DLMSWSHH Chapter 24

TL: Hua

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Chapter 24: Joan and Albert

TL note: Joan’s pronoun in raw is sometimes she or he, depending on what form they are in.

Zhong Ming recognized “her” voice. He let out a slow breath and said softly, “Miss Joan, please let go of me.”

The person behind him didn’t answer. Instead, the arms tightened further. Zhong Ming felt as if he were being coiled by a snake; the body pressed against his back was rock-hard, leaving him unable to move.

A surge of panic hit Zhong Ming. He couldn’t suppress his racing heart and finally let out an uncontrollable gasp.

A low chuckle came from behind him. The hands gripping his waist released and moved to his shoulders, turning him around.

Joan’s haughty, pale face appeared before his eyes.

The woman’s face was as exquisite and beautiful as ever, but her expression was entirely different from the cold indifference she had shown Albert this morning. She stared at Zhong Ming, the corners of her mouth curling up and her brows arching, her beautiful features radiating a certain predatory aggression.

“What are you doing here?”

Zhong Ming composed himself and instinctively took a small half-step back. “The same goes for you, Miss Joan. Shouldn’t you be giving Young Master Albert his lesson?”

Upon hearing this, Joan’s lips twisted into a slight smile. She was smiling much more than usual now, with a hint of malice. “Someone is currently disciplining him in my stead.”

Zhong Ming stared blankly, then frowned. Joan had used the word “discipline” rather than “educate.” This struck Zhong Ming as strange.

Meanwhile, in the fourth-floor study.

Albert opened the door and entered the study, his expression icy. He looked at the person sitting behind the desk and chair, his brow furrowed, and frankly, he didn’t want to get close at all. He paused for a moment before walking towards the low stool next to the desk.

Unexpectedly, as soon as he moved, the Duke suddenly said, “Stay right there.”

Albert’s footsteps halted abruptly. He looked up at the man behind the desk, a cold light flashing in his eyes. Fine, he would stand.

He straightened his back and kept his hands behind him. Standing there before the Duke, it didn’t look like a father disciplining a son; it looked more like a superior and a subordinate. The atmosphere was indescribably bizarre.

Zhong Ming had no idea that the father and son upstairs were currently in a deadlock like enemies. Before him, Joan took another step forward, forcing him to retreat. With one advancing and the other receding, Zhong Ming was quickly backed against the windowsill.

Zhong Ming was forced to lean back, bracing his hands on the ledge. Joan was half a head taller than him. She reached out to lean against the window frame above, while her other hand reached for the side of Zhong Ming’s face.

“Darling…”

Standing in the shadows, she smiled and stroked Zhong Ming’s delicate chin, though her words sounded like they were laced with shards of ice: “You know a little too much.”

Zhong Ming’s breath hitched. He turned his head to evade Joan’s hand and lowered his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispered. “I only came here… to see if anything needed tidying up.”

“Is that so?”

Joan gave a half-smile and suddenly said, “Then what about the matter in the chapel?”

Zhong Ming’s heart sank. He had been seen that day. Joan withdrew her hand and braced both arms on the windowsill, almost entirely enveloping Zhong Ming in her shadow. Seemingly certain that Zhong Ming already knew her true gender, her poise and haughtiness vanished like water, replaced by an aggressive, masculine aura.

“Now my secret is exposed.” Her voice dropped, gradually shifting into a low, husky male voice. “Tell me, what should I do with you?”

As Joan transformed, Zhong Ming felt the temperature in the room plunge several degrees. It was nearly nine o’clock, and the sunlight was brilliant, yet it felt utterly devoid of warmth as it hit him.

It wasn’t just the environment that was changing.

Zhong Ming lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on the shadow at Joan’s feet.

The shadow on the floor began to twist and lengthen, turning into several thrashing, long appendages. Yet the Joan standing in front of him remained unchanged in form.

Zhong Ming’s breathing faltered for a second. He forced his eyes away from the increasingly distorted shadow and met Joan’s gaze directly.

“That wasn’t my fault.” His brows knitted slightly, and his pink lips pursed as he looked at Joan with a hint of complaint. “I was exhausted that day and accidentally fell asleep in the chapel. When you came in, you didn’t check if anyone else was there.”

Seemingly caught completely off guard by Zhong Ming’s counter-accusation, Joan was stunned. His intention had been to frighten Zhong Ming, as the way the little manservant bit his lip in fear was particularly adorable. He had regretted not being able to see it clearly when the youth was hiding in the confessional that day. He hadn’t expected to actually make the youth angry.

Zhong Ming glared at Joan, his face showing a trace of indignation.

“I didn’t listen to your conversation on purpose. I only hid because you were both so terrifying.” He paused, his tone sounding a bit aggrieved. “You are all so mean to me; that’s why I’m afraid.”

Perhaps because he was so angry, Zhong Ming’s voice was slightly louder than usual, but his tone wasn’t stern enough, making him sound soft and yielding. Joan stared blankly at Zhong Ming as he vented his temper. The shadow behind him stopped surging; one of the shadow’s tentacles stood upright like a cat with its fur standing on end, just as stunned as its master.

Zhong Ming pursed his lips and continued, “And if you hadn’t assigned me so many tasks, I wouldn’t have been so tired, and I wouldn’t have fallen asleep in the chapel.”

In any case, it was someone else’s fault. Joan felt that Zhong Ming was being a bit unreasonable but subconsciously felt that he shouldn’t speak up at this time.

Zhong Ming raised his hand and pressed it against Joan’s shoulder, trying to push him away. “Let go of me.”

Finding that he couldn’t budge Joan, Zhong Ming dropped his hand and turned his head away as if giving up. The corners of his eyes suddenly turned red.

Seeing this, Joan’s heart twinged. Moving faster than his brain could think, he immediately caught Zhong Ming’s drooping hand and coaxed, “Don’t be sad.” He blurted out, but seeing that Zhong Ming still wouldn’t look at him, he softened his voice and said, “Okay, I was wrong.”

Zhong Ming still didn’t turn back, only staring down at the tips of his own shoes.

Joan had lived for many years but had never experienced the power of the cold-shoulder treatment. His scalp prickled, and he felt the tentacles inside his body begin to churn uneasily. Not knowing what else to do, he could only lean down to look at Zhong Ming’s face.

“I’m sorry, I apologize to you.” Joan felt like his voice had never been this gentle and pleading in his life. “Darling, please just look at me, okay?”

Only then did Zhong Ming turn back, his lips still pursed. His thick eyelashes trembled as he said reluctantly, “…I still prefer your female form.”

Hearing this, Joan was momentarily stunned. When he spoke again, he switched back to the female voice. “No way, you really like women?” He retracted every bit of his sharp aggression, using a soft, feminine voice to ask curiously.

Zhong Ming didn’t answer. Actually, he just didn’t like people who were too aggressive. Many men were incredibly foolish and arrogant, and he genuinely found it easier to get along with women.

Joan blinked and stood up straight. The shadow at his feet returned completely to a human shape. “Fine, then you must keep this secret well.”

She smiled at Zhong Ming, a cold glint passing through her eyes. “You aren’t allowed to tell that person named Li. And you aren’t allowed to tell any of the lower-level people.”

She said cruelly, “After all, if you let it slip, they’ll be the ones who die.”

Upon hearing this, Zhong Ming looked up, wanting to ask why he wouldn’t be the one to die. But since he had finally managed to muddle through, he didn’t want to provoke Joan. He nodded obediently. “I understand.”

The temper he had just thrown vanished like water, and he returned to his usual well-behaved self.

Seeing that Zhong Ming had been so easily coaxed and wasn’t acting up anymore, Joan didn’t show it, but she breathed a massive sigh of relief internally. Feeling pleased, and since Zhong Ming already knew anyway, she simply said, “Is there anything you want to know? You can ask me.”

The matter of the chapel was brushed aside just like that. A dark gleam flickered in Zhong Ming’s eyes.

“That day you said… Albert and you… were both created by the Duke?”

“Yes.”

Joan nodded and walked over to sit in the chair by the desk. The desk was vintage mahogany; sitting there in her sapphire blue velvet dress with her golden curls cascading down, Joan looked as beautiful as an oil painting. She turned her head and beckoned to Zhong Ming.

“Come here.”

Zhong Ming walked over. He ignored Joan’s silent invitation to sit on her lap and leaned against the edge of the desk instead. Seeing this, Joan didn’t force him. She crossed her legs and propped up her chin, admiring the side of Zhong Ming’s face illuminated by the sun.

“I was created a century ago.”

Joan’s first sentence gave Zhong Ming a huge shock.

He couldn’t help but widen his eyes. Joan laughed at his surprised expression and continued, “Albert was ‘born’ about fifty years ago.” Joan made a small gesture with her hand. “The Duke has twelve tentacles in total, but only three of them store all of his power.”

She held up two fingers toward Zhong Ming. “One became me.”

“One became Albert.”

Zhong Ming steadied himself slightly, his brow furrowed. “Then he is now—”

“So he is much weaker than before,” Joan said, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “A long time ago, this dungeon only had this house and that Duke. Maybe the old man got lonely, so he created Albert and me.”

“He originally hoped that I could replace him as the boss of this dungeon. But unfortunately, the main character was ruined, so he created this alt character, Albert.”

Joan arched an eyebrow as she reached this point. “Though I think this alt character is about to be a failure as well.”

Zhong Ming struggled to digest this information. After a pause, he asked, “Why did the Duke want you to replace him?”

“Who knows,” Joan answered nonchalantly. “Maybe the old man is tired of living? After all, no one knows exactly how long he’s been around. From what I know, he’s been wanting to quit since the last century.”

Zhong Ming fell silent.

He recalled his few encounters with the Duke. There was indeed a certain ancient, decadent aura lingering around him. The furnishings in the study, the heavy volumes with yellowing pages, the gramophone in the corner… everything seemed like a specimen preserved from days gone by.

After deep thought, he looked up. “Then, have you seen the Duke’s face?”

Joan answered immediately, “No.”

The answer came too quickly, making Zhong Ming feel surprised. “Even you haven’t seen it?”

Upon hearing this, Joan thoughtfully rested her hand against her temple and narrowed her eyes. “Let me think… maybe several decades ago, I attacked him once.”

“In human terms, I was going through a rebellious phase. I really wanted to kill the Duke and take his place, but I failed.” She turned her face toward Zhong Ming. “I think I saw a little bit back then, but my brain was injured, and I’ve forgotten.”

Joan spoke lightly, but in reality, what happened that day was that Joan and the Duke had engaged in a brawl, or rather a one-sided beating, in front of all the players. The Duke had pierced Joan’s temple directly with a tentacle, skewering several players in the process. After that, Joan’s mind became somewhat unstable, and she developed a penchant for cross-dressing. Perhaps out of a sense of apology, the Duke used the very tentacle that had severely injured Joan to create Albert. For the sake of optimization, he followed human growth patterns, raising Albert from a child.

As a result, Joan still harbored resentment towards Albert’s existence, believing the two “siblings” were destined for misfortune and had been at odds since they came into being.

Zhong Ming didn’t know these stories, but he could sense the danger of that time from Joan’s words. He remained silent. Alright, it seems that even after losing two-thirds of his power, the Duke is not someone easily defeated.

“But why are you curious about this?” Joan arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you like women? What does it matter what that old man looks like?”

Zhong Ming didn’t really want to answer, so he brushed it off vaguely. “I was just asking.”

And speaking of old, aren’t you over a hundred years old yourself? Zhong Ming thought. Suddenly, he remembered that Albert was also over fifty, and he fell into a brief, contemplative silence. No matter how he looked at it, the thought was still a bit unsettling.

After quietly digesting this fact, Zhong Ming spoke again. “What about the servants?” He looked up at Joan. “Aside from you and Albert, where did the servants come from?”

Upon hearing this, Joan narrowed her eyes slightly and leaned in closer with a smile. “Do you really want to know?”

Zhong Ming nodded. “I do.”

Joan’s expression became even more meaningful as her gaze swept over Zhong Ming’s long, slender legs. She was about to say something when she suddenly froze. As if sensing something, she looked up toward the ceiling.

“Tch.” Joan’s brow furrowed deeply, and the relaxed expression on her face vanished instantly. She cursed under her breath, “How annoying. He’s getting more meddlesome by the day.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the room. Zhong Ming stood up and watched Joan’s retreating back as she quickly disappeared through the doorway. Then, he looked up at the ceiling himself.

If he remembered correctly, this room was directly beneath the Duke’s fifth-floor study.

–

Because of his conversation with Joan, Zhong Ming arrived at the archives a few minutes late, but he wasn’t particularly worried. Ever since he had become a skilled worker, Tao had turned into the most obnoxious kind of boss, the kind who only showed up once in the morning and once in the afternoon to check progress, offer a few nitpicking criticisms, and spend the rest of the time elsewhere.

A slight delay wouldn’t matter.

Zhong Ming walked unhurriedly down the corridor. However, as he rounded the corner and saw the archive door, he immediately sensed that something was wrong.

The door was ajar.

Someone was inside, and it wasn’t Tao.

Zhong Ming paused, then lightened his footsteps. Holding his breath, he slowly approached the room. Through the crack in the door, he saw a person in a white hoodie crouching on the floor, frantically flipping through the files on the shelves. The person looked extremely nervous, their movements hurried and clumsy. Scattered documents littered the floor around them.

Zhong Ming’s eyes flickered. Tao was a man of extreme compulsiveness who demanded perfect order; the thousands of files in this room were organized into precise sequences.

This meant that if anyone messed with the files, Tao would be the first to know.

Zhong Ming thought for a moment, then reached out and pulled the door open. The old wooden door gave a sharp creak.

“!” The young man in the white hoodie spun around. Seeing Zhong Ming at the door, he was so startled he fell back onto his rear. “You, you—”

His expression was frantic, and his glasses were crooked. He looked at the mess of documents and stammered an explanation: “I-I didn’t see anything! I swear!” He picked up a book from the floor and pointed at the text. “I can’t even read the language in these.”

Zhong Ming looked down, recalling what Li Yizhi had said. It seemed that not only the lower-level servants but the players as well were unable to read this script. His gaze lingered on a thin wire lying on the floor next to the boy’s right hand. It seemed this player had picked the lock to get in.

Do college students usually know how to pick locks these days?

Zhong Ming narrowed his eyes. Then, he looked at the youth and said, “Go.”

The student was so terrified he was nearly on the verge of tears. Seeing that this NPC didn’t intend to do anything to him, his eyes widened in shock. He froze for a long moment before scrambling to his feet and bolting out the door.

Zhong Ming looked at the scattered files on the floor. He looked up and noted that out of the thirteen bookshelves, the player had only managed to ruffle two. The rest were still tidy.

Zhong Ming stood still, his gaze sweeping over the remaining shelves.

He stepped forward toward the third bookshelf, looking at the perfectly aligned volumes.

Then, Zhong Ming raised his foot and kicked the entire bookshelf over!

CRASH—

With a thunderous roar, the shelf slammed into the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.

At three in the afternoon, Tao arrived at the archives, dressed in a silver-grey suit. He stood at the door, checked his reflection in the glass of a window to ensure his appearance was perfect, and then pushed the door open.

Immediately, the scene of total devastation met his eyes.

Inside the archives, all the bookshelves had fallen to the floor, books scattered everywhere, almost forming a small mountain. Zhong Ming was squatting in the middle of the books, pushing several stacks of neatly arranged books at his feet. Hearing the sound at the door, he turned around, his fair face covered in dust.

“Tao, you’re back.”

Tao’s pupils constricted behind his lenses. Seeing the wreckage, where there wasn’t even a clear place to step, his temple began to throb.

He had obsessive-compulsive tendencies and was a germaphobe; the sight before him made his skin crawl. Because he was in front of Zhong Ming, he forced himself to take several deep breaths. His right hand, veins bulging, adjusted his glasses as he finally managed to look up. “What… happened here?”

Sensing his fury, Zhong Ming stood up awkwardly and whispered, “…It was a player.” He looked up, cautiously gauging Tao’s reaction. “He picked the lock and broke in.”

Tao froze. He looked down at the lock on the door and indeed saw marks from a lockpick. A flare of rage surged through him.

“Dammit!” he hissed, slamming his fist against the door with a loud bang.

Zhong Ming flinched at the sound, lowering his head even further and shrinking his shoulders. Tao’s brow was furrowed, and he was ready to continue cursing, but when he looked up and saw Zhong Ming standing in the corner, pale and trembling, his anger faltered.

“I… I’ll clean it up right now.”

Seeing Tao look over, Zhong Ming bit his lip and turned to try and lift one of the fallen shelves. But these shelves were made of solid nanmu wood; there was no way he could move one alone.

Tao watched as Zhong Ming managed to lift the shelf halfway before his strength gave out. Seeing him about to stumble, Tao rushed forward to steady him.

“Let go, let me do it.” He braced the shelf and pushed Zhong Ming aside. Once the shelf was upright, he immediately turned and grabbed Zhong Ming’s hand. He saw two distinct red welts across the youth’s fair, soft palm.

“Look at what you’ve done to yourself.” Tao frowned, touching the red marks with a hint of heartache. He looked up at Zhong Ming and saw the youth watching him with a wary, cautious gaze.

Tao’s heart melted instantly. He remembered his father’s teachings from his childhood: only a failed man takes his anger out on his wife.

The anger on his face faded. He took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the dust from Zhong Ming’s face, speaking softly: “Don’t worry. I won’t punish you.”

Upon hearing this, Zhong Ming visibly relaxed. He stared at Tao without blinking. “Really?”

“Really.” Tao smiled, taking Zhong Ming’s hand and leading him across the mess toward the hallway. “Leave it. I’ll handle this.”

The two stepped outside, and Tao immediately closed the door to keep out the dust that filled the room. Then, he coughed lightly, straightened his slightly disheveled clothes, and took a square object from his briefcase, handing it to Zhong Ming.

“I brought this for you from outside.”

Zhong Ming took it and looked down. It was an exquisitely wrapped gift box. The square, pale green box was tied with a soft pink ribbon. He could faintly smell a sweet yet slightly bitter aroma; it was a box of high-quality chocolates.

He looked up at Tao in surprise. Tao turned his head away awkwardly, putting his briefcase away and acting as if it were nothing. “I just happened to pass by and bought it. A reward for your hard work lately.” He then stiffened his expression. “Don’t read anything else into it. If you do a poor job in the future, I’ll still punish you.”

Zhong Ming: “…”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Zhong Ming spoke in a businesslike tone, but he noticed Tao’s brow furrow slightly. Zhong Ming waited patiently for two seconds before lowering his eyes and adding, “Thank you. I like it very much.”

Tao’s brow finally smoothed out. He waved a hand at him. “Fine, fine. Go get something to eat.”

“Yes.” Zhong Ming nodded and turned away with the gift box.

He walked toward the end of the corridor. There were at least a thousand documents in that room. Sorting and re-ordering them all would take at least two weeks. During that time, any missing documents would go completely unnoticed.

As Zhong Ming rounded the corner, holding the gift box in one hand, his other hand surreptitiously brushed against his right pocket.

–

With the archives in disarray, Zhong Ming’s work as an assistant was suspended, giving him more time to spend with Albert. Over the next few days, Albert still insisted on bedtime stories, but he no longer required Zhong Ming to stay in bed. Perhaps because the weather had been fair, Zhong Ming felt his spirits lift as he looked out at the sunlit valley. Taking advantage of the clear day, he took Albert for a stroll in the garden, where they encountered several mercenaries.

Those mercenaries looked at the two of them as if they’d seen ghosts and immediately scrambled away. Zhong Ming walked forward to investigate and saw that several rosebushes had been uprooted and tossed aside. The surrounding soil was covered in the messy footprints of the mercenaries.

Zhong Ming frowned. “…These people.”

He understood that the players were just looking for clues, but they were like a swarm of locusts, leaving a mess wherever they went. Looking at the fallen roses, he knew how precious those seeds were and felt a pang of regret.

Albert, however, seemed indifferent. He retracted his gaze from the flowers and looked toward the distant valley.

Beyond the black forest, two towering mountains gleamed with emerald green in the sunlight, their valleys seemingly cleaved by a giant axe, from which a river flowed slowly, its surface shimmering in the sunlight.

Looking at this peaceful and beautiful scene, Albert suddenly said, “The mist is coming.”

Zhong Ming didn’t hear him clearly and turned his head. “What?”

Albert withdrew his gaze and said nothing more.

–

That same day, after Zhong Ming led Albert back to the mansion, the sky suddenly turned dark.

Zhong Ming watched as the sky outside was filled with dark clouds in an instant. A sound like a howling gale began to echo through the valley, and the temperature plummeted. By three in the afternoon, it was as dark as twilight. Witnessing this, Zhong Ming felt it was remarkably similar to the day Albert had insisted he stay in his room, both involving a sudden, violent change in the weather.

After dinner, Zhong Ming stepped out of the dining room and glanced outside, only to be startled.

An incredibly dense fog had somehow enveloped the entire mansion.

Visibility was extremely low; everything from the valley to the garden had completely vanished. Through the window, he could only see the nearest withered trees, their branches waving in the air like the gaunt, skeletal hands of ghosts. Zhong Ming felt a flicker of unease.

Just then, a crisp bell rang out.

Madam Mary appeared at the top of the stairs. She lowered the bell in her hand and looked down at the players gathered in the hall. “The mist in the valley is quite heavy these few days,” she said softly. “For your own safety, please do not go outside.”

She spoke casually, but no player dared to take her words lightly. That night, everyone retired to their rooms early; the mist outside was simply too eerie to ignore.

In the dead of night, the mansion fell silent.

Of the three rooms on the second floor, one was empty. A wooden board had been hung outside the room of the deceased yellow-haired player, with the word “Closed” written in elegant script.

The corridor was silent and deserted. A moment later, a figure appeared at the corner. He moved with grace and stealth, like a leopard stalking through the undergrowth, without making a single sound.

A pair of leather shoes paused for a moment in front of the “Closed” door, then continued forward to the door next to it.

This was the room of one of the three college students, the one in the white hoodie.

There was the faint sound of fabric rubbing together as the tall figure outside the door bent down, his back arching smoothly. Pale, slender fingers touched the carpet, appearing to sprinkle something onto it.

Just then, a low voice spoke up: “I knew it was you.”

The figure at the door froze instantly. Then, he spun around, the candlelight illuminating his narrow, phoenix eyes.

Zhong Ming, dressed in his pajamas, stood on the stairs holding a candelabra. In the dim light, he looked up at the man standing by the door.

“Li Yizhi, what are you doing?”

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