeting wouldn’t have been arranged.

“The legend of the Holy Grail has always existed, but I once tried to access our family archives, and up to today, there have been only scattered records of supposed Holy Grails—either dying young or obscured by power struggles and deliberate obfuscation. Of course, if there were successful examples, considering the power of the World Dragon, the continent wouldn’t remain as it is today.” At least the Wolf family wouldn’t just be one of the Black Gold Families.

“The World Dragon… are you referring to the demon linked to the Holy Grail? Or to dragonkind?” Dwight was surprised by Louis’s frankness, but he paid more attention to the information in his words. Neither Charlie nor Shivers had delved so deeply when they searched through Lestrop’s study.

“The World Dragon isn’t a dragon. That name is just a code used by a few. It has no name and doesn’t exist in any official history. The Lamp Bearers are merely its servants. It’s the only true high dragon in the world, able to exist freely in human or dragon form—a true lord of demons. In its presence, dragonkind is like a toddler taking its first steps,” Louis explained. “These are the contents from ancient forbidden books of the Wolf family. Like the Holy Grail, most people treat it as a myth since no one has seen a living Holy Grail, let alone the World Dragon. Yet, the existence of creatures like the Lamp Bearers, like a dim candle that never goes out in the night, inevitably draws the covetous gazes of the hopeful.”

“Khalif is one of those hopefuls.” Dwight finally understood why this secret had spilled over to the Mokwen royalty and unknown mages over the past decade (or even earlier). The transcendental nature of the Holy Grail was so mysterious because it wasn’t passed down through generations without a pattern or logic to follow. In the lore before Charlie and Louis, there hadn’t been a suspected Holy Grail for at least three hundred years—a legendary treasure without a map was merely a reflection in a dream.

As a result, the birth of the twin brothers more than twenty years ago brought the Lamp Bearers, who were almost mythical, back into reality, catching the attention of Khalif, who was then freshly in charge as family head. But his pursuit of the Holy Grail was more about confirming family legends and being cautious of unknown powers rather than genuine belief. White Wolf Fahim immediately realized this and used various means to curb his curiosity.

Back then, Khalif had just taken his position as head of the family, stepping into his prime with a limited desire for external power, allowing the twins to slip through unnoticed. But people inevitably age, and as Khalif realized he was on a decline while ambitious young men lurked around him, his sense of crisis grew. He began seeking ways to reverse his fortunes, and naturally, the World Dragon, with its apocalyptic power, came into his sights, and the once-dismissed visions of the Lamp Bearers were reconsidered.

“The Wolf Family’s research into the Holy Grail didn’t start with Khalif, but there has been little progress over generations. Khalif couldn’t wait too long, so he selectively leaked this information to those he thought capable of advancing this cause,” Louis explained. “Because Fahim had been thorough initially, tracing back to those days after many years proved fruitless. Khalif’s current actions might seem absurd, but in his youth, he was undeniably pragmatic. Therefore, he decided that if a new Holy Grail didn’t emerge, he’d create one himself.”

But these efforts were doomed to be futile. Charlie and Louis were still alive, and as long as one of them was the true Holy Grail, no successor would appear until their deaths. Even if they died immediately, a new Holy Grail wouldn’t necessarily emerge right away—it could be in five minutes, a year, or even a century. Anything was possible.

“The mage and the old king of Mokwen are dead. Tifa lacks the confidence and audacity to harness demonic power. His goal has always been to kill Lestrop to prevent him from potentially overthrowing the kingdom with demonic power. In a way, his wish is about to be fulfilled,” Dwight said solemnly. “The chase for the Holy Grail is narrowing.”

“From the day Khalif started peddling the family legend as a secret recipe for cooperation, I’ve been watching him,” Louis stated candidly. “For this, I once went deep into the Mokwen kingdom.” His connection with Priscilla also started from there.

“Even if Khalif is killed, the legend won’t be erased,” Dwight said gravely. “But the consequences of failure might be more troublesome than hiding for a lifetime. You and Charlie have been apart for a long time and have only reunited recently for a few days. Have you already convinced each other?”

Louis responded, “We don’t need to convince each other.”

Dwight frowned. Louis seemed completely unaware, accepting the almost scrutinizing gaze calmly.

The Duke’s grip on his cane slightly tightened, then quickly loosened, unexpectedly revealing a nearly smiling expression.

“I’m afraid I don’t see it that way,” he said softly. “You live for Charlie—did he agree to that?”

The air fell silent for a moment. The two men in the carriage coldly observed each other, and what had been a superficially peaceful meeting finally reached an impasse.

……

“Kill Khalif?” Shiloh was initially shocked, then eagerly rubbed his hands together, “Taking down their leader in the wolf’s den—that’s what legendary heroes are supposed to do! How do we do it? Assassination? Raid?”

As he spoke, the excited young man quickly deflated. “Is this going to be a job for Hall or Hasting?”

Shiloh was a heavy sword knight, skilled in charges and melee, but his abilities in stealth and close-quarter assassinations were mediocre at best. Not to mention, his notoriously poor sense of direction often led him to lose both his target and himself.

His older teammate was more pragmatic. Hasting flicked Shiloh’s fluffy head with a finger, asking calmly, “During the auction, both the Wolves and Monkeys will be under close watch. The security will be tighter than usual.”

“Isn’t the shopkeeper part of the Wolf family? He’s coming back this time to overthrow his own family head. There must be some deep-seated hatred between them.” Shiloh tried to wedge himself into the conversation, his eyes bright with curiosity. “What does Louis look like? Is his personality like the shopkeeper’s? Did he talk about a tragic childhood?”

“I wasn’t invited into the carriage,” Shivers stated solemnly. “The Duke doesn’t want us to focus on unnecessary details. You should understand the trust represented by these secrets. Aside from the few of us, not a word should leak to anyone else.”

Hall and Hasting exchanged looks, nodding in agreement, while Shiloh made a “zipping his lips” gesture.

No one questioned the rationale behind the proposal to attack the head of the Wolf Family—the Brandenburg Knights were absolutely obedient to Duke Dwight, and the Knight Commander’s word was seen as the Duke’s will, so no one would oppose an order issued through him.

“Success is unlikely with just us,” Hall stated realistically. “Both the Wolf and Lion Families honor martial prowess, with the main difference being that the Lions are more straightforward while the Wolves are more cunning, but the combat training of their members is formidable. We’re too few in number. A direct confrontation isn’t feasible.”

“That’s true,” Shivers agreed. “But Mr. Louis provided quite a bit of intelligence. As Khalif grows older, he becomes increasingly stubborn. All his close aides were removed from the core circle five years ago. He trusts no one and is desperately seeking to regain, or rather, achieve power. No one can reverse time, thus he continues to seek various absurd methods, including getting closer to the Monkeys—because the Monkeys indulge in black magic, he seems to believe that ancient spells might reverse time and restore his youth.”

“The Wolf Family internally won’t sit by as he continues this way,” Hall immediately said. “It doesn’t align with the family interests. The Black Gold Families have thrived by never directly challenging royal or divine authority while maintaining their independence and non-interference with each other, especially true for the Wolves and Monkeys, who both rely on the White Bridge auction.”

“Exactly. Internal opposition against him is growing, with almost no senior official without their own agenda, and Khalif’s rule has weakened. It only needs someone to first step up and pry it open.”

“Is Mr. Louis that person?” Shiloh asked. “With our help, I heard half of the Wolf’s armed forces are under his command. How many is that? I can handle a group fight.”

“No, that would expose us too early—actually, our task isn’t to fight, at least not for now,” Shivers said. “He wants us to head to Paradise Island first.”

“I wholeheartedly agree! Although I don’t know what for.” Shiloh became excited again. “I’ve wanted to see it for a long time. You always say I’d get lost there—”

“So,” this time it was Hall who pushed him aside, “what are we supposed to do?”

Hearing this, Shivers showed a peculiar expression mixed with a bit of confusion.

“We’re going to do some ideological work,” he said.

---

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 131

Dwight and Shivers were in a circular theater, watching an opera called “My Alderley”.

In his view, the script was lackluster. It was a favorite of all minstrels and wandering singers, themed around courtly love. Alderley was a beautiful castle’s mistress, living a life of delicate luxury, almost changing suitors (and husbands present) every act, with all plot and scenery serving the mistress, whose attire and jewelry indeed warranted all the praise.

The theater’s deep circular dome was draped with dark curtains, and the lavish lighting illuminated everything on stage—this was the real purpose of this opera: All the jewelry and some of the scenery on stage were genuine and up for auction, allowing the audience to admire the pins, necklaces, earrings, and swords as they sparkled with the actors’ movements on stage.

If one listened closely to the suitors’ exaggerated arias, it would make sense to interpret these as advertisements for the antique jewelry.

The opera was cliché, but this commercial format was novel. Many female spectators were entranced. Dwight would bet that at least half of them had already imagined themselves in the beautiful protagonist’s place, wearing those expensive and sparkling jewels.

While men might not be engrossed in the love story plot, Dwight and Shivers did watch the performance seriously and even bid on a few pieces of jewelry.

Their targets weren’t the most dazzling pearl robes and necklaces on stage but a few crowns and rings. Despite the dazzling lights, Dwight could still discern the highest quality items in the play.

Shivers handed a leather pad with price tags to an attendant, sighing inwardly.

He really didn’t want to do this—the Duke was asking him to sell his charms again.

Ironically, the plot of “My Alderley”, though exaggerated, did somewhat resonate with his experiences: A young knight, wounded after battle, passed through vast lands and was kept by a kind Lady of the Castle, surrounded by fountains, forests, harps, and swans. The subtle and lingering romance between the beautiful noblewoman and the knight was a story that seemed clichéd yet continuously unfolded across various lands. As they say, art imitates life, which was why it spread widely. Richly imaginative poets or knights often drew on their experiences to create these tales, which were then performed by artists.

Previously, in a romantic atmosphere, Shivers didn’t see any issue with this, but at some point—he guessed it was after facing Yitzfa’s direct use of these acts as bargaining chips—the knight began to feel there was something off about this behavior.

However, he maintained that he was different from Yitzfa. A knight’s interactions with each lady were faithful and sincere, but he couldn’t refute Yitzfa’s argument: The knight couldn’t guarantee that each romantic gesture was purely out of love and joy, even the gentlest whisper couldn’t mask his ulterior motives.

This argument was hard for Shivers to accept, so instinctively, he retorted, saying something he still somewhat regretted. “Don’t treat me like a Fox!”

He didn’t regret his words because they were wrong—after all, for centuries, the Foxes had indeed relied on the allure of soft whispers to achieve various ends openly and straightforwardly. What he regretted was the brief silence from Yitzfa afterward.

So their last collaboration ended unpleasantly. Eugene might have sensed something odd about the atmosphere, but adult disputes of propriety weren’t displayed in front of unrelated parties, just that—

“Sir?” The attendant’s query brought him back to reality. Shivers looked down to find that, due to his prolonged pause, ink had dripped from the glass pen tip, forming a large purple stain where he was supposed to sign his name on the paper.

He smiled apologetically, reinserted the pen into the inkwell with minimal movement, and shook his head slightly.

This was a gesture to cancel the bid.

The attendant understood, retreated with the tray, and less than ten minutes later, returned with a scented note.

“Miss Ruby thanks you for your generosity,” the young attendant said softly, seemingly accustomed to this back-and-forth.

Shivers stared at the note for a few seconds, as if the delicate piece of paper might bite off his fingers.

The Duke always had an excellent eye, accurately capturing the most valuable crown in the auction, raising the price to attract attention, then gracefully stepping back—a simple tactic, but it successfully hooked their target: likewise discerning, tasteful, and wealthy women.

Such characters had broader perspectives in White Bridge than they did, making it easier to enter core venues with their connections, but it made Shivers feel truly like a Fox.

“Sir?” The repeatedly distracted Shivers made the attendant softly call out again, prompting him to extend his hand and pick up the note.

Dwight didn’t watch the entire opera but left midway. This act was somewhat impolite, but the theater staff were well-trained, and the process didn’t disturb or affect other audience members. Once Dwight followed the guide out through a hidden passage, a completely black carriage was already waiting there.

There was a saying, wasn’t there? Being too understated was, in itself, a form of ostentation.

Dwight had seen this type of unadorned carriage before. He didn’t hesitate much before stepping onto the footboard, finding the interior more spacious than it appeared from the outside. A tall young man was already seated inside, waiting for him.

The door was closed from the outside, and the young man turned his face towards him and nodded.

“Apologies for not standing to greet you, Duke Dwight, due to the confined space of the carriage,” he said. “I’m Louis, and it’s an honor to meet you.”

…That’s how it should be. Dwight thought emotionlessly, considering that the rabbit-headed shopkeeper had been presumptuous in front of him before, and even his previous attempts at acting didn’t achieve this level of formality. He nodded and took a seat across from him, not knowing how the coachman outside could tell that all passengers were seated, but the next moment, he felt the carriage wheels begin to slowly turn.

“This carriage is protected with charms from roof to yoke, such that even a great mage couldn’t hear a single syllable if they pressed their ear against the window,” Louis said. “Even Charlie and I can talk here without concern.”

Hearing this, Dwight glanced at him. Louis was suggesting that there were no secrets in this carriage and also indicating… that he knew everything Charlie had told him. This slightly eased his mind. Yet, he broached a topic unrelated to their current discussion. “How is Priscilla doing?”

“Her mood is quite unstable. The doctors say it could affect the baby, but she refuses to use sedatives, fearing irreversible damage,” Louis explained. “Before the Azalea docked, I had arranged for the best doctors, but the recent situation in Mokwen is unclear, and I believe it’s the unrest that’s causing her anxiety.”

Dwight believed him as he looked into his eyes—Priscilla evidently preferred to show her more vulnerable side to the father of her child.

“I will take Priscilla’s child away.” He observed Louis’s expression. “Doran isn’t suitable for him—or her—not at the moment, at least.”

Louis nodded calmly. “I agree with that. Regardless of whether Lestrop is dead or alive, Priscilla would never want her child to call him ‘father’. She has discussed this with me.”

Dwight was silent for a moment, still unable to restrain himself. “Do you love Priscilla?”

If Priscilla were present, she might be surprised at her brother’s focus on her love life at such a time and place, but he still posed the question after some thought.

Louis also appeared slightly surprised.

He didn’t answer immediately, seemingly choosing his words carefully.

“I admire her,” Louis finally said. “Priscilla is both intelligent and strong. I never imagined myself having offspring, but if I did, she would be the ideal mother of my child.”

“So you don’t love her,” Dwight stated.

Louis was silent, uncertain if he should apologize for this, as few nobles who concern themselves with the link between feelings and marriage exist. After all, the other party was Priscilla’s brother, and it wouldn’t be strange if he thought of him as a scoundrel who toyed with women’s feelings and punched him right there.

He had thought Dwight to be a rare romantic type, but the next question immediately dispelled this impression.

“Did you discuss the pregnancy with her beforehand?” Dwight asked.

Louis: “……”

He really didn’t want to discuss such matters, even if the other party was Priscilla’s brother.

But his silence was also an answer. Dwight sighed deeply, confirming his suspicion that this child was a calculated accident: calculated for Priscilla, accidental for Louis.

Given the identities of the brothers Charlie and Louis, they weren’t the type to deliberately leave descendants to continue their bloodline, but Priscilla likely didn’t know this. She wanted a child, but it couldn’t come from the mad Lestrop, so she acted accordingly—Dwight knew his sister’s character too well. She might appear fragile, but she occasionally made rash decisions.

Of course, he wouldn’t criticize his sister in front of others. Having received the answers he sought, he shifted comfortably.

“My questions are answered,” he said. “Now it’s your turn—did you come to me because Charlie finally decided what he wants to do?”

---

The author has something to say:

Dwight’s last statement means that the most capricious character among the protagonists is actually Charlie. Once Rabbit Head makes a decision, those who value him have little choice but to assist. On this point, the Duke and Louis agree.

---

Kinky Thoughts:

That’s just hypocrisy, Shivers. You can call it “chivalry” due to your position as a knight, but at the end of the day, it’s still laced with ulterior motives. At least Yitzfa is straightforward about it.

---

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 130

Eugene was slightly dazed.

“So, why don’t you just lift the curse?” he asked. “Since you’ve decided to revert to your original form.”

“There can only be one Louis,” Charlie said succinctly. “I’ll explain this matter later—anyway, I need you to keep this secret.”

The idea of improving spatial magic to achieve controlled form was a moment of inspiration, but even he hadn’t anticipated that this modification would immediately come in handy.

The landing point chosen by the Darby Belly Fish was cunning, right around the inner river encircling Paradise Island. Whether it was the first passerby who saw him ashore or later Aquinas, everyone made him realize that in this place, the rabbit head was likely to cause more stir than Louis’s face, prompting his choice to revert to his original appearance after a long absence.

In “playing Louis”, no one had more advantage and talent than him. At least a decade ago, he too was once Louis. The tacit understanding between the twins allowed Louis to grasp his intentions immediately after receiving his brief message, making the meeting with the Duke on Louis’s territory possible.

But Charlie wouldn’t arrogantly think that his impromptu impersonation could successfully deceive Alexander, who spent close time with Louis. Therefore, both deliberately reduced their close interactions, and aside from half-jokingly testing the Duke under the guise of Louis, Charlie hadn’t appeared prominently in this identity before others.

Their childhood spent together was too long ago, and their subsequent life paths had diverged significantly, resulting in differing temperaments. Most importantly, White Bridge wasn’t Fortuna City. For them, it might be the most dangerous place in the world.

Especially now, with the four major Black Gold Families gathered due to the auction.

“Of course, I’ll keep the secret,” Eugene said decisively. “I swear I won’t disclose this to anyone.”

He didn’t press any further.

“The auction starts tomorrow. I need to go to Louis’s place.” Charlie seemed to know Eugene would say this and smiled. “But I need someone to watch over Aquinas and Jason.”

Aquinas Eugene understood, but Jason?

“Jason is of high moral character,” Charlie stated succinctly. “His personal charm draws people to him like a streetlamp on a winter night. How much do you know about him?”

……

“What is Mr. Charlie trying to do?” Shivers asked quietly.

He and Dwight were sitting in a carriage, watching the passersby through the window. The street was flanked by neat, tall buildings, its shop windows adorned with various lights. Ladies in silk gowns strolled boldly with gentlemen, followed by servants carrying various gift boxes, struggling to keep up.

Dwight withdrew his gaze and didn’t answer Shivers’ question but instead asked, “You’ve visited many bustling cities. Compared to them, do you feel something is missing here?”

Their carriage was parked at a street corner, providing a clear view down the entire street. Shivers observed carefully before responding, “This place is more open and inclusive towards women.”

Typically, well-positioned young ladies weren’t forbidden from shopping, but they usually moved between home, carriage, and theater or store, with the only chance for onlookers to glimpse their faces being when they entered or exited their carriages. Here, however, women seemed freer and more proactive, many preferring to walk the streets in high heels as if strolling through a garden, even sampling street food, and it appeared to be the norm, with no one to judge or gossip.

“That’s because only extraordinary women come to White Bridge,” Dwight explained. “Either accompanying guests of the auction or as guests themselves.” Like Priscilla.

But that wasn’t Dwight’s point.

“There are no Foxes here,” he stated.

Realizing this, Shivers noticed that typically, city streets bustling with nightlife would feature flamboyantly dressed streetwalkers attracting patrons, often celebrated by poets and writers as a vital part of the city’s vibrant scene. However, the women in White Bridge clearly weren’t of the same status as those streetwalkers.

If it was due to a gentleman’s agreement that Foxes hadn’t set up in Whitebridge, what about guests who arrived without companions? Shivers doubted that those coming to play would forego pursuits of pleasure, especially after stimulation from food, alcohol, and gambling.

“They are called Black Gold Families, but in a place like White Bridge, the numbers of the Wolf and Monkey Families are much more limited than those of Foxes and Lions. They couldn’t spare so many family members to provide those services,” Dwight explained. “Moreover, known for its insanity, White Bridge isn’t just a beast’s den. To these people, it might be the most dangerous place on earth. They not only need a vast number of lower-class workers to maintain this prosperous utopia but also sacrifice some to cater to those who’ve lost their sanity.”

Shivers was unnerved by his words.

“Does this have anything to do with Mr. Charlie’s intentions?” he asked.

“A sheepdog can manage a flock of sheep. The Wolves and Monkeys are just a few sheepdogs… I guess he’s found his flock.” Dwight concluded, then asked seemingly out of nowhere, “What kind of person do you think Charlie is?”

Though puzzled, Shivers answered seriously, “He is a gentle and powerful man.”

Dwight seemed unsurprised by Shivers’ assessment. “You think he’s powerful?”

“Yes,” Shivers said, sincerely believing Charlie to be strong.

This evaluation wasn’t just because he always faced difficulties with a relaxed demeanor, nor just because of his seemingly playful magical tricks, nor even due to his physical strength—at this, the Knight Commander had absolute confidence.

Charlie had never shown any transcendent abilities or even assertive attitudes in their presence, nor had he ever shown anger, even when opinions differed or during his cold war with the Duke. He had always maintained enough decorum, but these didn’t stop Shivers from seeing him as a formidable person.

“Then do you think a strong person would submit to shackles?” Dwight asked next.

Shivers paused, vaguely grasping the Duke’s intention with the question.

For the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, the shackles clearly refer to his identity, which couldn’t be exposed. But the shopkeeper who opened that incredible little shop in Maplewood, who entered the top magic academy, and who had traveled through so many countries, surely couldn’t be content to be bound, right?

“Do you think he wants to use this opportunity to break free from his shackles?” Shivers asked.

Dwight didn’t speak.

A small brass ring still lay in his coat pocket, and despite being insulated by layers of fabric, he seemed to still feel its cold touch.

He had long understood that the choice to maintain the rabbit’s head lay in Charlie’s hands. He chose to maintain the status quo because it was his way of erasing himself, to protect Louis. Thus, before deciding to head to White Bridge, he had always steadfastly avoided discussing it.

Now, he had decided to revert to his original appearance and had given him the magic ring that symbolized control.

Without words, Charlie’s actions spoke of his unique trust in Dwight—there was even a bit of capriciousness hidden within: I’m entrusting you with my vulnerability, confident that you won’t use it against me.

But before Dwight could feel touched by this wholehearted trust, he sensed a foreboding meaning.

Charlie was just about the most confident person he had ever met, even potentially possessing the world’s most dangerous identity.

For such a person to hand over his vulnerability so straightforwardly, aside from making a grand gesture to impress, there was another possibility: He was determined to make what was a vulnerability no longer a vulnerability.

“Their identity secrets are held by the Wolf Family, and right now, we are all in Wolf’s stronghold,” Shivers analyzed, seeing the Duke silent. “Is he planning to take action against Khalif?”

“Or replace him,” Dwight said.

Shivers almost instinctively said, “He wouldn’t want to be the Wolf King.”

“He has a brother who stands behind the Wolf King.”

Shivers paused. “This is White Bridge. If they really want to… it’s too rushed and too dangerous.”

Danger—that was the last word Dwight wanted to hear at that moment.

“They’ve been in danger from the moment they were born. If it were you, what are the chances you wouldn’t have turned mad living so long?” he asked quietly.

But his voice was too low. Apart from himself, no one heard it.

Shivers watched a stunningly beautiful blonde lady in a fashionable satin gown cross the street—her appearance and hair even more dazzling under the streetlights, causing the carriages to slow down to let her pass.

Behind her were two equally outstanding young men with noses and jawlines that were impeccably sharp. Their fiery red hair cascaded smoothly over their shoulders, catching the attention of nearly every passerby, but they seemed accustomed to such attention, exuding a natural charm in every gesture—a feeling that was somewhat familiar to the Knight Commander.

“They’re here,” Shivers said subconsciously.

The Duke followed his gaze, pausing on those few people for a second before looking away.

“The four major families will always attend every auction. Tomorrow is the first day. Of course, they would come,” he mused. “Speaking of which, how is your splendidly furred Fox doing?”

It took a moment for the Knight Commander to be sure he hadn’t misheard the Duke’s wording.

“Our cooperation has ended. There’s been no further contact,” he said, suddenly feeling an odd sense of guilt and quickly changing the subject. “The auction starts tomorrow, but since it’s the first day, it mostly involves lighter, semi-entertainment events with different venues scheduled. Shall we…?”

The Duke gave him a peculiar look.

“We’ll go to the opera,” he said.

---

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 129

Dwight felt slightly odd about Louis, perhaps influenced by his preconceptions.

This feeling was very faint, like a beetle crawling up a glass window—trivial enough to be brushed away with a light flick of the hand.

“Mr. Dwight.” The other party called out his name as soon as he spoke, inviting him to sit with a polite and gentle demeanor.

The odd feeling intensified a bit.

Knowing his identity suggested that Priscilla had told him everything—it wasn’t a secret that the Countess was the daughter of a Duke in Pennigra before marrying, but Dwight’s own secret visit to the Doran continent was highly confidential, indicating Priscilla’s deep trust in him.

Dwight gracefully sat down on the single sofa opposite him, nodding. “I apologize for the intrusion.”

“Not at all,” Louis said warmly. “I’ve been looking forward to this meeting.”

Dwight relaxed his grip on his cane.

This voice… If he closed his eyes, he might think he was speaking to Rabbit Head.

Could twins have such similar voices? Although he had seen identical twins before, he rarely paid much attention to unrelated people, suddenly unsure.

“Have we met before?” he asked, studying Louis’s face.

If the chaotic and dimly lit scene at the Stonewall Inn might have confused his memory, the face and demeanor in front of him matched exactly with the person he had encountered in the Mokwen Palace.

However, both motive and timing suggested that the person at that time should have been Charlie, not Louis, especially since Priscilla had confirmed it herself. Though they looked the same, they were not the same person.

“I’m afraid this is our first meeting.” Louis’s expression showed a slight, appropriate puzzlement. “I think… ah.”

He paused mid-sentence—because Dwight suddenly stood up from his sofa, moving with a speed that left no time for reaction. He stepped over the low table between them, one hand braced on the sofa armrest, the other’s fingertips pressed against Louis’s tie, almost as a threat too close to the throat.

Louis stopped smiling.

“Have we met before?” Dwight asked again.

Their faces were very close, close enough to study his own reflection in his eyes. The tone was completely unrelated to their ambiguous proximity.

If it weren’t for the harsh, nearly pathological aristocratic upbringing ingrained into the Duke, the other might have heard the grinding of his teeth through the words.

The atmosphere abruptly tensed, both men silently staring at each other, when suddenly, the click of the door lock breaking the silence signaled the study door being opened.

Louis’s genteel assistant, Alexander, stood dumbfounded at the sight, pausing before asking, “Sir?”

But no one turned to look at him.

Louis, pressed into the sofa, grumbled out the words, “Get out.”

Alexander wanted to say something else, but ultimately didn’t. His face was a mixture of indescribable expressions as he closed the door behind him.

“You’re being rather uncouth, aren’t you?” Louis muttered a complaint.

He wasn’t incapable of struggling. Both men’s weight was almost tipping the sofa, and any further imbalance might cause them both to tumble backward, entangled.

Dwight sneered, “This is quite courteous for someone pretending to be a fraud.”

“Why am I a pretending fraud?”

Dwight slightly adjusted his hold, pressing it against his chin. His eyes were still fixed on his face. “Don’t be foolish. You’re not Louis.”

“You’ve never met him.”

“I don’t need to have met him.” Dwight bent one leg, pressing his knee against him, and the sofa tilted slightly more precariously. “Perhaps it’s your misunderstanding about your acting skills? Where’s the rabbit’s head?”

He actually had no concrete evidence that the person before him was Charlie and not Louis, but Dwight never doubted his instincts—every time the other spoke, he almost felt an illusion of seeing that rabbit head through this face—too abnormal if not for his being affected by confusing magic or sudden madness, then there was something amiss with the person in front of him.

“Alexander didn’t notice.” Charlie finally raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Can you let me go first? I don’t like talking in this posture.”

It should be said that no man likes to be dominated in such a situation.

But Dwight’s anger was still burning hot, and upon hearing this, he instead intensified his grip. “That depends on your answer.”

“I was just joking,” Charlie sincerely said. “Really. I even brought you a gift. Don’t you want to see it?”

Unfortunately, this coaxing tone only worked on Dwight before he was seven.

“I’ll ask you one more time—”

“I just arrived not long ago. Elena isn’t dead. Louis agreed to cooperate. I really have a gift.” Charlie blurted out everything in one breath.

Dwight paused for a moment to grasp what he was saying. As his attention was diverted, Charlie managed to push him back a bit, fluidly stood up in place, and sat down on the back of the chair, instantly reversing their positions, now looking down at the Duke from a height.

“This appearance isn’t meant to mock you. It’s just a brilliant idea I had right after I managed to control Elena.” Charlie proudly boasted, then elaborated on how he had a flash of inspiration for the abandoned castle and how he masterfully understood and transformed the magic formulas there.

“If we just relied on the space magic created by Mistress Daisy’s former owner, the effect would eventually be exhausted after her death. If we could find an alternative source of magical energy, there would be no issue. So I—”

“So you used Elena as a power source.” Dwight furrowed his brows, knowing he was discussing serious matters, finally released him.

Dwight had studied magical theory. Such an approach was theoretically feasible, but no normal person would voluntarily serve as fuel for the fire, so respectable magic texts wouldn’t mention these methods.

This was essentially sealing Elena in the castle. As long as she lived, the space magic would be effective, and if she died, the magic would no longer be necessary.

“Exactly,” Charlie said. “Then I thought, why just fix someone else’s magic when I could improve it… Do you remember Mistress Daisy’s big book?”

It was the key to the castle, already burned in the fire. Charlie could replicate it, but he didn’t particularly like the form of a book, so after completing the entire magic setup, he made a brand new key.

Dwight watched as Charlie reached out his hand. A simple double-loop brass ring resting in his palm.

“I turned the key into this. It was originally a hook on the hall’s coat rack. I improved it based on the original, enabling the adjustment of the drawn magical power.”

Simply put, it was a magic controller—Charlie had tuned it several times, basically confirming the threshold for curse visualization, ensuring the original appearance could be maintained as long as the magic drawn exceeded the threshold.

“So you’re appearing like this, planning to use Louis’s identity?” Dwight immediately understood his reason.

“Don’t say it like that. I was also ‘Louis’s once.” Charlie spoke easily, pulling his hand over, the brass ring sliding down.

“Here, a gift,” Charlie said.

---

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 128

“Who are you?” Eugene asked warily.

“I—”

“Don’t talk to me in that voice!” Eugene interrupted him.

Charlie: “……”

This request was a bit unreasonable, so he decided not to adopt it.

“I’m Charlie. It’s good to be vigilant but being surprised for too long will only waste time,” Charlie said. “You can verify my identity.”

“How do I verify it?”

“Say a code, something only we know about,” Charlie suggested.

Eugene thought it made sense.

But what would be something only they knew about? Eugene was puzzled.

Charlie suggested again, “Like your feet are stinky, Shiloh is directionally challenged, and Hasting…”

“Alright, alright, alright.” Eugene was somewhat convinced and looked at the other carefully again. “But why does your face look familiar to me?”

Charlie hinted again. “At the Stonewall Inn in Pennigra, the night you attempted to steal.”

Eugene suddenly realized.

That night was chaotic. Eugene’s attention was all on the Witch’s Pot, only to reluctantly scrape up a bit of an impression from the depths of his memory.

“That person was you?” Eugene finally believed. “But why didn’t you appear like that again after that?”

“That’s a long story,” Charlie said. “Now is not a good time to explain.”

Eugene felt he had a hundred questions to ask. He considered for a moment and chose the most pressing one. “What was going on just now? How come you were following… Aquinas’s preaching?”

He promptly swallowed the words “crazy old man” to prevent the shopkeeper from having any unclear relations with this cult.

“Do you know Aquinas?” Charlie didn’t mind but instead gave him an approving look. “His theory is interesting, but what’s more interesting is his power, which is very important for us.”

Eugene couldn’t see any power in that rambling old man and his indescribable followers. After listening to stories all night, the core content was nothing but repeatedly indoctrinating everyone with his theory of accumulating virtue for the afterlife. He just thought the guy was a thorough fraud.

That’s what he thought, and that’s what he said.

“What can he do?” Eugene asked. “I’ve lived on Paradise Island for a few days. Not many people, like Jason, have the spare energy to think. The vast majority are struggling for the next day’s thin porridge. If they have any extra energy, it’s mostly spent on following swindlers.”

Actually, Eugene didn’t hate poverty, having experienced it for most of his life. He didn’t know what word to describe it with, only instinctively feeling that although they were also poor, the people sitting under Aquinas tonight were completely different from the thief Eugene.

Charlie saw through everything.

“Eugene, you don’t believe they have power. Do you think you are superior to them?” he asked.

Eugene instinctively wanted to refute, but being stared at by Charlie, he felt somewhat uneasy.

“My understanding of Paradise Island comes from Aquinas. Your feelings aren’t entirely wrong. Aquinas’s teachings are basically a placebo. Those who follow him are indeed the weakest and most numb group. For them, Aquinas numbs their present suffering, giving them the strength to keep living,” Charlie said. “I don’t agree with Aquinas’s method of sustaining himself with lies, but he has accumulated more followers than you saw tonight. The power of belief is very strong. If Aquinas says sacrificing life can bring happiness in the next world, those willing to end themselves are probably not a few.”

Eugene vaguely understood something. “So you…?”

“I took him hostage,” Charlie said calmly.

When he returned to White Bridge the night after settling Elena, unfortunately, a hapless bystander witnessed everything and was quite frightened. This also made Charlie keenly aware that the ecology here and the external mainland were completely different—the overly distressed and narrow perspective made them unable to understand his unusual parts.

In theory, he could have bypassed this place and entered the inner city, where the auction of White Bridge existed for rare and exotic items, and curses and rare species were nothing new. Like all open mainland cities, seeing his rabbit head would only be seen as a symbol of some accident or enmity.

But to find such a place in the world-famous den of inequity—moreover, completely unknown to the outside world—piqued Charlie’s interest. He entered Paradise Island under the cover of night and, quite by chance, bumped into Aquinas’s “evening class”.

Then the unfortunate Aquinas was caught by Charlie. The shopkeeper, who usually preferred to convince with reason, rarely used violence, but being a spiritual leader for too long, Aquinas had forgotten that he was quite weak—if without followers. When he saw the shopkeeper, he took him as some sort of half-human, half-beast evil presence and immediately decided to make him part of his “miracle”, not even waiting for Charlie to speak up before trying to take action.

Instead, Charlie easily subdued him (and a few bodyguards), and when a desperate Aquinas thought he was an assassin sent by a hostile force about to lose his life, he swore to give everything to preserve his life. Charlie used his mouth to learn about the existence of Paradise Island, which had been “invisible” on the mainland for a long time. Then he realized that Aquinas’s prestige on Paradise Island was an existence beyond the rules, and seemingly unknown to the actual controllers of White Bridge, the Wolves and Monkeys, who had allowed him to develop and grow for a long time without taking any action against him.

“I’ve heard of Jason. He and Aquinas are completely different types, but they possess similar power,” Charlie said. “It’s a pleasant surprise that you know him.”

Eugene held back, but eventually couldn’t resist.

“What’s with your head?” he asked. “Has the curse been lifted? Is Elena dead?”

Then, inspired, he added, “The Duke must want to see what you really look like.”

Not just the Duke—practically everyone was curious about the shopkeeper’s true appearance, but it felt a bit strange to say it out loud.

Charlie winked at him. “Of course, Elena isn’t dead. As for the Duke…”

Eugene saw a somewhat triumphant expression on his face.

……

A few hours earlier.

Annie knocked on Alexander’s door, telling him the guest’s carriage had arrived.

This was a guest scheduled by the Countess, and Louis had also specifically instructed to take care in receiving, so Alexander personally went out to greet, only to be stunned by the visitor’s appearance, secretly guessing whether the other party might have elven blood.

Dwight was used to being the center of attention and didn’t give Alexander and Annie a second glance. His focus was entirely on the upcoming meeting.

Louis wasn’t only Priscilla’s ex-lover but also Charlie’s twin brother, which meant…

Their appearances should be exactly the same.

Dwight had imagined what Louis might look like. He knew Priscilla and knew that the other’s appearance definitely wouldn’t be unpleasant—in fact, just from Rabbit Head’s body proportions, one could roughly guess.

But when he saw the man sitting on the sofa, he was still taken aback.

Because he had seen that face, more than once!

At the Stonewall Inn and the Mokwen Palace—although he had a vague feeling, realizing that Rabbit Head had indeed been pretending for so long, he was still infuriated.

But his upbringing and temperament didn’t allow him to make a scene on the spot. Dwight gripped his cane tightly and watched as the other stood up and flashed him a smile.

---

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 127

The core meeting on the eve of the auction was a tradition of the Wolf Family, intended to confirm that the domains managed by the five top executives were functioning normally. In other words, everything that needed to be done had been pretty much completed, and any last-minute changes were too late to implement, making the gathering more ceremonial than substantive.

But Khalif didn’t see it that way this time.

“The catalog was finalized and distributed to all corners of the continent four months ago. There’s no time to adjust the auction items now,” Adan murmured under his breath. Louis caught a glimpse of his normally interlaced hands on his lap, now twisted together in tension.

“And this would affect the Wolf’s—”

“Of course,” Khalif interrupted him nonchalantly. “You misunderstand me. I mean setting up a few sub-venues during the main auction breaks, to clear out some… ah, items that aren’t suitable for public display.”

Adan almost laughed out loud. What could possibly be inappropriate for display at a White Bridge auction? They even sold lives! He understood what Khalif meant. “Inappropriate” didn’t just mean contraband or ethically questionable items, but things that didn’t align with the Wolf’s interests. What could possibly infringe on the Wolf’s interests more than expanding the Monkey Family’s share of the auction?

“Your mind has always been agile, which is why you handle our transactions,” Khalif said sternly. “Incorporating two or three small trades within seven days won’t affect our business.”

Adan forcibly suppressed his anger. “But if they are contraband, we need time to prepare in advance to avoid accidents.” He turned to Louis. “We’re short on manpower and energy.”

Like “Sharon’s Crown”, many items in White Bridge could easily cause turmoil if brought onto the continent. For instance, just to seal that crown before it was displayed in the Monkey’s window, two transport workers and a sigil artist had died, not to mention the lives lost from mere contact with it before that—White Bridge’s auction’s reputation wasn’t only for monopolizing the continent’s resources or its efficiency in goods distribution but also for its impregnable security measures. None of this fell from the sky. It all required years of experience, trial and error, and sufficiently cautious pre-planning.

Louis furrowed his brows sharply. Adan rarely saw this typically impassive peer reveal so much emotion in a meeting. He was first shocked, then quickly realized what was happening, his expression darkening even further.

He shouldn’t have said that!

But Khalif couldn’t possibly be so foolish…

Khalif’s gaze was piercing. “Arthur and Louis, what do you think?”

Red-haired Arthur shifted uncomfortably. Louis was in charge of defense, and he handled magic-related security. Among the five Elders, they collaborated the most, so it was natural for them to be named together now. But Adan’s impulsive speech made it tricky, and from Louis’s expression, he too realized this.

Adan’s point was valid. Security required meticulous preparation, and there simply wasn’t time now—but if they expressed that, he feared Khalif would propose working with the Monkeys.

That would be no different than ceding territory.

Seeing Khalif’s expression, Arthur feared he really might be that forgetful of his origins.

Their alpha wolf was becoming senile, but even an aged, senile wolf still had sharp fangs, likely to bite anyone who opposed him face-to-face.

Arthur, an unregistered mage who had long focused solely on his craft and not on physical combat, quickly calculated his options and decided to pass the buck.

“It’s very difficult,” Arthur said. “It depends on whether Louis can spare the manpower—a lot of manpower.”

His words brought an awkward silence to the room. Even those who disliked Louis internally cursed Arthur for his shameless act but had to admit they would have done the same in his position.

Because…

“We can’t cooperate.” Louis responded immediately. Adan and Arthur both secretly breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone among the five Elders was going to oppose and contradict Khalif first, it was Louis.

Khalif’s expression darkened.

“Oh? Why?” he asked softly.

This was a prelude to his anger.

“There’s no time, no manpower,” Louis said, as if he hadn’t noticed his tone. “Before setting up a sub-venue, Azman has added a lot of ancillary events this year, and the security team’s strength has already been weakened. The remaining personnel must fully support the main auction.”

Azman, named directly, also looked displeased. “I said it wasn’t necessary—”

“Many of your event items come from the Monkeys. The instability of black magic is well known. You can’t afford the consequences if it gets out of control,” Louis said bluntly, looking straight at him. “Either you cut ties with the Monkeys and let them handle those parties and events themselves, or don’t set the venue within White Bridge or the inner river area. Otherwise, I won’t lift a finger. This isn’t for you.”

Louis didn’t spell it out, but his few words positioned his stance with the Wolf Family, almost pointing a finger at Azman for lacking a grand vision and accusing the Monkeys of definitely causing trouble if left unchecked, perhaps even insinuating an indirect slap to Khalif’s face.

Khalif snapped. “Enough!”

Azman snorted.

“If you can’t do it, find someone to help you,” Khalif said coldly. “Don’t make excuses for your incompetence.”

Louis hummed. “Then let Azman provide some people. After all, he’s the one who made the mess.”

?!?!?!

Adan nearly jumped from his seat.

What did that mean? Was Louis agreeing to the suggestion to set up a sub-venue? Was he joking—?

The other Elders’ faces were more shocked than Adan’s. Wasn’t Louis supposed to be the rebel?

Khalif was about to explode, but Louis mentioned Azman…

Still pondering, Arthur and Adan could no longer sit still.

“This is still too rushed!”

“There’s never been such a precedent. It’s better to try it next time. The interests of the Wolf Family…”

It seemed Khalif hadn’t expected the stubborn nail Louis to give in, and now that others were getting involved, the frustration he’d been suppressing flared up, loudly reprimanding them for their uselessness.

In just a few exchanges, the focus completely shifted.

Louis smirked audibly, quietly watching the dispute continue without further involvement.

Meanwhile, on Paradise Island, where night had already fallen, because the auction was starting tomorrow, many tasks still required all-night work, so many people hadn’t gone home yet—some were even just leaving now, while children had already been tucked into bed. The bustling streets of the day were now eerily quiet.

Most residents of this area didn’t waste energy lighting lamps at night, and if there was no moon, it was pitch black, making it impossible to see even the ground beneath one’s feet.

Eugene, however, was accustomed to the dark, but the uneven roads still made his progress difficult.

In fact, he had a tinderbox and candles in his coat pocket, but the locals rarely indulged in the luxury of carrying lanterns or lighting candles while traveling. He didn’t want to draw attention by behaving differently, so he had to grope his way forward while trying hard to discern the direction.

He didn’t know the exact destination. Charlie’s Gray Sentinel had only relayed a brief message, instructing him to go alone to a certain place on Paradise Island in the middle of the night.

Trusting the shopkeeper, Eugene had followed the instructions without hesitation, though diarrhea and hunger from fasting had impaired his thinking, and he hadn’t delved into the peculiar directive—why had the shopkeeper reached White Bridge but not met with the Duke and others, instead entering Paradise Island?

And at this hour, aside from those working at night, only owls were awake. The houses around him were all dark without a trace of light, and streetlamps were a fanciful thought. Eugene corrected his direction several times with great effort, guided only towards the area the shopkeeper had mentioned.

He was now deep within Paradise Island, surrounded by the lingering scent of onion soup and fried fish, as if a large meal had just concluded. A relatively sturdy and decent house surprisingly showed light through, its ground floor door wide open, inviting anyone to enter freely.

Eugene didn’t rashly approach but observed from a distance for a while. Thanks to the cover of night, he simply squatted in the corner of a shack and blended completely into the background, unnoticed by anyone. Additionally, due to malnutrition, many residents of Paradise Island suffer from night blindness, and due to their extreme poverty, they lack a sense of vigilance, so no one would bother to check if someone was hiding by the roadside.

While he observed, people gradually arrived under the moonlight, some in groups of two or three, others alone. They were dressed casually and without hesitation, entered the building as naturally as if visiting their aunt.

Thinking it over, Eugene stood up before his legs became numb and followed behind two skinny men, casually approaching the house.

For Paradise Island’s standards, this house was exceptional. Though it was also constructed of wooden planks, its two-story boxy structure appeared meticulous, and besides the door, it was painted white, setting it apart from the colorful residences around it.

Eugene was prepared to feign ignorance, but surprisingly, from entering to ascending the stairs, no one stopped him—in fact, no one even seemed curious about his arrival, as if it was normal for strangers to enter. The skinny men ahead of him only glanced back once when they sensed someone following, then quickly turned away.

Upon entering, he saw a woman in a wrap dress who smiled at them as they came in.

“Good evening,” she said softly. “No questions are arranged for tonight. Please make an appointment for tomorrow if you have any queries.”

Eugene was full of questions, but his face showed none of it. Instead, he clasped his hands and returned a good evening, like the two men ahead of him. He was unaware that his unchallenged entry wasn’t only due to new faces being common here but also because he looked as thin and frail as the other two men—the difference being they looked that way due to poverty, whereas Eugene was actually sick.

The group ascended the stairs and turned into a corridor, where they found the entire second floor had been converted into a small auditorium with a thin carpet on the floor. Many people were already seated there, and from the corridor, all Eugene could see was the backs of heads—men and women, old and young.

Now Eugene understood why he hadn’t been suspected. The room was tightly packed with around a hundred or two hundred people. It was impossible that they were all from one family or knew each other. Sitting next to strangers was nothing unusual.

The room was nearly full, and latecomers had to squeeze into spaces near the back door. Because of his weak competitive spirit, Eugene had to sit awkwardly half-off the corridor to find a spot. Even then, people continued to come upstairs, gradually filling even the corridor.

Eugene realized what this place was for. When he saw an elderly man draped in silk emerge from a hidden door and everyone raised their arms in a low chant, only Eugene was confused. Wasn’t this the religion Jason mentioned? That profound-looking man must be Aquinas!

Aquinas was accompanied by two assistants, heads to toes in veils, revealing only their eyes, and holding golden basins behind him. Used to worshipful adoration, Aquinas sat cross-legged on the platform, starting his session without greeting, diving straight into storytelling.

Yes, storytelling.

Eugene had never been so attentive in class—he estimated Aquinas told five stories that evening, all quite similar. Each involved someone from some place who had committed certain sins, saw the God of Judgment before dying, and realized their wrongs, giving all their wealth as tribute to cleanse their sins. Aquinas was an eloquent speaker, making the stories vivid, especially contrasting the afterlives of those who had atoned and those who hadn’t, and how the living spared no expense to ease the suffering of their deceased loved ones. His storytelling was far better than the erotic novels Eugene secretly bought.

After the stories, Aquinas summarized a table of criminal behaviors for the congregants to compare against themselves, to tally how much sin they had accumulated with their age and what its monetary value was. This part was reasonable, involving actions like “harboring malice”, “theft”, and “slandering others”.

Eugene didn’t participate in the tallying. Instead, he watched Aquinas exit through a side door by the platform. Judging by the house’s outer structure, it could only lead downstairs.

As soon as Aquinas turned to leave, Eugene scrambled up and rushed down the stairs, navigating the now empty reception hall to the inner room, where Aquinas and his group were indeed located. The keen-feeling person in the full veil noticed Eugene as soon as he peeked in and immediately approached him.

Eugene instinctively wanted to flee, but his rationality held him back. As a “believer”, it was too late to kneel down, and seeing his idol, how could he run?

He adjusted his expression, ready to shout fervently, “I want to see Lord Aquinas!” when the person preempted him. “Eugene.”

Eugene paused.

That was the shopkeeper’s voice.

The person swiftly grabbed Eugene’s arm, pulling him into a tiny broom closet.

This house was luxurious by Paradise Island standards. Even a utility room had a small wall lamp. The shopkeeper fumbled on the wall, and the light turned on, causing a few spiders, startled by the brightness, to scurry down the wall.

Eugene was relieved. “It’s you!” Mainly because he wasn’t wearing his top hat. Otherwise, even in a large cloak, Eugene was confident he’d recognize him.

Charlie struggled to roll up his cloak from the ground and then flipped it off in one swift motion—

Eugene’s wide smile froze as he instinctively stepped back.

Facing him was a man with the shopkeeper’s voice but without a rabbit’s head, smiling at him. The slightly elongated eyes, overly pale skin, and slightly curled copper-gold hair, though unfamiliar, felt strangely familiar.

---

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 126

Khalif had a headache.

He had many children, but Prima was the only daughter of his favorite mistress and was coincidentally born in the year he became the Wolf King, so he was particularly fond of her. He would present everything to her—indeed, he did just that. After Prima became an adult, Khalif opened a store for her in the busiest commercial center of the inner city every year on her birthday. Today, the young Prima herself was quite wealthy. Additionally, with her gentle beauty and serene personality, she was always the center of attention within the Wolf Family. By all accounts, she should have had nothing to be discontented about.

Except for matters of marriage.

Khalif had watched the entanglement between Prima and Louis all along and could only say that both were stubbornly alike. His daughter wouldn’t let go, and Louis wouldn’t back down. If Louis were just any mediocre young man from any family, Khalif could have easily packaged him up and gifted him to his daughter as a coming-of-age present. Unfortunately, Louis’s family also had a long history within the Wolf Family. Protected by the White Wolf Fahim in his early days, and after Fahim’s death, Louis had grown into the second White Wolf himself. It wasn’t just about influencing his marital affairs. Even trying to meddle slightly in his powers required great caution, or it could backfire.

Khalif wouldn’t discuss this with his daughter, and Prima, understanding well, knew that pressuring Louis with her status would only backfire. So, unless she was unbearably aggrieved, she generally wouldn’t show any signs of sadness to Khalif.

Her absence from her own birthday party was embarrassing enough, and the next day Prima personally went to see him but was met with a closed door—allegedly ill in the afternoon—yet he didn’t cancel his evening meeting with her father. Louis’s stance was clear.

After leaving Prima’s residence, Khalif’s expression was grim, but as he got into the carriage and saw the person waiting inside, his mood immediately lightened.

“How is it?” the woman in the carriage asked him.

“Prima is very sad,” Khalif said. “Louis… huh.”

The woman waiting in the carriage was Xanye, Khalif’s current favorite. She was strikingly gorgeous in appearance and figure. Khalif had broken many norms for her, keeping her close even during working hours, which had stirred quite the gossip—claims that a woman had ruined the wisdom of his earlier years.

But Khalif didn’t care. He was the Wolf King, and no one had the right to judge him.

“I think he’s right, letting Prima give up early so she can see more options.” Xanye giggled. “There are plenty of handsome men if she wants them.”

“Oh, you think Louis is handsome too?” Khalif asked indifferently.

Xanye couldn’t miss the dissatisfaction in his tone. Men were like that, unable to admit when someone might be better, despite age and declining prowess.

“It’s your daughter who thinks so,” Xanye said. Her hand, with brightly painted red nails, reassuringly patted Khalif’s chest. “Don’t be jealous, Lord Khalif. You’re much stronger than those young boys, and not to mention your experiences—”

Such tactics, suitable against young lovers, shouldn’t really apply to someone of Khalif’s age. Khalif understood this too but still found it comforting, no longer dwelling on Prima’s love life.

His concern for Louis was never really about Prima. Although no one dared say it to his face, he knew that as early as a few years ago, some had privately considered Louis as the primary candidate for the next Wolf King, everything depending on when Khalif would step down.

If the Wolf Family really functioned like the ancient wolf packs that revered the alpha, it might be simpler, but over centuries, the vast Wolf Family had grown significantly, with the leader and the council playing crucial roles in its expansion.

While Khalif still had his wits about him, he knew the existence of Louis and the other elders was necessary, especially Louis…

Thinking this, Khalif’s mood soured again.

White Wolf Fahim had cleared the way for Louis well before he rose to power, eliminating competitors of his generation, and once Louis secured his position, he showed no mercy to anyone who might replace him. Indeed, this was the instinct of all those in power. Khalif felt the same towards Louis. Only his reservations were greater because he had been in his position for decades, and by historical standards, it was about time for a new leader—the Elders could be aged, but the leader must be robust.

“The old Wolf King”—this had become a sore point for Khalif over the last five years, and the young Louis was a constant reminder of this affliction. For this reason, he had tried various methods to maintain his appearance and vigor, methods he once scoffed at in his youth, and his taste in women had increasingly shifted towards those strikingly sexy types, almost as if keeping Xanye, who was about his daughter’s age, constantly by his side could make him feel as vigorous as a young man.

It was also why he had never openly agreed to let Prima marry Louis. In truth, the personal wishes of the young people didn’t matter much. If it didn’t involve official duties and powers, a word from him and Louis would likely have to bow his head. He simply didn’t want to add leverage to the already emerging Louis.

Sensing Khalif’s uneven breathing, Xanye casually pulled out a drawer from a delicate hidden compartment next to the carriage seat, revealing a dozen exquisite glass vials, each only half a palm high, filled with a bright red liquid.

“What’s this?” Khalif glanced at it. “An energy potion? I feel the effects are less and less significant.”

“A gift from the Lion family, not yet on the market,” Xanye explained. “Don’t you remember? I had them prepare some here in the carriage.”

Khalif showed interest. “I didn’t notice their gift list. Has it been tested?”

Xanye leaned against him. “It has been tested. It’s different from Monkey’s magic potions—a bit more stimulating.”

Khalif picked up one of the small glass bottles, inspecting it. He had been relying on energy potions for a while (though he wouldn’t admit it), and as the doses increased over the years, the current potions no longer lasted long. The pharmacists only talked nonsense about irreversible tolerance, which was of no help.

The Monkeys, after all, had to rely on magic formulas to make their potions, and the Lions had experience and formulas that Monkeys couldn’t match. Since someone had already tested this new drug, Khalif unhesitatingly popped the cork and downed it. The spicy liquid slid down his throat like molten lava, causing him to shiver uncontrollably.

This was exactly what he wanted—proof of being alive.

……

The warm, amber light uniformly filled the entire hall, and the edges of the dark wood long table were wrapped in animal skin, with the decorative copper nails gleaming as if they were quite aged.

The grandfather clock in the corner had struck seven times, and the main seat at the head of the table remained conspicuously empty. The man sitting next to Louis clicked his tongue, displaying a displeased expression.

Khalif used to be punctual, and in this grand house nestled deep within the inner city, clocks and watches were omnipresent—every member of the Wolf Family knew the family head despised tardiness. Yet, now it was he who was late.

“Adan,” said a blue-eyed man in his forties sitting across from them. “Perhaps something has delayed him on the road.”

Adan, who appeared to be in his thirties with his hair tied back in a ponytail—a popular poet’s style favored by ladies—had thick eyebrows and deep-set eyes that lent him a certain elegance.

Among the five people present, besides Louis, Adan was the youngest. His mind was particularly agile, always coming up with novel ideas for making money, and he was practically carrying the auction on his shoulders—exactly why he was anxious about this ineffective waste of time.

“What else could it be?” Everyone except Louis exchanged meaningful glances. Adan said, “If not that woman from the Monkeys…”

“Enough.” Another red-haired man, who had been as silent as Louis, stopped him.

No one in the room could better understand the influence of that woman named Xanye on Khalif. She was vulgar, hedonistic, and shallow, and Khalif seemed to be reliving a rebellious phase that had disappeared years ago, becoming increasingly indulgent. His former self-discipline was melting away like the last snow of early spring.

It wasn’t a big deal that Khalif loved beautiful women, but it became problematic because Xanye bore the Monkey surname.

Although maintaining a longstanding coexistence, the two families weren’t as closely connected as outsiders believed. A major reason was the Monkey’s penchant for shortcuts and unrestrained use of magic—they weren’t particular about whether it was black or white magic, but to the Wolf Family, anyone with the Monkey name seemed a bit eccentric.

Adan’s frustration was understandable. The auction was starting tomorrow, and the subordinates had been working overtime for who knows how long. Meanwhile, Khalif was only interested in wining and dining with a woman, a neglect that was difficult to accept. But, after all, this was Khalif’s domain, and it was unwise to openly criticize the master of the house here.

Louis seemed the only one unconcerned about Khalif’s tardiness. He idly fiddled with his cufflinks, which were intricately made with dark red amber shaped like beetles, lifelike in appearance.

His eyelashes completely concealed his expression, and the light cast a handsome profile on his face.

Adan leaned back in his chair and adjusted his satin tie, a style not quite formal but with a dash of flamboyance he recently favored.

“Speaking of which, Louis.” Adan casually picked an inconsequential topic. “How’s your wound? I heard you had a fight with a witch?”

At his words, there was a subtle shift in the air—just a slight one.

Louis lifted his eyelids. “I thought you all knew.”

The red-haired man chuckled lightly. “I heard some rumors, but you look quite spirited now.”

“Mages aren’t good at close combat,” Louis said.

“So you killed her? Witch Elena?” Adan asked with interest. “What did she look like? They only said you stabbed her directly in the heart, but it was too dark to see clearly…”

“What else could a witch look like?” The peace-making, blue-eyed man couldn’t contain himself anymore and snorted. “We’ve all seen.”

He clearly implied that Xanye was an unregistered witch, but Louis, remembering Elena’s ordinary, office-worker face, felt they were deeply mistaken.

However, he had no duty to correct their misunderstanding. Louis finally looked around at the other four, trying to read something from their faces, but without success.

Perhaps Elena really had nothing to do with them.

Then, the Monkeys? He heard they were cultivating a number of mages internally, a process that would take at least a generation. Developing externally seemed not entirely impossible.

Adan wanted to ask more, but at that moment, Khalif arrived—his cheeks unnaturally red, his eyes cloudy. Everyone present was no naïve youth. It wasn’t hard to guess that he had just been entangled with Xanye, neglecting them in the process.

The stability White Bridge had maintained for so many years owed much to the balance between the Wolves and Monkeys, each dominating their own spheres. Khalif’s unprecedented dalliance with a woman from the Monkey, was it a sign that this leader of the Wolf Family was steering the ship toward magic?

Could this man believe that magic would reverse time and bring him back to his peak?

In that moment, the same thought crossed the minds of the five under Khalif’s command, but none showed any irony in their expressions. Instead, they stood and bowed to Khalif, who had just settled into his seat.

---

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 125

Jason said that the inner city, to Paradise Island, was an unknown existence more dangerous than hell itself.

But clearly, not everyone thought the same.

As Eugene leaned against a waist-high stone wall and walked forward, he happened to witness one of the “selections” Jason had talked about.

At the time, he was suffering from severe diarrhea that had left him nearly lifeless, having just spent half the day in a public restroom closest to his inn—the so-called public restroom was just a crudely constructed square partition with no roof or door. It just had a large pit below with shaky wooden planks laid over it. If someone was drunk or their legs numb, there was a real chance they could fall in while standing up to pull up their trousers.

A mother and son were talking not far from the public toilet, with a few others listening in. Eugene, dizzy from his condition, took a while to make out what they were saying.

“Please, Larry, don’t leave me,” the dark-skinned mother pleaded. “Your father is already dead, and if you go too, what will I do?”

“I’m just going to clean the walkways, not entering the inner city,” the young man named Larry replied, somewhat impatiently, probably because his friends were waiting nearby.

“Mom, do you think just anyone can get into that place? We haven’t been trained. We can only do the lowest physical labor, and I’ll come back after the auction,” he said.

“But…”

“Yes, sister, they won’t come to any harm,” a middle-aged man intervened slickly. “Since yesterday, many important guests have arrived, and they definitely don’t have enough people. I’d even be glad if they picked me. Look… because the mother is beautiful, the son is especially handsome and attractive. If he wasn’t such a good-looking young man but someone else, my boss wouldn’t want to hire him.”

Eugene strained his eyes to focus. The thin mother had no relation to the word “beautiful”, and Larry was just a young man with passable features. His friend beside him was prettier, with slightly fairer skin, though here, residents were often weathered by the harsh sun and wind, limiting how fair they could actually be.

The silent friend watched the mother and son argue without saying a word.

Eventually, Larry gave in, said something to the middle-aged man, who then pulled a money pouch from his pocket and handed it to the woman.

“This is the advance pay,” he announced loudly. “This isn’t usual… but since you’re worried about your son, I’ll give it to you now.”

The woman jumped as if burned, instinctively stuffing the money pouch deep into her clothing, then looked around frantically as if there were thieves hidden among the onlookers.

But after that, she no longer objected, and Larry left without any luggage, hands empty.

The onlookers continued to chat where they stood. Eugene limped over (his feet still numb) and asked curiously, “Where is he going?”

Larry’s mother ignored him and quickly turned into a side alley, disappearing from sight. A woman nearly fifty, who had been leaning out of her window the whole time, called out as she left, “Hide your money well. Don’t let someone reach under your blanket at night—”

Everyone laughed.

“That one beside Larry, isn’t he Old Fu’s boy? What’s his name again?” someone asked.

“I don’t know. That family has seven or eight kids. It’s good that he’s gone.”

“What if he’s going to the ship…”

“No way, they aren’t that pretty.”

“He must be going to clean the port roads,” a man stated authoritatively. “My brother heard it while working. Guests from the Fox and Lion families are arriving this afternoon.”

“Fox. Hehe, that Fox?”

“Stop dreaming. Their women aren’t like Susan and the others…”

Eugene hadn’t bathed in several days, and standing among these people, he didn’t feel particularly out of place. No one avoided him, and the conversation started to veer into more vulgar territory.

He listened for a while on the spot, and after confirming that no more valuable information would be forthcoming, he turned to leave.

If this had been back in Pennigra, he might have joined them out of boredom, but since witnessing the death of a prostitute in Syriacochi and meeting the upright Martina, he was no longer inclined to speak ill of those involved in the trade of flesh.

Just as he returned to the inn, he ran into Larry again. The middle-aged man was probably a broker, having convinced another young person to follow him in such a short span.

Noticing Eugene watching, the middle-aged man also took a look at him, probably noting his pale face and trembling legs, and quickly looked away.

It could be said that the fried fish from last night’s dinner did him in. Otherwise, he might have had a chance to join them—but regret was useless. By the time he got back to his temporary room, Eugene had no strength even to stand.

Paradise Island wasn’t exactly short on supplies. As long as you could pay, you could get services here—albeit a lower-tier version.

To blend in, Eugene had indeed spent several hard days eating only the most common black bread and water, until yesterday, when he couldn’t take it anymore and bought a slightly luxurious fried fish, which ended up knocking him out.

He lay gasping on the floor, wondering what to do.

He had a way to contact Shivers and even a place, and he could return to the inner city as a “guest” anytime he wanted, as long as he could make it off Paradise Island alive. Knowing his diarrhea was due to unclean food, he dared not eat anything else and was so weak once he lay down, he didn’t know how long it would take to gather the strength to go downstairs again.

The Foxes and Lions were arriving in White Bridge today.

He didn’t know who the representatives would be, but Eugene felt the Duke and his company needed to know this, only he couldn’t move… Huh?

Eugene’s eyes widened as he watched a little ball of fluff squeeze through the door crack. This room had no windows, and once it was free, its originally fluffy feathers were all ruffled.

It looked like any ordinary gray sparrow, but Eugene recognized the round belly with a V-shaped pattern of light fluff, which someone once said was his signature—the pattern looked quite like the neckline of a man’s suit.

“The design concept is a polite intelligence worker,” the other had said. “One might not be noticeable, but a whole battalion in formation looks particularly impressive.”

The shopkeeper’s Gray Sentinel!

Eugene suddenly felt a surge of energy within him, sat up, and tentatively called out, “Mr. Charlie?”

The little sparrow cocked its head and looked at him with its shiny black eyes, then hopped forward a few steps.

……

Alexander glanced at the tightly closed door before quickly refocusing his attention on the man in front of him.

The man was handsome, but his attractiveness wasn’t solely due to his outstanding features. It was also the restraint and nobility that he exuded with every move, occasionally making Alexander, who was accustomed to various receptions, feel somewhat uneasy.

“Mr. Green, do you prefer sugar or honey in your tea?” Alexander didn’t call Annie over but instead chose to pour the tea himself, hovering his hand over the teapot as he looked to Mr. Green for his preference.

Mr. Green laughed. “Either is fine, but I do enjoy a bit of aged liquor in it.”

The atmosphere lightened.

Alexander expertly poured the tea, responding with a smile, “I’ll have them prepare it right away.”

“I’m just joking. It’s just a personal habit. I’m not encouraging anyone to drink alcohol during work hours,” Mr. Green clarified. “The black tea is perfect as is. The aroma is quite unique. Is it from overseas?”

Alexander paused in his action, then nodded. “You—”

Before he could finish, a dull thud came from the inner room, causing both men to turn their heads.

“What was that?” Mr. Green frowned, as Alexander stood up quickly and walked over, almost reaching out to push the door open but stopped at the last second, choosing to knock instead.

“Sir?” Alexander called out.

Silence followed.

The noise hadn’t been loud, but even a moderately upscale reception room or study would have carpeting that would normally muffle such sounds—

Without a response, Alexander steeled himself, turned the doorknob, and pushed the door open.

He then saw his boss and a stunningly attractive guest crammed together on a single-seat sofa, clutching each other’s clothes, faces very close.

If it wasn’t for another single-seat sofa overturned on the floor, their entangled postures might even seem somewhat intimate, though their expressions were anything but.

“Sir?” It was the first time Alexander encountered his boss fighting with a guest in the study, and he was baffled.

Neither turned to look at him. Louis simply said two words. “Get out.”

“But—” Alexander started to say more, but his hand on the doorknob was suddenly covered by another hand.

It was Mr. Green, who had left his seat at some point.

He gently but firmly grasped Alexander’s hand, along with the doorknob, pulling it back to slowly close the heavy wooden door with a click.

Alexander exclaimed, “They—”

Mr. Green let go and made a “shushing” gesture.

“Where were we?” He walked back to his seat as if nothing had happened. “Right, the tea. Is this product available for purchase?”

Alexander: “……”

Mr. Green must be an associate of the guest inside, right? Wasn’t he worried?

While Alexander didn’t think Louis would lose a fight—Louis never did, especially since everyone was initially fooled by his seemingly frail stature and refined demeanor upon his arrival in White Bridge, thinking Fahim had decided to train a bureaucratic successor.

Unexpectedly, Louis was thoroughly combative, famously ruthless and iron-handed, and had managed to consolidate control of both external defense and internal administration within White Bridge.

With Louis as a precedent, Alexander thought the lean guest inside must also follow this approach—because Louis’s training from childhood was never about fighting or brawling but about genuine killing techniques aimed at quick subdual. Though not graceful, anyone who could tangle with him was certainly not easy to handle.

Thinking about how quickly they had started grappling upon entering, what kind of person had the Countess introduced? Someone looking for trouble? As Alexander considered this, he looked at Mr. Green with a puzzled expression.

Mr. Green seemed to know what Alexander was thinking and reassured him in a calming tone. “Don’t worry. They’re fine.”

Alexander: “……”

Although Mr. Green was always elegantly poised, he still managed to leave Alexander at a loss for words.

Seeing the young assistant struggle to calm down, Mr. Green spoke again. “Mr. Alexander, I saw something interesting in a shop yesterday.”

Alexander mustered some enthusiasm. “Oh?”

“It was a beautiful crown but cursed with powerful magic. The shopkeeper had to seal it under a glass cover. If I’m not mistaken, it’s Sharon’s crown from two centuries ago, a level-one prohibited item.”

Sharon was a forebear of Elena and had moved beyond merely being a witch to becoming a notoriously evil sorceress who had caused panic across two continents for thirty years. It took the sacrifice of several great mages to kill her—her relics were classified as level-one prohibited items, forbidden from public record, sale, or use.

Such an item was openly displayed as a store’s centerpiece to attract customers.

“That must be Monkey’s property.” Alexander wasn’t unfamiliar with such queries. “Some of their… ‘memorabilia’ can indeed be sensitive.”

This undoubtedly distanced the Wolves from the Monkeys. To alleviate Green’s concerns, Alexander added, “Rest assured, you and—both are our guests, and the Wolf Family has neither past nor future interest or contact with black magic.”

He carefully avoided mentioning the Countess.

Green just smiled and didn’t pursue the conversation further.

The Monkey might be obsessed with black magic, but the existence of the Holy Grail was undeniable, and the Wolf was certainly not as clean as Alexander had implied.

But as far as external appearances went, Alexander was correct: the Wolf Family had never produced a mage, neither black nor white magic. They preferred to hire mages to create magical barriers for their family; a directive surely from the family head, whether to avoid suspicion or to keep the secrets of the Holy Grail confined to a few within the family was up for debate.

And the Monkey’s penchant for collecting precious goods, cursed or not, showed they had the capability to seal and transport such items—a family business that couldn’t be outsourced like Wolf’s.

“I was just asking,” he said. “Those things are quite interesting.”

His expression was genuinely sincere that Alexander believed him. He said with a smile, “Actually, the real good stuff they wouldn’t put in the window. If you’re interested, 75% of the goods at the second- and fourth-day auctions come from the Monkeys. I’ll give you some internal manuals later. The categories are more clearly divided there.”

If your boss and my boss come out without completely falling out later.

Green wasn’t worried about that at all. He was certain the scene he’d glimpsed through the door was just the two having a robust discussion, nothing more.

He was right.

An hour later, the study door opened again. This time both men sat properly on the sofa, neatly dressed, with natural expressions. Louis even personally escorted the guest out.

Alexander was full of questions, but before he could speak, his temperamental boss turned back into the study, instructing that no one was to disturb him.

“But this afternoon, Miss Prima—”

“Just say I have a fever again.”

“And tonight—”

“I’ll be out on time tonight.” The recently erratic Louis decisively kept Alexander outside the door, ignoring his assistant’s concerned look, and firmly closed the door.

---

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 124

Eugene stood on a spacious riverbank. Behind him was a sunshade pieced together from various colored fabrics, which only provided enough shade to barely cover a large piece of wooden door placed underneath it.

This light green door was provided by Jason’s cousin, who worked cleaning river debris and called himself a prospector, believing that there was no such thing as true garbage in the world—even corpses drifting down the river could be carrying silver coins in their coat pockets. He generously offered this door, one of the perks of his job, upon hearing Jason needed it.

The door had weathered long exposure to sun and wind. The green paint was now quite old. Eugene dipped his finger in water and traced a few letters on it, which Jason, sitting cross-legged in front, copied onto the ground.

Although everyone tried hard, they weren’t kids who could afford to spend a whole day studying in a study room without worrying about food and survival. Eugene had been teaching for several days, and Jason, who showed up reliably every day, was really the only consistent student. He had a strong ability to learn, having already memorized fifty digits and how to write his own name, and was now learning the names of the largest ships at the port.

His dedication to learning was impeccable, but it was extremely difficult to study in peace on Paradise Island. So far, no class had ever gone smoothly from start to finish. Eugene had gotten used to interruptions, like when a burly man clumsily copying letters would suddenly jump up shouting that something had happened—then everyone would thunderously run off, leaving him standing alone and puzzled.

Today was more of the same, and after the commotion settled, most of those “students” busied themselves elsewhere. Only Jason remembered Eugene and came back to continue copying the letters.

The frequent disruptions usually involved some trouble at the docks, someone being upset over docked wages and rashly trying to fight the boss, or the island’s factions clashing violently, often resulting in injuries.

It was precisely because of this that Eugene gradually realized that Paradise Island wasn’t united. It was clearly delineated from the inner city and internally fragmented into several groups: the guilds first made their fortunes through various crafts and successfully monopolized the market, and although the guild bosses were still seen as dirty and unfit for the inner city tables, they were indeed successful people on Paradise Island, involved in every sector such as laundries, bakeries, and oil refineries. The low-end goods produced might not make it into the boutique stores on the main streets of the inner city, but they supported half of Paradise Island. Then there were the brotherhoods led by Jason, not wealthy but mostly composed of physical laborers, strong and good with their fists. Lastly was the church faction—comprising the most diverse and numerous group, worshiping a god Eugene had never heard of.

Conflicts typically arose between the guilds and the brotherhoods, both sides hot-tempered, with verbal disputes and physical fights nearly every day. Most times, these could be quickly defused, but Eugene had witnessed a riot get out of control once. It was a terrifying scene, like a herd of wild bison stampeding across the plains, leaving ruins in their wake and affecting many innocents. Afterwards, Jason gave Eugene a day off because there were too many dead and injured to manage the aftermath.

Eugene noted that after every conflict, the church faction’s numbers seemed to grow a bit—often because someone would take the opportunity to preach, promoting their doctrine of inner peace, and those heartbroken by the violence would reach out and join their faith.

But neither the guilds nor the brotherhoods believed in them.

Especially Jason, who openly told Eugene in his presence that their leader, Aquinas, was nothing but a lazy fraud.

“That guy isn’t from Paradise Island. He came from the inner city ten years ago. He probably lost all his money at the gambling table and couldn’t even afford a ticket home, so he ended up swindling food and drink on Paradise Island,” he said with frustration. “And yet so many people fall for his act, becoming his followers and donating the money they earn to him. He must have tasted the benefits and decided to stick around. I’ve thought about driving him out, but he has too many followers. It would be mutually destructive to start a fight.”

“What god do they believe in?” Eugene asked, feigning curiosity.

“The God of Judgment,” Jason said. “I won’t say the name.”

Even though he didn’t believe in Aquinas, ordinary people still instinctively feared gods, and even if he was 70% sure that the god Aquinas spoke of was a fabrication, he still dared not speak its name directly.

Aquinas had crafted a narrative, claiming that the God of Judgment oversees justice and will punish the wicked and compensate the wronged in the afterlife. This part didn’t sound incorrect, but he used his supposed ability to communicate with the afterlife as an excuse to collect many offerings from his followers, claiming he was merely the custodian of these assets, which would be returned to their owners in the next life by his hand.

“There are no gods on Paradise Island,” Jason said. “Gods exist in the grand churches outside, in the religious texts of the wealthy, not in the impoverished and downtrodden Paradise Island. If there are any miracles here, they would only be those of a malevolent false god…”

He paused suddenly, looking at Eugene.

“You come from outside, well-traveled,” he said quietly.

Eugene felt this praise was much better than being called well-read. In the presence of the rabbit-headed shopkeeper and the Duke, who were like walking libraries, even a university professor wouldn’t dare claim extensive knowledge. Jason’s commendations of his “learning” often made him blush.

He coughed, suppressing his pride, and said as nonchalantly as possible, “It’s okay. I’ve just traveled more places than most.”

Jason asked, “Aside from true gods, how much do you know about evil gods?”

Eugene thought for a moment. “Are you referring to the God of Judgment that Aquinas talked about? I haven’t heard of such an entity, but there are similar ones, like the Goddess of Justice, Florentina, whose statues are usually placed in royal squares or in front of council halls—she’s a true god.”

“No, I’m not talking about the stories made up by Aquinas.” Jason hesitated, then looked around.

The area was quite deserted, and the usual kids who scurried everywhere were kept at home by their mothers due to frequent fights, so none were in sight.

“What does a seductive evil god usually look like?” he asked.

Eugene was puzzled.

Jason scratched his head, struggling to find a tactful way to express his thoughts. “I mean… the kind of demons that deceive humans and steal souls. What do they look like in books?”

“Demons? They come in various forms.” Eugene was uncertain. “The most common depiction is that of a beautiful woman, the kind that bewitches men at a glance, making them willing to gouge out their hearts for her, or the deceitful and malicious satyr—”

Jason immediately perked up. “Satyr?”

“Upper body of a man, lower body of a goat, or they might look completely human but have a handsome face with goat horns on their head,” Eugene nodded.

“Only goats? What about other animals? Is it possible? Are all demonic gods half-beast?” Jason asked eagerly. “Dressed in human clothes, speaking in riddles that are hard to understand, claiming they can fulfill all your wishes?”

Eugene was increasingly confused by his questions. “Usually, it’s goats… I think?”

Jason seemed disappointed. “Are you sure?”

Eugene looked at him bewilderingly. “Why do you ask?”

Seeing that Eugene genuinely didn’t know, Jason sat back down and waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind, I was just asking.”

Eugene’s expression grew even stranger. Jason’s detailed descriptions of clothing and speech styles sounded almost as if he had witnessed such beings himself, hardly the attitude of someone “just asking”.

No matter how curious Eugene was, Jason wasn’t willing to say more, and he didn’t want to casually tell people, “I think I’ve encountered an evil spirit.”

It should be known that Jason’s status as leader of the brotherhood wasn’t just because he was good at fighting and loyal. A significant reason was his lack of belief, and he had remained firm in this, never swayed by Aquinas’s threats or temptations, a fact known by everyone on Paradise Island.

If Jason suddenly confessed in panic to someone, “I think I’ve met a demon, and it tried to tempt me!”, his credibility would surely be shaken… With the auction approaching—a major and tumultuous event in White Bridge—it was best not to stir up extra trouble.

Considering this, he advised Eugene, “It’s best not to wander around these days. Although you seem relatively safe, it’s still good to be cautious.”

Eugene was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Jason gave him a strange look. “Aren’t you a tourist from the inner city? Don’t you know the auction is about to start?”

“Of course, I know—aren’t the auctions held in the inner city? What do you mean by I look relatively safe?” Eugene was confused again.

“You’re now on Paradise Island,” Jason explained patiently. “Every auction, the inner city needs manpower, a lot of manpower. They select people from Paradise Island.”

“So?” Eugene sensed he might not like what Jason was about to say next.

“So young and attractive kids are easily taken away, as are those with special talents,” Jason stated bluntly. “Your age and appearance aren’t issues, but educated people are rare here. If you don’t want to be selected and taken away, you’d better keep a low profile.”

Eugene considered this. “The compensation in the inner city should be higher.” For someone wanting to leave here, it could be a great opportunity.

“What do you think being taken away means?” Jason looked at him with pity. “To become their contracted, salaried employee? Even a five-year-old wouldn’t be so naïve. Let me tell you—what happens to those taken away at this time is unimaginable. If someone demands you kneel to catch their spit, no one will help you. They’ll only critique whether your kneeling posture is graceful enough.”

Eugene got goosebumps from his words. “The Wolf—I mean, how do you know they’re so twisted?”

“Because our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers have been taken away,” Jason said. “Some are thrown back like leftover fish bones to the trash heap—that is, Paradise Island—at the end of the seventh-day auction, and others just disappear.”

“One of them was my brother, Jim,” Jason continued. “He’s part of those who never came back. I’d give anything to pray to God for his safety, but God has never looked after Paradise Island.”

---

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

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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

---

Chapter 123

Dwight was actually not very interested in his sister’s romantic experiences, but since pregnant women were a group one must never offend, he changed the subject and asked, “Since he’s with the Wolf Family, can a meeting with the astrologer be arranged?”

“It might be difficult,” Priscilla replied, her expression turning serious as the conversation shifted to more serious matters. “The struggle between Lestrop and Tifa has spread across the continent. Without a guarantee of results, they won’t be as attentive as before, and everyone is watching.”

Dwight’s brow furrowed, but he quickly relaxed.

Lestrop had entrusted Priscilla to request a meeting with the astrologer, and being in White Bridge, a place known for extravagant spending, at least indicated that a significant portion of his wealth was now in his wife’s hands. More importantly, Priscilla had never been someone who needed to rely on her husband. Her status before marriage as the daughter of the Duke of Pennigra made her move to Mokwen a clear step down.

The value of an imperial title in the Modicon Empire wasn’t something that the fractious states of Doran could match. Even far across another continent, the words “Duke of Brandenburg” were enough to secure Priscilla VIP treatment here.

“Keeping a low profile now is a good thing.” Priscilla, as the person involved, could sense the changing winds even earlier than Dwight and sincerely reassured her brother. “I don’t want too much attention on me… and I have a bad feeling about this auction.”

Her premonition wasn’t from herself, nor even from the kingdom of Mokwen, but from White Bridge—the auction wasn’t held every year, so each time it was a golden spectacle. The atmosphere in the inner city was growing thicker, as if even the air was imbued with a scent of luxury. However, Priscilla sensed instability from some of Louis’s unusually tense behaviors.

“The Foxes and Lions always have representatives here. I think the Mokwen royal family’s experiment with the Holy Grail isn’t unique. There must also be people in the east and north harboring similar ambitions. Once the Holy Grail descends, the Wolves would be the direct beneficiary—perhaps along with Monkeys, which would disrupt the balance among the four Black Gold Families. Is that what you are nervous about?” Dwight never saw his sister as merely a princess tending roses in a high tower. On the contrary, when he was still young, it was Priscilla who would softly analyze the imperial situation, the future of their family, and the trials he might face as a Dwight in her bedroom. So, aside from his conjectures about the relationship between the Charlie brothers and the Holy Grail, he always shared his own predictions and plans with Priscilla.

“Perhaps,” Priscilla said. “I had many ideas, like personally taking revenge on Lestrop, expanding our southern territories, and leveraging the precarious relationship between Tifa and Christine. But as time draws near, those thoughts have changed a lot. Now my greatest prayer is for the child to be healthy and safe.”

“I’ve become weaker,” she murmured softly.

Dwight didn’t think so and was about to speak when he was startled by a sudden movement under his hand.

“Ah, it moved.” Priscilla also felt it. “Does it know Uncle is here?”

The little life inside her, of course, couldn’t hear her speak and didn’t know its movement had scared the typically stoic Duke of Brandenburg quite a bit. The sudden action seemed just like turning over, and soon it quieted down again.

Dwight wasn’t good at comforting a moodily pregnant woman, nor did he know how to articulate his feelings about experiencing fetal movement for the first time (he was more frightened than pleased, afraid that saying too much might be wrong), so he just held her hand. Priscilla, rarely seeing her brother in such a predicament, finally laughed again.

“Come on, don’t be so serious. Not even Ceylon gets this treatment,” she said. “Don’t always target him. In terms of how to be a good man, he’s a bit smarter than you.”

“If you mean hiring doctors to make one feel romantic—”

“You know what I mean.”

The siblings looked at each other for a moment, neither backing down.

“Don’t read so many grammar books. Those poems won’t really teach you how to love,” Priscilla said delicately.

She was actually more worried that there simply wasn’t anyone in the world who could make Dwight fall in love. Good heavens, she could hardly imagine what Dwight would be like if he were gentle and caring toward someone. She was probably the closest person to him in the world, and even their interactions often made her want to twist his ear.

“I won’t worry about that,” Dwight said coolly. “I prefer to express myself in person.”

Priscilla thought she had heard wrong.

Express what?

To whom?

Was this statement just habitual contradiction, or was he serious?

Priscilla couldn’t help but sit up straighter, staring at him for a while, but she didn’t voice her questions.

Although Dwight certainly wouldn’t answer them either.

He nonchalantly steered the conversation back. “I really do need a meeting. If Kurt can’t be arranged, at least Louis can, right?”

For various reasons, he felt he should meet the other party.

After thinking for a moment, Priscilla finally agreed.

……

“With the auction just less than three days away, Mr. Louis already has plenty scheduled,” Alexander said quietly. “Plus, he was injured recently, and the doctor has ordered him to abstain from alcohol and even stimulant drinks, making it really difficult to arrange anything.”

His demeanor was respectful, but his tone left no room for argument. The man sitting across from him, sporting a neatly trimmed goatee, shifted his eyes around the reception room several times.

Alexander suppressed the urge to complain and maintained an unchanging smile on his face.

Seeing that the meeting was going nowhere, the visitor finally stood up to leave. Alexander breathed a sigh of relief internally and had Annie, who was in charge of hospitality, see him out.

Another thin young man, who had been waiting for a while, finally approached Alexander. “Mr. Abram has sent an invitation for the second time in three days.”

“Decline it. Say that the boss was still feverish yesterday,” Alexander instructed. “No, actually, prepare a gift. I’ll deliver it personally tonight… and for Miss Prima, pick something from the stuff the boss brought back from Fortuna City last week. Don’t buy from the ‘Venus’ store.”

He thought for a moment, then turned back to pull out a notepad, quickly listing several PR gifts and their recipients to make sure he hadn’t missed anything before handing the list to the young man, asking him to have it done by tonight at the latest.

Every auction was almost as hectic as going to war.

Alexander, deprived of sleep, took a moment to relax instead of heading straight back to his office. He sat on the sofa in the reception room and smoked a cigarette to perk up.

The Five Elders were all extremely busy at this time. Countless people wanted to meet them, each with different motives and intentions, such as trying to poach a major client like the Countess, hoping Louis would turn a blind eye during the auction patrol for some shady deal, or continuously confirming whether Louis really was injured, perhaps unable to perform his duties, looking to take his place—since Louis wasn’t making public appearances, Alexander had to deal with these matters. His face was stiff from all the forced smiling.

Moreover, with both the Foxes and the Lions coming, protocol dictated they be received by senior members. Normally, Louis couldn’t avoid this. The Lions were manageable, but the Foxes were particularly sly. Dealing with them was draining, and special arrangements had to be made to prevent the Fox Family, professional spies, from planting their people in White Bridge…

Alexander took a deep drag of his cigarette, puffing out clouds of smoke, just as Annie returned.

She brought a letter with her.

Even though it was the practice in White Bridge not to emboss family crests on the seal of the envelope to avoid giving anyone a handle against them, plain envelopes looked unattractive. So, various beautiful but meaningless designs had emerged. Alexander knew it was from their distinguished guest, the Countess from Mokwen, as soon as he saw the azalea patterns.

He promptly extinguished his cigarette, changed his jacket, and took the letter upstairs to Louis.

Louis was also writing a letter and looked up only when he heard Alexander enter.

“What is it?”

Of course, he wasn’t injured, and his symptoms from the cold had completely cleared up, but overtime had left him looking almost as bad as the sick, with under-eye circles as dark as Alexander’s.

“A letter from the Countess,” Alexander stated formally.

He had seen the Countess once or twice—a gentle and elegant young woman. Although their interaction was based on financial transactions, she was prioritized by Louis—Alexander secretly thought there might be a bit of an affair, but he had no evidence.

Perhaps the letter in his hands was proof. Unfortunately, he couldn’t read it.

Unaware of his assistant’s speculations, Louis unfolded the letter, his brow furrowing slowly as he read.

Priscilla’s brother is also in White Bridge?

If his memory served him right, the man was supposed to be a Duke from the Modicon Empire, but he hadn’t heard of any noble of that rank being dispatched to Doran in the last six months.

Unless this young duke had smuggled himself illegally—considering he had entered White Bridge so quietly, it was very likely.

Asking to meet with him, partly for Priscilla, suggested the Dwight family must already know quite a bit about what Lestrop had done. Crossing the continent in secret like this suggested that the Duke of Brandenburg greatly valued his sister.

The traditional nobility’s disdain for the Black Gold Families was well known, and Louis didn’t think it would be any different on another continent. If the Duke was asking to meet him, it was either because he found him particularly objectionable and wanted to vent face-to-face, or he wanted to weigh up the man who had spirited his sister away—either way, the visitor bore ill intentions.

Louis looked at another informal invitation on his desk. It was also as difficult to refuse like the one from the Duke, as it came from the current head of the Wolf Family, Khalif.

It’s true. Troubles never came in just one.

The auction hadn’t even started, and Louis was already physically and mentally worn out. He folded the letter and stuffed it into an open ink pot on his desk. As soon as the paper touched the rusty brown ink, the edges quickly curled and blackened, and in less than three breaths, the entire letter burned away, the ashes completely falling into the “ink”, which for a moment turned a dazzling orange-red.

He watched the seemingly harmless ink bottle for a while before saying, “The day after tomorrow.”

“Miss Prima will personally thank you for the gift,” Alexander immediately said. “You have a meeting with Lord Khalif in the evening.”

“Then make it noon.” Louis said. “A gift? Prima’s birthday is in June.”

“Tomorrow is the first anniversary of her ‘Pink Iris’ shop opening, and there will be a small celebration attended mostly by her friends,” Alexander explained smoothly.

Louis nodded, knowing Alexander had likely already declined for him.

“Let Annie prepare the gift, but don’t buy it here. Take it from the ship,” Louis instructed.

“Understood. I’ve specifically ordered not to touch the goods from the Monkeys,” Alexander said.

White Bridge was co-managed by the Wolves and Monkeys. Since the latter excelled in various illegal trades, over half of the shopping stores in the inner city were controlled by the Monkey Family, identified by a small gold star embossed on their signs.

Louis never liked them, but this request wasn’t entirely personal. The Monkey’s sources were overly secretive and suspicious; their smuggling operations weren’t just about running black ships—among the four families, the Monkeys were the most obsessed with black magic. Even their neighbors, the Wolves, couldn’t fully fathom how deep they had delved, especially on the eve of the auction, when a large amount of mysterious goods flooded in. It was better to be safe than sorry. Alexander was well aware of this.

He replaced the tea by Louis’s side with a fresh one and lifted the processed wicker file basket before exiting.

Only after the door was completely closed did Louis stand up and walk to the window, pushing aside the tied curtains. Sure enough, on the windowsill, he saw a small gray figure, which started hopping excitedly upon finally being noticed.

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The author has something to say:

Louis still doesn’t know that Charlie is allied with the Duke.

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