George stomped loudly through the corridor, deliberately making heavy steps to show he was angry.
But no one noticed his displeasure because the surroundings were empty and there was no one around.
George was in the southeastern part of Brandenburg. Here, there was a large council hall, filled with stained glass windows and exquisite sculptures. Going up the double spiral staircase, there were six bedrooms with bathrooms and prayer rooms on the second and third floors, along with the smoking room, study, collection room, and game room.
Even now, the golden candelabras and silver tea sets in the council hall were still polished to a shine. However, compared to the orderly other parts of Brandenburg, this place was unusually quiet. Apart from daily cleaning and maintenance, people rarely came here. This was the main area where the former Duke Dwight, the late father of the current Duke, used to work and live.
Since the tragic accident of the previous Duke and Duchess and the young Duke’s succession, he and his sister Priscilla had moved to the north side of the castle, a decision made by the siblings together. As an adult, Duke Dwight had admitted to Charlie that continuing to live in a place full of childhood memories would have caused both him and Priscilla to become increasingly trapped in the past, making them weaker. This wasn’t beneficial for the siblings at that time.
But this didn’t mean this area became a forbidden zone. Duke Dwight didn’t close off this area and no longer deliberately avoided it after growing up, so George was unaware of the history under his feet. Brandenburg, as the residence of successive Duke Dwights, bore countless honors and pains. Currently, Duke Dwight had no intention of entrusting all this to little George.
George simply felt that this place was rarely visited and was a good place to hide.
Because he was sulking with his uncle. George hoped to spend his fourth birthday in the imperial capital, but this request, which he had made several days ago, had been repeatedly denied by Duke Dwight, no matter how much he pouted.
“I don’t want presents,” George bargained with his uncle. “I want to spend my birthday at the palace.”
Duke Dwight looked down at him. Before he could speak, George nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a small gesture that the Duke immediately stopped as he was very particular about George’s manners.
“Tell me,” Duke Dwight finally said, “why do you insist on going to the capital?”
This was because, during his last visit to the palace, the princesses liked him very much, and several princes were willing to play with him and had promised to give him ten gifts each for his birthday.
Gifts were part of the reason, but the main one was that the palace had many children, and George liked playing with many friends.
In this regard, Brandenburg couldn’t compare to the palace. Duke Dwight had only George, and although most of his Brandenburg knights were of marriageable age, there were very few with partners. By the time they married and had children, George would have grown up.
He didn’t want to wait that long. He wanted to play with existing children.
But George didn’t know how to express this. His ability to articulate lagged behind his thoughts, so after much gesturing, Duke Dwight only roughly understood that George wanted to play in the capital.
However, the capital wasn’t a place one could visit at will, especially a territory like Lemena, which had armed forces. Duke Dwight knew George wouldn’t understand even if he explained, so he ultimately denied the request and told him not to make such demands again.
It was particularly cold and unfeeling.
Sulking, George climbed the spiral stairs at the back of the council hall to a particularly large room with a soft carpet and a light purple Flobart chaise lounge. A snow-white blanket was half-draped over it, looking very warm.
George, tired from walking, couldn’t resist feeling sleepy when he saw the blanket. He curled up on the chaise lounge, wrapped in the blanket, and fell asleep.
He felt as if he had just fallen asleep when someone gently touched his back. George opened his eyes and saw a particularly beautiful woman sitting on the chaise lounge, looking at him.
“Darling, why did you fall asleep here?” the woman asked with a smile. “Whose child are you?”
George wasn’t fully awake, but he knew it was impolite to talk while lying down. He struggled to sit up but was too sleepy to move.
“Alright, alright,” the woman said gently, patting him again. “You can sleep here. I’ll help you find your father and mother later.”
George said, “Mother is far away.”
The woman paused. “And your father?”
“Father is far away too.” George yawned.
“Then who do you live with?”
“Uncle and Charlie,” George said, snuggling into the blanket, feeling it was as soft as a big cat.
Duchess Dwight was amused by his actions. She had found this unfamiliar child in her bedroom, and, unlike other noblewomen who might have immediately blamed the servants, she was always kind to people. Even if she had to hold someone accountable, it wouldn’t be this lost child.
Moreover, she found his sticky, sweet voice adorable. Arnie had been like that at his age.
“What’s your name?” she asked softly, planning to find the family who brought him to Brandenburg after he fell asleep.
“George,” George answered half-asleep, unlike his usual cautious self—being wary of strangers was a Dwight trait, but for some reason, he didn’t feel nervous around her. Perhaps it was her hair color, exactly like his uncle’s, or her gentle tone and motherly touch. Little George didn’t realize these things consciously. He just felt she wasn’t a stranger, thinking he must have met her somewhere before.
“Cute George,” the Duchess said, wrapping him in the blanket like a baby. Arnie used to love this, and sure enough, George contentedly closed his eyes.
“Did you come with your uncle?”
“I came with Uncle,” George mumbled, not understanding the question.
“Your uncle must love you very much,” the Duchess noted, observing George’s soft, smooth skin and chubby cheeks. The fabric of his clothes was expensive and rare, yet not overly extravagant—perfect for a child. She used the same material for Arnie.
Was this child brought by one of her husband’s guests? But she hadn’t heard the Duke mention any visitors today.
“Uncle doesn’t love me,” George said, a bit more awake now. He poked his head out of the blanket, looking aggrieved. “Uncle… um…”
He was always forbidding this and that: banning George from swimming in the farm’s pond, eating sugary apples, skipping homework, or not wearing pajamas to bed. George couldn’t decide which complaint to voice first.
But one thing was certain.
“Uncle is mean,” George concluded.
“Is your uncle really mean to you? Does anyone treat you gently?”
“Charlie is gentle.” George thought for a moment. “Charlie sneaks me into town to play.”
“So, you like Charlie but not your uncle?” The Duchess watched George’s childish muttering, reminiscent of her early days of motherhood, when Priscilla was just born and before Arnie came along. Every little action of the child brought her joy.
Though George was complaining, she could see he wasn’t truly mistreated.
“I like Charlie,” George mumbled. “I like Uncle a little bit too.”
The Duchess couldn’t help but laugh. “Only a little? It seems he’s a bad uncle.”
George blinked at her, and the duchess looked back at him.
After a while, George admitted, “No.”
“No what?”
“He’s not a bad uncle.” George had been with his uncle since birth and trusted and depended on him the most. No matter how much he sulked, he didn’t want to hear anyone call his uncle bad.
The Duchess understood and began to gently pat his back again. George, lulled by the pats, started to drift off to sleep and yawned, his eyes closing completely.
Once George was asleep, the Duchess stood up and opened the door. Her maid, Liosa, was in the corridor and hurried over when she saw the door open.
“Liosa, are there any guests at the castle today?” the Duchess asked.
“There are no visitors scheduled for today,” Liosa confirmed.
The Duchess didn’t mention the little intruder in her room. Priscilla was in class, the Duke was at the stables with their son, and the castle didn’t seem to have any strangers.
But George was only a few years old and couldn’t have sneaked past the many guards of Brandenburg. Was he a child of one of the tutors? But Priscilla’s teachers were all women…
When Duke Dwight returned to the castle, the Duchess told him about the child. His first reaction was to lock down the castle and investigate any suspicious individuals.
But the castle’s guards reported no unusual activity. Liosa and the other maids had been patrolling the corridors and hadn’t seen any strangers enter the Duchess’s room. The door had remained untouched until the duchess opened it.
It was as if the child had appeared out of thin air, falling onto the sofa.
“The mages detected no disturbances,” Duke Dwight said, looking at his wife. “Is the child still inside?”
The Duchess hadn’t allowed knights or maids near, only pulling her husband into the room. But when they looked at the Flobart chaise lounge, it was empty. Only the blanket the duchess often used had fallen to the floor.
George felt someone picking him up. He struggled briefly, then relaxed when he saw it was his uncle.
Dwight wrapped George in the sofa’s blanket and carried him out of the room, with a maid closing the door behind them.
Shivers asked quietly, “He seemed to be sleeping in an empty room. Should we lock these rooms?”
George, not fully awake, thought, How can it be an empty room? There was a kind lady talking to me.
Dwight paused for a moment.
“No,” he said.
Shivers said nothing more, following Dwight through the corridor. Portraits of Brandenburg’s previous owners hung on the walls flanking the spiral staircase. The Duchess in the paintings had a gentle expression. Priscilla had inherited her calm demeanor, and Duke Dwight had inherited her hair and eyes.
George hung onto his uncle’s shoulder, looking over to see Shivers, and made a face at him.
Shivers winked at him, signaling him to look ahead.
George turned to see someone waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
“Charlie~” George rubbed his eyes and reached out his arms.
Shivers hesitated, but Dwight said nothing and handed George, blanket and all, over.
George skillfully clung to Charlie’s neck. “Charlie, where’s my present?” Charlie had left the castle early, promising to bring him a gift.
Dwight glanced at Louis, whom his son mistook for Charlie, but showed no intention of correcting him. Louis, too, didn’t correct George, instead carrying him out of the council hall and through the corridor to the courtyard.
A tent had been set up in the courtyard, with bonfires lit even during the day. Clowns and magicians in bright costumes and makeup, along with children from nearby estates around George’s age, were all waiting. When they saw George, they cheered. George didn’t understand, but he loved the excitement and quickly woke up, laughing.
“They’ve prepared many shows: puppet plays, comedy acts, magic tricks. You can watch whatever you want,” Louis said, setting George on the grass and leading him toward the tent.
George was captivated by the bustling courtyard. He noticed that Charlie’s tone seemed a bit different today but was too excited to dwell on it. He looked up at “Charlie”, and Louis looked back down at him.
“Happy birthday, George.”
The author has something to say:
Charlie intentionally didn’t appear with Louis to tease George.
Louis, knowing he wouldn’t be around George long-term, didn’t see the point in confusing or making him miss him more. He let it slide, but he wouldn’t keep the truth from him as he grew older.
The drag troupe tearfully rehearsed a children’s program for their male god, but he won’t change his orientation because of their sacrifice.
This should be the last extra chapter. After marking the main story as complete, adding or changing chapters requires updating the story’s status, which is a bit troublesome (I didn’t change Arnie’s name in “King x King” for the same reason). If I have more to write in the future, I’ll start a new free short story or find another method. I won’t add new chapters here. Happy New Year, everyone~~~~
Kinky Thoughts:
This is the last of the extras… Seems like the author forgot, or maybe wasn’t interested, in writing extras for the other major side characters (Eugene, Amber, Priscilla, Kurt…ect.).
If you did enjoy it, please consider supporting the author by buying the raws. You can use Google Chrome with their auto translate and this guide on how to buy novels on jjwxc. Remember, only with your (financial) support can artists continue to produce more great works.
For those looking for a western fantasy danmei, I strongly recommend Stray. It’s probably the best of the genre I’ve read.
Finally, I like to thank everyone for your comments, encouragement, help with my translations, and ko-fi donations.
At three in the afternoon, when most people preferred to stay at home feeling drowsy, the streets should have been relatively empty. But today, Chambord Street was different. Traffic was somewhat congested.
“Hey, what’s going on up ahead?” people in the blocked carriages, who were supposed to be composed gentlemen and ladies, couldn’t help but pull up the windows to inquire.
Some clever servants jumped off early to find out what was happening, and soon the gossip causing the traffic jam spread from one end of the street to the other.
“At the intersection by the theater—two men are fighting over a woman.”
“I heard it’s Madam Bianca…”
“One of those men must be Movanlitz, the inspector’s youngest son. I’ve heard a lot about him.”
“Why are they fighting? Bianca’s methods aren’t ordinary.”
“Jealousy.” A gentleman in a small two-seater carriage concluded haughtily after listening to his coachman summarize the rumors vividly.
“Don’t say that. Love always blinds people.” His lady companion shook her fan, her eyes shifting as she leaned closer to the gentleman. “If someone told you that tonight at the ball, I could only enter arm-in-arm with another man, would you fight for me?”
“I would discreetly let him know who your man is in a more dignified way, not brawl in public like dock workers,” the gentleman said, feeling very satisfied with his answer as he ran his fingers through his well-groomed hair and beard.
The lady companion pouted slightly and turned her gaze outside the window.
She knew who Bianca was. The entire city of Siva knew. That charming brunette woman had emerged unexpectedly a year ago, quickly becoming the center of attention in Siva’s social circles.
Her talent in poetry and painting, her graceful speech, and her impeccable social skills made her unstoppable. Rumors even suggested she was the secret mistress of a king. All the men in the city were proud to associate with her. Fame was like a snowball—once it got a little push at the right time, it could effortlessly grow larger and larger.
The man sitting next to her was a nouveau riche. Although he spoke elegantly, he would undoubtedly fawn over Bianca if given the chance. Should she dye her hair brown too?
She was daydreaming about trivial matters when she suddenly noticed the carriage moving—not forward, but to the side of the road. Was someone important passing by? She exchanged a glance with the gentleman, and they both looked out the window. As another carriage passed by, they saw the person inside and were both stunned.
The window of the other carriage was open, revealing an astonishingly beautiful woman sitting inside. Her long, golden hair seemed to cascade down to the seat. Her milky skin, combined with her gem-like blue eyes, sharp nose, and delicate chin, was all perfect.
“What a beautiful person. What beautiful blonde hair…” She was mesmerized, and the gentleman beside her leaned forward, disregarding decorum, eager to get a closer look. But the carriage was fast, and in the blink of an eye, it was gone.
A disappointed sigh made the little girl next to the blonde beauty giggle.
“Shall we close the window? Everyone is staring at you.”
“Close it,” the beauty said wearily.
“I bet your fame will spread throughout the city before sunset,” the girl said, pulling the window shut with a “snap,” blocking all prying eyes.
“What do I need fame for?” The blonde beauty yawned widely, ignoring etiquette. “I’m still growing. By autumn, there won’t be any dresses I can fit into.”
“Alas, it’s a pity you’re a boy, Cici,” the girl said, tilting her head at him. “Otherwise, with your beauty, you could become a legend.”
“What legend, like they describe Yitzfa? ‘The blood from the goddess’s fingertips fell to hell, transforming into a fairy embodying both innocence and allure’?” Cici glared at her. “Give up on that idea. My skeleton won’t agree.”
Cici had always been adorable since childhood and loved dressing up prettily. But after he turned sixteen, he started growing uncontrollably tall, and his facial features began to show sharp angles. Nowadays, when he sat quietly in makeup, he looked quite convincing. But once he stood up, most men who lusted after his beauty would automatically feel shorter than him.
“Then why do you dress like this to come into the city?” The girl helped him adjust his skirt.
“Because I like pretty dresses, of course,” Cici said with infinite loneliness. “I want to grasp this last bit of youth and dress up for a while longer. Soon, no matter how much the tailor tries, I won’t be able to face myself in the mirror.”
As they spoke, the carriage arrived at the intersection. The main cause of the traffic jam was gone, but carriages and weapons were still strewn on the road. Cici and the girl didn’t glance at them, heading straight into the theater’s side street, where the Fox Family’s property was, their prepared stopover.
The girl jumped off the carriage first, standing on tiptoe to hold up a pretty umbrella. Cici, holding her shoulder, got off the carriage, his floor-length skirt covering his flat shoes.
“So, what’s the event tonight?” Cici asked.
“Hmm… the May Festival hosted by Viscount Elmore’s wife, along with several noblewomen friends. They’ve set up several large tents that can accommodate hundreds of people at the Meli Manor on the outskirts. Many artists and opera troupes were invited, as well as circus performances. The main purpose is to show off their wealth and influence.”
“Intelligence says ‘he’ will appear at the manor?”
“To be precise, ‘his’ target will appear. As a newly emerged bounty hunter, ‘his’ commissions and targets aren’t hard to find out… ‘He’ doesn’t seem to intend to hide.”
“He probably doesn’t understand the rules of this profession yet.” Cici chuckled. “After all, he’s a newcomer to the industry, right?”
The girl asked curiously, “Are you going to contact ‘him’ directly? The invitation is ready, but finding your other half won’t be easy.” Taller men were usually found in the military or the guard corps.
“Who says it’s hard to find?” Cici twirled a lock of his golden hair with his fingers. “If we have anything in abundance, it’s beautiful girls, isn’t it?”
The girl widened her eyes.
Meli Manor was originally a noble’s hunting ground. After the family declined, it changed hands several times before being bought by the viscount and converted into a manor that was part farm, part holiday villa. It was quite large, with woods, a lake, and an abandoned vineyard.
Viscount Elmore was very business-minded, investing in several promising new industries. His shrewd, socially adept wife assisted him. As hosts of such seemingly extravagant large parties, they actually profited greatly, including from the privately auctioned invitations they handled. Although this inevitably lowered the tone, the hype and speculation brought considerable profits.
“Although this makes the identities of some guests unclear—like us,” Cici whispered. “Guests who would buy high-priced invitations are unlikely to be thieves or robbers.”
The elegant girl at his side smiled. “So, merchants seeking opportunities or people wanting to connect with the viscount?”
“And people with ulterior motives,” Cici said solemnly. “Like me.”
The girl looked up at him. Cici, at the age between a boy and a young man, had features far more outstanding than average. Even without makeup, he was extremely eye-catching. His long golden hair was tied into a ponytail at the back. The deliberately low-key, dark long coat didn’t make him look any less striking but instead highlighted his fair skin.
Cici led her through the garden. Several tall white tents with pointed tops were set up by the lake, and music and laughter faintly emanated from the entrances.
Cici led her into one of the tents with soothing music, held her by the waist, and gently pushed her forward.
“Your job is done,” Cici said. “Please enjoy your evening.”
The girl was a bit reluctant, but Cici walked away decisively without looking back even once.
The lawn between the tents was dotted with many glass lanterns, about half a person’s height, making the entire manor as bright as daytime. As Cici walked briskly, he recalled the task Yitzfa had assigned him.
“Louis knows the Fox Family’s intelligence network well and is unlikely to appear in the fireworks area. However, by tracing back from his last task, we can roughly determine his next destination. He received the March bounty order at the Tree Hollow Tavern in Plyport, with the highest bounties being for ‘Brutal Sailor’ Uk, ‘Gunpowder Expert’ Ferram, and ‘Lying Clown’ Morin. Of these, Uk is the most notorious and has the highest bounty. Given Louis’s style, he would likely choose him directly. After being expelled from the pirate crew, Uk became an independent assassin, and internal intelligence has identified his next target as Ronan, the leader of the Sunbird Troupe.”
The Sunbird Troupe’s recent gig was to perform at the May Festival in Siva…
Cici exhaled and quickly slipped into the tent closest to the lake.
It was a circus tent, mostly filled with children and their attendants. A grumpy brown bear was circling the stage, while the animal trainer, with his face painted, held a whip in one hand and a colorful ball in the other, continually signaling to the audience.
Cici took out a pocket watch to check the time—it was only seven in the evening, and the tent was still full of pigeons, streamers, and candy. But in an hour or two, once the tired children were taken home, the nature of the stage performance would change, with the vibrant children’s decorations replaced by dimmer lights and alcoholic drinks.
The Sunbird Troupe would perform in the latter half. Adult performances were popular in any country, featuring risqué jokes, revealing costumes, and tacit interactions as standard acts. However, this troupe had an even more… special nature.
Cici circled the edge of the tent, slipping out through an exit behind the stage. It led to a slightly smaller preparation tent used by the performers. On the left were various animal cages and colorful prop boxes crowded together, while on the right were several makeup tables and a long clothing rack filled with brightly colored costumes.
Two or three men were already dressed in those exaggerated skirts, checking each other out. One of them suddenly reached into his clothes and pulled out half a “breast”.
“I told you water balloons wouldn’t work,” he muttered. “They’re leaking.”
“Try using bandages? You can compress it naturally.”
“What a strange method…” The man stopped mid-sentence, raising his head along with his companions, their eyes lighting up simultaneously.
Cici felt a bit uneasy under their gaze but maintained a calm exterior. “It just requires a special technique.”
Damn, their makeup was too thick. While it’s understandable to need heavy makeup on stage, even this much makeup didn’t fully cover their rough facial features. The Fox Family always pursued refinement and beauty, and Cici himself decided to stop dressing as a woman when he could no longer conceal his physique. But these men, regardless of age or build, were far more incongruous than he was—this drag troupe was reportedly quite popular, and despite mentally preparing himself, Cici was still a bit shocked to witness it firsthand.
“Are you a guest?” The man with one deflated breast stared hard at Cici’s face. “Backstage isn’t a place for young masters.”
The companion beside him even moved closer to Cici, his gaze almost piercing through Cici’s coat and shirt, constantly blinking, his thick eyelashes fluttering.
Cici: “…I need to see your leader. Where is Ronan?”
“No way!” The one-breasted man shouted jealously. “When did the boss hook up with such a handsome guy? Kiss me, and I’ll tell you where he went.”
“You’re not Ronan’s type.” The thick eyelashes looked at Cici suspiciously. “He likes more masculine ones. You’re too pretty, little brother.”
Seeing his hand about to touch his chest, Cici had to step back. “He has a message from the Fox.”
He pulled out a silk handkerchief from his chest and handed it to the thick eyelashes.
“It’s indeed the Fox’s emblem,” the thick eyelashes said, taking the handkerchief.
The heavily made-up men’s expressions suddenly changed. Cici continued, “He’s targeted by the ‘Brutal Sailor’. If he acts alone—”
“He went to the villa to negotiate performance times!” The one-breasted man immediately said, “He left twenty minutes ago, and no one went with him!”
……
As the troupe leader, Ronan handled various miscellaneous tasks, including external negotiations. Today’s circus performance might be delayed, and since the others had already started putting on makeup and couldn’t move easily, he went alone to the villa to communicate with the steward.
Viscount Elmore wasn’t only a nobleman but also a successful businessman. The Meli Manor was large and luxurious, and the scale of this festivity was astounding. Besides the large play tents on the lawn, there were smaller banquets on the other side of the lake for guests of higher status, likely the viscount couple’s real social circle.
Ronan glanced towards the lake, noticing someone setting something up by the water. He stopped curiously. A few minutes later, sharp explosions pierced the night, and brilliant fireworks continuously exploded in the sky, dazzling and magnificent.
The guests in the tents couldn’t see this; it was probably prepared for the distinguished guests on the other side. Ronan looked up at the continuously ascending and blooming fireworks, marveling at how much it must have cost.
“Ronan?” Someone walked towards him.
Ronan turned around and saw a person dressed in the villa’s servant uniform, but the fireworks were too loud to hear clearly.
“What?” he shouted back, walking towards the person. But as the distance closed, he suddenly felt something was off—this person’s clothes seemed a bit tight, and their eyes weren’t right when the fireworks lit up the night sky.
Ronan stopped, but the other person suddenly lunged at him, revealing a metallic glint from their clothes’ movement, causing Ronan to instinctively squint.
Clang!
The sound of sharp weapons clashing rang out between the fireworks. Ronan saw the man, who had initially charged at him with a dagger, barely turn mid-air, deflecting an arrow that flew from the side.
A person in a black knee-length single-breasted coat lowered an unusually small crossbow. Fireworks exploded behind him, making it impossible to see his face clearly in the backlight, but Ronan instinctively moved towards him—no matter what, he had just saved his life.
Cici ran quickly across the cold grass. The lawn by the tent and lake was a distance from the steward’s villa, but if Uk wanted to commit a crime, he wouldn’t choose the busy road with frequent attendants. Cici observed the surroundings and headed towards the path near the lake.
His intuition was indeed sharp. Shortly after deviating from the main road, he saw a man running somewhat frantically towards him.
Seeing Cici was like seeing a savior, the man shouted, “Please help, sir!”
“Ronan?” Cici asked.
The question made Ronan wary, and he stopped immediately. But he quickly realized the newcomer wasn’t with the violent thug. When they returned to help, they saw the ill-fitting servant uniformed Uk being kicked, rolling on the ground before stopping. His weapon was thrown far away, and he curled up in pain, unable to understand how he was so quickly overpowered by someone physically weaker than him.
Louis shook off his scraped hand and took two steps forward. Then, he stomped heavily on Uk’s wrist with his hard heel, timing it perfectly so Uk’s scream blended in with the sound of the fireworks.
Cici watched for a while, tilting his head, and confirmed that this person was indeed not Charlie—even if the rabbit-headed shopkeeper fought, his style wouldn’t be this harsh.
“Louis?” he called out.
Louis turned his head but didn’t move his foot off Uk.
Cici had no choice but to raise his hands to show he had no weapons. Ronan’s gaze shifted back and forth between Cici and Louis, almost forgetting the man who had just tried to kill him.
Half an hour later.
“You’re saying the ‘Brutal Sailor’ was hired by my brother?” Ronan asked in shock. “I gave up my inheritance rights ten years ago…”
Cici shrugged. “Your father still left you part of his estate. Since you don’t have children, he apparently hopes you die sooner rather than later.”
Ronan was deeply affected, and his gaze towards Louis became even more intense. “Did you also take on a commission?”
Louis said, “I don’t take commissions from anyone.”
After leaving White Bridge, Louis wandered the continent. Initially, he aimlessly sought out reclusive mages during his travels, but every time he picked up money at contact points, Alexander’s letters would inevitably follow, nagging and trying to persuade him to return. Louis found this tiresome. Once, he accidentally earned a bounty after beating up a troublesome drunkard, so he decided to cut off all channels that the Wolf Family could use to track him. Now, Louis no longer feared getting hurt or bleeding and was even more adept in fights.
Cici laughed. “Ah, how unfortunate. I’m here on a commission concerning you.”
Before Louis could speak, Cici quickly added, “The client is Charlie.”
Louis turned to look at him, and after a moment, his gaze shifted from Cici’s eyes to his chest.
“You’re from the Fox Family,” he said softly. “I assume you’re not foolish enough to joke around.”
Cici felt a chill down his neck under Louis’s gaze and hurriedly took off the pocket watch from his coat, handing it to him.
This was the pocket watch Charlie had with him when he went missing in the former Wolf King’s basement, and Louis recognized it.
“He’s back?” Louis snapped the pocket watch shut with a click.
Cici nodded. “Yes, he’s uninjured and in good spirits. He wrote to the Wolf Family, but they couldn’t locate you recently, so he commissioned…me to find you, hoping to invite you to Lemena.”
Louis said, “Since he’s fine—”
“There’s no need to go to Lemena.” Cici finished his sentence. Louis raised an eyebrow.
Cici said solemnly, “Charlie said you’d respond this way. He asked me to tell you: brothers don’t need a reason to meet, nor can they haggle. Also, George hasn’t met his father yet. You must arrive at Brandenburg with a gift before his fourth birthday, or Charlie will launch a severe retaliation.”
Before Louis could speak, Ronan, who had been quietly listening, exclaimed, “Father? You have a child?”
Cici: “Huh?”
Ronan looked even more heartbroken than when he learned his brother wanted to kill him. “Why do good men always marry so early? You don’t look like someone who’s had a child at all!”
Louis: “……” He hadn’t actually fathered a child, but this guy was quite deranged. Louis stepped back, put the pocket watch in his pocket, and turned to leave.
Cici quickly followed. “Hey, do you agree? Even though my task was just to deliver the message, it feels like the job isn’t done if you don’t go to Lemena.”
Louis ignored him.
Cici continued, “You and Charlie are really different. He never embarrasses people. By the way, did you know you have a nickname as a bounty hunter? Ask me, I can tell you.”
Louis stopped, glanced at Cici, who thought he was about to ask and quickly posed.
But Louis said, “Stop following me.”
Cici fell back, speechless, but then saw Ronan also following.
Cici: “Why are you coming along?”
Ronan righteously said, “He saved my life, and by extension, the Sunbird Troupe. Of course, I must repay this debt.”
Cici: “If you think he’s happy to have a drag troupe follow him—”
Ronan peeked ahead. “Hey, why is he walking so fast?”
Louis pretended not to hear the conversation behind him, hurrying across the lawn into the night. Ronan and Cici exchanged a glance and, without a word, chased after him.
The author has something to say:
George pushed the door open a crack and squeezed himself inside. All the curtains were drawn, and the room was dark, completely obscuring the bright sunlight outside.
George had been here before. He tiptoed across the carpet into the inner room and saw a pile of blankets on the big bed, with the canopy half-drawn, and all was silent.
Shivers was napping, George concluded.
This discovery made him happy because his uncle was strict about his schedule, never allowing him to sleep in unless he was sick. He often used the Brandenburg Knights as a standard to educate him—if his uncle knew the Knight Commander slept in when not following the Duke, George could confidently retort the next time he was criticized.
The four-poster bed had soft mattresses and sheets. George had to stand on tiptoe to see the person lying on it, but even if he reached out, he couldn’t touch them. So he brought a large pillow to use as a step and climbed up.
This bed was much bigger than George’s child bed. He climbed to the center, feeling proud, and just as he was about to lift the blanket—
“Ha! Got you!” The person under the blanket sat up before he could.
George widened his eyes, looking at the unfamiliar man in front of him, and was so scared that he fell back, trying to escape.
But the blankets were too big and heavy. George floundered like he was swimming, unable to reach the edge, and was instead dragged back by his ankle.
Shivers hurried through the corridor and had just touched the doorknob when he heard sobbing from inside the room.
He paused and then entered.
Yitzfa was sitting cross-legged on the bed, holding George. Both looked up at Shivers with expressions of seeing a savior.
“Strange,” Yitzfa said, puzzled, handing George to Shivers. “It’s the first time someone disliked me so much.”
Shivers bent down to pick up George, who immediately clung to his neck and buried his face, looking very aggrieved.
“He doesn’t dislike you,” Shivers told Yitzfa. “He’s just shy.”
Yitzfa followed them into the outer room. George gradually stopped crying, occasionally hiccupping.
“George is Dwight’s heir, born with a sense of caution.” Shivers jostled George a bit. “I should have introduced you sooner.”
Hearing Yitzfa wasn’t a bad person, George’s curiosity outweighed his fear, and he peeked out at Yitzfa, finding him quite good-looking.
Yitzfa had natural social skills, and half an hour later, he could walk around with George, the two heads close together, chatting happily as if they hadn’t just met.
Even Charlie, his real uncle, hadn’t gotten so close to George so quickly.
“I have many younger siblings,” Yitzfa said. “I raised quite a few of them. Kids like me.”
“They’re less fond of you when you send them off to work,” Shivers said. “Like Cici, who you sent to work for you. I’m sure Charlie designated that task to you.”
Neither mentioned Louis in front of George.
“He’ll complete the task,” Yitzfa said indifferently. George, small and warm, clung to him like a well-behaved little animal. Yitzfa found him much cuter than his siblings and happily carried him around.
“George, when is your birthday?” Yitzfa asked, already knowing the answer.
George counted, “In thirteen days.”
“When the time comes, I’ll bring a birthday gift for adorable George,” Yitzfa announced to George and Shivers.
Shivers patted both of their heads in turn.
“Of course,” the Knight Commander said. “Mr. Charlie has arranged everything. George will receive everyone’s blessings.”
Kinky Thoughts:
What? Shivers and Yitzfa don’t even have an extra of their own?! They only get like author notes afterthought? How boring! They are basically the entire spiciness of this novel!
Well, at least they’re together now. I’m happy for that.
“I’m going to run away from home,” the Ninth Prince Willie loudly announced.
Most people in the room ignored him—the Fourth Prince was busy scratching his head over his punishment for cheating on an exam yesterday, the Fifth Prince was sprawled on the couch, asleep, and the Eighth Prince and his followers were scheming something in the corner, paying no attention to their younger brother.
Only George, looking like a well-behaved doll, sat bewildered on the couch (squeezed into the corner by the Fifth Prince’s sprawling form). Willie scrutinized George.
“Though it’s not very useful, you’ll do,” Willie said. “Come with me to leave this boring, annoying palace and seek freedom.”
Five-year-old George didn’t really understand what running away meant. He thought Willie was taking him to play and happily climbed off the couch, feeling a bit bored himself.
Adults seemed to think kids naturally played together, but the princes in the capital rarely played with George. They thought he was delicate and prone to crying like a little girl, and the stern face of Duke Dwight when they fought with George was frightening.
So, George mostly played with the princesses. The girls found George different from their boisterous brothers—he was cute, obedient, and good at being affectionate, so they liked to take him along.
But with the court ball just two days away, the princesses were busier than ever. Various etiquette and dance lessons were overwhelming, and the main focus was on planning their ball outfits. George didn’t like the endless clothes fitting and measuring, so he preferred to stay with the princes this time.
Willie rarely took the initiative to play with him, so George was happy to take Willie’s hand and be led away.
It wasn’t until the two little guys left the room that the oldest, the Fourth Prince, lifted one eyelid.
“They’re running away from home. I’ll go bring them back…” he said loudly to himself and was about to stand up when a hand was placed on his shoulder.
His tutor said mercilessly, “You don’t need to worry.”
The Fourth Prince clicked his tongue and reluctantly continued scratching his head.
Willie and George, still at an age where their brains weren’t fully developed, genuinely felt their plan to escape the palace was flawless. Willie even took George back to his room to pack supplies.
“We need candies and drinks,” Willie said with experience. “Florin told me stories about the wildman Elliot. We need food and water.”
It started off well, but things went a bit awry. Willie, hands behind his back, wandered around the room, adding many of his favorite toys to his backpack.
This was mainly to prevent his annoying brothers from taking over his beloved possessions after he left.
George didn’t fully grasp the plan’s outline. Whatever Willie gave him, he took, though his backpack ended up being quite heavy.
All little boys liked playing with older boys, even if the “older boy” was only seven years old. George didn’t want to disappoint Willie and tried hard to carry the backpack, wobbling as he followed Willie “sneakily” into the garden.
The fresh thrill of adventure made George very excited, oblivious to the fact that Willie hadn’t secured his backpack properly. Colorful candies and other little items littered their path.
“Tell me,” Duke Dwight asked coolly after listening to the servant’s report. “What is your prince planning? Running away with George?”
“Boys,” the Emperor said nonchalantly. “They all like adventure. Willie is a brave child. Did I tell you the story about him poking a beehive in the countryside last time?”
Seeing the young Duke raise an eyebrow, he quickly added, “Reckless, but brave.”
Dwight: “If your garden has beehives—”
“Hahaha, how could it?”
The Duke’s lips pressed into a thin line.
George was afraid of the dark, water, and insects. A natural coward, he always avoided risks, but if he followed Willie, that foolhardy boy…
The Emperor saw his expression and laughed.
“Don’t worry. George will be fine with Willie.”
“You have many children,” Dwight pointed out bluntly. “Brandenburg only has one George.”
“How about I send two for you to take back? I also think there are too many children. The palace is always noisy.”
“If there’s nothing else, Your Majesty,” Dwight didn’t want to continue this idle chatter.
“Your knight watches over little George for you, doesn’t he? Playing occasionally won’t hurt. Speaking of which, in a few years, little George will need to find his own knight too.”
Dwight did remember something.
“I handled the beast tide in the northern mountains for you. Give me Noway and Gulliz,” he said.
These two were renowned royal potion masters. The Emperor asked curiously, “When did you start getting interested in mages?”
Because of the Brandenburg Knights, Lemena had almost the fewest mages in the Empire.
Dwight frowned.
“George,” he explained.
George was still young. The knights weren’t urgent, but the child needed mages more.
Because the future little Duke would get rashes in the heat, catch colds in the cold, have sore feet from too much walking, swollen fingers from too much writing, and even a sore throat from talking too much—he knew Charlie had once slandered him as the Princess and the Pea behind his back, but compared to George, that was minor.
He and Charlie were quite troubled by it.
Dwight did live in luxury, but that didn’t mean he was a frail noble. On the contrary, the physical and mental training he underwent from a young age was far harsher than most of his peers, which was why he hadn’t faltered when he left the comfort of Brandenburg, traveling across the continent with Charlie, braving the elements.
Little George was cute, but his physical condition was poor. Adequate magic and potions could improve his environment and make him healthier, though such measures were extremely luxurious.
Fortunately, his mother and uncle were wealthy enough. Ordinary families couldn’t afford to raise a child like him.
“I understand,” the Emperor said. “It’s a pity George doesn’t look like you. Princess Ellie has always liked your face. If George looked like you, we could patiently wait for him to grow up…”
Dwight pretended not to hear his nonsense and got up to leave.
Charlie wasn’t waiting for Dwight in the living room. The servant told the Duke he had gone up to the turret.
“Getting some air?” Dwight climbed the narrow spiral stone staircase and found Charlie leaning against the wall, motionless.
Charlie waved at him without turning around.
“They’re lost,” Charlie maintained his position, looking through the telescope. “George and Willie.”
“Where are they?”
“In the southeast rose garden. The roses are tall. They probably feel like it’s a maze.”
Dwight, arms crossed, watched Charlie eagerly observing the two kids. He didn’t ask to look through the telescope himself but patiently waited for Charlie to relay the information.
“How can Willie get lost in his own home?” Dwight only became more talkative around Charlie. “Is the kid really that dumb?”
“The rose garden was redesigned in the spring. They expanded the area and changed the layout. The queen and princesses wanted to create the feel of a rose forest, so they planted robust varieties.”
“Willie probably wanted to go through the rose garden to reach the woodland. That’s the only place without walls,” Charlie guessed.
What a little fool. There were no walls because the woodland was also part of the palace grounds. Willie wouldn’t think the woodland was “outside”, would he?
“Oh, they seem tired,” Charlie said excitedly. “They’re rummaging through their backpacks… Doesn’t look like they brought much in terms of supplies.”
Willie and George had no idea they were being watched. Willie snapped at George, “Where are my wild berry candies and cookies?”
George innocently lifted his backpack, which wasn’t very big to begin with. As they walked, the contents had fallen out, leaving not much behind.
“I don’t know,” George said.
Willie was about to burst with anger, but his hunger made him hungrier the louder he got.
If he had known, he would have packed food in his own backpack too. Before they set out, Willie thought toys were more precious than food and filled his bag with his treasured toys. Now, he regretted it.
George was tired. He squatted down, hands on his knees, and noticed something nearby.
It was a piece of candy wrapped in tinfoil that he had dropped earlier.
“Candy!” George happily called Willie over. The two kids searched for a while and found a few more pieces, which they immediately ate.
Unfortunately, they couldn’t find any more after that.
Charlie fell silent.
“What’s wrong?” Dwight asked.
“They’re eating stuff off the ground,” Charlie sighed. “They must be hungry.”
Dwight: “……”
“Stop watching,” he said. “When George starts crying, someone will come to get them.”
Charlie didn’t lower the telescope. Partly, he was worried about George, and partly, he was quite bored in the palace.
“Who did you have watching George?” Charlie asked. “I wonder if he has any cookies with him. But since they’re hungry, those two won’t last long.”
Charlie was right, and Dwight was wrong.
The quest for freedom quickly failed due to unreliable backpacks. When the two hungry children realized they couldn’t escape their predicament, panic set in, especially for Willie.
“I don’t know this place,” Willie cried, never having walked around without his mother and sisters. “I’m going to starve to death.”
George stood there, conflicted. He was tired too, but for some reason, seeing Willie cry made him feel less like crying himself.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing Willie’s hand. “Let’s go back and eat bread.”
Willie was desperate, realizing George didn’t understand the gravity of their situation.
“We can’t go back!” Willie wailed. “We’re stuck~~ No one can find us! We’re going to die!”
But Willie cried so loudly that George couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“That way,” George picked a random direction. “Let’s go back that way.”
Willie: “…You remember the way?”
George nodded.
He felt certain that was the way to go.
Seeing his confident expression, Willie believed him. He wiped his tears with his chubby hand and was about to follow George.
“Alright, alright—this is as far as you go. That direction is wrong,” a gentle voice called from above them.
They looked up to see two tall men stepping over the rosebushes, smiling at them.
“Hi, Shivers.” George recognized one of them and called softly. Shivers reached out and picked him up, and George nestled his head in his neck.
On the other side, Willie, whose face was tear-streaked, was also picked up by a palace guard. They carried the two frightened little ones through the rosebushes, the soft petals and leaves brushing against their armor, leaving a faint floral scent.
Shivers gently patted George’s forehead, noting the sweat.
George, exhausted from following Willie around, began to yawn. Shivers shifted him from holding to carrying on his back, and, along with the palace guard, they left the rose garden—soon the two children would easily see the tall marble archway at the entrance.
“So George didn’t cry, but Willie did,” Dwight said, as if announcing the result of a competition.
The Emperor looked at him strangely as he left and turned to ask the servant, “Is Willie still crying?”
Servant: “He’s probably more hungry than scared. He stopped crying as soon as he reached the dining table.”
Emperor: “……”
George didn’t know about the adults’ trivial competition but knew very well when to make requests when his uncle was in a good mood.
“Gulliz’s potions are very effective. They can alleviate your allergy symptoms and allow you to eat more tasty things,” Charlie told him. “Your uncle got them for you.”
“Uncle,” George clung to Dwight’s knee. “I don’t want a mage.”
Dwight asked, “What do you want then?”
“I want Shivers,” George pleaded. “I want him to be my knight commander.”
Dwight couldn’t help but feel a bit dazed, recalling a similar request he had made years ago.
What had his father answered back then?
George looked up at his uncle’s face and saw a smile.
Uncle must have agreed! George was delighted and turned to look at Charlie, who gently shook his head.
“You might be disappointed, darling,” Charlie said.
George pouted.
As expected, Dwight picked him up and placed him on his lap. “No.”
He indeed refused, but his tone was gentle.
“Why?” George didn’t want to give up.
Dwight said, “Because—it’s too early for you now. You’ll understand later.”
“When is later?”
“I can’t give you an exact answer, George,” Dwight said, stroking George’s small ear, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Because I only just understood myself.”
The author has something to say:
Arnie said, “But I want Alfred.”
The Duke pulled him to his side and stood up, holding him with one arm.
“Duke Dwight will only have one knight commander. Alfred and I have known each other since we were very young,” the Duke said. “He will protect you, Priscilla, and your mother with his life, but that’s because his oath of loyalty is to me, from before you were born.”
“When you inherit the title, Alfred will still love you like your mother, sister, and I do, but that’s a completely different responsibility—you’ll understand it later.” —Chapter 215
“Hey! Artist over there!” a rough man shouted towards the corner. “Come over and embroider a flower on my cloak. I’ll pay you—a copper coin as a reward. How about that?”
The person sitting at the small round table in the corner didn’t respond, not even turning around, pretending the provocation wasn’t directed at him.
However, his companion sitting opposite seemed a bit indignant and whispered, “Ignore them. They don’t understand anything.”
Alai nodded. His skin was pale, and a pair of melancholy green eyes were hidden behind his bangs.
Since they remained silent, the provocateur quickly lost interest in them. This wasn’t a place they usually frequented, so after cautiously finishing a cup of cheap oat beer, they paid and left the tavern.
“How about it? Meet again at nine o’clock tomorrow?” his companion asked him.
Alai hesitated for a moment.
“Maybe a bit earlier. We’re almost done,” he suggested carefully.
“No need to be polite with me. I also want to finish early. How about seven-thirty?”
Alai nodded, so they parted ways at the intersection. Alai walked down the street alone, heading home to sleep.
The moon was very big and round tonight, making everything around visible even without streetlights. Alai rarely went out at night, and although there were no people around, he felt a bit uneasy.
He was naturally timid and weak, not good with words. Others would say he was “unremarkable”, and even his parents worried that he wouldn’t be able to live independently after they passed away.
Just like now, even though he knew there were no wild animals in town and the security was decent, he still felt on edge, thinking that he wouldn’t be so scared if he met someone on the road.
Coincidentally, just as he was thinking this, he saw a passerby ahead, wearing a hat and carrying a travel bag.
Alai immediately felt relieved and followed quietly, keeping a moderate distance. He wondered: This town wasn’t a tourist spot, just an ordinary place. Why would a traveler come here? Had this person been to many places and seen a lot? It was impressive, unlike him, who rarely left town.
Lost in thought, Alai suddenly saw something fall from the edge of the traveler’s bag.
“Hey…” Alai hesitated, instinctively wanting to alert the person, but they didn’t notice.
Alai quickened his pace and found a beautifully silver-embellished small water bottle on the ground, which seemed lightweight and likely empty.
The item didn’t seem cheap, and more importantly, the silver embellishments were both beautiful and clean, indicating the owner cherished it greatly. Alai quickened his pace to catch up.
“Sir… Sir!” Initially, it was difficult, but once he started speaking, Alai’s voice grew louder.
The traveler stopped and turned around.
It was a man in his thirties, with long hair tied back, handsome features, and gentle gray eyes. Despite his travel-worn appearance, his face showed no signs of fatigue or distress, but rather calm and composure.
Alai hesitated for a moment before taking two more steps forward.
In the presence of outstanding people, he always felt inferior and uneasy. If it weren’t for…
“Your… Your item fell,” Alai said softly, handing over the water bottle. He then realized that such a distinguished gentleman might not want a poor person touching his belongings.
If that were the case, he would be humiliating himself. It must be the fault of the oat beer—normally, he wouldn’t be so careless.
But the traveler’s reaction surprised him.
“Ah, this is my water bottle. Thank you so much,” the traveler said with a calm tone and a hint of joy, which made Alai feel a bit more at ease.
Alai bowed to him and was about to leave but was called back.
“Please wait a moment,” the traveler said. “I haven’t thanked you yet, sir.”
Alai was surprised and wide-eyed, having never been called ‘sir’ before. His face flushed red.
“Please don’t say that,” Alai said awkwardly. “Don’t mention it.”
“What is your name? I should buy you a drink or a meal,” the traveler said, looking at Alai. “My name is Salman.”
“I’m Alai, but—”
“Mr. Alai, are you an artist?”
Alai was stunned.
Salman’s gaze lingered on Alai’s trouser cuffs and fingers for a moment before he smiled at him.
“I’m a decorator,” Alai instinctively replied. “I paint sets for the theater and such.” He was exaggerating a bit—such work wasn’t common, but it paid well. He had just received this job this month, which made him overly excited and led him to celebrate at the tavern with his partner.
Salman nodded, then asked about the local theater and its regular performances. Alai answered all his questions, unknowingly walking a long distance alongside him until his legs began to ache.
“Ah, there’s the city gate ahead!” Alai exclaimed. “Mr. Salman, we were so engrossed in talking that we forgot to watch the road.”
Salman said, “I just arrived here and was about to find an inn.”
“I know a round log inn that doesn’t close at night. It’s on the street next to Ginger Street—do you know how to get there?”
Salman shook his head.
“Could I trouble you again to lead the way?” he asked kindly.
Alai felt that they had become quite familiar and wasn’t as uneasy. In fact, during their brief conversation, he discovered that Salman was indeed well-traveled and knowledgeable, just as he had guessed. His casual anecdotes were fascinating, inspiring Alai.
“Alright, this way,” Alai said, “I’ll take you through Magnolia Lane. It’s a shortcut.”
Salman had a magical quality that made people lower their guard around him. Even someone as shy as Alai felt as if he had known him for a long time. In such a short interaction, Alai was amazed at how much he had spoken.
If only he could become someone like Mr. Salman, Alai thought secretly when he got home, but he knew it was a foolish dream. Despite Salman’s friendly and unpretentious demeanor, his behavior and manners clearly showed his cultivation and grace, unlike himself…
Alai carefully turned over on the narrow straw bed to avoid waking his little brother sleeping by his feet. The night wind blew in through the gaps in the wooden window, slightly diminishing the smell of dinner in the room—Alai had received an advance payment, so their mother had made a delicious fried fish tonight, and everyone had eaten happily.
“So, your mother raised you all by herself,” Salman said sincerely. “She is truly a remarkable person.”
Alai nodded in agreement.
“My father was a good man too, a very good man. He taught me how to draw with sharpened sticks on the fine coal dust by the boiler.” Alai sat on a stone. He rarely talked about his father because it saddened his mother and brother, but Mr. Salman had a calmness like the night sky, making Alai feel strangely safe.
“His health wasn’t great, but he always wanted us to live better, so he constantly pushed himself.” Alai tried to be cheerful, but it wasn’t very convincing because he saw that Mr. Salman’s expression had also turned a bit sad.
“It was an accident,” Salman said softly.
Alai nodded, directing his gaze to the nearby theater. Although it wasn’t dark yet, someone had already lit the gas lamps, and flamboyantly dressed women leaned against the streetlights, casually eyeing passersby.
“For people like us, accidents are common. I’m grown up now and can earn money for the family.” Alai wanted to comfort him, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.
“Don’t say that.” Salman’s gaze moved from Alai’s eyes to his lowered hands, which were rough and a stark contrast to Alai’s delicate face. Like other long lives, even if Salman had no intention of accumulating wealth, time, like the river constantly washing over the banks, would inevitably push gold grains ashore. He had almost forgotten how many years it had been since he last worried about making a living.
Salman shifted the topic and told Alai about his adventures. The young man, who had never left his hometown, indeed loved hearing these stories. He listened with shining eyes and kept asking various questions, chatting from evening until the stars appeared in the sky without realizing it.
If it hadn’t been for Alai’s little brother interrupting, Salman might have been forced to talk all night.
“Brother.” Alai’s brother, Adu, stood a few steps away from them, nervously calling out. “Mom is waiting for you to eat.”
Adu was dark and skinny, with a timid expression, but shared his brother’s small nose and smooth forehead.
Alai came to his senses, quickly stood up, and instinctively turned to look at Salman, opening his mouth but unable to speak.
Salman pretended not to notice Alai’s embarrassment and calmly bid them farewell. After watching the brothers walk away, he turned and walked back.
At that moment, a strange commotion sounded not far away. Instead of stopping, Salman quickened his pace, swiftly circling around the street towards the inn. Although this small town seemed peaceful, every place inevitably had its share of thugs lurking in the dark, trying to profit without effort—
Salman suddenly stopped.
Alai and his brother had just left. If he evaded the suspicious figures alone, the brothers would be in greater danger.
Thinking of this, Salman started walking again, entering a dark street.
The windows of the low houses on both sides were tightly closed, giving no indication of whether there were people inside. However, ordinary people always avoided trouble, so Salman wasn’t worried about being watched. He stood calmly for a moment.
But the noise had ceased. Just as he began to wonder if the pursuers had given up on him and turned to chase Alai, a small, sharp sound like a swift wind cut through the air. Salman was somewhat familiar with this sound—
Swish!
A black shadow darted into the street, circled over Salman’s head at a speed too fast for the eye to follow, and then landed on his shoulder, its weight causing him to stagger.
“Emerald?” Salman asked in surprise.
The Pluto Owl, which had grown considerably but still thought of itself as a baby, stubbornly perched on Salman’s shoulder. Hearing its name, it proudly flapped its wings.
Emerald’s exceptional speed and navigation skills allowed it to traverse the continent unimpeded. Duke Dwight had once tested it, releasing Emerald from a village in the far south of Pennigra to retrieve a plant seed from the far northern mountains. What would have taken a fast horse two months non-stop took Emerald less than five days, and that wasn’t even certain it had exerted its full strength.
Although raised by humans, animals naturally loved freedom. The Duke didn’t confine it to the castle, often letting it out to play (and occasionally deliver messages). Salman had experienced this twice but was reluctant to comment.
“You gave me a scare.” Salman said, smuggling Emerald into the inn room and pouring it a large bowl of Bols fruit wine. Emerald lifted one foot, showing the leather pouch tied to it.
Salman wished the Duke had taught it to pose differently. This position made it look like a peeing dog.
There were two letters from Brandenburg. Salman read them by candlelight, pondered for a moment, then folded them back without opening the ink bottle on the desk.
……
“It’s not green here, it’s blue.” Bill stopped Alai for the second time, just before he made a mistake. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you today?”
Alai was startled.
“I—I don’t know,” Alai blushed. “I’m sorry.”
Bill was Alai’s friend and his only partner. They had known each other for over ten years. Bill wouldn’t really get angry with him, but Alai’s frequent distractions were quite curious to him.
“You’re always looking towards the gate,” Bill pointed out sharply. “Are you interested in one of the actresses? Can’t blame you. They are indeed the most beautiful girls in town.”
Alai shook his head and lowered it to mix the paint again, trying to hide his expression. He was embarrassed to tell Bill that he was looking at the sunlight outside to judge when he could finish work and meet Mr. Salman for a chat.
But Alai’s movements slowed down. If he finished work, what excuse would he have to go see Mr. Salman?
The overly innocent Alai didn’t even understand why he was so eager to see Mr. Salman, let alone find a reasonable excuse for it. Bill, however, had some idea but knew how introverted Alai was. Before things became clear, Bill preferred to wait and see. Those beautiful girls were all quite proud. Bill didn’t want to blindly encourage his friend to face rejection.
Alai didn’t know that Bill, with a strange expression, was already thinking about which of his simple and cute cousins he could introduce to him. Alai thought for a long time but couldn’t come up with a suitable reason to visit Mr. Salman. After all, he was poor, and his house was bare. He couldn’t even invite Mr. Salman over for a simple meal. As a result, the off-time he had been looking forward to became rather depressing.
He deliberately waited until everyone had left before slowly packing up his things and leaving. By then, the sun had already started to set. He saw Mr. Salman standing not far from the theater entrance—right by the stone he had sat on the previous evening. The last bit of sunlight fell on his shoulders, making him look like he was glowing.
“Mr. Salman!” Alai felt as if a small animal was jumping excitedly in his chest, bringing a happy expression to his face.
He even thought Mr. Salman looked very happy too. Although they had only known each other for three days, Mr. Salman seemed happier each day.
“What brings you here?” Alai asked happily, jogging up to him.
Salman smiled. “I wanted to see you.”
Alai said, “Oh, I was thinking the same thing!”
Hearing this, Salman had a strange expression, both happy and sad, but it passed so quickly that Alai thought he might have imagined it.
If he had known Mr. Salman was waiting for him, he wouldn’t have dawdled so long. Alai felt a bit regretful. They found a reasonably priced restaurant for dinner. Mr. Salman seemed very hungry and ordered several meat pies and creamy round bread all at once.
“You seem to be in a good mood,” Alai said. “I don’t want to spoil it, but we probably can’t finish all these pies.”
Salman asked him, “Do you like meat pies?”
Who wouldn’t like pies filled with beef and chopped onions, dripping with oil? Alai nodded honestly.
So, Mr. Salman pushed all the pies in front of him. Alai couldn’t eat that much, but Salman insisted he try each flavor.
Mr. Salman looked gentle and had a mild demeanor, but he actually had a strong side. Unable to refuse, Alai thought as he ate the meat pies, but he didn’t think it was a bad thing. However, ordering two more large bottles of malt beer was truly excessive.
“This place has very strong beer,” Alai whispered. “We might not be able to drink it all.”
“Don’t worry. It’s a gift for my friend tonight,” Salman said.
“You have a friend here?” Alai’s eyes widened.
“Not a local. It’s a messenger,” Salman explained. “It brought me letters from far away last night.”
“Was it good news?”
“It was good news.” Salman smiled involuntarily. “A friend I lost contact with has returned.”
“Is he a traveler like you?”
“No.” Salman thought for a moment. “He’s more like… an adventurer.”
Seeing Alai’s interest in the topic, Salman ordered another large pot of elderflower tea and detailed the story of how he met that friend. Alai was completely fascinated. There was a contact point for the Mage Association in town, but there was only one resident junior mage who was reclusive and never interacted with people.
“Is there really such evil magic in the world?” Alai felt both shocked and sad upon hearing about the strange book in the castle and the many girls who had been turned into flowers. “I thought all magic was good.”
“Do you think all magic is good?” Salman asked him, his eyes reflecting the same sadness they held when they first met.
Alai thought he had said something wrong. “I haven’t experienced magic. It’s just…”
Salman nodded. “Magic is just magic. The difference between a blessing and a curse lies in the person who uses it.”
“But sometimes it also depends on the person who is affected by the magic.” Seeing Alai’s serious expression, Salman added, “The same curse that is a shackle for me is considered a blessing by my adventurer friend. The extra strength imposed on him didn’t make him despondent or sad. Instead, it made him more positive. I admire him for that.”
In fact, sometimes Salman even suspected that Charlie’s mentality was so good that nothing in the world could bring him down.
Alai, however, was focused on something else. He said in surprise, “Mr. Salman, are you cursed too?”
He anxiously scrutinized Salman, trying to find something unusual about him.
Seeing Alai’s worried expression, Salman reassured him, “Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”
Alai stopped moving and looked at Salman seriously.
“I’m sorry,” Alai said. “But I think this is something to worry about.”
Salman asked impulsively, “Why?”
Alai was taken aback. He thought for a while before solemnly replying, “Just now you said the curse is a shackle for you. You are a traveler, right? A traveler with shackles is like a bird in a cage. I hope you can be happier and not encounter any bad things.”
Salman looked at Alai, and Alai looked back at him.
“We’ve only known each other for three days,” Salman said softly. “Do you care about every new person you meet this much?”
Alai was at a loss again. He wasn’t good with words and originally wanted to think carefully before answering, but for some reason, when he saw Salman’s gray eyes, he found it hard to hide his true feelings.
“No one else,” Alai said. “I can’t explain why, but you are the only one I just met and care about so much.”
Salman didn’t continue asking. After they finished eating, he insisted that Alai take the leftover pies and desserts home and even escorted him back.
Alai sensed that their conversation tonight had a heavy undertone but couldn’t pinpoint the issue. He hesitantly looked at Salman, unsure how to start a conversation.
But Salman didn’t let him struggle for long. He asked, “Alai, can I come see you again tomorrow?”
Alai looked at him in surprise, not understanding how Salman could address his worries without any direct communication.
“Of course,” Alai said.
Salman smiled at him, and Alai, feeling reassured, smiled back before turning to go home.
Salman kept smiling until Alai disappeared among the low houses. Then he slowly retracted his smile and walked back to the inn, recalling the letters he had received the night before.
Emerald had brought two letters. The first was from Charlie, briefly detailing his experiences after falling into the “door” and his high-profile return. Salman was genuinely happy for him. The second letter was from Erica.
Erica’s writing style was as straightforward as she was. She informed Salman that the sixth princess of the Empire had introduced her to a Grand Magus, and she had anonymously sought the Grand Magus’ insights on his curse. The answer was that the curse wasn’t unbreakable.
“I apologize for acting without your consent,” Erica wrote. “But I do not seek your forgiveness and will continue to explore ways to break the curse.”
Even though Erica hadn’t explained her reasons, Salman knew why she did it. Therefore, he didn’t reply immediately. On one hand, he didn’t know how to respond. On the other hand, he had found Alai.
Their attraction to each other under the influence of the curse had become an instinct. After the first meeting, every subsequent encounter brought more sorrow than joy. Under normal circumstances, such a premise was unlikely to foster love, let alone a relationship destined to end in death and sadness. During his long search and wait, Salman had often wondered how much of this obsession and emotion was genuine and how much was due to the curse’s compulsion. But doubt and struggle were meaningless.
They had no choice, but Erica did.
Salman didn’t want to give her any unrealistic responses, but the letter did rekindle a spark of hope in his heart, like throwing a smoldering twig into the ashes of a dying fire.
This curse wasn’t unbreakable. No one but himself could understand what that meant to Salman.
The fairies hated his love so much that they not only made him immortal but also cursed him to watch his loved ones’ lives enter a countdown upon meeting him. Love and death went hand in hand. It was hard to say whether the curse was crueler to him or his loved ones.
Alai was still so young. Even though he had experienced the pain of his father’s death, he probably hadn’t seriously thought about death.
“If you only had seven days to live, what would you want to do?” Alai was stumped by the question. He had never imagined such a novel scenario. But because Mr. Salman asked, he thought about it seriously for a long time.
Seven days was too short. Alai couldn’t think of a way to take care of his mother and brother and ensure they wouldn’t be too sad about his passing. Finally, he said dejectedly, “I don’t know. If I only had seven days left, I would probably work desperately to finish my current job and make sure the payment goes to my mother.”
Salman tried not to look into his eyes. “What if you didn’t have to die?”
Alai didn’t understand why Mr. Salman looked so sad again. He carefully answered, “If I could avoid death, would I have to pay a price greater than death?”
Salman didn’t reply.
Alai continued thinking, “What’s more important than myself should be the people I love, right? If the price is that, then I would rather choose to face death.”
“Is that what you think?” Salman asked softly.
Alai worriedly watched Salman’s expression, but Salman soon stopped dwelling on the question.
He asked Alai to take a day off. They bought bread, jam, drinks, and a roasted chicken, packing it all into a large bag. Alai led Salman to the outskirts to look for herbs.
Salman told Alai he was an amateur herbalist and liked to find local herbs wherever he went. But Alai thought he seemed more like he was on a leisurely outing. They wandered aimlessly for most of the day, and Salman even helped Alai find a mineral that could be ground into paint.
“Mr. Salman, you are truly knowledgeable,” Alai admired. “I never knew these stones could be used like this!”
“I happened to know a paint merchant once. He shared a bit of his trade secrets with me,” Salman said with a smile. “If you live to my age…”
He suddenly stopped, as if recalling something unpleasant, and didn’t continue.
Alai didn’t notice this and continued, “No, no, I don’t have that much knowledge. Even if I live longer, it would be the same. Besides, you aren’t that much older than me.”
Salman said, “You underestimate yourself. The future holds many possibilities. You might go to a bigger city and become a street artist. Perhaps you’ll meet a merchant by chance, start as an assistant, and smoothly accumulate wealth, settling in a warm southern city. Or maybe you’ll discover a passion and talent for learning, make contributions in a certain field, and be recognized by the city.”
Alai couldn’t help but laugh. “But I can’t imagine that. Someone like me doesn’t seem destined for success.”
Salman’s feelings were extremely complex. He could have told Alai that the various lives he described were all people Salman had met before: a young artist pursuing freedom, a cautious and shrewd middle-aged merchant, a gentle and elegant scholar, even a pure and innocent noble maiden, a serious and kind factory worker—normal people wouldn’t believe such things. They would most likely think Salman was insane.
“This is the second time you’ve said that,” Salman said, looking at Alai. “‘Someone like me’… I don’t want you to talk about yourself that way.”
Alai was stunned for a moment, but Salman didn’t seem to realize what he had said and didn’t further explain. He kept walking forward.
Suddenly, an unknown courage made Alai stand still and, without caring, shout to Salman, “Then, in your view, what kind of person am I?”
Alai regretted the words almost as soon as he said them, but it was too late. Salman had heard.
Salman turned around and saw that Alai’s forehead was flushed.
“I just, just…” Alai stammered for a long time but couldn’t finish his sentence.
But Salman answered seriously, without much hesitation, as if he had prepared the answer even before Alai asked.
“To me, you are as precious as a star,” Salman said gently.
A star that seems within reach but can never be truly touched. He kept this thought to himself, but it was enough for Alai. The young man’s expression changed from awkwardness to disbelief, and finally to bright joy.
“I didn’t dare to say it before, afraid you would laugh at me.” Alai took two steps forward, standing very close to Salman. “Though it was just a hypothetical question, I did secretly think that you were one of the people I wouldn’t want to exchange my life for.”
Salman thought his feelings had turned to ashes, but Alai shattered that illusion every time.
“It turns out I still have tears inside me.” Salman thought as he hugged Alai tightly, burying his face in the young man’s shoulder, not letting anyone see his expression.
……
“What did you do to Emerald? It looks furious,” Erica asked, leaning against the door.
Charlie casually stuffed a piece of ribbon into a drawer.
“Just a little joke. It always scares the little birds, so tying a bell to it might help,” Charlie said. “I guessed you would come over soon.”
He pushed Salman’s letter towards Erica.
Erica remained expressionless. “I won’t read it—it’s his reply to you.”
“Alright. You can probably guess the content. He had an accident on the way, a heavy sign fell without warning. The doctor will stay there for a while until the grieving mother and brother are properly arranged.”
Erica nodded.
“Do you need to send a letter? Emerald doesn’t hold grudges and can do it after tomorrow.”
“No.” Erica pondered for a moment, turned to leave, but hesitated.
“I’m not trying to interfere,” Erica muttered. “It’s just…”
“He shouldn’t have to bear this,” Charlie said gently. “Salman understands. We all hope he can be a bit more at ease.”
We.
Erica raised an eyebrow, watching Charlie rummage through his messy desk and pull out a letter from under some thick books, handing it to her.
“Dwight wrote this two days ago, for Princess Leonoxi to give to the Emperor. We all think those pampered old men need a bit of pressure,” Charlie said cheerfully. “Here.”
Erica couldn’t help but smile as she took the letter, her gaze inevitably pausing on the opened letter in Charlie’s hand for a second.
She then waved, expressing her thanks to the shopkeeper and the Duke, and left the study.
The author has something to say:
I’ve been keeping an eye out, and no one seems to have guessed who Erica’s love interest is. Since none of them can be considered a happy ending, I hesitated about writing it, but I still wanted to.
In the evening, still lingering with the last traces of summer, the inland city, surrounded by mountains, had no wind at all. The air was humid, sticky, and suffocatingly oppressive.
For outsiders from the highlands or coastal areas, this climate was so unbearable that it made them lose the motivation to do anything.
A tall, red-haired girl unbuttoned another button on her chest.
Her striking appearance and figure, different from the petite local girls, were enough to make her stand out. This action made it even harder for the men on the street to take their eyes off her: her fair skin and the prominent half of her chest were boldly exposed to the air. Even the bold streetwalkers wouldn’t dare to open their collars so low.
But no one dared to treat her like a streetwalker and approach her because her expression was too calm and composed, even with a hint of indifferent arrogance. Coupled with her deep eye sockets and high nose, she exuded a sharp aura of “men are all trash”. Although attracted by her appearance and bold demeanor, it was still early, and most men weren’t yet drunk enough to think they could flirt with this beauty—truth be told, even without considering her heels, she was taller than most men on the street. Admiring was one thing, but no one wanted to stand in front of her and become a laughingstock.
“Vasilia!” someone called out to her.
Vasilia looked up and saw her friend Alibeth standing in front of a tavern, so she changed her original plan and walked towards the tavern.
Alibeth was also tall, but not as tall as Vasilia. Her hair was closer to brown, and she had a faint dimple on her left cheek when she smiled.
Vasilia glanced at the half-open door and could tell that the tavern wasn’t of high quality. The people inside were those with limited pocket money or travel expenses. Even though it was still daylight, it was already lively and noisy, with people drinking.
Seeing Vasilia’s raised eyebrows, Alibeth didn’t need to speak to know what her friend was thinking. “Alibeth, how did you end up in such a place looking for men?”
“It’s not me,” Alibeth quickly said. “It’s Shana who met a singing guy a few days ago, and I’m here to find her.”
Vasilia said, “Remember to remind her not to get pregnant by accident.”
Alibeth was momentarily choked by her bluntness.
They were the new generation of the Lion Family. Every year, some girls between the ages of 16 and 20 were allowed to leave their hometown to travel around the continent, broaden their horizons, hone their skills, and also—fall in love.
If they met outstanding men during their journey and had excellent offspring with them, it would be a good thing. This was the tradition of the Lion Family.
“She’s just playing around,” Alibeth said helplessly. “Although Shana is a bit wild, she’s very careful about such things.”
Bards, as a group, were indeed mostly charming and humorous, with a talent that particularly appealed to girls. But for the Lion Family, men who sang and wrote poetry every day were too weak and wouldn’t be considered as potential fathers for someone like Vasilia, who was in the cadre reserve.
Vasilia always preferred to be alone, while Alibeth was good friends with Shana. The three of them happened to meet in this city and naturally gathered together, but Vasilia couldn’t agree with Shana’s overly broad choice of partners.
“Want to go upstairs and drag Shana out with me?” Alibeth invited her. “That girl gets too carried away with men. If she’s still naked in bed, I’ll need help wrapping her in a sheet and throwing her out the second-floor window to sober up.”
Vasilia was amused by Alibeth’s harsh words, which put her in a slightly better mood. She really didn’t want to step into this roadside tavern, but since Alibeth said so, Vasilia also thought Shana needed some restraint.
“Alright,” she said.
The two pretty girls received a chorus of whistles and lewd or covetous looks as they walked into the tavern, along with a small portion of disdain.
For example:
“What is that? A woman?”
“Where do such tall women come from, fuck…”
“Freak. Maybe she’s a witch…”
Alibeth coldly glanced at the corner, where a few men were commenting on Vasilia’s figure. The men, who thought they were quiet enough, immediately shut up under her imposing gaze.
“Don’t mind them,” Alibeth said as she made her way through the tables and crowd with Vasilia. “They’re just a bunch of wimps.” If it came to a fight, even together, they wouldn’t be enough for them to warm up.
Vasilia didn’t mind at all. Like everyone else, hunting the opposite sex was one of her purposes in traveling the continent, but she always liked men who were strong enough. Appearance was secondary. The main thing was to be tall, robust, and have a beast-like quality…
Vasilia suddenly stopped.
“Vasilia?” Alibeth, standing on the stairs, looked back in confusion.
Vasilia withdrew her gaze.
“Nothing,” Vasilia said.
As they walked up the third-floor corridor, they heard Shana’s naturally slightly hoarse and uninhibited laughter. There was no need to search—the wide-open door and the noisy room were undoubtedly their target.
“Shana!” Alibeth stood at the door with her hands on her hips, frowning at the overwhelming smell of alcohol inside.
Shana, with freckles on her nose, was sitting cross-legged on the bed, playing dice with a long-haired man. There were three or four other people in the room, both men and women, clapping, cheering, and laughing heartily.
“Alibeth, why are you here? Feeling lonely without me?” Shana was wearing only a thin robe, which seemed to be wrapped haphazardly around her body, almost fitting Alibeth’s prediction of “wrapping her naked in a sheet”.
“You’ve been playing for too long. Remember, we have to leave for Lakan City tomorrow?” Alibeth said helplessly. “Have you been fooling around in this room for the past few days?”
The long-haired man touched Shana’s thigh. “Shana, baby, are you leaving me?”
Shana threw the dice aside and leaned against him. “No, leaving you would be worse than death.”
Alibeth was used to Shana’s behavior, but the noisy crowd in the room made her a bit impatient. She glanced at the men and women on the carpet who ignored her, seriously considering whether to throw them all out first.
Vasilia approached Alibeth, who was half a head shorter. Even without entering the room, she could see inside.
“There’s been a change, Shana,” Vasilia said expressionlessly. “‘Over there’ sent a message.”
Both Alibeth and Shana’s expressions changed almost immediately. Shana straightened up, tied her messy curls into a ponytail, and effortlessly jumped off the bed.
“Shana?” The handsome, dark-skinned man was a bit taken aback.
“I love you, Ronan, but I have to go.” Shana blew him a kiss. “It’s okay if you forget me.”
Alibeth had no interest in irrelevant people. She and Shana followed Vasilia into the hallway, eagerly asking, “What message? Is there a mission?”
Vasilia’s performance and rank in the family were higher than theirs, so the two girls fully trusted that Vasilia had received orders from their superiors.
“Oh, two days ago, Lord Yelia said, ‘Return by the first snowfall this year,'” Vasilia said.
Alibeth and Shana: “…Is that it?”
This kind of notification was clearly a mass message, only differing in the time of receipt!
Alibeth realized that Vasilia was making an excuse to get Shana out. She slapped Shana alertly. “Alright, do you still want to go back? We need to leave as planned tomorrow.”
Shana shrugged. “But Ronan has great skills, and he’s gentle and patient.”
She said this, but she had no intention of turning back.
Vasilia led the way down the stairs. “Gentle… you like such weak men?”
“I’m not like you,” Shana said. “Or rather, you’re not like most women. I know you like those gladiators who can match you in a fight—oh.”
She let out a teasing whistle.
Alibeth, walking last, didn’t understand why Shana suddenly stopped on the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, puzzled.
Shana stepped aside to make room for her.
Alibeth saw that Vasilia had already walked down the stairs, but instead of leaving, she went to a corner. In that dimly lit corner, a man sat at a table against the wall. He was very tall, with broad shoulders and long legs. Most importantly, his seemingly ordinary posture and clothing couldn’t hide his superior physique—Alibeth was sure that beneath those clothes were well-trained muscles.
The warriors of the Lion Family were like that, shaping their bodies through years of rigorous training. The man exuded a similar aura, and Alibeth was surprised she hadn’t noticed him when they entered.
But clearly, Vasilia had.
She walked to the table and sat down directly.
“Want a drink?” she asked.
The tall man, even while sitting, was a head taller than others. He glanced at Vasilia, but his gaze lingered on her face rather than her boldly exposed chest.
His scrutiny was almost presumptuous, but Vasilia didn’t feel offended.
“No,” he said.
Vasilia wasn’t angry at the refusal. Instead, she showed her first smile of the night with great interest.
“Is it because I’m not attractive enough?” she bluntly asked. “Do you prefer pure, pitiful girls?”
The tables along the tavern walls were designed for one or two people. Both of them were taller than average, so even sitting normally, their long legs were already touching under the table.
Vasilia leaned forward, bringing her face closer to his. “Am I not your type?”
The men around them stared, but her target leaned forward, easily blocking most of their view.
His move seemed intimate, as if he were about to kiss Vasilia’s earlobe, but only she heard his low, steady voice.
“I don’t sleep with a Lioness.” His naturally deep voice deliberately lowered and vibrated the air, giving Vasilia goosebumps.
As he finished, he started to pull back, but Vasilia grabbed his collar, preventing him from retreating.
“How about a fight?” Vasilia’s eyes sparkled with flames. “If you lose, you listen to me.”
The man was silent for a moment, then pried her hand off.
“What if you lose?” he asked.
“I won’t lose.” Vasilia was always confident.
“Oh,” the man said softly. “Then you’d better remember the name of the first person to defeat you.”
Lorraine crossed the neatly trimmed boxwood bushes and found himself nearly stepping on his friend, which startled him.
Charlie was lying so close to the boxwood that it was hard to notice someone was hiding there, sleeping.
Charlie was already awake, but the winter sun warming his body made him feel too lazy to move.
Lorraine lifted the textbook covering Charlie’s face. “I’ve been looking for you for ages. How did you end up here?”
Charlie opened his eyes and yawned long and hard. “What time is it now?”
“It’s at least four o’clock. You missed lunch. John and Leflar said they haven’t seen you all day,” Lorraine looked at Charlie and couldn’t help but laugh. “Is it because graduation is approaching, and the many clingy admirers are annoying you?”
“No, that’s not it.” Charlie sat up, pulled two apples out of his robe pocket, and handed one to Lorraine. “I stayed up late last night. Calvin insisted I revise—”
Lorraine looked at him disapprovingly.
“Revise the graduation speech,” Charlie insisted on finishing. “This is the third time. If he’s still not satisfied, I won’t give it. Honestly, I didn’t want to give the speech in the first place.”
“You should address him as Professor Calvin,” Lorraine said. “And giving the speech on behalf of all graduates is an honor. It proves the school and teachers recognize your excellence.”
Charlie shrugged. “Their requirements are too many.”
“Like what?”
“Like no mentions of poop or farts, no jokes about cats, no encouraging other students to ignore their grades and only study what interests them—”
“That’s reasonable! Are you planning to say those things in front of the whole school?” Lorraine said incredulously. “Joking in that setting is inappropriate… Wait, the cat joke—is it about the dean you nicknamed ‘Big White Cat’?”
Charlie brushed the grass off his backpack, pretending not to hear his friend’s question.
“I need to see the professor before dinner.” Charlie dodged Lorraine’s hammer of justice, laughing as he ran. “Don’t wait for me to eat. You know how long-winded he can be.”
Lorraine watched Charlie’s retreating figure with exasperation, still wanting to remind him to be polite to the teachers, but he saw someone approaching and stopped.
“Senior Lorraine!” Two lower-year girls passing by brightened up when they saw Lorraine.
Lorraine turned around and adjusted his glasses.
“Senior, congratulations on being accepted by Golden Fountain Pharmaceuticals ahead of graduation—this is their first time hiring a student who hasn’t graduated yet. You’re amazing!”
Lorraine smiled at them. “Thank you.”
One of the girls, with short hair, hesitated before asking expectantly, “Will Senior Charlie stay at the school? We heard the dean wants him to be Professor Calvin’s assistant.”
“That’s also a first for the academy, right?” her lively friend chimed in.
Lorraine shook his head. “Where do you hear these rumors? I can’t answer for Charlie.”
“Do you know where he is? We haven’t seen him in the cafeteria these days.” The short-haired girl, persistent about Charlie, pressed on.
Lorraine glanced in the direction Charlie had run, but the target was long gone.
“You’ll see him at the graduation ceremony,” he said.
“The graduation ceremony is a serious occasion.” Calvin frowned immediately upon seeing Charlie’s appearance. “Don’t let me see you looking like this then—look at you!”
He raised his hand, and a standing mirror, taller than a person, walked over on its gilded legs, positioning itself in front of Charlie.
Charlie’s robe and hair were both a mess from sleeping, his eyes still red from yawning, and his shirt collar and tie were nowhere to be seen.
“Because I was focused on revising the speech, Professor,” Charlie said politely. “I couldn’t pay attention to my appearance.”
Calvin took the stack of papers Charlie handed over but didn’t look through them immediately. He set them aside.
“The suggestion I gave you last time, have you considered it?” Calvin asked.
Charlie thought for a moment. “Thank you, Professor, but I still don’t think staying at the school for too long suits me.”
“The outside world is complicated and can’t support you like the academy. You have magical talent, Charlie. It would be best if you could continue to hone it.”
Charlie looked at Calvin. The temperamental old man before him was a renowned grand magus across the continent, and almost every magic academy of any size used textbooks he had written. However…
Charlie lowered his eyes to look at his toes.
“But I have to go home first, Professor,” he said solemnly. “I’ve been away too long. My parents miss me. If I stayed at the school right after graduation, they might travel a long way to protest to the dean.”
Calvin understood his star pupil well, so he couldn’t help but sigh.
“I’ll keep a position for you,” Calvin finally said. “If you regret it within five years, come back anytime.”
Charlie blinked. “Professor, do you only have love and patience for me for five years?”
“Because I’m already very old!” Calvin eventually couldn’t help but roar, like an angry groundhog.
“Alright, alright, don’t get so worked up.” Charlie backed out of Calvin’s office, still laughing. “I’ll seriously consider it. I promise.”
Calvin took a deep breath, and after Charlie had completely exited the room, he reluctantly added, “If you encounter any problems, write back and discuss them with me.”
“Okay—” Charlie’s voice echoed back from the corridor.
Monterey Academy was the most famous and oldest magic school on the continent, excelling in every aspect except for its peculiar timing for admissions and graduation: entrance exams were held during the hottest part of summer, and graduation was in winter—after the graduation ceremony, dormitories would be reclaimed and organized, and graduates who had traveled from afar would have to embark on their journey home in the cold of winter.
Some students with poor health or affluent families would stay in the city until spring, as they could get a good discount with their academy badge and spend a cozy winter by a burning fireplace.
Charlie’s roommates planned to do just that, so even as the departure time approached, they hadn’t packed much because the booked hotels offered packing services.
Only Charlie’s belongings were gradually being packed up.
When he walked into the dormitory, he saw the tall John examining his suitcase.
“Are you really not spending the winter with us, Charlie?” John asked again when he saw him. “Leflar and I rented suites, and there’s definitely room for one more. If you’re worried about the rent—”
“That’s not the reason.” Charlie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Leflar, we’re about to graduate, and you still think I’m a poor kid driven out by my stepmother, barely managing to study with my mother’s small inheritance? I may not be rich, but I—”
“Don’t mind him, Charlie,” John, who was sitting on a single sofa, interrupted. “Because his father is so rich, everyone else seems poor to him.”
“Except Lorraine,” John added. “He’s also a young master.”
At that moment, Lorraine pushed the door open and looked relieved to see Charlie.
“So, you’re back,” Lorraine said. “I was about to send a scout to notify you: that girl is waiting for you downstairs again. Did you come up through the west tower?”
“Elena?” Charlie was a bit surprised. “I did come up through the tower because it’s closer to Professor Calvin’s office.”
“Why does she keep coming to you?” Leflar frowned. “This is too persistent. Other girls aren’t like this. What’s she after this time? Afraid she won’t see you again and wants to propose?”
“Don’t say that.” Charlie put his robe back on. “I’ll go persuade her.”
“No,” John said a bit forcefully. “Elena’s been pestering you for a while. You promised not to give her any hope, which is best for everyone.”
“I don’t intend to give her hope, but it might snow tonight. If I ignore her, she’ll wait downstairs all night again.” Charlie glanced at the weather jar by his bed.
“I’ll go convince her to leave.” John stood up from the sofa. “You sit tight.”
“I’ll go too.” Lorraine hadn’t taken off his coat and turned to open the door.
“I’ll go!” Leflar stood up, but John and Lorraine said in unison, “You sit down!”
He was startled and sat back on the bed, looking like a bullied big dog.
Charlie squatted on the carpet, continuing to pack his suitcase.
Leflar asked him, “Are you going home? Why are you in such a hurry?”
Charlie didn’t stop packing, stuffing several towels into his suitcase. “Probably. Most people go home, right?”
Leflar watched his movements and suddenly said, “So, you’re not going home.”
Charlie looked up at him in surprise. The big dog rarely showed such insight.
“You never tell us where your home is. Now we’re about to graduate. Where should we send letters to you in the future?” Leflar pressed on. “You never say anything. It’s not right, Charlie.”
Charlie said, “Alright, I’m actually not going home, Leflar. I plan to wander around the continent, not sure where I’ll go, so I can’t give you an address. But I’ll write to you and tell you where I am, what kind of scenery I see, and who—”
“What kind of beauties you’ll meet.” Leflar immediately shifted his focus.
Charlie laughed. “Yes!”
“That sounds romantic. I’d like to try it too.” Leflar said longingly. “Adventuring across the continent, pursuing the most beautiful girls, defeating the most evil forces of darkness, saving the world!”
“But your father won’t allow it,” Charlie reminded him.
“You’re right.” Leflar immediately deflated. “He doesn’t trust me, thinks I’m useless. If only I have your talent. The professors all say you’ll become a great mage.”
“You have talent. No one in the academy has more athletic talent than you, just like Lorraine’s talent in potions and John’s talent in applied mechanics. You all taught me a lot. Otherwise, my exam scores wouldn’t be so good.”
“My father says I’m a big fool compared to you all,” Leflar said.
“Does he say that to Monterey’s star captain? Do the girls who cheer for you agree?”
The two boys stared at each other across the four-poster bed for a moment, then burst into laughter, making Lorraine and John, who came in afterward, puzzled.
“What are you guys talking about?”
“Charlie said he’ll write to us during his adventures.”
“Adventures? What adventures?”
“Saving the world adventures.”
“What the hell… Hahaha!”
Teenage boys always had a low threshold for laughter. Soon, the four were laughing together. The tightly closed windows kept the warmth and noise inside. No one noticed the tiny snowflakes starting to fall outside.
Charlie forcefully jabbed the ceiling with a broomstick, causing several spiders to fall down with the dust, quickly scurrying into the gaps in the corners.
Dwight stepped back abruptly, but through the sunlight streaming into the room, he could still see countless tiny particles swirling in the air, making his skin crawl.
“That’s why I suggested you tie up your hair.” Seeing his reaction, Charlie turned around with a smile, resting his chin on the broom handle. “Proper protective measures are essential for a deep clean.”
“Can’t we just—”
“No,” Charlie interrupted, looking displeased. “This house is full of my treasures. I can’t just let anyone come in and touch everything.”
A few minutes ago, the Duke of Brandenburg, who didn’t even know what a broom was specifically used for, felt a bit angry. He thought anything on him could fetch enough money to buy this old house, making it entirely unnecessary to spend time and effort cleaning it himself. However, he then realized that Charlie’s words classified him as “one of his own”, which soothed his anger quite a bit.
Even though it was hard for him to accept standing in a large pile of dust.
Charlie could clearly see that Dwight was very uncomfortable now, so he gently pushed him outside the door. “Take a walk anywhere you like and buy some food. Tonight, there’s no way we can clean the oven in time.”
Dwight was pushed onto the porch, and then Charlie shut the door with a bang and continued his battle.
With nothing to do, the Duke of Brandenburg could only wander aimlessly along the street. Occasionally, residents of Maplewood would cast curious glances at him. But Charlie had prepared a potion that temporarily changed his skin and hair color. Combined with Charlie’s skillful makeup techniques, the Duke’s imposing appearance was significantly toned down, so the passersby were more curious than intimidated.
“Good afternoon, sir!” A passerby greeted him.
Dwight nodded at him.
“Where are you from?” The other person, an elderly man, seemed very talkative.
“Lemena,” the Duke replied.
“Ah, that’s a good place, but our Maplewood syrup cakes are also good.” The old man tipped his hat to him as they passed each other on the narrow stone bridge.
Dwight didn’t know where the syrup cakes were sold, but the smell of baking wafting along the street was an obvious guide. He walked with his hands in his pockets, his mind wandering.
Previously, Charlie had lived in Maplewood for quite a while when he was still Rabbit Head, selling some mystical trinkets to the residents who came to his door.
On idle afternoons without business, Rabbit Head might also wander around like he was now, and upon smelling the aroma, would surely head in that direction.
At the end of the street, the cobblestone path turned into a wide stone road. Occasionally, carriages passed by, with lanterns hanging from the front, swaying violently but never falling off.
Among the residences, there were some shops, all family-run. Some sold dried herbs, some handmade leather boots, and others fruits. None of this was surprising. There was also a very small house with a foldable door panel displaying several large glass jars filled with various brightly colored liquids, shining in the sunlight.
A delightful drink shop, the kind Rabbit Head loved.
Dwight stopped. The middle-aged woman inside, knitting, noticed a customer and enthusiastically promoted her beet juice and orange juice.
They were quite cheap.
Thinking about the dust swirling at 22 Paulownia Street, he asked the shopkeeper to add an extra handful of crushed mint leaves to the orange juice and bought the entire large glass jar.
The prices in this small town were fair. The Duke of Brandenburg, rarely shopping, was misled by this appearance. By the time he finally bought the freshly baked sweet bread, he found his arms were already full. Adding the bread bag would completely block his view.
The shopkeeper, holding the bread bag, made a gesture, feeling a bit embarrassed.
Dwight didn’t want to carry such a large pile of things back. He looked around and nodded towards a boy carrying a large tray of baked goods from the back.
“Your son?” he asked the shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper nodded.
“I’ll pay a silver coin if he delivers these things back for me.”
Such a matter-of-fact tone sounded a bit rude, but neither the shopkeeper nor his son minded.
“That’s too much,” the shopkeeper said. “You bought my bread, so you could—”
Dwight ignored him, transferring all the items in his hands to the muscular boy. “22 Paulownia Street. Leave it on the porch. No need to ring the bell.”
The boy glanced at his father, eagerly accepting the task.
The shopkeeper’s attention was indeed diverted.
“22 Paulownia Street?” He raised his voice. “Isn’t that Charlie’s house? Is Charlie back?”
“Are you Charlie’s friend? That rascal! Coming back without a word…” The shopkeeper returned the silver coin and the money for the bread to Dwight. “Here. You don’t need to pay.”
Dwight didn’t quite understand the shopkeeper’s sudden excitement and didn’t take the money back. “This is what you deserve.”
“Is Charlie really back?” The shopkeeper confirmed again.
Dwight said, “Yes. He came back to check on the house.”
The other person seemed to have many more questions for him, but Dwight wasn’t very good at handling such direct emotional interactions. Taking advantage of the moment when another customer arrived, he quickly walked away.
Hiring the bakery boy as a temporary porter was a good idea because Dwight bought many more items on his way back—a variety of things so miscellaneous and mysterious that he couldn’t even explain why he suddenly felt the need for them.
“Celery, carrots, and lettuce.” Charlie squatted on the porch, taking inventory of the items scattered around. “Tell me honestly, do you prefer my head as a rabbit? There’s no need to be so subtle. If you want, I can cooperate.”
“There are also roasted meat and sweet bread.” Dwight used his heel to nudge a bag of onions inside.
“Alright, help me move all these to the kitchen.” Charlie sighed, picking up several bags first. “You bought enough to throw a party. I told you we should have brought George and Shiloh along. I don’t know why you insisted on not bringing even Shivers this time.”
If Shivers were here, at least there would be an extra hand for cleaning. However, Charlie was used to doing things himself and managed to make the house livable just as the sun set.
“George has a sensitive nose. He would keep sneezing if he stayed in an old house for too long.” Dwight casually placed a basket of apples on the kitchen floor. “Unless you want to spend the whole night staying up helping him blow his nose.”
Charlie turned to face him, arms crossed.
“I haven’t asked you yet. How did you raise my nephew like this? He’s sick more often than Louis was as a child.” Charlie looked like he was accusing him of a crime.
“Priscilla was like that when she was little.” Dwight didn’t even look at him, striding into the kitchen with his long legs.
Charlie sulkily dropped his hands.
“We left him behind and came to Maplewood. He must be crying again.” Charlie and Dwight moved the dining table into place and lit several candles (because the gas lamps weren’t working due to unpaid bills).
Dwight, without looking up, placed bread, roast meat, and juice on the table. “Even if we were all in Brandenburg, he would cry every day.”
It was fine before, but since Charlie arrived, George had become the world’s biggest crybaby. He cried when he woke up at night, cried when he saw bugs, and cried even more when he lost a fight with the cat—because Charlie always went to hold him.
Facing the Duke’s reproachful look, Charlie quickly changed the subject. “Elly’s drinks, Old Fred’s bread, Red-Nosed Joe’s best roast pork—you bought all my favorite things from before. Does this mean our love has sublimated into tacit understanding?”
Dwight’s response was a light kick to him under the table.
Although they had left in a hurry, Charlie had made thorough preparations: the furniture was covered with dust cloths, fragile items were put away in drawers, doors and windows were tightly shut, and even the plants in the front garden were entrusted to a neighbor for care. They were still thriving.
Charlie’s room was on the second floor, facing the street, with a large wooden window but no balcony. Charlie liked the feeling of fresh air, so he placed his bed by the window. If he opened the curtains, he could see the moon while lying in bed.
Tonight, the moon was large and round. He sat on the windowsill, gazing at the quiet, empty Paulownia Street. The streetlights were still on, with many moths flying around the light clusters. Charlie watched, lost in thought.
Until an arm encircled his waist from behind.
Charlie turned around to see Dwight, who had woken up without him noticing.
“Sorry, is the wind too strong?” Charlie wanted to close the window a bit, but Dwight stopped him.
The Duke of Brandenburg had grown up and was much stronger—though he was never weak to begin with.
“What are you thinking about?” Dwight asked.
Charlie slid down from the windowsill and lay back on the bed, facing Dwight.
“I was thinking about the past,” he said. “About our old life.”
Dwight had washed off his disguise from earlier; his long, pale golden hair spread out on the bed sheet, looking like he had stolen half a moon from the sky.
“More happy memories or sad ones?” he asked again.
Charlie: “……”
Despite everything, this guy’s bluntness never changed for love.
“More sad memories,” Charlie admitted. “I was thinking about Columbus. This house has never been so quiet.”
Dwight pulled Charlie into his arms like George hugging a toy, then wrapped them both in a blanket.
“I knew it.” His voice was muffled under the blanket. “Hiding his base on the porch wouldn’t help.”
Charlie: “…Wait, you hid it? I thought some mischievous kid took it today!”
The little tin soldier used to have a base on the porch, not for any practical purpose but just to look more like a purely decorative toy. When new visitors knocked on the door, it was Rabbit Head and the tin soldier’s shared hobby to scare them by suddenly speaking.
Dwight said, “I knew you would miss him when you came back. I knew you would be sad, so I didn’t let anyone else come along.”
Charlie fumbled under the blanket to pinch his face. “I don’t get the logic.”
“You always don’t want to show your sadness.” Dwight ignored his actions and continued, “You don’t want to be seen—but I’m not ‘anyone’. If anyone can make you less sad, I hope it’s only me.”
Charlie began to understand what Dwight meant. He pulled back the blanket covering them, revealing Dwight’s face, whose eyes, light as a handicraft, were staring at him unblinkingly.
“In return,” Dwight pulled Charlie closer, resting his chin on his shoulder, “As long as you feel better, I’ll fulfill any wish you have. Just say it.”
Charlie chuckled softly. “Any wish? That sounds familiar. Did you wait to say this until we were at 22 Paulownia Street on purpose?”
“Romantic, isn’t it?” Dwight asked seriously.
“Romantic to death,” Charlie replied just as seriously, kissing the tip of his ear. “My wish has long been fulfilled. Love, you are a remarkable shopkeeper.”
“Arnie!” Priscilla quickly ran down the steps, tightly hugging her little brother, who had just gotten off the carriage.
She hugged him so tightly that Arnie could barely breathe.
“Priscilla.” Arnie comfortingly patted her back.
“Are you—are you okay?” Priscilla asked excitedly.
“Alright, do we have to stand here to talk?” Duke Dwight laughed. “Priscilla, let your mother and I catch our breath—this trip wasn’t easy.”
Priscilla gripped Arnie’s hand tightly, afraid that if she let go, her brother would disappear again. “Tell me, where have you been?”
There was no one in Brandenburg who wasn’t worried about Arnie.
He was placed on the large sofa in the living room, surrounded by a circle of people, staring at his face, checking if he had been mistreated.
Arnie, of course, hadn’t been mistreated.
Although the conditions in the forest were a bit rough, the Nawen tribe didn’t mistreat this young nobleman. When he returned, Arnie’s cheeks were still round and full, and his skin as tender as it was before he left home.
The young master of the Dwight family was still the cutest child in Lemena.
Knowing his sister was frightened, Arnie, unusually, sat close to Priscilla, slowly recounting the story of how the big, dumb guy from the Nawen tribe privately ran off to become a bandit and how the seer allowed him into the elf ruins.
Although she shared the same blood as her brother, Priscilla wasn’t very interested in elves. She repeatedly checked if Arnie was hurt, and although he assured her he had a decent time, Priscilla couldn’t believe he hadn’t been wronged, being taken alone to an unfamiliar environment.
“You’re the heir of Brandenburg.” Priscilla was still displeased with the troublesome relative. “You haven’t been without attendants since you were little—did the Nawen tribe know what you like to eat? Did they know that coarse fabrics would chafe your skin?”
In Priscilla’s eyes, five-year-old Arnie was still a baby (though she believed that at nine, she was mature enough), and how could he be without constant care?
Arnie was a bit confused. The long journey made his mind sluggish, and recalling specific details was suddenly very tiring.
Priscilla immediately noticed his fatigue and asked Elaby to arrange for him to wash up and sleep.
“When you wake up, there will be a surprise,” Priscilla said. “Have a good dream, Arnie.”
But Arnie didn’t sleep well. Perhaps it was because he had been away, lying in his big bed, tossing and turning, feeling something was off.
He wanted someone to sleep with him tonight—but Arnie was too embarrassed to ask.
So he got out of bed, pulled the largest long pillow from the closet, dragged it back to bed, and only then barely managed to fall asleep holding it.
Duke Dwight asked Elaby to wake Arnie around three in the afternoon. Rest was important, but overindulgence could disrupt Arnie’s otherwise excellent habits.
Arnie was quite grumpy when woken up today, unwilling to get out of bed, and was eventually carried out of the bedroom by Elaby.
“He might have a slight fever.” Elaby worriedly told the Duke, feeling that the child’s neck and hands were a bit warm.
“Check again in half an hour. He just got out of the covers.” The Duke had a hat put on Arnie, then took the grumpy little boy into his arms.
“Arnie, the capital has a gift for you.” The Duke coaxed as they left the castle. “Don’t you want to see what it is?”
Arnie, resting his head on his father’s shoulder, wasn’t very enthusiastic. “What is it?”
The Duke felt his son had become clingier after the incident, as Arnie wasn’t usually this affectionate. He softened his voice. “Two ponies—the Emperor sent them for you.”
There wasn’t a boy who disliked horses. Arnie indeed perked up, finally lifting his head. “Where are they?”
“Albert is bringing them over.” The Duke put him down. They were in a beautiful grassy area outside the castle, with the sun shining warmly but not too strongly.
Arnie’s eyes widened as he saw Albert riding over, followed by two small ponies, one black and one white, very cute.
“They’re still very young.” Albert dismounted and smiled at Arnie. “Do you want to pet them?”
Of course, he did.
The ponies were about the same height as Arnie, very friendly. Arnie petted them all over, finally smiling.
“These are a gift from the Emperor.” The Duke squatted beside Arnie, petting the ponies with him. “Your mother and I also have a gift for you. Although it’s a bit early, we think it’s time to consider your knight candidate.”
The Dwight family had a long history, and their inherited wealth was astonishing, but the responsibilities each heir had to bear were equally significant, making the head’s safety paramount. The Brandenburg Knights were established for this purpose.
Arnie knew he would have a knight eventually, but he didn’t like playing with other kids. Brandenburg had only two children, but the capital had many princes, princesses, and other noble kids. Boys his age were always too excited and sweaty, and while girls liked him, he didn’t like being touched.
Arnie asked, “Can’t I have Alfred?”
Though Alfred was his father’s knight, Arnie thought that when he inherited the title, Alfred would still be strong enough—he didn’t mind men being older.
The Duke laughed heartily. “You don’t want Alfred to retire? He would cry if he heard that. Apparently, he found a promising young candidate among the Nawen tribe to bring back as an apprentice.”
Arnie didn’t like hearing this and moved behind the pony, staying silent.
Both Arnie and the potential knight candidates were still very young. The Duke didn’t want to force Arnie to accept immediately, so he gently suggested, “For now, it’s just a trial. We haven’t decided who will be your knight. You have many years before you come of age, so think of it as having a few more friends to grow up with. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Arnie said, “But I want Alfred.”
The Duke pulled him close and stood up, holding him with one arm.
“Duke Dwight will have only one Knight Commander. Alfred and I met when we were very young.” The Duke said, “He will protect you, Priscilla, and your mother with his life, but that’s because his oath of loyalty is to me, before you were born.”
“When you inherit the title, Alfred will still love you like your mother, sister, and I do, but it will be a different kind of responsibility—you’ll understand that in time.” The Duke patted his head, in the same way, he had just petted the pony.
……
“So, they’re all future Brandenburg Knights?” Erica leaned on the windowsill and looked down. Brandenburg often held banquets, but it was rare for the main characters to be children, like today. She was a bit curious.
“Erica, can’t you act a bit more ladylike?” Albert, with a headache, pulled his sister down. “Why are you still wearing that? Where’s the dress mother prepared for you?”
Erica rolled her eyes at her brother and ran off as soon as she landed.
Albert didn’t have time to catch her. He was very busy today. Just dealing with the grumpy Young Master Arnie was enough for everyone.
“Still haven’t found him?” he asked the person hurriedly passing by the terrace.
The person gave a wry smile. Brandenburg was so large that a small child could hide anywhere, making it hard to find him.
“Albert!” Elaby leaned over. “Can you see what Miss Priscilla is doing down there?”
Albert was stunned for a second.
The castle garden’s lawn was decorated with many things children liked. The long table covered with a white tablecloth was filled with candies, puddings, small cookies, and drinks, stretching as far as the eye could see. But among the guests, the slightly older children looked a bit puzzled, just like their parents.
Everyone knew that this banquet was held by the Duke to select playmates—or rather, knights—for his son. Although all the invited children came from good families, titles and wealth couldn’t withstand the increasing division among more and more descendants.
Parents with some foresight were consciously seeking future prospects for their children, and this was undoubtedly a great opportunity. Regardless of whether their children could understand the significance, they emphasized before departure that it was crucial to leave a deep impression on the future Duke Dwight. Making friends would be even better.
But who could have thought that the main target wasn’t present?
“I was going to bring the rocking horse in advance, but Miss Priscilla said she had other plans.” Elaby had a headache. “Please, see what she’s up to?”
“No.” Albert looked at Priscilla on the lawn below. With Arnie not around, she was naturally the focus of the banquet, currently talking to everyone. From this distance, Elaby couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it was clear everyone was listening attentively.
“She said to let the children find Master Arnie.” Albert, skilled in lip-reading, easily relayed what was happening on the lawn.
“The first one to find him gets a mysterious prize… Miss Priscilla is really clever.” Albert raised an eyebrow.
A hide-and-seek game was naturally more interesting than being led by parents to perform talents. The children didn’t need much prompting and soon left the lawn.
“But where did Master Arnie go?” Elaby wondered. “We’ve searched all his usual places.”
Arnie was in a tree.
No one knew he could climb trees—not even himself. It was a sudden whim. Walking in the garden, he saw the tree with the densest crown and suddenly wanted to climb it.
So he did. He didn’t think he missed the Nawen tribe’s high-hanging wooden house, but he was willing to admit that the smell of the trees improved his mood.
Arnie sat on the trunk with his legs dangling, occasionally seeing people looking for him through the branches and leaves, feeling a mischievous glee. The sunlight filtering through the gaps warmed him, making him drowsy.
‘No one knows I’m here,’ he thought. ‘No one can find this place.’
So Arnie comfortably hugged the trunk and fell asleep. When he woke up again, the air had turned a bit cool.
“You’re awake?” someone asked.
Arnie leaned forward to look. On another branch, a child sat, looking older than him, very handsome, especially with that pure golden hair—it looked like the sun had fallen onto the tree.
Arnie hugged the trunk and said nothing.
He wanted to go down but suddenly realized he didn’t quite know how to climb down.
Without a response, the boy wasn’t annoyed. He skillfully stood up on the trunk and started climbing down using the protruding branches and knots. Arnie watched him without blinking, then slowly extended a foot, imitating him.
He was a bit scared, but the boy didn’t climb down all at once. Instead, he waited on the lower branch for Arnie.
Arnie slid down a bit, and the boy would lead the way down a bit further until both of them were on the ground. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief and smile at Arnie.
“You climbed really high,” he said.
Not far away, someone shouted and ran toward the two suddenly appearing children. Arnie tilted his head to look at him and finally spoke. “Can you climb to the top of the tree? The highest point.”
The boy looked up. “I probably can, but it’s best not to. It’s the season for White Arc Birds and Snow Finches to raise their chicks. Their nests are high up, and humans climbing up would scare the adult birds.”
“Oh.” Arnie also looked up at the top of the tree but couldn’t see if there were nests. He wanted to say something else but was scooped up by the rushing Elaby.
“Master!” Elaby could hardly control himself. “You’ve been missing for hours. The Lady was about to cry.”
The people who followed Elaby surrounded them, checking if the two children were hurt.
“By the way, you—” Elaby, holding Arnie, turned to the boy standing there, looking much more relaxed. “Thank you for finding him. What’s your name?”
“Just a coincidence, sir,” the boy replied. “My name is Shivers.”
The author has something to say:
Arnie’s memories are a bit disordered after just returning home. He still has some traces of living with Rabbit Head, but he can’t find the source.
The two ponies are Araceae and Midnight, who appeared at the beginning.
George remembered that his uncle was holding him before he fell asleep, but when he woke up, he found himself lying on top of “Charlie”.
Charlie hadn’t opened his eyes yet. George wanted to climb off him but was afraid of waking him, so he nervously lifted his head to look at Charlie.
At his age, George had a basic concept of beauty but couldn’t discern the degrees of handsomeness—he thought his uncle was slightly better looking than Charlie, but since his uncle said Charlie looked just like his father, George decided Charlie was also very handsome.
How should he address him? He couldn’t call him Dad because he wasn’t his dad. Uncle? George had many uncles; the entire Brandenburg Knight Order was his uncles. Was Charlie a knight too?
This concept puzzled George. After thinking for a while, his neck got tired, and he lay back down on Charlie.
Last night, Charlie had held him while he slept, making George feel closer to him. George was a child who loved to be cuddled, pampered, and the adults always humored him.
His uncle wasn’t unwilling to hold him, but the Duke of Brandenburg was very strict with himself and others. Everything had to follow rules and systems, and George had a limited number of times he could act spoiled in a day. Once he used them up, no amount of pleading would work. Sleeping while being held was too indulgent and not allowed.
But Charlie was willing to hold him all the time. Once George understood this, he didn’t want to escape anymore, especially since his uncle was right beside him—George closed his eyes and fell asleep again.
After George’s breathing steadied, Charlie and Dwight opened their eyes.
“That’s why I said to put him back in his room before he wakes up.” The Duke’s voice was still hoarse in the early morning. “Otherwise, he will keep wanting to sleep here.”
Charlie said, “Last night was special. George was sick.”
“He will ask to sleep here every time he has a fever.”
“Is that not allowed?”
“No.”
“Must you be so strict?”
Dwight’s response was to sit up and move George off Charlie.
Charlie watched in amazement as Dwight moved, and George showed no signs of waking up.
“He easily gets anxious, but my presence calms him,” Dwight said as he tucked George into bed. “He won’t wake up that quickly.”
“Oh—George loves his uncle so much,” Charlie mocked in a drawling tone.
“I’ve spent the most time with him since he was born. Even if I were a monkey, George would instinctively rely on me,” Dwight said.
“Did Priscilla just let you take him back?” Charlie asked.
“The environment in Doran is unstable,” Dwight replied matter-of-factly. “I believe George’s tendency to be clingy is due to the unstable environment Priscilla experienced during her pregnancy, affecting George in the womb.”
This was the Duke’s personal theory, with no evidence to support it, but he felt it was the only explanation for George’s personality.
Neither Priscilla, himself, nor Louis or Charlie were the type to be dependent, so Dwight couldn’t understand where George’s clinginess and dependence came from.
Moreover, after returning to Brandenburg, George was almost second in status only to Dwight in Lemena. Dwight raised him as an heir, with everyone revolving around him. In both material and emotional aspects, George was one of the wealthiest children on the continent. But the boy lacked any sense of leadership and was extremely clingy.
The only explanation Dwight could think of was that Priscilla’s anxiety during late pregnancy affected George. Although George had no memory of being in the womb, he hadn’t forgotten the feeling.
There was another detail the Duke wouldn’t mention: his initial time with George hadn’t been smooth, and both of them suffered a lot.
When George was born, Charlie had disappeared due to magic. The Wolf and Monkey families were in chaos due to their leaders’ sudden deaths. If not for a lack of manpower, they could have been divided by the covetous Lion and Fox families.
Coincidentally, the forces of the Modicon Empire had secretly arrived at White Bridge. Emperor Zoltar, warned by Dwight, had sent a small force to Doran to eliminate the Holy Grail legend forever. When they arrived, they found the Black Gold Families in civil war. Not only was the Holy Grail’s whereabouts unknown, but most of those who knew of its existence were dead.
Dwight had done Louis a favor by using this force to reorganize White Bridge. Representing Wolf, Louis, with Dwight’s support, reshuffled the two family factions in White Bridge using extremely harsh methods. The Monkey became a branch of the Wolf family, even losing their surname.
After the situation stabilized, Priscilla took George back to Mokwen. The news of Duke Dwight’s uninvited arrival shocked the entire capital. Tifa, who had a weak personality, felt guilty after killing Priscilla’s husband, his own brother, and handed over all of Lestrop’s inheritance to Priscilla, even giving the title to George, who wasn’t even a month old. Priscilla became the acting Countess.
This outcome wasn’t without opposition from the Mokwen royal family, but Priscilla handed George over to Duke Dwight, claiming her frail health prevented her from raising him personally and asking him to take care of the child.
A reasonable request from a sibling.
The problem was that the Count had left, and Priscilla, exercising the Count’s authority, remained in place. This meant the title was effectively given to Priscilla, and dealing with a weak infant was entirely different from dealing with a politically savvy woman who had survived and secured her family’s assets and position.
Priscilla ignored those who openly and secretly expressed dissatisfaction and refused all attempts to probe her upon returning to her territory, under the guise of mourning her late husband.
Dwight unconditionally supported Priscilla. The little one she entrusted to him was also a Dwight by blood. But this nephew was so young that the newly adult Duke of Brandenburg felt completely out of his depth.
Priscilla and Louis arranged for a nanny to accompany the child to ensure his safe and smooth arrival at Lemena. However, it was only when little George grew older, began to think, and had emotional needs that the greatest challenge for Dwight arose. The peculiar yet familiar hug between uncle and nephew that Charlie saw last night was one of the results of that period.
“Don’t dawdle,” Dwight, determined not to share his rather embarrassing parenting history, urged Charlie with a stern face. “We have things to do.”
“Where to? What about George?”
“His fever has already subsided. He will get up when he wakes.”
“He will be sad if he wakes up and finds no one around!”
“The nanny will stay with him.” Dwight simply pulled Charlie out of bed and dragged him to the dressing room to change clothes.
Charlie asked, “Shouldn’t we still—”
“The place we’re going is not suitable for George,” Dwight said quickly, giving Charlie no room to bargain.
Charlie, who had hardly seen any friends except Shivers since returning, felt a bit helpless and had no idea what the rush was about. But from the other’s smooth arrangements, it didn’t seem like a spur-of-the-moment decision. As he was almost pushed down the spiral stairs into the central garden, a small, two-seater carriage was already waiting.
“If I ask where we’re going, you wouldn’t tell me, right?” Charlie, arms crossed, sat in the carriage and looked at Dwight—then at the scenery outside the window. One had to say, his elf lineage hadn’t been wasted. Though he had grown up, his facial features hadn’t lost their delicacy. Instead, the subtle changes in his bones had altered his aura. He used to resemble an angel in a religious mural, now he looked like a handsome statue in a domed hall.
The common point was that his beauty set him apart from ordinary people. Just looking at him could dissipate anger.
“We’re almost there,” Dwight said.
He was telling the truth. The carriage didn’t travel far after leaving Brandenburg but wound up to a small hill with a woodland area at the top.
Charlie recognized it immediately as the place where Dwight had moved Khalif’s basement: a small depression at the base of the hill.
Dwight didn’t lead him to the basement but instead walked toward the woods on the hillside. This area was evidently part of Brandenburg, with maintained lawns and woods and clean paths.
It seemed it had rained last night. The air in the woods was particularly fresh, lifting Charlie’s spirits. He walked beside Dwight on the stone path, looking around curiously.
There was only one path in the woods, ending at a stone dome building, flanked by various beautiful trees with rain-washed leaves glistening.
As they got closer, Charlie noticed that this building looked more like a temple than a hall—it had no doors—only twelve marble pillars arranged in sequence, each topped with a lifelike carving of a horse.
Dwight led Charlie into the central hall without stopping. Inside was an empty circular space, resembling…
Charlie stopped.
It resembled Brandenburg.
Facing the entrance was a circular staircase, at the top of which were two stone high chairs with two statues sitting on them—Dwight’s late parents, the previous Duke and Duchess.
The former Duke, in his prime, had a calm face, looking straight ahead, the only non-stone part being the staff he held, topped with a glittering red gemstone.
The Duchess beside him wore a veil—a strange blend of cold stone and soft veil—and her face beneath was as serene as Charlie remembered. Her stone veil was adorned with a beautiful silver tiara, exquisitely crafted, clearly of elven make.
The two statues sat in their places, with many more statues below them. Charlie saw a tall, handsome man nearest the former Duke. He wore no helmet, his stone cloak only half draped, looking up slightly at the Duke and Duchess.
Statues couldn’t smile, but in Charlie’s memory, this man often did.
“Alfred,” he said softly.
Charlie stood at the entrance, suddenly a bit hesitant to move forward—something he rarely felt.
But Dwight gave him no chance to hesitate, pulling him forward while giving a simple introduction.
“Flora, mother’s maid, very kind.”
“Joseph, father’s assistant, in charge of clerical work.”
“Mrs. Eloise, mother’s assistant, used to manage Brandenburg’s finances with the steward.”
“Eddie, father’s attendant, very clever.”
Charlie tightened his grip on Dwight’s hand, but he seemed oblivious.
“…Sherrill, former Brandenburg knight, excellent rider and very intelligent.” Dwight was familiar with every statue. He led Charlie up the steps. Most of the statues on the steps were knights.
“Alfred, you know.” Dwight’s gaze passed over Alfred’s statue, landing on the only man standing beside the Duke’s statue—a young, handsome man without armor.
“Albert, the steward’s eldest son,” Dwight said to Charlie. “Erica’s brother.”
Charlie stood before the Duke’s statue, unable to speak.
“Back then, they were all on the same ship, a large one built by the Empire’s finest craftsmen, accompanied by a fleet of warships, claiming even sea monsters wouldn’t be their match.” Dwight lowered his eyes. “Humans are ultimately too arrogant. Even someone as strong as Alfred… The Brandenburg knights couldn’t conquer the storm with swords.”
The former Emperor lost Duke Dwight, the fleet, and the will to cross the seas, but his loss wasn’t as tragic as that of the Brandenburg siblings.
Dwight and Priscilla couldn’t even build graves for their parents, only adorning the statues with their cherished staff and tiara.
“My conflicting feelings toward George are also influenced by this place.” Dwight’s gaze fell on the Duke and Duchess’s laps, where, due to their sitting posture, there was space for a child to sit.
“Even if there was only a one percent chance, I worried George would become like me, seeking solace from statues in times of helplessness and loneliness. So, on one hand, I want him to grow up immediately. On the other hand, I think he deserves to be spoiled and rely on his elders because I’m still here,” Dwight said.
Charlie turned to look at him.
“It wasn’t until Priscilla got married that I stopped coming here. This is the first time in many years.” Dwight suddenly smiled. “Because I thought I had grown up and couldn’t rely on my parents anymore—even imaginary reliance. But after returning from Doran, I didn’t hesitate to choose the hill as the site for rebuilding the basement, within their line of sight.”
Charlie hugged him. “Alright.”
Dwight continued, “Last night, when I saw you holding George, I suddenly realized I might not be as mature as I thought. Father and Mother saw the childish side of my soul in a panic but still responded to my plea, bringing my lover back.”
“Who said that?” Charlie blinked, trying to hold back tears. “Duke Dwight has always been particularly reliable and the most handsome—did I ever tell you? The first time you stood on my porch, I was stunned.”
Dwight pressed his fingers to Charlie’s eye corners. “Really?”
“In front of your parents, I can’t lie.” Charlie pressed his forehead against Dwight’s. “The well-traveled rabbit shopkeeper couldn’t have fallen in love at first sight with anyone less than extraordinarily handsome, wise, calm, and brave, right?”
Dwight closed his eyes. Warm sunlight spread through the pillars, in this exceptionally tranquil space, they could feel each other’s breaths mingling.
It felt like they had just experienced a long adventure, a bit tired yet somewhat happy, not wanting to speak, just quietly leaning on each other.
Like every ordinary day and night to come.
The End
The author has something to say:
Thank you all for your support! The rabbit-headed character was just a sudden idea, and I didn’t expect this story to take so long to write. I initially planned to finish between 400,000 to 500,000 words, but it doubled, hahaha.
I should ideally announce the next book, but as someone who runs on instinct with no plans (probably why I get stuck), I’ll let it happen naturally.
Don’t leave yet. I’ll slowly write extras. Although the update schedule won’t be fixed, unless the book status is marked complete, it still means extra updates are coming.
Kinky Thoughts:
With this, we reach the conclusion of the main story. I’ve always been on the lookout for western fantasy in danmei after reading Stray, and this came highly recommended to me.
My overall thoughts are, it’s quite good. The story really pulled me in and had me turning pages, wanting to find out more. The writing was pretty good overall (with a huge asterisk, which will be explained later). However, compared to Stray, it falls quite short, but then again, there’s not much that can compare to Stray (my bias).
My biggest gripe with this novel is the romance. As I expressed before, it was hardly ever developed when, suddenly, 130+ chapters later, they shared a kiss out of nowhere. It felt definitely shoehorned in because the author is writing a “danmei”. Honestly, the author could just remove the romance from this novel and just call it fantasy. The development was just too awkward—that being said, Shivers and Yitzfa’s relationship is lit. The author has noted that she’s not very good at writing romance, so I guess that’s why we have such an awkward relationship with the main CP.
Second, the last part of this novel is quite convoluted. The author spent quite some time developing the setting and world, so I was expecting more political intrigue and war, yet all we got when Charlie returned back from the past was a few chapters that basically wrapped everything up. What about the World Dragon? What about the Holy Grail? It seems like a missed opportunity to not explore more on this subject. The author seems to have many ideas she wanted to incorporate but couldn’t fit them in cohesively, especially in the last part of the novel where everything seemed to be crammed in all at once to rush the ending.
Third, the setting the author developed seemed quite inconsistent. For instance, Dwight constantly talks about the difference between nobility and the common people, what his status meant, and how he should act. Even Priscilla acknowledges she cannot be with Louis due to their different status… but everyone is seemingly okay with Dwight just shacking up with Charlie? A man? Like what…? Especially when he’s the only male heir of the Dwight family. I supposed George now can take over the family’s title and name but still… Why is there no acknowledgement of their relationship and how scandalous this would be in such a setting? I mean this issue wasn’t even glossed over—it was entirely not acknowledged at all!
Finally, the most headache-inducing were the typos in the original raws—and my god, there were so many. This wouldn’t be too bad of a problem if not many of the typos were the names the author herself made (and this novel seriously has A LOT of names). It was hard to tell when I saw a new “name” whether it was an actual new name or just a typo the author made. At some point, the author even forgot some of the side character names she made, asking readers to help her out in the comments (WTF… keep tabs on your characters) and there was also another name where she at some point reversed the Chinese characters, leading me to believe it was a newly introduced person (it wasn’t—that was a fucking pain to fix all the previous chapters).
However, with that said, it was quite a great read. Don’t let my opinion influence your views. Though I rant, I did really enjoy this novel.
If you did enjoy it, please consider supporting the author by buying the raws. You can use Google Chrome with their auto translate and this guide on how to buy novels on jjwxc. Remember, only with your (financial) support can artists continue to produce more great works.
Finally, I like to thank everyone for your comments, encouragement, help with my translations, and ko-fi donations.
There are still extras, so look forward to them. Hopefully I can get more Shivers x Yitzfa.
George was a bit shy. The first time he saw Charlie, he didn’t say anything, and when his uncle called his name, he tried to hide in the water.
But Charlie liked him very much.
“Louis looked just like this when he was little,” he said happily to Dwight. “Exactly the same, except for the color of the eyes and hair.”
“Why don’t you say he looks like you?” Dwight absentmindedly rubbed Charlie’s ear. This was a habitual action. Dwight had always been particularly attentive to Charlie’s ears, even when he had a rabbit’s head. After Charlie reverted to his human form, Dwight discovered that, whether as a human or a rabbit, Charlie’s ears reflected his emotional state. For example, now they moved slightly because he was happy.
“We didn’t often look in the mirror when we were young because seeing each other was like seeing ourselves. Louis and I were both very cute when we were kids, so George is especially cute too.” Charlie added, “And so are you.”
Dwight snorted. “Do you think I’d be jealous of a little kid?”
“No, I’m being serious.” Young Arnie was indeed lovable, and Charlie felt a bit regretful as he reached out to touch Dwight’s stomach, feeling the muscles under his pajamas.
Overall, there were gains and losses, he thought.
Dwight was about to speak when they heard a faint noise outside the door. Both of them paused to listen.
After a while, a sparrow-shaped clock near the door began chirping.
“It’s George,” Dwight said. He lay still, letting Charlie, barefoot, jump out of bed to open the door.
Dwight had converted his adjacent reading room into George’s bedroom because the child was too young and needed to be close. The sparrow-shaped clock was something Erica had gotten for George, as he couldn’t knock on the door yet.
When Charlie opened the door, he saw George standing on a soft stool, holding a gold cord. Seeing Charlie instead of Dwight, he looked a bit disappointed.
“George, do you have a fever?” Charlie noticed a small towel draped over George’s collar and reached out to feel his neck. The nanny following George stepped back after seeing the door open, allowing Charlie to pick him up.
George squirmed in Charlie’s arms. He wasn’t very familiar with Charlie and wanted to go to his uncle. But he didn’t dare say so and just craned his neck to look into the inner room, his legs kicking involuntarily when he saw Dwight coming out.
Charlie, experienced in handling children with nighttime fevers, handed George to Dwight and found a soft blanket to wrap him in, giving him water to drink.
Dwight held George with one arm and used the other to ring a bell for the doctor. Charlie thought the child was almost hanging from Dwight’s arm, but both seemed accustomed to the awkward posture.
“He was in the bath too long yesterday,” Dwight said, examining George. He had rushed to fetch Charlie and left George in the large bath for a long time. Although there were maids supervising, they didn’t dare interrupt George’s fun, so when they returned, he was still soaking in the water.
George buried his face in his uncle’s arm, sneaking glances at Charlie. Technically, Charlie wasn’t a stranger. He had heard people around him talk about Charlie since he was born—though his uncle mentioned him less frequently, everyone said Dwight was waiting for Charlie to return.
George had once thought Charlie was a child like him and feared his uncle would like Charlie more. Later, Dwight gradually taught him that Charlie was his father’s brother.
Seeing George’s curiosity, Dwight placed him, still wrapped in the blanket, next to Charlie.
“Your father looks just like Charlie. Aren’t you curious?” Dwight said. “Even their voices are similar.”
Charlie gently stroked George’s back like he was a small animal. “George, where is your dad?”
George hesitated, then whispered, “In a faraway place.”
Charlie looked up at Dwight with a bit of reproach. That’s an ominous way to put it.
Dwight said flatly, “He’s the current head of the Wolf Family.”
Charlie: “Huh?”
Dwight: “But he’s not in White Bridge. After Khalif died, the Wolf Family had no leader, and only Louis received support. He’s been rebuilding and helping Khalif’s daughter with the business… Later, he even gave her his assistant.”
“What do you mean by ‘later’?” Charlie glanced at George, who seemed to understand little. Dwight, however, spoke naturally and openly, making Charlie wonder if Dwight allowed George to listen in on political discussions while sitting on his knee—or wherever—while working in his study.
“Later, he left. The real power at White Bridge now lies with those two. Louis hasn’t officially stepped down because they don’t yet have the reputation or authority, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“So where did he go?” Charlie pressed.
Dwight looked at him as if he were an idiot. “How would I know? No one knows but him. When you were running around two continents back then, did you ever tell anyone your ticket’s destination?”
Charlie sulked. “But he doesn’t know I’m back.”
“Then send Emerald to find him,” Dwight suggested.
“Does Emerald know where Louis is?”
“No, but it can fly to look for him. It’s gotten fat, so it could use the exercise,” Dwight said matter-of-factly. Just then, the doctor arrived. Dwight looked down, preparing to lift George, but found he had fallen asleep.
“Since he’s asleep, don’t wake him. I’ll prepare the medicine. He can take it when he wakes up,” the doctor said, curious about Charlie. Charlie nodded to him.
“Louis used to get fevers a lot as a child. Rubbing his back made him feel better,” Charlie said softly, bending down to look at the sleeping George. The little boy’s soft face was squished into an adorable and funny shape. Though his features weren’t very similar, his sleeping expression was very much like Arnie’s.
“George doesn’t get sick often but is timid and doesn’t like sleeping alone,” Dwight said, looking at them.
“Then why don’t you sleep with him?”
“He’s the heir of Brandenburg. How can I allow him to be weak?”
“How old is he?” Charlie couldn’t help but sit up and argue.
“Age doesn’t matter. When I was his age—”
“Weren’t you also fond of being coddled? Arnie.”
Dwight suddenly straightened up, almost waking George with the motion. Charlie quickly steadied George and patted his back to soothe him. Once George was sound asleep again, Charlie gently placed him on the large bed in the inner room.
Dwight followed him in, grabbed Charlie’s hand, and asked in a low voice, “How do you know that name?”
“Which name are you asking about? Arnie?”
“I’m asking you—” Dwight pulled him closer until their noses almost touched. Charlie could see the complex mix of excitement and astonishment in his light, golden eyes. “Where exactly did you go?”
“I thought you wouldn’t ask.” Charlie chuckled. “It’s been 24 hours already.”
“I didn’t have time to ask,” Dwight said discontentedly.
“I’m not sure if the seer agreed to my request. How much do you remember from many years ago?” Charlie asked in return.
“What stories?”
“The story of the forest and the dragon. The story of the little chick’s adventure in the kitchen. And the story of the Kingdom of Gold in Dreamland. I told you many, many stories.”
“Those were miscellaneous books I read when I was little.” Dwight scrutinized his expression. “No one told me those.”
Charlie then knew the Nawen seer had granted his request. He wrapped his arms around Dwight’s neck and told him everything, starting from when he fell into the river and was swept away.
“I did go to the southern elven forest,” Dwight said. “The Nawen tribe gradually migrated out in batches. Most stayed in the area, some children came to Lemena, and some even went to the Imperial Capital when they grew up.”
“Hasting is also a child of the Nawen tribe, right?” Charlie said. “I told Alfred not to miss him… on the night you were sound asleep.”
At the mention of Alfred, Dwight took a deep breath.
“Alright.” He repeated as if convincing himself. “Alright.”
He was very displeased that someone had tampered with his memory, considering it an outrageous violation. This also explained why his memories from when he was five were unusually vague. It wasn’t that he should remember everything, but exceptional memory had always been a talent of the Duke of Brandenburg. Until Charlie mentioned it now, he hadn’t realized that only Hasting’s presence vaguely reminded him of what had happened years ago.
As Charlie narrated, this extraordinary past seemed to have the dust of time wiped away, revealing its true form.
“Alfred took a liking to Hasting. At that time, cooperation between Lemena and the Nawen tribe hadn’t been formally discussed. The knights wanted to take only one child, but Hasting’s brother didn’t want him to go alone and volunteered to go along.” Dwight tightened his embrace around Charlie, leaning on his shoulder, not wanting him to see his expression.
“His brother… unlike Hastings, had magical talent. He started learning elven magic at a very young age and was also physically strong, so both brothers came—they were the first batch.”
Initially, the Nawen tribe was reluctant to let their children be taken away, but as time passed and they realized how enriching the cities and life outside the forest could be, they changed their minds and actively sent children willing to leave to Lemena and even the Imperial Capital to study and live.
Charlie pulled away a bit and saw that the usually stoic Duke of Brandenburg looked somewhat sad—a rare moment of emotional vulnerability.
“You make me regret it.” Charlie sighed. “I shouldn’t have told you all this.”
“No,” Dwight said softly. “I’m glad you know them.”
At that moment, George suddenly turned over on the bed, and they both fell silent, watching him.
“You were only a little older than George then, Arnie,” Charlie said wistfully.
Dwight pinched his ear.
“When I see George, it’s like seeing you. I don’t want to raise him to be so spoiled, but I find it hard to refuse that face.” Dwight sat on the edge of the bed and tucked George in. “The Grand Magus could replicate Khalif’s magic but couldn’t ensure giving me the same landing point as you. The only way was to wait for you to come back.”
“Thank you for taking care of Arnie, and thank you for coming back,” Dwight said. “I missed you very much.”
Kinky Translations 