Charlie’s Book Ch192

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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


Chapter 192

Charlie followed Alfred across the grass. It seemed that Duke Dwight had left a good portion of the Brandenburg Knights with the children. Even in the dead of night, there were a dozen or so fully armed knights standing guard, their faces hard and cold in the firelight.

He glanced around, noticing that these knights were different from those in his memories. Not to mention others, even little Shiloh had a vastly different demeanor from his predecessors. It appeared that the composition of the knight order changed with each Duke’s personal preferences.

The tents of the two children weren’t far apart, but due to the medication, Priscilla hadn’t been disturbed by the commotion on her brother’s side.

A young attendant lifted the tent flap, and Charlie was greeted by a refreshing breeze that made him squint in pleasure.

The highest point of the large, four-cornered tent had a string of glass windchimes. Whenever the temperature inside the tent rose or fell, they would gently sway, releasing magical particles like fireflies that scattered into every corner.

The comfort level here was worlds apart from the small tents allocated to Charlie and the others. He couldn’t help but think of the Four Seasons book in the young Duke’s carriage after he grew up. It seemed Brandenburg’s luxurious habits were hereditary.

Elaby gestured with his eyes, indicating that everyone else had left the tent. Charlie walked to the bedside and sat cross-legged on the carpet.

After being caught crying, Arnie refused to speak to anyone and remained curled up in bed, unmoving—but he was certainly still awake.

Charlie studied the lump of blankets on the bed, finding it quite amusing.

Although Dwight had an androgynous look, he was almost never mistaken for a girl, largely due to his firm character and excellent bone structure. He was slender but had broad shoulders and long legs, suggesting a promising future.

The first time they met, the young duke standing on the porch of 22 Paulownia Street was still underage, but already taller than many of his peers. Over the next half-year, he continued to grow rapidly, even waking up in pain at night from growing too fast. Now, looking at Dwight from over a decade ago, although hidden under the blankets, he was still small enough to be scooped up with one hand.

It was truly fascinating.

Charlie wanted to lift the blanket to see what a younger, crying Dwight looked like, but he refrained and instead motioned Elaby over. Elaby, confused, walked over and also sat by the bed.

To Elaby’s surprise, Charlie didn’t greet the Young Master but instead started a casual conversation with him.

“Mr. Elaby, why did you choose me?” he asked.

Elaby glanced at Arnie on the bed. The blanket remained still, but Elaby was certain he was listening to the conversation outside.

“I walked through half the town and saw many busy vendors and housewives, as well as old men leisurely basking in the sun, but not many children playing. So, I followed their trail and found you,” Elaby said. “How long did it take for the children to like you so much?”

“They like my stories,” Charlie replied with a smile. “If I gave you my stories, the children would follow you too.”

“But where do you find such stories?” Elaby also smiled.

“Ah, that’s a secret I can only share with you: all my stories are based on true events.”

Elaby understood what Charlie meant. He cleared his throat and continued, “But that’s impossible—talking chickens, old goats, and pigs—I can barely believe they were under some spell, but why do even teapots and soup pots talk?”

“No one would believe it. But that’s the charm of my stories. Although strange, they’re all true. For example, the story of the little chicken Laddy you heard today—it told me that story itself.”

“But I still don’t believe it.”

“I understand. It’s hard to believe without experiencing it firsthand. But there are many strange things in this world—for instance, five years ago, in an unknown forest, I saved a very peculiar animal. It could also talk.”

“I’ve never heard of talking animals in any forest.”

“That’s the strange part. As a novelist, I travel across the continent to gather material. People like me, traveling alone, are very cautious, always carrying enough food and water, along with essential items like a compass and a map. But strangely enough, despite following the map meticulously, I gradually got lost in the dense forest. When I realized I was lost, I had already ventured too far—such a large forest with no markings on the map. So, I kept walking, hoping to find a way out. But God didn’t hear my prayers, and I was lost for three days. My water was running out, and exhaustion made me hallucinate.”

“I vaguely saw something moving between the trees, so I approached… Do you know what I saw?” Charlie asked in a lowered voice.

Elaby glanced at the bed, feeling that the blanket, which had been tightly wrapped up, seemed to have a small gap.

“What did you see?” Elaby asked quietly.

“Even if I drew it for you, you probably wouldn’t believe such an animal exists. It wasn’t even as tall as my thigh. Its body looked like an inflated short-legged lizard, and its head resembled a hippo. But the strangest part was that it had a pair of bat-like wings on its back, which were quite small compared to its body, possibly just for decoration—but still, they were wings.”

“Does such an animal really exist?”

“I found it very peculiar too. It was tightly bound by a large coil of wild vines. As soon as it saw me, it started yelling, ‘What are you standing there looking at? Can’t you see I’m trapped? If you have any bit of compassion, come and rescue me!'”

“Of course, I didn’t go over immediately. I had never seen such a strange animal before, so I asked it, ‘What are you?’ It got very angry and said it was a dragon.”

Elaby: “……” Even in a story, there was no need to describe a dragon in such a bizarre way, making him seriously ponder what kind of creature this could be.

“It not only said it was a dragon but also that its name was Gino.” Charlie’s tone was calm, with little fluctuation, matching the quietness of the night.

“I realized it was still a child, so I cut the vines and freed it. In gratitude, it agreed to lead me out of the forest. You must be wondering, if it knew the forest so well, why did it get trapped by the vines? I was curious about that too, and Gino told me those weren’t ordinary vines. Ordinary vines couldn’t trap a dragon.”

“‘These were enchanted by an evil mage!’ Gino said angrily. ‘There’s a mage living deep in the forest who’s the most spiteful person in the world. If anyone offends him, he goes to great lengths to get back at them—do you have any food? I’m starving.’ To me, its round belly didn’t look like it was starving, but I shared my bread with it. After eating, Gino’s temper improved significantly. As it led me to the forest edge, it told me about the mage. This mage hated contact with humans, so he lived in seclusion, building a tall tower in the forest filled with magical books, and below it, a garden, but not one with roses or lilies—he grew all kinds of precious herbs.”

Elaby listened intently. “How does he live alone in the forest? People need clothes and food, right?”

“Exactly. The mage leaves the forest once or twice a year to shop in nearby towns. Gino accidentally wandered into his tower during one of these outings and accidentally burned a few of his books. After being caught, Gino had to stay in the tower and work for the mage—that’s how Gino put it. But from what I gathered, its work mainly involved watering the herbs and catching bugs, occasionally cleaning the tower stairs. The mage didn’t seem so bad, but Gino, still disgruntled, spoke ill of him a lot. Guess what happened next?”

Elaby was about to speak but saw Charlie gesture for silence.

Both stood up without making a sound. Charlie leaned in to observe and gently pulled the blanket down a bit.

Technically, this was against the rules, but Elaby was still absorbed in the story, and—he held his breath as Oscar very slowly pulled the blanket down.

Even with the magical items regulating the temperature, being wrapped so tightly would still be hot. Arnie’s light blond hair was damp with sweat. He was lying on his side, still clutching the blanket tightly, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was even.

He had fallen asleep.

Charlie couldn’t help but smile silently. To be honest, Dwight had always had a masculine air with a somewhat stiff temper due to his noble upbringing. While Charlie knew everyone had a childhood, seeing it in person was still marvelously intriguing.

The child curled up on the bed was round all over, with his cheeks slightly puffed from being pressed. His eyelashes and eyebrows were light but beautifully shaped. Perhaps due to crying and having a stuffy nose, his mouth was open, creating an adorable shape just like his cheeks.

The only similarity to his adult self was the slightly furrowed brows, even in sleep.

Such an expression was common on adults but looked a bit out of place on a five-year-old. Charlie pulled the blanket up to Arnie’s neck and glanced at Elaby.

Elaby instinctively said, “Young Master Arnie had a bad night tonight. Thank you.”

Charlie blinked. This was the first time someone told him Dwight’s childhood name—no one had mentioned the names of the noble children who hired them during the safety checks he and the birdkeeper underwent earlier.

The name suited his younger self well, but thinking of the Duke a few days ago, who had given him the cold shoulder, was amusing.

Arnie, deep in sleep, couldn’t hear the conversation about him. He had trouble falling asleep earlier. He thought Priscilla wouldn’t have gotten sick if she didn’t wear those cumbersome clothes and kept her hair long.

But they were always surrounded by people insisting they “behave according to their status”. Priscilla wouldn’t defy such demands. Arnie believed her sickness was caused by these rules but didn’t know how to express this.

The reactions of those around him made him even more unhappy. He had a reason for being upset, unrelated to the attendants or Elaby, and he hadn’t taken it out on anyone. Why were they all so worried, thinking he was causing trouble?

Feeling increasingly aggrieved, Arnie couldn’t help but cry in his sleep, which embarrassed him when noticed. Furious, he resolved not to sleep and refused to talk to anyone, ignoring whoever came to check on him.

If they dared to fetch Priscilla… Arnie planned in his mind, he would throw a tantrum, just as they expected.

But Elaby didn’t fetch Priscilla. He brought in a stranger.

The stranger didn’t put on airs or formally greet him but instead chatted with Elaby.

Curious, Arnie couldn’t help but listen, and the stranger began telling a story—his voice was so pleasant. Arnie grew sleepier, wanting to peek at who it was, but eventually fell asleep without realizing it.

The next morning, as soon as he woke up, he remembered the person who had talked by his bed last night. But when he opened his eyes, he saw only his attendant of three years, Orem.

The person from last night was gone.


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

Charlie’s Book Ch191

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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


Chapter 191

“Elaby, you rascal! You said it wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes—” Brandenburg Knight Alfred approached and patted Elaby on the shoulder. “And yet, you were almost an hour late!”

He glanced at the young man following Elaby, eyeing him with interest.

The young man wore a proper shirt and trousers, was clean-shaven, and only carried a woven holiday suitcase, looking entirely non-threatening, yet not particularly noteworthy either.

Elaby said, “This is Oscar.”

Charlie politely bowed to Alfred. A knight capable of bearing a sword and riding a horse was considered noble, and although Alfred seemed unpretentious, adhering to proper etiquette could avoid many unnecessary troubles.

“I’m Alfred.” The knight, who wasn’t yet thirty and stood nearly seven feet tall, spoke in a deep voice. “Are you another performer Elaby found for the children?”

There was no offense in his words. Elaby had indeed been sent by Miss Priscilla to town to find entertainers for the children. However, Oscar looked—how should one say it—quite refined.

He didn’t resemble a trained acrobat or a slick magician, more like the well-to-do youngest son of a farming or merchant family.

Oscar blinked. He did know a few tricks but wasn’t planning to perform them.

“I’m a novelist,” Charlie said with a smile. “The children enjoy my stories.”

Alfred nodded, finding this explanation reasonable.

“I thought Elaby had snuck off to the bar, but it turns out he was doing real work.” Alfred patted Elaby’s shoulder again.

Elaby gave him a look. “I always take my work seriously.”

He efficiently arranged accommodations for the newcomers. Their luggage was thoroughly checked, and the bird keeper’s noisy birds, always clamorous, added to the racket by occasionally squawking a few words.

The musicians from Brandenburg were unhappy, feeling that associating with these rustic performers lowered their status. However, due to limited tent space, they had to become temporary neighbors despite their reluctance.

Charlie and the birdkeeper, magician, and craftsman got along quite well.

The birdkeeper, Alai, came from a distant land, nearly on the other side of the continent. Traveling so far alone without advanced transportation was almost a miracle. Bird performances were just one of his livelihoods. To Charlie, he seemed more like an adventurer traveling with his friends, except his friends were intelligent birds.

The magician’s hometown was much closer to Lemena. As a child, he had spent a few years as a novice magic apprentice, but due to limited talent, he couldn’t progress further. However, he genuinely loved magic, so he turned to studying magic tricks and gradually developed some skills, gaining modest fame.

Charlie preferred these free spirits over pampered family musicians. They couldn’t meet the Young Master and Miss without permission, but the wealthy Dwight family provided good treatment, and the temporary colleagues each received a small jug of fine wheat beer after dinner.

Their camp was set up on a flat area less than ten miles from the Lake of Sighs, with a small river winding through the meadow and shaded by a grove of trees. Despite the summer heat, it wasn’t too hot outside.

Arnie’s main tent was arranged comfortably, with many magical items to regulate the temperature, making the tent as cool as autumn. The sheets, pillows, curtains, and even the carpet inside the tent were brought from Brandenburg to make it feel like home.

Priscilla’s tent was just a few steps away. Today she had some motion sickness and had spent two hours picking berries with Arnie in the woods. Her face was flushed, and she had gone to bed early.

After dinner, Arnie visited her with the doctor, who said she had a bit of heatstroke. Priscilla’s long, waist-length light blonde hair and layers of lace-embroidered dresses weren’t ideal for cooling down.

Priscilla didn’t think it was a big deal, but Arnie became upset again. His face, which had only recently brightened, now clouded over. Priscilla sat on the bed, talking to him softly and assuring him she’d feel better by morning.

But Arnie’s mood didn’t improve. He brushed off the attendants’ hands, trying to lift him off the bed, and slid down to the floor himself, then stomped away.

The two attendants exchanged glances.

They had been caring for the Young Master for quite some time, and, frankly speaking, this Young Master was different from ordinary children. Often, they knew he was angry but couldn’t figure out why, making it hard to cheer him up.

Arnie didn’t want their comfort.

He understood that his behavior often didn’t meet people’s expectations for a normal child. But he was still young and didn’t understand why he was different or wanted to talk about it with others. In fact, besides his parents, Priscilla, and the steward who had raised him, Arnie didn’t like talking to anyone else.

It’s not that he hated them; he just didn’t like them. He was more interested in things other than people, like the ants on the windowsill, the leaves that changed color with the weather, and even the viscosity of the air in the greenhouse. He could sense many small but real changes, including people’s emotions.

For example, right now, although everyone around him was acting kind and gentle without a single flaw, Arnie could feel that they were having a hard time because of him.

This feeling also made him unhappy.

The melancholy seemed to peak late at night, when everything was quiet. By the time Elaby hurried to Arnie’s tent, it was already past midnight.

“The lights have been out for two hours… It’s been very quiet… We thought he was asleep,” one attendant whispered. “It wasn’t until just now that we felt something was off.”

The Young Master of Brandenburg was far less troublesome asleep than awake. Everyone close to him knew his little habits: if he went out during the day, he would definitely wake up at night to drink water; if he was scolded by a teacher in class, he would sleep restlessly; if he had a nightmare, he would suddenly jerk awake and sit up in bed, dazed until he realized he had been dreaming.

Today, he and Priscilla had played in the small forest for a long time, so the attendants had prepared water and milk early on, but he hadn’t woken up at all. When they gently approached to check on him, they found Arnie curled up in the blanket, with only his forehead visible.

Afraid he might have trouble breathing, an attendant tried to pull the blanket down a bit, revealing a pair of red eyes and water stains on the edge of the blanket.

Arnie was crying. Such a rare occurrence threw the adults into a panic. Normally, they would have called Miss Priscilla, but since she wasn’t feeling well today, they decided to call Elaby first.

Elaby had just finished his bath, still damp, as he sat by the bed and reached out to touch the ball-shaped lump under the blanket, guessing it was Arnie’s shoulder.

“Master Arnie, would you like some water?” Elaby asked a question he himself found clumsy—there was no help for it, though. His own child only cried after causing trouble and getting a spanking, and even then, it was loud wailing, not the delicate silent tears of Arnie.

Arnie, unsurprisingly, remained silent. Elaby guessed he missed home or his mother. At such a young age, who wouldn’t be attached to their mother? Especially since the Duke and Duchess weren’t just at nearby Brandenburg. They were likely almost at the imperial capital by now, which felt very far away to little Arnie.

During the day, he was happy and didn’t think about it, but at night, with his sister sick and himself alone in the tent, he probably felt lonely.

Despite the loneliness, the Young Master wouldn’t let anyone stay with him. To be precise, he only wanted his family. Anyone else who offered to stay with him (including Elaby) was kicked out, with small legs flailing under the blanket, indicating a very clear rejection.

The rejected attendants looked at each other, while the Brandenburg Knights on night duty peeked in from the doorway. Elaby, feeling troubled, waved them away—these warriors were good in battle but useless in comforting a child. Why crowd around now?

The knight on duty happened to be Alfred, a close friend of Elaby’s. Watching Alfred’s continuous winking was enough to give anyone goosebumps. Elaby had no choice but to approach him.

“What are you up to?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“With the new entertainers around, if the Young Master can’t sleep, why not take him out to watch the fireworks?” Alfred suggested.

Elaby punched him. “Fireworks in the middle of the night? The Young Master needs to sleep!”

“But if he can’t sleep—wouldn’t a new distraction help?”

Elaby was about to kick him when he suddenly paused.

“The safety checks are done, right?” he asked.

Alfred immediately realized what Elaby was asking, thinking he had convinced him. He happily rubbed his hands together. “Of course, we finished before dinner. Even those birds were checked and washed. They have no weapons or suspicious magical items.”

Elaby pondered for a moment. “Please wake someone up for me.”

Alfred was delighted. Although he didn’t like the sly magician, he enjoyed the fireworks show that mimicked magical effects. Guard duty on a long night was boring.

But Elaby’s next words shattered his joy.

“The one in the first small tent… Oscar, the young storyteller.”


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

Charlie’s Book Ch190

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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


Chapter 190

The Duke’s daughter and son going out was no easy task.

To cheer up her little brother, Priscilla decided, in just ten minutes, to take him out to play within their territory. Arnie was indeed uplifted by this news, but when he learned that two teachers would accompany them, he became a bit downcast again.

However, he knew Priscilla had put in a lot of effort, so he didn’t complain at all. Normally, when their parents were away, the two children shouldn’t go out alone, but the Brandenburg Knights’ reputation for strength and training was well-known throughout the empire. As long as they didn’t leave Lemena, there was no need to worry about safety. Rather than potential dangers, Priscilla and the castle steward were more concerned that young Arnie might catch a cold from being outside too long.

Therefore, the accompanying personnel had to include knights and doctors, as well as cooks, musicians, and servants. To streamline the team, even Priscilla only brought two maids, who usually took care of her daily needs.

With the Duchess absent, Priscilla found arranging the itinerary alone for the first time a bit strenuous. In the end, the castle steward helped her make some decisions, which took quite a bit of time, causing the original schedule to be pushed back by two days.

Perhaps because of this, by the time they actually set off, Arnie was even more excited than at the beginning. While sitting in the carriage, although he didn’t beam with joy, his little legs hanging over the edge of the seat swung back and forth with the carriage’s rhythm, making Priscilla feel that all of it was worthwhile.

Though it might sound arrogant to say, she truly believed Arnie was the cutest five-year-old in the entire Empire. Even if he weren’t her brother, she would say the same—something the Duke and Duchess Dwight also agreed on. None of the princes and princesses in the imperial capital could compare to Arnie. Even the Duchess occasionally felt that giving birth to him was somewhat of a miracle. Arnie’s skin was as delicate as petals buried in the snow, inheriting his father’s superior bone structure and his mother’s moon-like hair and eye color. Combined, these traits made him extraordinarily exquisite, so much so that when he was expressionless or silent, he looked like a human doll.

Exquisite, but lacking much of a “living” feeling.

The Duke and Duchess were worried about this. When their youngest son wasn’t moving or talking, this characteristic became particularly noticeable. Moreover, his inherently introverted nature meant that, despite being only five, the times he cried or laughed heartily could be counted on one hand.

Even though he showed exceptional talent in his studies, the Duke couldn’t help but worry about his son’s distinctiveness. He didn’t mind if his children weren’t so well-behaved. As a father, he could fulfill any willful request his children had. Unfortunately, each child turned out more reserved than the last. His overflowing paternal love had nowhere to go, making him feel quite lonely.

Priscilla was not at all aware that she, too, was a source of her parents’ concern due to her excessive maturity. When her parents were away, she naturally felt it was her duty to take care of her brother, trying everything possible to make him happy.

But rather than a grand picnic on a patch of grass with musicians playing, Arnie preferred to see something novel—something not found in Brandenburg.

What’s the difference between eating on a blanket with silverware and eating in the castle? Ants would crawl onto the plates! The various invisible bugs in the grass also annoyed Arnie. He and Priscilla both had delicate skin, often getting bitten while their attendants remained unscathed, resulting in numerous bites on their exposed skin. In such hot weather, wearing too much was stifling.

Priscilla was still a child herself. When she found that picnicking on the grass and walking barefoot weren’t as delightful as they appeared in paintings, she felt a bit disheartened, wondering if she had been too hasty.

“Arnie’s arms are full of bites.” Priscilla tilted her head to let the maid apply medicine to her neck. “We need to apply it again at midnight.”

“Flora will keep track of the time,” the maid reassured her. “The Young Master was quite happy today, eating more at night than he usually does at the castle.”

“That’s because he couldn’t eat much in the carriage at noon.” Priscilla twirled her hair with her fingers. “Is that the Lake of Sighs up ahead?”

“It’s still half a day’s journey away. Elaby has already gone ahead, hired some locals to set up tents, and will have them fish—”

She stopped mid-sentence because Priscilla suddenly sat up straight.

“What did you just say?”

“Have them fish… Have the adults fish. Miss Priscilla, you and Young Master Arnie must not handle the fishing rods yourselves.”

“Not that.” Priscilla looked at her. “You mentioned locals.”

“Yes.” The maid was confused by Priscilla’s reaction. “We have limited staff for outings, so we always hire local farmers and craftsmen for tasks like clearing grass and setting up pavilions.”

“We could go to the town for fun,” Priscilla thought for a moment. “Without making a big fuss, just ten people, wandering around. We might come across a circus or something interesting.”

“But beyond the Lake of Sighs is outside Lemena, and the Duke would never allow it,” the maid advised. “You both should be in the city attending classes, waiting for your parents to return before going to the forest villa.”

Priscilla decisively said, “Then we won’t enter the city. Let Elaby and the others go, buy some interesting things, especially new drinks and sweets. If there are snake charmers and magicians, invite them too. We can watch their performances in the tent.”

……

The accompanying poets and singers weren’t very happy about this. In their view, the entertainment along the way should have been their domain. However, to be fair, the two children under ten years old were indeed not very interested in strained singing, especially when the content was often obscure and required effort to decipher the lyrics, which was quite dull.

Elaby was the assistant to the castle steward. Since the steward couldn’t leave Brandenburg easily, he was assigned to accompany them and fulfill all of Priscilla and Arnie’s “reasonable requests”.

Entertaining and amusing the children was considered a reasonable request.

He himself had a child, one year younger than Miss Priscilla, so Elaby had a good idea of what was popular among kids these days. He wandered around nearby towns with four knights in plain clothes, scouting for interesting entertainers. He found a bird keeper with several colorful birds that could perform simple tricks and speak a bit, a magician who specialized in low-difficulty visual tricks but put on an impressive firework show suitable for outdoor performances, and a grass weaver who could craft anything from long grass leaves, charging based on the complexity of the structure.

These people met Miss Priscilla’s requirement for things “not seen in Brandenburg”. The magician might have been a bit of a stretch, considering the Duke’s family had seen the continent’s top pyrotechnician’s work in the imperial capital last New Year’s. However, in such a small place, finding these few entertainers was already quite an achievement.

Elaby didn’t want to delay too long. He politely declined the sheriff’s various attempts to detain him and was about to mount his horse to leave when he suddenly noticed two children, about six or seven years old, laughing and running around a street corner.

He then realized that the number of children he’d seen along the way was unusually low. Although it was currently hot weather, when had active children ever feared the scorching sun or cold wind? He immediately called two knights to escort the bird keeper and the others out of town, while he led his horse in the direction the two children had run.

Not far from the central square, on a street near a juice shop, a large, colorful umbrella had been set up. Under the umbrella, there was a small table with a young man sitting cross-legged behind it, surrounded by children of various ages. The scene was quite spectacular. The children sat on the ground like a cluster of small mushrooms, all facing the man with their faces turned up, hands on their knees, and many with cups between their legs, likely containing products from the juice shop behind them.

Elaby tied up his horse and quietly observed from outside the umbrella. The young man was in his early twenties, with brown hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a top hat even under the umbrella. He was dressed in a matching shirt, with many freckles on his nose and under his eyes. He wasn’t particularly handsome or unattractive, but his eyes were bright, and his expressions were animated. After listening for just two minutes, Elaby understood that he was telling an adventure story about a little chicken that wandered into a kitchen.

The man’s voice was pleasant, his pronunciation perfect, suitable for reciting poetry in a music hall for the nobility. Yet, he was equally fitting for storytelling under the umbrella. In his story, every animal seemed to have a name, and every object could talk: a wise old teapot, worn and patched several times, reminiscing about its glorious days serving tea to young ladies in a gleaming hall, now relegated to boiling water in the kitchen; a malicious old mouse living in the kitchen beams, always giving the little chicken wrong directions, laughing every time it succeeded.

Elaby found every sentence of the story absurd, yet he couldn’t help but want to know how such a ridiculous tale would be explained. When he snapped out of it, the man had already clapped twice, signaling the end of the story and telling the children to go home.

“Alright, the story can’t go on forever,” he said with a smile. “You all should head back now.”

The children, deeply engrossed in the story, loudly complained, but the man was firm, ignoring their pleas as he put away the large umbrella and picked up the cups they had placed on the ground, stacking them into two tall towers to return to the juice shop.

Elaby’s hair was hot from the sun, but he patiently waited until the man had finished tidying up before approaching him.

A couple of boys, reluctant to leave, clung to the man’s legs. Noticing Elaby waiting, the man easily pried the children off and bent down to say something to them before sending them off.

“Hello,” he greeted Elaby, tipping his hat.

Elaby smiled warmly at him. “Your story was wonderful, sir. Please forgive me for staying to listen.”

“It was just to pass the time,” the man replied.

“My name is Elaby, from Brandenburg in Lemena,” Elaby said. “To be honest, I have a sudden invitation for you.”

He saw the man smile back at him.

“My name is Oscar,” Charlie said. He had dyed his hair.

He lowered the sleeves of his shirt and stood up a bit straighter. “I’ve heard of Brandenburg. It’s the residence of the Duke. You must be of high status. Someone like me isn’t worthy of an invitation. Just tell me what you need.”


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

Charlie’s Book Ch189

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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


Chapter 189

The summers at Brandenburg were more comfortable than in most parts of the empire. Duke Dwight didn’t want his young children to travel in such weather, so he decided to leave them at home.

This decision greatly displeased his youngest son. Despite using all the protest methods he knew, Arnie couldn’t change their minds and didn’t show a single smile until the Duke and Duchess departed—though he still hugged his parents and wished them a safe journey.

The Duke, seated in the carriage, signaled to close the door after glancing at his children standing there. Priscilla was always more mature than her peers, which reassured them about their daughter, but Arnie…

“He looks very angry,” he said to his wife. “Poor thing.”

The Duchess replied, “It was sudden. It would have been better if Arnie had a few days to accept it. But mainly, it’s because your promise to take him to pick a pony had to be postponed.”

“Not because he hates leaving his mother?”

“Don’t let Arnie hear you say that.” The Duchess gently patted her husband. “He’s trying hard.”

Arnie was five this year. For children of any class, this was still an age where they could rightfully be coddled in their mother’s arms. Although Arnie depended on his mother, he was unusually self-disciplined and always referred to the Duchess as “Mother” when others were present. This was the correct etiquette, but the Duke and Duchess weren’t the type to strictly enforce it.

The Duke actually hoped his son would be livelier and more willful. Arnie was still young and didn’t need to be so serious.

It made him feel lonely.

“He has my father’s temperament,” the Duke sighed. “But he’s so adorable.”

Like this time, Arnie could have thrown a tantrum, crying and rolling on the floor, clinging to his legs to stop him from boarding the carriage, causing a commotion that would require lots of comforting and promises of many toys to calm him down. But none of these anticipated scenes occurred.

His youngest son first expressed his desire for them not to leave in an adult manner. When they rebutted his points one by one, the most willful protest he could think of was to skip his lessons.

The Duchess was a bit worried too. “Compared to other children his age, Arnie is too reserved. Is it because he only has a quiet sister and no brother to play with?”

But it was too late to plan for a brother now.

“Maybe there are too few children in the castle, and his teachers are all calm adults,” Duke Dwight mused, looking at the scenery outside the window.

“When we return, we should select a few children to be his companions and replace some of his teachers with younger ones—I’ll discuss this with His Majesty.” Priscilla and Arnie’s teachers came from the capital, selected to the same standards as those for the princes and princesses, a gesture of goodwill from the Emperor. But compared to the Duke’s two children, the similarly aged princes were as active as monkeys.

The Duke wished his children were as lively. His daughter was always quiet and gentle, and when Arnie was born, he thought he finally had a little monkey. But his son grew more like his grandfather, which was worrying.

The couple discussed for a long time but made no progress on how to free their children’s nature. Sunlight streamed through the window, making the carriage too bright. The Duchess reached to draw the curtains but paused when she saw the scene outside.

She saw groups of people standing not far from the road, from farm women with water jars on their heads to weary travelers. She turned to her husband and whispered a few words. Duke Dwight rang a bell, instructing the convoy to switch from two abreast to single file to avoid making the people move aside.

“Don’t make everyone suffer in the sun because of us,” the Duke instructed.

He also specifically ordered the milk from the supply cart to be given to the people standing by the ditches and bushes due to the convoy.

“There’s nothing kinder than this.” Those who received the milk were especially grateful.

Although milk wasn’t worth much and the milk in the noble convoy’s reserves would be thrown out by nightfall, the gesture was very rare.

“That’s coming from the direction of Lemena,” said an older person confidently. “It must be the Dwight family’s Lord or Lady.”

Charlie, who was also squeezed off the road due to traffic control, received a small cup of milk and handed it to a child beside him. Lifting his cloak, he looked ahead just in time to see the last carriage disappear at the end of the road.

He couldn’t make out the family crest on the carriage, but the knights on either side, even in armor, exuded an extraordinary air, suggesting they were the previous generation’s knights.

With such a large convoy, if the passengers weren’t the Duke, they had to be direct relatives, like the Duke’s daughter or… the heir.

Would little Dwight be in the carriage?

Charlie lowered his cloak hood and rejoined the road with everyone. They all had to continue their journey.

He did plan to visit Lemena, but before that, he wanted to make a stop somewhere else.

……

The gatekeeper Atto was sitting in his little hut playing a dice game. His dog lazily lay at the door, guarding a large copper basin placed on a washstand beside the gate. If any new faces came in without placing a copper coin in the basin or dared to steal money from it, the dog would bark ferociously, causing Atto to rush out with his fire poker.

The townspeople often joked that his dog was the real gatekeeper.

“Hello, Rabbi,” Charlie cheerfully greeted the guard dog, only to be barked at mercilessly.

Atto immediately threw down his dice and ran out, asking aggressively, “Who are you?!”

Charlie raised his hands. “I’m from Butisnier and want to buy herbs from Mrs. Robert.”

He accurately named a local resident, and Mrs. Robert’s herbs were indeed well known. Atto suspiciously eyed this cloaked man in the hot weather. “Have you paid?”

Charlie then remembered the fee imposed by the miserly sheriff for entering the town. Originally, with Maplewood’s population and size, it didn’t qualify for such fees, but the sheriff, to amass wealth, boasted about expanding Maplewood into a city, aligning its rules with those of a larger city.

However, the only alignment was in collecting fees.

“I didn’t know the rules,” Charlie quickly said, tossing two copper coins into the basin with a clear clink.

Only then did Atto put down his poker and ignore Charlie.

Charlie had lived in Maplewood for several years. Even though it was getting dark, he had no trouble finding his way. But when he arrived at his destination, he found a dilapidated old house.

The small garden in front of 22 Paulownia Street was overgrown with weeds, the windows and doors were covered in cobwebs, and several places on the roof were broken, allowing wind and rain to pour in. Over time, the attic was covered in moss and mold.

He took out his pocket watch. It was seven in the evening. The streetlights hadn’t come on yet, but the sun had set, and most people were at home finishing dinner. He quickly walked through the small garden, went to the back door of 22, and found it locked. However, he opened it with a straightened wire.

Once he stepped onto the kitchen floor, Charlie realized how much he missed this house. He casually hung his cloak on a dusty hat rack and took out his long pipe to start smoking.

The house originally belonged to an old lady named Heenan. She and her husband had no children, so after her death, there was no one to inherit this “legacy”, and it had been vacant for a long time. When Charlie and Columbus bought the house, they found many well-preserved old pieces of furniture in the basement, along with Heenan’s letters and cooking notes. They easily pieced together an image of a kind, life-loving old lady from these relics and renovated 22 while maintaining its original appearance, then opened a shop and did business.

That was until a few years later, when the pampered young Duke braved the snowstorm to come late at night.

How strange it was that so much had happened in just half a year since that day. He had made many new friends and lost old ones.

Charlie didn’t light a lamp but slept on the floor with his clothes on. He didn’t sleep well, perhaps because he was back at 22 Paulownia Street. He always thought he heard the voice of the little tin soldier calling his name, full of energy and very cheerful.

“Charlie! We need a mailbox! Every house on the street has one!”

“Charlie! Why are you using such strange stuff to paint the weathervane? Can it ward off witches?”

“Charlie! Charlie! There’s a guest! Charlie!”

Charlie abruptly opened his eyes, instinctively wanting to stand up from behind the counter, only to realize the next second that he was lying on the floor.

Unknowingly, he had slept for several hours, and it was almost dawn.

Thirteen years ago, Elena hadn’t even started school, let alone become a witch. The little tin soldier, now part of the inheritance Elena inherited, should still be dazed, wandering around the garden.

Charlie felt much better. He had found the second benefit of returning to thirteen years ago: his old partner Columbus was still alive.

He had no intention of interfering with history, but even if he couldn’t meet Columbus in person, knowing he was still living carefree somewhere made Charlie immensely happy.

This joy lasted a long time. He exchanged a pair of beautiful cufflinks in the town for some money. Because they had rare gemstones, the eloquent Charlie quoted a high price, which was actually accepted.

In fact, he had bought them on his way from Mokwen to White Bridge. Yellow gemstones of this color were a specialty of a small kingdom along the way, and the price was reasonable at the time. But in Pennigra, these gems from a distant continent were worth much more.

He used this money to rent a room at an inn, bought a good-quality travel case, two shirts, a summer coat, two pairs of silk trousers, two sets of underwear, and a silk top hat.

When Charlie was fully refreshed, he looked like a handsome gentleman again. Even though he deliberately avoided the Tree Hole Inn (at this time, Mona was just a girl from the countryside helping out), he still attracted a lot of female attention.

Even so, Charlie didn’t wear his cloak again, partly because he wouldn’t stay long and partly because when he returned to Maplewood a few years later, he was a rabbit-headed man, making it highly unlikely anyone would recognize him as the traveler who had briefly visited years before.

He just enjoyed the inn’s breakfast, the sunshine on the street, and the sight of familiar people busy with their lives, greeting them all in his mind.

Most people looked much younger than he remembered. The children running around the street would become young men able to work and earn money in a few years, though they were now just chatting loudly out of boredom.

“Did you hear?” one boy said. “About the haunting!”

“Don’t be so loud—the adults don’t allow us to talk about it.”

“But many people have seen it. At 22 Paulownia Street…”

Charlie, who was reading the notice board, perked up at the familiar address.

“My uncle saw it too,” a child said mysteriously. “The house has been empty for a long time, but last night, a ghost was wandering inside!”

There was a collective gasp from the children.

Charlie was stunned. He had indeed spent the night at 22 Paulownia Street, but how did he become a ghost?

“The ghost was carrying a candlestick while walking, no, floating.”

“He saw candlelight!”

“Flickering on and off, very scary.”

…That was probably because he was smoking. Charlie, finding it both funny and exasperating, finally understood why the house price was so low when he and Columbus bought it.

While he was recalling how many rooms he had walked through with his pipe last night, the town’s fat clerk came riding a donkey, nailed a notice to the bulletin board with a few loud bangs, and then loudly read to the crowd that had gathered to watch.

“From today until sunset three days later, no fishing, drawing water, or any other activities are allowed by the Lake of Sighs because the Young Master and Miss of Duke Dwight’s family want to play there! Idlers are not allowed to approach!”


The author has something to say:

After a long period of tension, let’s have some relaxing slice-of-life (?) scenes.


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

Charlie’s Book Ch188

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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


Chapter 188

Brother William was the only literate person in the village and, naturally, the sole owner of all the nearby books. He had partitioned a very small study next to the confessional for his daily reading and writing. Most of the books there were brought as luggage when he was assigned to Pine Leaf Village.

Although life in the countryside provided enough to eat and wear, saving money to buy many books was unrealistic. Despite the Empire’s early attempts to break the cultural monopoly caused by class differences and establish many public schools with symbolic tuition fees, most farmers still found the associated costs burdensome. The main reason was the lack of affordable books and stationery. Despite Brother William’s efforts, his collection amounted to only about twenty books.

This was already considered remarkable wealth in Pine Leaf Village.

One of these books was a roughly bound miscellany, containing short essays, travelogs, and poems by unknown writers. Among these, there were mentions of a dreamlike paradise on another continent called White Bridge.

Brother William, very intrigued, asked Charlie to tell him more about the rare treasures at the world-famous auction. Were the attendees mostly nobles and wealthy merchants, who spent money lavishly, drinking wine from crystal glasses on large ships that could fill a small river?

Charlie truthfully spoke, as he had indeed been to White Bridge and had just come from there, though his method of travel was somewhat confusing.

Eager to understand his current situation, he described the scenery of White Bridge while feigning sentimentality, wishing that Pennigra could build a White Bridge-like place.

“That’s impossible,” Brother William said straightforwardly, not sensing Charlie’s probing. “The Empire would not allow such a lawless and uncontrolled area to exist, for the dignity of His Majesty the Emperor—” He cut himself off in time. “In any case, it’s impossible.”

“His Majesty has his considerations,” Charlie agreed. “But I believe if he visited White Bridge, he might change his mind.”

“That’s even more impossible than building a White Bridge in the imperial capital,” William laughed heartily. “Our emperor has always ignored the war-torn Doran, and thus forbade his princes from crossing borders. Even the most rebellious Fifth Prince has only ventured to the tundra, certainly never leaving the continent.”

The Fifth Prince.

Charlie took a sip of hot tea. The Fifth Prince of the Modicon Empire had been crowned Crown Prince at twenty-five—this had happened a year before the Duke had driven his carriage past the Lake of Sighs to 22 Paulownia Street in Maplewood. Since then, the common people had changed their address for him to Crown Prince.

Did Brother William still call him “Fifth Prince” because he wasn’t yet twenty-five?

The monk didn’t notice Charlie’s change in mood and continued boldly, “But if the Fifth Prince inherits the Empire, further opening up is very likely. He has always been brave and resourceful and enjoys challenges.”

“Inheriting the empire… By the way, how old is the Fifth Prince this year?” Charlie asked casually.

“Thirteen…fourteen?” Brother William thought for a moment. “I’m not sure about his birth month.”

Charlie laughed hollowly, feeling his laughter was very fake.

Because he couldn’t actually laugh.

Because Fifth Prince Dillon was the same age as him, born two months earlier—he should be twenty-six by now.

Thirteen?

Thirteen???

He instinctively touched his chest pocket, feeling the hard outline of a ring through the fabric. His thoughts were as hazy as the candlelight on the table.

Though he couldn’t remember when Dwight had secretly slipped the ring to him, this successful item that turned his face human again was the only proof that Charlie wasn’t too far from Dwight, Louis, and the others. But Brother William’s words shook his confidence.

He stared at Brother William through the candlelight. William looked spirited, relaxed, genuinely curious, and respectful of Charlie, a well-traveled stranger. Most importantly, he had very honest eyes.

He wasn’t lying.

A sleepless Charlie bade farewell to Brother William, hitching a ride to the city on a windfall ox cart for the price of a box of cigarettes, including the silver cigarette case. The cart was loaded with roughly milled flour and bags of apples, which Old John said were regularly sold to taverns in the city.

There was no passenger seat, so Charlie arranged the flour bags into a makeshift sofa and lay on them, lost in thought. Although Dwight often said he was “dissolute”, Charlie actually had good manners, not looking too disheveled, even on the flour bags.

In extreme situations, people often develop strange, hopeful thoughts. Charlie decided to first confirm the current date in the city before making plans. If time had really been thrown off by thirteen years due to Khalif’s magic—Charlie had thought all night and felt it wasn’t unacceptable.

Better than fifty or a hundred years.

Thirteen years ago, he was thirteen, happily showing off at school, oblivious to humility. Elena hadn’t enrolled yet. It was probably the most carefree time of his life. This memory was always pleasant, which might be why Charlie didn’t mind “thirteen years ago”.

He pulled an apple from a loosely tied bag and played with it. The ox cart moved faster than he expected. They left at dawn, stopped for less than twenty minutes to eat midway, and saw the city’s outline just after sunset.

Pennigra’s cities lacked the common defensive structures of Doran. The city gates’ checks weren’t strict either. Inside, the carter asked if he had a place to stay, offering to recommend a reasonably priced inn.

“But a gentleman like you might not be used to our places,” the middle-aged carter said, embarrassed, with the same kind smile as Brother William. “Just four coppers a night, a shared straw bed that might have fleas, and you can’t sleep undressed.”

Charlie declined politely, strolling down the main street at sunset. Cities with populations over 5,000 in the Empire all had a council hall, usually near the public square, which was also the best place for affordable public information exchange.

He quickly found the daily newspaper and other miscellaneous trade information on the bulletin board. The date shattered his last illusion.

Fine. Charlie stood there, calmly thinking: Isn’t this what Khalif—and most people—dream of? Going back in time.

But Khalif craved time reversal due to his aging and waning power, while thirteen years later was Charlie’s prime, wealthy and handsome, with an even wealthier and more handsome boyfriend. Yet, in an instant…

Boyfriend?

Charlie reflexively wanted to wiggle his ears but couldn’t. So, he settled for touching his earlobe.

Thirteen years ago, Dwight was only five.

Charlie had once asked the Knights about Dwight before he became “Dwight”, but their cautious master had forbidden it. He still didn’t know Dwight’s original name.

He was very interested.

……

At the same time.

A girl with long, light blonde hair slipped through the rose wall, standing on the grass and looking around. The garden was empty in the sunset, and the air carried a sweet scent, signaling that tonight’s honey buns were ready.

The girl wore a beautiful blue dress, now speckled with bits of grass. She casually brushed them off and walked towards the wavy-shaped hedges, where she indeed found her brother.

“I knew you’d be here, Arnie.” The girl squatted down, meeting the eyes of the little boy sitting cross-legged on the ground. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

Her younger brother looked more angry than sad. Probably because he had been outside for too long, his cheeks were sunburned, making his tense face look not fierce but rather… cute.

“Dinner time is here,” the girl continued to coax him. “Father and mother are looking for you—let’s go back.”

“No,” the little boy said firmly.

“Oh dear, that won’t do.” The girl pretended to fret. “What should I do then? I can only go back and tell mother that Arnie is determined not to come home tonight. He wants to sleep under the hedges. But mother will surely worry about you. What if it gets dark? There are snakes and owls at night.”

At the mention of snakes and owls, the boy’s expression changed slightly, though he thought his sister hadn’t noticed.

“I’ll tell her Arnie has grown up and can sleep alone at night. What’s the big deal about staying outdoors for a night or two? But they’re leaving tomorrow, and how sad they’ll be if they can’t see their youngest son,” the girl said. “A journey without a goodbye kiss from their son would be very unpleasant.”

“Then they shouldn’t go,” Arnie quickly said.

The girl smiled and patted her brother’s head.

“It’s not just the Duke and Duchess’s duty, Arnie,” she said softly. “If one day in the future I am far away and need you, would you come to find me?”

Arnie looked a bit confused. “Why would you be far away?” Her room was clearly in the castle.

He was still too young, assuming that the family would naturally always be together. The girl didn’t explain further, just asked him, “If I need you, will you come find me?”

Arnie nodded.

“Father treats his brothers the same way. His Majesty the Emperor needs him, so he will rush there,” the girl said. “Do you understand?”

He almost understood, but he was still unhappy. The little boy got up from the ground and reached out to grab his sister.

Priscilla held his hand and stood up, and the siblings walked slowly towards the castle. A knight, seeing their movement, followed them at a distance.

No one would leave the castle heir outside alone for an entire afternoon, but apart from the Duke and Duchess and Miss Priscilla, no one could persuade this little boy, who was more temperamental than his size.

“Will you hug mother later?” Priscilla reminded her brother on the way. “She knows you’re upset, so she allowed you to skip lessons, but don’t be too willful.”

Arnie took big steps to keep up with his sister, ignoring her advice, and suddenly blurted out, “If you call me loudly, I will come find you.”

The girl didn’t react immediately and stopped to look down. Her little brother was also looking up at her, very seriously. “No matter how far, I will come find you, Priscilla.”


The author has something to say:

Dwight is the name passed down through generations of Dukes, without other surnames or names, distinguished by generations in the family tree.

However, before becoming a Duke, each had their own name.


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

Charlie’s Book Ch187

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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


Chapter 187

The midsummer sunlight was fragmented by the dense foliage, no longer possessing the ability to scorch. However, the soft sheepskin boots were ill-suited to the forest full of stones, dead leaves, and dirt, becoming unrecognizable. Charlie, carrying a few red and green wild apples in his coat, walked slowly along the riverbank.

Although the forest showed little sign of human activity, he saw some interesting things trapped by a dam (likely built by beavers) in the river, including a tattered large boot, a handle of something that could be an ax or a sickle, and a faded lady’s sunhat.

He then walked upstream for about three hours until the trees became less dense, and some crooked paths appeared in the forest. Charlie remained determined, following the river until the sunlight weakened, when he finally saw a few raised bottoms.

Judging by their size, they were three children, busy with something near the riverbank. They were dressed in linen clothes patched with various colors but still sturdy overall.

As Charlie approached, he saw they were having a picnic. The children, around ten years old, had arranged stones in a circle with some skewered, half-charred fish cooking over it, giving off a fragrant smell.

He stood still, keeping some distance from the children, and called out, “Hey!”

A red-haired child turned his head, scrutinizing Charlie for a while before suspiciously standing up with his companions. They noted his well-dressed appearance and fair skin, making them wary, thinking he might be someone important they couldn’t afford to offend.

If it were younger children from their village, they would have run away at the sight of such a distinguished-looking man. However, since he was alone and at a distance, the boys, though pushing each other, didn’t run away. Perhaps they were also reluctant to leave their almost-cooked fish.

“Sir, what do you want?” the red-haired boy, who seemed to be the leader, asked courageously.

“I have something to ask you.” Charlie rummaged in his pocket and took out a few trinkets. He put back a tin box of mints and left a small, empty glass bottle in his palm. “As a reward, I’ll give you this.”

Glass items were rare for farm children, so Charlie easily won their trust and even got invited to join their fish meal.

“This is Lebina Town. There are five villages. Our village—Pine Leaf Village—is closest to the forest.” The red-haired boy looked at the glass bottle through the sunlight, cherishing its beautiful blue patterns and intricate cap. It looked quite exquisite and would surely fetch a high price.

“My horse got scared and ran off. I need a place to stay temporarily.” Charlie waited until they finished their three fish before following the locals towards the village. “Does your village have a church or an inn?”

“The town has an inn with beds in every room,” a freckled boy eagerly replied, possibly eyeing the glass bottle, showing enthusiasm towards Charlie. “The town isn’t far—only an hour’s walk.”

Charlie took a moment to observe the children’s clothing. Though their lives might be somewhat frugal, they seemed to be managing fine. None of their clothes had holes, their cheeks were still full, and they appeared to be grilling fish outdoors more as a treat than out of necessity. Most importantly, in truly poor families, ten-year-olds would be considered part of the workforce and wouldn’t be allowed to play during the day like this.

“We might not make it before dark,” he stated pragmatically as the sun began to set.

The children nodded and then offered suggestions. “You can go to the church. The monks won’t turn away someone in need.”

“Or you could go to Old John’s. That drunk will let you use his house if you pay him.”

Charlie smiled slightly, pretending not to notice their awkward transition. He didn’t have much money on him, but he had enough valuable trinkets to get by for now. What he urgently wanted to know was where exactly he was. The continent was vast, and no matter how well-read he was, it was impossible to remember the name of every small town.

These children seemed to have never attended school, so they probably didn’t know much about calendars or geography. However, monks were always assigned by the kingdom, so perhaps he could find some clues at a church. In any case, he looked like a “normal person” now, and there was no reason for the monks to turn him away.

He kept the brass ring in the safest pocket, close to his body. By the river, he tried to use it and found that its function hadn’t disappeared—within two hours, his rabbit head had gradually turned back into a human head, indicating that Elena had indeed been drained of more magic by the castle, weakening the curse.

But he couldn’t conclude that he was still in the same world, just in a different location. Khalif’s magic had undoubtedly failed, but failure didn’t mean it was ineffective. The unpredictable outcomes of magical chaos were hard to foresee, and returning to Khalif’s basement would be extremely difficult. Charlie doubted that the strange door would remain suspended in mid-air above the river, waiting for him.

The red-haired boy actually wanted to suggest that the wealthy gentleman stay at his house, but he didn’t dare make such a decision without the adults’ permission. Just as he was figuring out how to speak up, a small figure came running down the path ahead, shouting at him while running, “Archie! Archie!”

Charlie watched as a little girl, around five or six years old, ran towards them barefoot, her feet thudding on the stone-paved road, her cheeks rosy.

Archie immediately forgot his plans and bent down to catch his sister, who couldn’t stop in time. “Why are you here?”

“You didn’t go with Dad to haul wood, and Mom is very angry,” the girl said loudly. “She sent me to find you.” She held her brother’s hand and curiously looked at Charlie. “Who is this?”

“A guest,” Archie said in a grown-up manner. “See, I wasn’t slacking off on purpose. I was welcoming a guest.”

The little girl didn’t quite understand what a guest was and giggled. Charlie smiled at her too, the sibling duo reminding him of Columbus.

Spending a night in the village didn’t seem like a bad idea, he thought.

With or without a rabbit head, Charlie was always good at winning over children. By the time they reached the village, everyone enthusiastically invited him to their homes. However, Charlie knew it was already dinner time, and showing up unannounced might disrupt the housewives’ carefully planned meals, so he decided to head to the church as they directed.

The village was larger than he had expected, and the villagers were simple and honest. Although they didn’t recognize Charlie’s unfamiliar face, most passersby didn’t show any signs of caution, but rather curious looks.

The church was built just behind the mill. An old man was bending down to pick up wheat that had fallen into the crevices of the stone steps. Men, smelling of sweat from their work, hurried home, and occasionally, the sound of women calling their children back home could be heard, sometimes mixed with a few shouts, scolding them for dirtying their clothes again.

Two women wearing aprons came out of the church, carrying empty baskets on their arms. They were startled upon seeing Charlie and somewhat awkwardly made way for him.

These were probably villagers bringing food to the monks. Charlie instinctively wanted to tip his hat to them, only to realize that he had long lost his top hat. He had to settle for a smile as they passed by each other.

He didn’t know that this brief encounter would lead to gossip spreading throughout the village by tonight, with talk of “a handsome man visiting the village”. In a place like this, Charlie’s true appearance wasn’t necessarily more low-profile than his rabbit head.

The church was built of stone and wasn’t very large. The main door was usually unlocked. Charlie walked through the empty hall and kept going until he found a monk repairing the stables at the far end.

This monk, who had his robe hitched up for the heavy work, looked to be around thirty years old, of medium build, with thinning hair but reasonably well-defined features. As Charlie approached, the monk was hammering in the last nail. When he looked up and saw Charlie, he was so startled that he nearly hammered his own fingers.

“Hello,” Charlie greeted him.

“Hello,” the monk replied, a bit puzzled, as he climbed down from a short ladder. “Who are you?”

“A lost traveler,” Charlie said honestly. “My name is Charlie. Archie and Boppy found me by the river and kindly brought me here.”

His shirt was wrinkled, his shoes muddy, and he looked tired. The kind monk quickly asked, “What happened?”

“My horse panicked,” Charlie explained naturally. “It got spooked and ran aimlessly for half a day. It’s a miracle I didn’t break my neck, but I have no idea where that beast has taken me.”

“This is Lebina Town. You wouldn’t happen to be from Paulownia City, would you? That’s the nearest city from here.” The monk led him into the hall and poured him a full cup of milk. “You must be exhausted. That’s quite an ordeal.”

Charlie noticed a milk jug and a long loaf of bread placed in the hall, guessing it was brought by the two women earlier. The monk seemed used to the villagers’ occasional food donations, as he gulped down half a cup of milk himself.

“My name is William. If you have nowhere else to go, you can spend the night here,” the monk said after finishing his milk. “Though the room is small, the straw is clean, and it’s better than sleeping outside.”

Charlie blinked, finding this monk somewhat interesting. He seemed to have no social skills, the type that Duke Dwight would find impossible to deal with—using the biting sarcasm of a noble on someone like this would be like playing a lute to a cow*.

*(对牛弹琴) Idiom referring to trying to explain something complex or sophisticated to someone who’s unable to understand it. 

A bit naive, he didn’t doubt the words of strangers, had no airs, got along well with the villagers, repaired the stables himself, kind but not obsequious. Although Charlie’s attire clearly distinguished him from the common folk, his naturally familiar tone was surely no different from how he usually spoke to the villagers.

This sincere monk not only showed him the guest room before dark but also invited him to dinner. Although it was just bread and smoked fish, it was more than enough to fill his stomach.

Charlie sat in the small kitchen with an oil lamp on the table. The bread was completely eaten, and William was boiling water to make tea.

During their meal, Charlie and William had already bonded like brothers. Propping his chin with one hand, Charlie casually asked, “Tell me, William. How far is Paulownia City from Pine Leaf Village?”

William thought for a moment. “Riding a horse takes most of the day, and by cart, at least a day and a half.”

Charlie had never heard of Paulownia City either. Continuing in a conversational tone, he said, “That’s not too far. I once traveled by ship from the Kingdom of Mokwen to White Bridge—”

“White Bridge?” William turned back, looking puzzled. “Isn’t that on the continent of Doran?”

Charlie put down his hand and sat up straight.

“You’ve been to another continent. That’s amazing,” William said sincerely. “You must be a traveler, Charlie. Unlike me, I’ve never even left Pennigra, let alone visited the imperial capital.”


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

Charlie’s Book Ch186

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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


Chapter 186

Charlie’s experience with “pain” was actually quite limited.

In his more than twenty years of life, he couldn’t say he had never been injured, but most incidents occurred under the strict surveillance of Lord Fahim in Fortuna City. Fahim considered their blood to be the ultimate taboo. There was an instance when a servant was severely reprimanded because he briefly looked away, and restless Charlie climbed a tree and scraped his palm. That very day, several caretakers were replaced.

During their exploratory childhood phase, it was nearly impossible to avoid bumps and scrapes, but the domineering Fahim managed to minimize any incidents involving blood. When Louis was prone to nosebleeds before the age of five, adults were even assigned to sleep with them to prevent any bleeding during sleep.

This upbringing led the brothers to view injuries and bleeding as more severe than death for a time.

However, this didn’t reduce their sensitivity to pain. After Charlie’s body instinctively stiffened for a moment, the pain immediately surged from his spine to the back of his head. His arm dropped, and the weakened Prima collapsed against him, rolling out of the magical array’s range as he moved his foot.

Seeing that his sword strike missed, Khalif intended to pull back, but Charlie lifted his leg and kicked. Although his brain registered the kick, his heavy body couldn’t keep up with his consciousness, causing him to stumble back two steps. Charlie then used his back to push open the door. By this time, Louis had arrived and reached out to grab him.

Charlie’s large, round rabbit eyes looked at Louis and suddenly grinned. Louis pressed his lips tightly together, stubbornly holding out his hand—but Charlie had no intention of responding. He didn’t even look back to see what was inside the door. He maintained his position, facing Louis, as he backed into the door.

“No!” Khalif roared, lunging forward, but Louis slammed into him. Both of them groaned from their injuries. Khalif refused to give up and reached for the door, but it closed firmly in front of him, the handle clicking back into place with a clear sound.

Sven fared slightly better than Khalif. He panted heavily, trying to shake off Nieman, but a mage’s physical strength was always a weakness. His helper, Xanye, had her neck snapped by Urch in the white mist, collapsing limply against the wall.

“Prima, right, Prima.” Khalif gasped heavily, turning to find his daughter, whom he had momentarily forgotten. He wanted to pull her up, but his body was already at its limit. Urch attempted to step forward but was blocked by McMullan.

McMullan and Vasilia had somehow ceased fighting. Urch looked surprised at McMullan, who was ready to fight.

“What are you doing?” Urch asked in confusion, looking at McMullan, then at Nieman, who had Sven under control.

“Don’t you understand yet?” McMullan said calmly, his gaze falling behind Urch, where Louis stood in front of Prima, blocking Khalif’s desperate gaze at her.

“It’s useless, Khalif,” Sven rasped. “You know each door can only be used once, hahahaha!”

His laugh was particularly unpleasant. Nieman frowned, took off his coat with one hand, and rolled it up to cover Sven’s face, muffling his laughter.

Khalif glared at Louis with hatred, but his sword had been taken by the rabbit-headed man. If he were barehanded—

Louis, unlike him, had no such concerns. Before Khalif could decide, Louis swung a punch at his face. Khalif felt as if a heavy hammer had struck his head, making the world spin as he collapsed, vomiting.

Seeing the fight, Urch seemed to remember something, his face darkening as he asked McMullan, “Is this your decision?”

McMullan didn’t answer. Instead, he drew a short, curved knife, revealing a weapon for the first time that night. During the encounters with Khalif and Vasilia, he had only used his fists—this was his way of respecting and…

…mourning his former comrade.

……

Charlie thought Khalif and Xanye’s “door” was, in some ways, a cunning, even sentient creation—perhaps because each door indeed absorbed a person.

However, he had never felt the doors’ temptation. Unlike Prima’s description of the light and whispers from the door cracks on the stairs, he had never encountered such things. Even now, having fully entered the door, it was pitch black inside, with no visibility of the interior.

Logically, being the first person to enter this new door, he should be the master of this space. The fact that neither Louis nor Khalif followed him confirmed this: only he could use this door.

Charlie clutched his wound and tried to brighten the space through meditation, verbal commands, and magical probing, but all efforts failed.

Perhaps it was because this was a semi-finished or failed product? The girl from the Lion family had activated the magic but didn’t complete it. Prima had added power, but it was interrupted after a portion was absorbed. Charlie thought that whatever this space behind the door was, it certainly wasn’t what Khalif had been expecting.

But that didn’t matter. He cautiously waited for a moment after entering, confirming that the spatial distortion he had sensed was suppressed. This was enough. Time and space were interconnected, and this door blocked the outside world. Even if the Lamp Bearers received some signal, it would have been fleeting and bewildering.

Charlie preferred to believe that those guys would think it was just false information, much like the fake Holy Grail created by Lestrop.

He sat down on the ground, took out various pills from his pocket, chewed and swallowed a handful as if they were beans, and then gritted his teeth as he pulled out Khalif’s short sword.

Even someone as composed as the rabbit-headed shopkeeper couldn’t help but curl up in pain on the ground from the act. He hadn’t taken any anesthetics because he needed to stay alert without any help around.

He couldn’t afford to roll around in pain for too long either. To prevent accidental injury, he always carried a fast-acting hemostatic agent—a sticky herbal paste that worked like strong glue to seal the wound.

Khalif’s sword also had some of his blood on it (this was why he didn’t let Khalif pull it out earlier). In the dark, Charlie meticulously wiped the sword several times with a handkerchief, then folded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket.

Burning it would be the safest option, but it seemed that magic couldn’t be used inside the “door,” and he didn’t have a fire starter, so he had to keep the blood-stained items on him for now.

Without fire, there was no light. Charlie lay on the ground for a while until his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, but he still couldn’t tell where he was. Finally, he resorted to feeling around with his hands.

The floor beneath him was soft. Due to the pain, he didn’t pay much attention and initially thought it was carpet. But touching it now, it felt like extremely soft grass—like the freshest, tenderest spring grass that even a baby could sit on without getting pricked.

How could there be grass indoors? Or did this door create a simulated outdoor environment? Charlie sat up on his knees and slowly explored the area bit by bit. The walls were rough, with some splinters and a wooden smell, occasionally encountering a snail that would fall off the wall when touched. The ceiling was quite high, beyond his reach even with arms extended. The walls were curved, and if there were a layer of fallen leaves underfoot, he would think he was in a bear’s den.

But bear dens certainly didn’t have doors.

Eventually, he felt a familiar door frame and panel on the wall, without a glowing magical array but with a small door handle.

Charlie didn’t think much and placed his hand on it. He had a premonition that even if he opened the door, the outside would likely not be Khalif’s damp basement.

Even if it was, he had already stopped the bleeding, and as long as he burned all his blood-stained clothes immediately, there would be no problem.

Shiloh and Eugene always mistakenly thought the rabbit-headed shopkeeper was a man of foresight, but in reality, he usually acted first and then thought things through, going with the flow.

Charlie found the handle to be heavy. He applied more force, pressed down the handle, and then pushed the door open…

Charlie: “?!”

He had clearly opened a door set in the wall, not a trapdoor on the floor! So why did he fall out of the door the moment he opened it???

A sudden gust of wind blew his rabbit fur into disarray. Before he could figure out what was happening, he splashed into the water.

After air, water? Instinctively, Charlie tightened his limbs and adjusted his posture, trying to swim up, but the current was too fast. After two attempts nearly made him sink, he gave up struggling, held his breath, and floated on the surface like a log, letting the water carry him along.

Turning his head in the water, he saw the rapidly passing trees on the shore, moss-covered rocks, and deer drinking by the water. The deer seemed startled by Charlie, daintily running back into the forest on their slender legs.

Amidst the sound of rushing water were other noises, like bird calls and the faint sound of a harp—it had to be a forest nymph playing.

A forest with fairies wouldn’t have dangerous evils, so Charlie relaxed and let the river carry him downstream. The rushing river gradually calmed down, eventually wedging him between two large logs in a bend.

The logs were wet and slippery but provided some support. Charlie clung to a log, catching his breath, and immediately checked the handkerchief and clothes around his wound.

After being soaked in water for a long time and with the strong current, most of the bloodstains had washed away, and the scent of blood was gone. He wiped his wet face and squeezed his long ears, wringing out some water.

Confirming he hadn’t become younger or older, it seemed Khalif’s magic had ultimately failed.

Charlie walked on the giant logs to the shore, feeling famished. In the forest, food wasn’t a concern, and with a river nearby, he could at least drink to fill up. However, he urgently needed to know where he was and how to get back.

White Bridge certainly didn’t have such large rivers and forests. Charlie’s attempt to summon the Darby Belly Fish also failed. Magic was still usable, but the seeking spell didn’t work over long distances.

For now, his best option was to follow the river out of the forest and look for villages nearby. Hopefully, the locals wouldn’t overreact to his rabbit head… Though used to it, the exhausted rabbit-headed shopkeeper sighed.

The wet head was uncomfortable, and the waterlogged clothes were heavy. Charlie shook his head and started taking off his clothes to wring them out.

While removing his coat, something small fell out of his chest pocket.

Charlie rarely kept anything other than decorations in his coat’s front pocket, believing useful items belonged in the inner pocket. He squatted down and saw a ring lying on the ground.

It was the key to Daisy’s castle, the one he had given to Dwight.


The author has something to say:

But Dwight didn’t seem to expect an answer. He suddenly raised his hand to push Charlie away.

—Chapter 176

I can say that the initial inspiration for the previous hundred or so chapters came from the sudden idea of writing a scene where a rabbit falls into a hole, inspired by the rabbit in “Alice in Wonderland”.

Though it took over 600,000 words (and counting) to set up this scene, I didn’t expect it myself.


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

Charlie’s Book Ch185

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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


Chapter 185

Magic wasn’t impossible to merge. Charlie had once used his power to rebuild the entire spatial magic of Mistress Daisy’s castle, long imprisoning Witch Elena within it. However, this was on the premise that he had completely dismantled the original magical structure and rebuilt the magic based on its framework.

The magic designed by Xanye, or Sven, for Khalif was undoubtedly complex, and Charlie certainly didn’t intend to have a friendly exchange with their work. As he explained to Prima, the more intricate something was, the easier it was to destroy. His key was akin to a foreign stone deliberately jammed into the gears. If operated correctly, it could incapacitate the entire machine—that was his goal.

Prima was almost forced by Khalif to stand in front of the door. It was unknown if the door was specifically created for Prima, but its appearance could be described as lovely and exquisite: smooth oak panels with beautiful wood grain, a door frame with flowing lines, and a small archway that looked like a hunter’s hut in the forest. If a small bouquet of yellow wildflowers were placed on the door, no one would doubt that a beautiful farm girl lived inside, sitting by the sunny window, singing while spinning wool.

But at this moment, the door appeared somewhat dim against the magical array on its surface, and Prima’s eyelashes fluttered.

“Open the door, Prima,” Khalif urged again. “For me.”

Vasilia couldn’t help but step forward. Urch immediately stepped between her and Prima and Khalif. This loyal servant always remembered his mission and stood his ground.

Sven leaned forward involuntarily, staring unblinkingly at Prima. Although Xanye had no external injuries, her spirit was sluggish—a far cry from her usual arrogant demeanor.

For some reason, Prima’s mood gradually calmed down. She moved a little closer and felt someone speaking behind the door for the second time—this time, the voice wasn’t as vague as the door on the stairs. Although the voice was still as light as a feather floating on the water, this time Prima could hear it clearly.

“My daughter, my little moon, my Prima.”

“Let me see you. Your hair color is just like mine. I saved the best ribbons for you…”

Prima’s nose suddenly tingled because it was clearly her mother’s voice.

Her mother was also a gentle woman, and Prima had never seen her scold anyone loudly. She seemed incapable of anger—the rare times she insisted were when she decided to leave White Bridge and persuaded Prima to go with her.

But why didn’t she go with her? Prima felt genuine regret. No matter how hard she thought about it, she could never have predicted that in her biological father’s eyes, she was no different from a bag of fertilizer. He saw no one but himself, and he despised all life outside of himself.

“Mother.” Prima’s lips moved. Khalif didn’t hear what she said, but he saw Prima’s expression relax, as if she had given up resistance, her shoulders and neck slumping.

Then her body jolted, and she looked up as if waking from a dream.

The small brass key she had been holding was heating up intensely, almost burning her, but it was this scorching sensation that woke her from the drowsiness she had just felt. Her mother was on an island hundreds of miles away from White Bridge, and it was impossible for her to be calling from behind the door.

She would never lure her daughter into danger!

Prima stepped back, raised her hand, and forcefully inserted the key into the lock. The magical array began to flicker with her action. Khalif was completely unprepared for Prima’s move. He didn’t even know where she had gotten such a magical item and instinctively reached out to stop her, but someone was faster than him. A yellow-brown shadow darted like lightning between several people, straight towards Prima.

Prima cried out in pain and instinctively let go—a small monkey had bitten her hand holding the key. Now it was dangling in mid-air due to her movement, but she showed no fear of humans. Blood dripped from its teeth onto the floor.

Xanye and Sven followed. The delicate woman swiftly lunged at Urch, throwing a handful of powder at him. Urch blocked with one hand but reflexively swung a punch at Sven, who had also rushed forward, accurately despite his closed eyes. The hunched old man dodged with surprising agility, moving at a speed that belied his age.

Vasilia, however, moved in the opposite direction. The moment the small monkey leapt out, she also acted but aimed at Charlie, who had been on guard against her. With most of his attention on Prima, Charlie saw Vasilia coming and knew she must have been suspicious of his motives for a long time.

Charlie knew that while he could handle ordinary people, against opponents like Vasilia or Urch who didn’t use magic, surrendering or fleeing was wiser than facing them head-on.

Even attacking magic needed activation and reaction time, which was why mages never appeared on the front lines of a battlefield. Moreover, although he had grown up, the relentless intimidation from Fahim during his childhood was ingrained in his bones, making it impossible for him not to fear the Lions. He could put on a brave front in front of someone like Sasha, who was clearly still a child, but faced with a truly intimidating killing machine like Vasilia, his instinct was to avoid her.

…If it were Louis, he might confront her head-on. That guy had a penchant for challenging himself, as evidenced by his dealings with both large and small groups of Lions. Louis would step on a landmine to overcome his fear.

Charlie sighed inwardly amid the chaos, quickly pulling out a long pipe from his pocket and taking a puff. Vasilia, in just two blinks, was almost upon him, reaching out her hand.

It was a grab, not a killing move.

But Charlie didn’t care what she intended. With a “whoosh,” he blew a cloud of smoke at her. It was strange. Although he had no time to light it, he blew out a whole cloud of smoke—not only enveloping Vasilia but also spreading to Khalif’s side.

Vasilia’s will was exceptionally strong. The instant the environment changed, her vision was blocked, but it didn’t deter her. She changed her target, her momentum undiminished. Fortunately, although Charlie lacked strength, he was agile enough to barely dodge her first move.

However, the underground space was limited, making it difficult to maneuver. With her intuition, Vasilia could predict Charlie’s dodging direction and was convinced that this strange rabbit-headed man must have a trick up his sleeve. Otherwise, how could he dodge so quickly without any surprise?

As Charlie sidestepped, he exhaled another large mouthful of smoke, avoiding Vasilia and running towards Prima. This smoke could temporarily blind a person’s hearing and vision, but it didn’t affect him. He had just heard Prima let out a short scream.

At that moment, a hand reached through the smoke towards him. Charlie only had time to glance back before that hand forcefully shoved him forward a couple of steps, followed closely by Vasilia’s dagger.

Vasilia, having just engaged the uninvited guest, recognized him from his moves. “McMullan!”

McMullan didn’t speak. Two others rushed past him, following Charlie’s silhouette into the white mist.

Prima’s right hand was bleeding profusely, but what made her scream wasn’t the wound but Sven, who had followed the monkey and rushed at her.

In her panic, she fumbled to grasp the key still inserted in the lock, twisting it haphazardly to try to insert it deeper—Mr. Charlie said that this key would stop the magic array due to magical repulsion, and the door’s temptation and restraint on her would disappear. At that moment, anyone could push open the door, but inside, it wouldn’t be what Khalif expected: no light, potion, or other strange magical effect to rejuvenate him. This scene would drive Khalif mad. If he insisted on going in despite reality, anything but rejuvenation could happen to him.

But at that moment, Khalif grabbed her hand with such force that Prima’s wrist went limp almost immediately, immense pain flooding her, but she didn’t cry out this time.

An untraceable white mist silently enveloped the entire space, growing thicker. Prima felt another person grab her. The sharp screech of a monkey sounded, and Prima was forcefully shoved, slamming into the door.

In close combat, Sven was no match for Khalif, but those who touched him would find that every inch of the old man’s skin was as hard and taut as iron. Khalif, empty-handed, could do nothing against him for the moment.

“Sven!” Khalif roared, trying to twist his neck, but one hand was still gripping Prima. Sven pressed Prima against the door, his face full of greed, looking very much like Khalif.

Prima struggled desperately. The wound on her hand continued to bleed, and a few drops smeared onto the magic array as she moved. Sven laughed heartily as the previously dimmed array began to glow again.

The light could penetrate the white mist, visible to all who should see it—Prima suddenly felt her limbs go cold, and a buzzing sound filled her ears.

“You’re still young, Khalif,” Sven, like a human-shaped rock, was unmoved by Khalif’s punches and kicks. He said sweetly, “Opportunities should belong to those with more desperate desires.”

The sound-blocking white mist kept Khalif from hearing this, but by now, if he didn’t understand Sven’s intent, his life was in vain. He had sent Xanye to Khalif’s side and helped him build this magic with the purpose of taking it for himself when it was complete. The head of the Monkey family was too old—so old that the other three families secretly called him the Immortal Old Tortoise.

But Sven was human, and humans always age and die.

Charlie could see Prima’s life force beginning to drain as Sven moved like a bug caught in a flytrap. Sven was forcefully restarting the magic with her blood.

Prima’s head grew dizzy, and she leaned against the door, feeling the world spin, barely able to stand. She immediately realized her mind was clouding and, holding her breath, began to fumble with her free hand. Above the keyhole, where the oak had been smooth, her hand touched a hard metal object.

“Prima, don’t touch it!” Charlie instinctively shouted, rushing over in three steps. Behind him were Louis and Nieman, who had been hiding on the stairs, waiting.

But Prima didn’t hear. Her blood loss made her trembling hand grip the door handle that appeared out of nowhere, pressing it down.

Khalif and Sven had to turn to avoid Louis and Nieman’s swords piercing their backs. Neither heard the click of the handle. Khalif let go of Prima’s hand, gripping his short sword with both hands. Sven, unwilling to lose control of Prima, huddled his shoulders and neck to make himself harder, but Nieman’s strength was absurd, pushing him back several steps.

Prima was the only one who couldn’t sense the killing intent or fight back. She barely had the strength to push the door. If not for embedding the goal of “opening the door” firmly in her mind, she would have collapsed long ago.

Charlie bent over, dodging Khalif and Sven as they dealt with Louis and Niemann, reaching to support Prima. Though she hadn’t pushed the door, the inertia of turning the handle made the door creak open slowly.

“Get out of the way!” Khalif’s eyes indeed turned red. Without hesitation, he turned and slashed with his sword, not caring about exposing his back to Louis. Although Sven caught a glimpse of the scene inside the door, the fearless Nieman, undeterred by his poison and thorn magic, held him tightly. Swen couldn’t move, and somehow, summoning great strength, he dragged Nieman straight toward the door.

“That’s mine—” Sven shouted, his voice losing its usual richness, filled with greed and rage.

“Charlie!” Louis shouted a warning about Khalif’s sword. Charlie heard the alert but found Prima collapsing, unconscious. If he let go, the girl leaning against the door would fall inside.

His only option was to twist his body, avoiding Khalif’s sword aimed at his neck, but holding Prima made it impossible to dodge entirely. The short sword mercilessly pierced his left shoulder, blood gushing from the wound.

Seeing that blurred red in the white mist, Louis’s eyes widened, a look of terror appearing on his face for the first time.


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

Charlie’s Book Ch184

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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


Chapter 184

Prima’s face was paler than the bleeding Khalif. She looked at Khalif, lips trembling, unable to speak.

Khalif, however, didn’t look into her eyes. His attention was fixed on Charlie’s hand gripping her neck. Magic required complete, undamaged life force. He had just barely managed to use an injured assassin to activate the magic circle, but that was a reluctant compromise.

“Don’t listen to her nonsense, Prima,” Khalif said in a deep voice. “The enemy’s words are all divisive tricks, not worth hearing.”

He raised his left hand, four of his five fingers adorned with different rings. Some were ancient in design, others extremely ornate, all set with gemstones that still sparkled in the dim underground light.

Charlie was also watching him.

The thumb represented power, the index finger wealth, the middle finger justice, and the ring finger forgiveness. This was a tradition every Wolf knew—however, unlike other family heads of various sizes, the rings on Khalif’s hand symbolized not his personal wealth, but the accumulated history of the entire Wolf Family.

Khalif slid the gold ring off his index finger and flicked it with his right hand. The small gold circle arched up and landed in front of Charlie. He reached to catch it, loosening his grip on Prima. Urch, who had been watching closely, lunged forward, grabbed Prima, and pulled her away from Charlie.

Charlie’s fingers almost immediately changed direction, but Urch’s strength was immense, and Prima was nearly lifted away. The blade at Charlie’s fingertips cut Prima’s collar.

Prima, like a puppet, was handed over to Khalif by Urch. She sluggishly blinked, seemingly just realizing what had happened.

“Prima.” Khalif took a deep breath, trying to use a gentle tone as he took her hand—as if he needed to touch her personally to be reassured.

Sven and Xanye didn’t interfere with Urch, and surprisingly, neither did Vasilia. She stood where she was, coldly watching the father and daughter, seemingly interested in what they would do next.

Charlie didn’t move either.

He examined the gold ring carefully but didn’t immediately put it on. Urch, seeing his focused expression, narrowed his eyes.

“You can leave now,” Khalif said to Charlie in a deep voice.

Charlie shrugged, walked backward to the stairs, and then stopped. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, he stood next to a door that neither emitted light nor whispers. It simply existed in the wall, unremarkable, with a pendulum clock above it stopped at a quarter past three in the afternoon.

“Isn’t it enough that the young lady is safe?” He tilted his head mischievously. “Honestly, this magic is impressive. It must have taken a lot of manpower, right?”

He emphasized the word “manpower”.

“Father, is that true?” Prima asked softly. “What is that door? There are so many strange doors outside, and then…”

She turned to look at the girl by Vasilia’s feet. Even after all this time, the girl hadn’t moved, her body showing no signs of life, making Prima unable to ask, “Is she dead?”

“They are uninvited intruders,” Khalif said. “The four families have always been in a delicate and false balance. Haven’t I taught you that?”

“They’ve always eyed the Wolf Family covetously because our auction house is a golden goose. Tonight, the balance is broken, Prima. The other three families have united against us, trying to destroy the Wolf Family, they—”

Vasilia let out a loud, cold laugh.

Prima’s expression was dazed, and Khalif stroked her hair. “I am the head of the Wolf Family. I am the Wolf Family. If I am killed, the entire family will be destroyed. You are also a Wolf. You wouldn’t want to see that happen.”

Prima nodded almost imperceptibly.

Khalif breathed a sigh of relief inwardly, ignoring Vasilia, and continued, “Protecting me means protecting everything. The family needs a strong leader to fight them. I need power. You are a good child. Will you help your father?”

Everyone held their breath, waiting for Prima’s reaction, especially Sven and Xanye. They knew Khalif was using despicable means to deceive his daughter—the Wolf Family rarely had mages, and Prima had no magical talent or theoretical knowledge. She probably had no idea what Khalif was doing.

Just as one shouldn’t easily reveal one’s name to an evil entity to avoid being drawn into a contract, the same applied to promises. Words themselves had power, and their binding force was equal for both mages and non-mages.

This was something Xanye had previously told Khalif. Khalif believed that the Monkey family relied too much on magic and would become weak without magical power. Xanye, to refute this, had demonstrated how, in the right environment, even without using magic, one could achieve wishes through the power of words.

A relatively enclosed space, overflowing magical molecules, blood, and inquiry—Prima was indeed standing on the edge of Khalif’s trap without realizing it.

Everyone tensed up involuntarily, except Prima, who blinked and almost without thinking, said, “Yes, Father.”

As soon as she spoke, Khalif’s face lit up with joy, which scared her into stepping back. Vasilia couldn’t hide her disappointment. She didn’t know what she was expecting. Miss Prima Wolf was famously gentle, and Khalif had been generous to her for many years. It was only natural for her to instinctively agree with her parent when unsure of the situation.

But—

She looked down at Maria on the ground. This time, those who could come to White Bridge in the name of the Lion Family were among the most promising young members. They had different personalities, some cold as ice, some fiery as flames, but their abilities and potentials were comparable. In a few years, senior officials like her would be able to choose their successors from them, passing on their experience and will. But Maria no longer had this future. She had arrived too late. By the time she found out that several young members had recklessly made a deal with the Wolves, she had rushed over as quickly as possible but only managed to pull the dying Maria out of the magic circle and watch her take her last breath during the ensuing fight.

This wasn’t the girls’ fault, but the adults’. The young ones were too eager to explore the world, and before leaving, they had strongly insisted on traveling alone, ensuring in various ways that they wouldn’t cause trouble and that everyone would return home safely.

Vasilia had experienced such a youth, knowing how annoying it was to have adults hovering around during the age of longing for freedom. So the family head, along with several high-ranking members, including herself, decided to let them “travel alone” while Vasilia secretly watched over them.

It was a grave mistake. Two fists couldn’t fight four hands. Vasilia alone couldn’t quickly fend off Khalif’s minions and Sven’s men to rescue Maria. In the end, all she could do was prevent Maria from becoming part of that disgusting magic circle.

But someone was about to repeat this mistake.

Charlie glanced quickly at Vasilia without saying a word.

He somewhat expected Vasilia to stop Prima, not because this Lioness was particularly kind, but because Prima’s sacrifice would likely empower Khalif. If Khalif got what he wanted, the crazed old Wolf would surely find a way to kill everyone who witnessed his secret tonight.

Conversely, Vasilia definitely didn’t want Khalif to continue living. Even without the severe setbacks to the younger generation, an enemy who never aged (in a sense) posed a significant threat to the Lion Family.

This might also include the Monkey. Whether it was because they lost two people or not, the Monkey and Xanye were unusually low-key. If it weren’t for the two genuine corpses, they would really seem like mere bystanders.

“My dear daughter.” Khalif didn’t care what the others thought. He raised the hand still holding Prima’s and pulled her to the seemingly ordinary wooden door, its magic circle still glowing.

Prima instinctively began to struggle. “Father, how can I help you?”

But a young girl was no match for Khalif. His aging was relative. He might no longer be able to defeat a young man like Louis in a duel, but he had no trouble controlling Prima. Her pitiful resistance was nothing. Khalif, like Urch earlier, practically dragged her to the door.

“Touch it, Prima.” Khalif could hardly control his voice, his heavy breathing on Prima’s neck causing goosebumps to rise on her cut skin.

Prima felt like she was in a forest, with a bloodthirsty bear gripping her shoulder. Every cell in her body screamed to run, but—

She had already decided not to flee. The tug of war between reason and instinct made her tremble again, heightening the tension for Khalif and those closely watching, including Sven. They weren’t worried that Prima would back out. She had just made a promise to Khalif. Despite her instincts, she couldn’t escape.

“Magic is both simple and complex,” Charlie’s words echoed in Prima’s mind. “You can think of it as a precision instrument or a complex handcrafted item—creating and assembling it requires significant effort, but destroying it is simple.”

The odd rabbit-headed man had told her. “Rules aren’t always fair. The intricate creations of great geniuses or craftsmen with decades of experience can be shattered by any illiterate brute with a hammer. The more complex and delicate something is, the more fragile it becomes.”

“Time magic is one of the greatest taboos, not only because it might disregard the rules of life and death but also because meddling with history and the future can affect the real world. Therefore, from conception to experimentation, this magic must undergo extensive work. If the Monkey Family members excel at magic and have perfected it through past experiments, then what gives your father such confidence must be a complex and brilliant creation. The more complex, the more fragile.”

“I’m giving you this.”

He handed Prima a small, cold metal object.

“What is this?” Prima asked.

“This is a key,” Charlie said. “It contains my magic—mages are proud and exclusive, and their magic is the same. When you get close to Khalif’s magical core, it will heat up intensely due to the repulsion between the two types of magic.”

Every door had a corresponding key, the last trace left by the one who gave everything to the door. If the person Khalif brought in before you didn’t die, the key wouldn’t appear, and the magic wouldn’t start. Khalif would desperately need a replacement.

Remember, you must insert the key into the lock on the door before the magic circle starts absorbing your life force.


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

Charlie’s Book Ch183

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

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


Chapter 183

“Don’t touch,” Charlie said softly, reaching out to steady the unsteady Prima.

Prima withdrew her hand that was about to touch the wall.

This was the second time she had come down this stone staircase leading underground. Just like she remembered, it was cold and damp. Perhaps because it was built underground, the junction of the steps and the walls was covered with fuzzy moss, which looked even greener under the light from the fluorite.

There were more small stones or some unknown debris on the floor now, and Prima almost tripped over them.

Given that someone had recently rushed out of this passage engulfed in flames, she decided not to investigate what exactly was on the ground.

Charlie sensed her tension and moved a little faster to position himself in front of her, making Prima follow behind him.

He moved slowly, not only to match the pace of the exhausted Prima but also to carefully observe the various doors they passed.

As he had previously speculated, most of the doors near the exit were early experimental models. The doors, too small for an adult to pass through, used animal power as their medium. Some had only a doorframe or lacked handles and couldn’t be opened, indicating they were likely failures. The corresponding clock hands were all stationary.

Charlie hadn’t yet figured out the meaning of these clocks. The simplest understanding might be that they represented the length of time that could be reversed—for instance, the simple timer next to the pinewood door seemed to be a product from about five hundred years ago. If Khalif opened the door and walked inside, perhaps time would rewind five hundred years on him.

If this hypothesis were true, it would be quite entertaining.

Charlie nudged the pinewood door beside the timer with his pipe. The handle was very tight, suggesting it hadn’t been used.

As they descended about halfway, the size and shape of the doors gradually became normal. Some were tightly shut but had light seeping through the gaps at the bottom. Some were ajar, but the interiors weren’t visible. Only vague murmurs could be heard, as if someone inside was whispering…

Both Charlie and Prima slowed their steps. It was as if the inhabitants of the rooms knew someone was passing by, and the whispers grew slightly louder, yet the content remained indistinct.

Prima: “?”

The staircase was eerily quiet. She instinctively wanted to get closer to hear better because the voice sounded hoarse, like a sick woman, parched, needing someone to fetch her water.

But she couldn’t hear clearly. Prima looked at the door gap, and the warm yellow light inside contrasted sharply with the cold fluorite in the passage.

Prima reached out, intending to push the door slightly more open, thinking she wouldn’t step inside…

Charlie, who had been standing in front of her and seemed to be listening as well, quickly turned around and covered Prima’s eyes.

Her vision suddenly darkened, startling Prima, but not because of Charlie’s sudden action. It was because when her eyes were covered, her ears seemed to awaken, and the gentle whispers vanished, replaced by men’s roaring, indistinguishable heavy breathing, and eerie low laughter, all equally disturbing.

Prima gasped in horror, but Charlie also covered her mouth, then removed his hand from her eyes.

The previously peaceful and serene atmosphere felt like an illusion. From some point, the sounds from the end of the underground passage had become clear. Standing on the stone steps, they heard a woman say, “This is no excuse for your madness—”

“You’re the mad one!” Just from the voice, one could imagine Khalif’s enraged expression.

“Feigning high morals doesn’t suit you, Khalif,” another man said, his voice pleasant but inappropriately contemplative for the situation.

The blood vessels in Khalif’s eyes burst, red like a carnivorous beast’s. “Vasilia! Do you think you can walk out of here alive?”

Vasilia’s arm hung unnaturally, bloody from the shoulder down, making it unclear whether the blood was hers or someone else’s. A girl lay at her feet, her short black hair disheveled and unmoving.

Sven stood against the wall, seemingly the only one unscathed. Xanye was pale, and the young man who had come in with her sat at Sven’s feet. His neck was bent at an unnatural angle, an impossible posture for the living.

Urch stood between Vasilia and Khalif, his face ashen but his back straight.

Vasilia, experienced in combat, had been fighting both Urch and Sven’s subordinates. Urch, already injured, might have had his heart ripped out by Vasilia in the recent fight if not for her simultaneous battle with the two.

But Vasilia’s goal wasn’t slaughter. Despite being besieged, she managed to break through strongly and disrupt Khalif’s magical ritual.

All magic rituals, except combat spells that require no chanting, demand specific environments and materials. At a minimum, they must not be interrupted. Khalif had planned to find Prima and, once fully prepared, conduct the final attempt. Unexpectedly, Louis’s interference severely injured him. Instead of regaining his youth, he now urgently needed someone to help him sustain his life.

However, misfortune never came in singles. Several disruptors appeared tonight. Khalif was furious, wondering what the guards he left in the corridor were doing—he hoped they had died fighting Sven’s men, or he would kill them himself for dereliction of duty.

The only one who entered the underground with him, Urch, could barely hold off Sven and his grotesque monsters, but adding Vasilia to the mix was too much. The ongoing ritual was disrupted, and the girl, whose hair and fingers had already begun to decompose, was forcibly pulled out from the wall adorned with a magic circle by Vasilia. Although the “door” had already taken shape, the girl, who served as the foundation of the “door,” was removed. There had never been a similar situation in previous experiments, and although Khalif was anxious, he knew better than anyone how dangerous an unstable “door” could be.

“Dad?”

Just as he was staring daggers at Vasilia, thinking of ways to dismember her and hang her remains on the doorframe as decoration, a trembling voice startled him.

“Prima!” Khalif was stunned to see his daughter, who had been missing, now standing on the stairs leading to the exit. The surge of joy he felt momentarily made him overlook the strange rabbit-headed man standing beside Prima. That man, dressed in a dark suit, was half-shrouded in shadow and silent.

Sven and Vasilia turned to look at her almost simultaneously, but their expressions were vastly different. Vasilia wore a mocking smile, while Sven looked as if he had stumbled upon a rare gem in a mine.

Prima’s appearance subtly eased the tense standoff between the three parties. Khalif, cooling down from his heated state, frantically pondered how to bypass Vasilia and Sven to get Prima to his side, dismissing the unknown dark-haired girl completely.

The others were calmer than Khalif. No one, except Khalif, ignored the rabbit-headed man standing beside Prima. Sven asked, “Who are you?”

As soon as he spoke, Prima recognized it as the same voice she and Mr. Charlie had heard on the stairs. Sven’s voice was shockingly smooth, which was incongruent with his old and wrinkled appearance, making Prima shiver.

Charlie, seemingly reminded by Sven, pulled Prima forward a few steps to ensure they were both fully visible in the light. His right hand wrapped around the back of Prima’s neck, pressing a delicate and sharp blade against her chin.

“Just a nobody,” Charlie said theatrically, glancing around exaggeratedly. “Ah, what’s everyone up to?”

Khalif glared at him coldly, “What do you want?”

Prima’s identity was no secret in the inner city. While there had been attempts to extort the Wolf Family by kidnapping their daughters, most of these were from outsiders. Khalif couldn’t deny that the Monkey might have some designs on Prima, but seeing Sven’s reaction now, Khalif temporarily assumed this rogue was just another self-styled adventurer and opportunist.

However, Prima was indeed crucial to him at this moment. Additionally, what irritated Khalif was why even such a lowlife could infiltrate his territory. Even though the mansion was attacked earlier, those immature girls were defeated by McMullen and his men. It shouldn’t have been difficult to quickly regroup and fortify the defenses unless McMullen’s men dared to abandon their posts.

“That’s not the right question, sir,” Charlie said. “I just saw this young lady wandering alone at night and kindly decided to bring her home. You’re her father, and with such an impressive mansion, surely you wouldn’t ignore a poor soul who helped your daughter, right?”

“Dad,” Prima called again, her eyes pleading.

“I can give you endless wealth,” Khalif said. “As long as you’re smart enough to know when to stop. Come here, Prima.”

“Of course, of course.” Charlie didn’t relax his grip on Prima but spoke lightly. As he moved Prima closer to Khalif (taking a wide arc away from Vasilia), his large, round rabbit eyes darted around. When he saw the small, arched door behind Khalif and the still-glowing magic circle on it, he stopped.

Glowing was a characteristic of all magic circles. Regardless of the material used to inscribe the array and formula, once magic power was infused to make it functional, every trace would glow during operation. It’s said that in the early days of ancient magic, most rituals were conducted in secret and dark spaces to avoid detection. This feature allowed mages to avoid writing the wrong symbols, even in the dark.

To Khalif, the faint glow of this magic circle might have been weak enough to mistake it for mere reflective paint. But to Charlie and Sven, the complex magic circle shone as brightly as an out-of-control miner’s lamp.

Charlie’s furry rabbit face displayed a difficult-to-read expression. He then glanced at the motionless girl at Vasilia’s feet.

“Ah, a mage,” Vasilia said. “No wonder you’re like an old mole, only daring to dig holes underground, Khalif. It’s because someone skilled in magic can see through your dirty dealings at a glance.”

She spoke arrogantly, lifting her chin to Prima. “You’re Khalif’s daughter, but his lover is hiding in the corner. I assume your mother isn’t around. Let me teach you something, little girl. Men aren’t to be trusted, especially not men like your father.”

“The magic behind you devours people. The girl beside me is proof. In this situation tonight, instead of helping you escape, he summoned you to his side. Do you really think he just wants to give you a hug?”


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