"Ahh…what am I going to do now? Even if Klarman is gravely injured, he's still a veteran demigod. There's no way I can handle him alone."
Akasha paced in thought for a while, then sighed.
"No, I'd better…ask Ancestor for guidance."
She immediately lowered herself into prayer, reverent and respectful, "Ancestor Lilith, Klarman has been severely wounded. This is the best opportunity for my revenge. But Edward has vanished without a trace. Please tell me, what should I do next?"
A faint female voice brushed past her ear. Akasha froze, then nodded lightly.
"…I understand."
Still in her bathrobe, she stepped over to the window, gazing up at the scarlet full moon hanging in the sky. "If that guy hadn't suddenly disappeared…Klarman's debt might already be paid in blood."
———
Year 1160, Morning
Roselle leaned close to the silver plate, carefully carving the final mysterious rune into its surface. When the last stroke was complete, he suddenly flung the graver aside, collapsing back into his chair like a punctured balloon.
A few minutes later, his whole body trembled—then he burst into wild laughter. "I did it…I did it! I finally did it! Hahahahaha!"
He snatched up the silver plate—almost identical to the one that had once brought him across worlds—and prepared to infuse it with spirituality.
But in that final instant, his fingers went slack. The plate slipped from his hand, clattering back onto the table.
A troubling thought wormed into his mind:
What if…the moment I inject spirituality, it sends me back?
If it had been ten years ago—before Bernadette's birth—Roselle would never have hesitated. He had long since grown weary of this dull, frustrating, archaic world. He had yearned to return to the modern city, to the internet, to conveniences, to his parents.
But with Bernadette's birth, everything had changed.
The very first time he had seen her wrinkled newborn face, he had felt it—I have a home now.
Because of Bernadette, even his relationship with Matilda had shifted, quietly acquiring a bond that—though not love—was akin to family.
Now, with a replica of the silver plate before him and a chance to go home within reach, Roselle hesitated. For the first time, he found himself reluctant to leave this world he had once treated like nothing more than a game.
Silently, he slid the plate into a drawer. Picking up the Pinocchio and other little dolls he had been carving in his spare time, he walked to the door.
Creaaak—
The study door swung open.
Standing guard outside was Edwards.
"Sir, have you finished your work?"
Roselle clapped him on the shoulder.
"Mm. Thank you, Edwards. Go take a rest."
"It's fine—Grimm and I switch shifts every half day."
"Still no word about the mascot?"
Edwards shook his head. "Some people did come knocking, but none mentioned the special name you instructed."
"…Alright. I see."
Roselle carried the dolls toward Bernadette's favourite swing. Sure enough, from a distance he saw his darling daughter rocking back and forth, little cheeks puffed in a pout—clearly upset by someone.
He slowed his steps, padding silently around behind her. When he was just two or three meters away, he suddenly lunged forward.
"Ha!!"
"Ahh!" Bernadette squealed, startled. "Daddy—you're out of seclusion!"
"That's right! Look what Daddy made for you while I was away!"
With a flourish, Roselle piled the dolls into her arms.
"Well? Do you like them?"
"Waaah! Pinocchio, dwarves, Snow White…Daddy, don't tell me you went into seclusion just to make these for me?"
"Ahem…exactly."
"Uuuhhh…"
Overcome with emotion, Bernadette threw herself into his arms. "Thank you, Daddy…"
"Eh? What's this? I've given you gifts before—you've never cried like this."
"I…I just feel like…this time your gift is too precious…uuuhhh…"
Roselle felt a strange pang, though he brushed it aside.
"Of course it's precious. Look at all the little cuts on Daddy's hands—each one from carving these dolls for you."
"…"
Waaahhh…Daddy…you're suffering so much for me!
Just then, Matilda walked over. She approached gently, eyes soft as she looked at Roselle.
"You've worked hard these past few days. I've already had hot water prepared. Go and enjoy a bath."
"Mm, alright."
Roselle stroked his daughter's hair. "Daddy will come play with you again after his bath, okay?"
With that, he left with Matilda.
"By the way," she said softly, "Dubois came to see me yesterday."
Matilda spoke softly. As a young lady from a very traditional noble family, she knew full well that once married, everything revolved around the husband. Naturally, she would not hide anything from Roselle.
Roselle's moustache twitched upward as he gave a cold snort. "Hmph. What did he want with you?"
"He seems to have found a new job—working as a butler for a wealthy man who just moved to Trier. That gentleman apparently wants to integrate into the Trier aristocracy. Dubois is grateful for the job, so he wants to help him."
Roselle narrowed his eyes.
"And how does he plan to help?"
"When we hold our next banquet," Matilda explained, "he wants us to send that gentleman an invitation—so that he can meet you and the others."
Roselle scoffed. "He thinks quite highly of himself. And you agreed?"
"I agreed."
"You don't know how poor my relationship with him is?"
Matilda covered her mouth and chuckled.
"But I know something else even better—that you'll also agree, in the end."
"And why should I? He's too proud to come to me directly, so he sneaks through you. Why should I give him the satisfaction?"
"Because when the time comes, you can use it to mock him at the banquet."
"…."
Roselle raised a brow, staring at his wife as though seeing her for the first time.
"Matilda…since when did you become so…mischievous?"
She pressed her lips together in a smile. "I learned it from you."
Roselle froze, then coughed into his hand.
"Ahem. Well, that's good. Much better than your stiff and proper self before. Keep it up."
"Yes, sir."
Matilda winked playfully.
"Wait a second…" Roselle frowned slightly.
"This isn't something that bastard Dubois taught you, is it?"
Tsk! Of course. Only a scoundrel understands another scoundrel best.
After all, before his transmigration, the "original Roselle" and Dubois had been childhood friends—two peas in a pod when it came to mischief. When Huang Tao replaced the original Roselle, he hadn't cut off contact with Dubois right away. Even if he once looked down on these "NPCs" in the "game," Dubois was one of the rare few who matched his frequency, so he enjoyed keeping the friendship.
But once he became a "Savant" and dove into invention and creation, then later moved to Trier, the gap between them widened. Prideful as both were, they drifted apart until they reached today's strained relationship.
"Argh! If I'd never hung around with that scoundrel Dubois back then, I'd still be a shining beacon of morality like in my previous life—a righteous young man! How could I have ended up such a rogue?"
Yes, exactly!
It's all his fault.
Dubois corrupted me!
———
Rose Street No. 7 – Villa
The next morning, as Edward walked up to the second floor, he saw servants and slaves busily working in their respective roles. For a moment, he felt a strange sense of dislocation.
Does this mean…I've truly taken root in this past era?
Two hundred years later—would the "Sparrow family" still exist? What kind of fate would they have?
No!
As long as he found Lilith, he would take her into seclusion, live quietly, and simply wait for time to carry them forward into the future.
But…in the future he remembered, Lilith made a high-profile appearance—she even stormed into the Astral Plane to confront Cheek. If he truly found her, how could he possibly allow that?
Edward forcefully cut off his wandering thoughts.
No. Focus on the present!
"You there—yes, trim that side a bit more."
"That painting is ugly. Replace it with one of a maiden bathing—no, a maiden on an outing."
"Endilli, when you cook, please make us a special drink separately. I'll give you the recipe later. It's not about wanting special treatment, but if my brother and I go too long without it… our bodies will suffer."
"Arlde! Stop grinning at that shabby suit of yours. You're Mr. Sparrow's valet. It's already past ten—shouldn't you go wake him up?"
"And you! Yes, you, Dubois. Go hire me a beautiful maid to assist me. What? You say you're the butler and I have no authority over you? Do you even know the worth of a housekeeper? For nobles, the housekeeper is practically half the master of the estate. I can share Mr. Sparrow's bed—can you?"
"What? You can too? Well, I can bear him children—can you?"
"Hmph! Don't try to challenge me!"
As soon as Edward stepped into the courtyard, he saw Akasha standing there with hands on her hips, barking orders left and right, spitting out words as fierce as wolves and tigers.
Dubois looked over with a face full of despair, silently begging for help with an expression that screamed: Where on earth did you find such a demoness?
Edward quietly walked up behind Akasha and brought a swift karate chop down on the back of her neck.
Outraged, she spun around.
"Who dares attack me from behind?!"
"Akasha," Edward said evenly, "I brought you here to be my housekeeper, to help me solve problems—not to act as the mistress and create problems."
Akasha blinked, stunned.
"But I am helping you solve problems. As a housekeeper, the very first step is to improve the living environment! Just look at the awful taste of the previous decorations and furnishings!"
Then, as if realising something, she quickly added, "Of course, I don't mean you, sir. You only just moved in—obviously the style here has nothing to do with you."
…But the truth was, every inch of this villa's design had been modelled by Edward himself after his future villa in the Empress Borough.
———
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