Helos let out a soft sigh, her eyes darting cleverly before suddenly lighting up with a look of sudden realization:
“So, in that case, those Abyssal Cultists are actually pretty dumb, aren’t they?”
“What do you mean?”
Julius scratched the back of his head in confusion, clearly not following her train of thought.
“Look, aren’t they trying to use this poison concoction to control the populace and then create chaos within the city?”
“That’s true.”
“Then why use such an inefficient method?”
Helos tilted her head, counting off on her fingers one by one. “Think about it—since they have a large stockpile of concentrated poison…”
Her voice suddenly dropped considerably:
“If it were me, I’d just go to the upstream water source of Olivius City—or better yet, just dump the poison straight into the city’s drinking water system. Wouldn’t that be way more efficient?”
“And you’d only need to pour in a small amount once, without worrying about anyone suddenly discovering it.”
The girl shrugged. “By the time they realize it, the poison would have already seeped into their bones, wouldn’t it?”
“Then those commoners and nobles would be nothing more than puppets in my hands.”
No sooner had Helos finished speaking than Julius instinctively opened his mouth wide, frozen in place.
What on earth was this guy saying?
Was this terrifying line of thinking really befitting a duke’s daughter?
She had come up with something the Abyssal Cultists themselves hadn’t even thought of?
So, who here was the real Abyss cultist?
The boy stared at the silver-haired girl’s innocent face, his throat involuntarily moving.
Those pale purple eyes were clear and pure, as if the horrifying words were just casual everyday chatter.
“Please don’t go down the wrong path in the future, Miss Helos.”
After a long silence, Julius finally managed to blurt out that sentence.
Helos blinked. “I won’t.”
Their eyes met under the lamplight.
Julius’s black pupils reflected the girl’s earnest expression, while Helos’s eyes shimmered with some indescribable light.
The workshop fell silent for a moment, with only the occasional chirping of insects outside the window reminding them of the passage of time.
“Let’s hope so…”
Julius sighed softly, a hint of helplessness in his tone. “Then I’ll go investigate those nobles.” He gave Helos a long, deep look, as if wanting to etch her innocent yet dangerous face into his memory.
He turned and pushed open the wooden door of the workshop. The night breeze rushed in, dispersing the warmth inside.
Just as he was about to step out, the girl’s cheerful farewell came from behind him:
“Alright! Have a safe journey~”
Julius’s steps faltered slightly but he didn’t look back.
The moonlight stretched his shadow long, gradually blending into the deep night of the duke’s manor.
***
The next morning, Julius changed into simple casual clothes and headed alone to the upper city market.
The morning light had just begun to break, vendors were setting up their stalls, and the air was filled with the scent of fresh ingredients and firewood.
As the Olivius Duchy, the noble class here wasn’t particularly prominent—mostly minor nobles, wealthy merchants, and some declining old families. True power holders rarely stayed here for long.
He walked slowly through the gradually bustling streets and stopped at a stall selling dried fruits.
The shopkeeper was an elderly man with graying sideburns, carefully arranging his goods.
“What new things are the lords chasing after lately?”
Julius asked casually, sliding a few extra copper coins into the man’s hand discreetly.
“New things? Let me think…”
The old man paused, wiping his hands with a cloth, then leaned in and lowered his voice: “I heard those guys are scrambling for a kind of wine called ‘Crimson Dream’? Seems to have only become popular recently.”
He hesitated, a trace of doubt in his voice. “Even the tax officials are asking about it… I wonder if the duke knows anything.”
Julius’s heart tightened but his face remained calm.
“What’s special about this wine?”
“Who knows, right?” The old man shrugged. “But the servants of the Orsonfort Family mentioned it when they came shopping. Said their lord held several small banquets specially for this wine.”
“Don’t really know if it counts as ‘new,’ though. Usually whatever’s popular among our nobles here is tied to the capital or the duke himself.”
This piece of information immediately raised Julius’s suspicion.
He thanked the old man and went on to visit a few small taverns along the street.
Sure enough, the name “Crimson Dream” kept popping up and had become the talk of the town.
But strangely enough… even inside the duke’s manor, no one had heard of this newly released wine.
After a whole day of inquiries, Julius finally got a crucial lead in an inconspicuous herbal medicine shop on the outskirts of the upper city.
The shop was filled with a strong herbal scent, with various medicines neatly displayed on wooden shelves.
The owner was an elderly man with white hair and beard, wearing glasses as he carefully weighed some herbs.
Seeing Julius enter, he looked up, his eyes behind the lenses sharp and shrewd.
“Young man, what do you need?”
“I want to inquire about some special herbs,” Julius said cautiously, “things used to brew unusual drinks.”
The old man paused for a moment and put down the herbs in his hands.
“What kind of brew?”
“‘Crimson Dream’.”
Julius lowered his voice. “I heard it requires some special recipe.”
The old man’s expression immediately darkened.
He went to the door, glanced left and right before shutting it, then turned back and said:
“Kid, I advise you not to touch that stuff.”
“Why?”
Julius pressed on, “I’m just curious about the recipe.”
The old man sighed and motioned for Julius to come to the back room.
The back room was simpler, with only a table and two chairs.
“That wine first came from Baron Black,” the old man whispered.
He said it was the baron’s exclusive recipe, obtained half a year ago during his travels to a remote town.
Julius was intrigued. He hadn’t heard of this noble title before.
“Baron Black?”
“A fallen noble family,” the old man explained. “They were barely holding onto their dignity until they came up with ‘Crimson Dream.’ Suddenly, they became the toast of the upper city.”
After a pause, he continued:
“No one knows the exact recipe, but the baron claims it requires several extremely rare herbs. Because those ingredients are so scarce, production is limited and the wine is only supplied to nobles and wealthy merchants.”
Julius looked thoughtfully at the old man.
“Do you have those herbs here?”
The old man shook his head, his white beard swaying gently.
“The baron obtains them through special channels. However…” He hesitated but continued, “Not long ago, someone did come here looking to buy a large quantity of Hemostatic Vine.”
Julius’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward slightly.
“Hemostatic Vine? Is it related to the wine?”
“I can’t say for sure if it’s linked to ‘Crimson Dream,’ since Hemostatic Vine is a fairly common herb,” the old man said cautiously, a hint of worry in his eyes.
“But the timing of the wine’s rise in popularity matches when that bulk purchase was made.”
“And, you might not believe this, kid.” He glanced out the window and lowered his voice further, “Those who’ve drunk ‘Crimson Dream’ seem… addicted to it.”
“So, I don’t recommend you try that wine.”
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