Chapter Fifty-Six: Qin Le, I Never Thought You Were This Kind of Person

Tonight’s darkness seemed to foreshadow the terrifying attack of the day, as layer upon layer of thick clouds completely shrouded the silver moon. The capital’s streets were lined on both sides with filthy commoners—some sprawled directly on the ground, some leaning against walls, others lying in their parents’ arms. Through the cluster of refugees, a lavish carriage moved unhurriedly, its crisp wheels echoing sharply, making it stand out all the more in this desolate place.

Inside the carriage sat Count Dainar, who had just returned from a noble council meeting, accompanied only by his steward. Lifting the curtain, Count Dainar gazed out at the refugees and sighed softly, “Fortunately, it’s summer. Otherwise, at least half of these commoners would not survive.”

The entire slum district had been razed, leaving countless commoners homeless, forced to scatter to every corner of the capital. In such circumstances, the knights could no longer drive them away with their usual brutality, for there was simply nowhere left to send them. Nor could they resort to slaughter: though the lives of commoners were worth little in this world, wanton massacre was strictly forbidden. Such bloodshed often gave rise to unnatural monsters—no one could say exactly what would emerge, but it was never anything good.

Now, with cultists lurking in the shadows of the capital, their intentions unknown, slaughtering the commoners was out of the question.

The steward, sitting across from the count, was taken aback by his master’s sigh. Was it his imagination, or did the lord actually pity these wretches?

“What is it?” Count Dainar caught his steward’s look.

The steward quickly lowered his head and asked cautiously, “Are you... sympathizing with them, my lord?”

He found the count more and more unfathomable of late. Not only had his master drawn close to Princess Orina, whose reputation among the nobility was abysmal, ignoring the wishes of the other lords, but now, he seemed to feel pity for the rabble—something the old lord would never have done.

“Of course.” Count Dainar nodded without hesitation, his gaze drifting back to the window, his voice serene. “As that great person once said, there is no high or low among men; to maintain the most basic empathy for others is the mark of a normal person.”

“Ah?” The steward was utterly bewildered, suspecting his master had perhaps been bewitched.

To feel empathy for commoners—was that not degrading oneself? Never mind a noble count; even for a steward, it was an insult to feel kinship with such people.

Seeing his steward’s expression, Count Dainar sighed again. “My dear steward, all you need to remember now is that we must become normal people—normal, as that great person described. I need to blend in, to become one of them, an ordinary person with empathy, even if I must pretend.”

He had no way back now. Since he could not turn around, he would walk this dark road to the end.

“To cast aside your noble status, after all you’ve sacrificed to attain it?” The steward could hardly believe it.

He simply could not comprehend why anyone would abandon a noble’s rank—something so many people dreamed of.

“Ha! Nobility? High-born blood?” Count Dainar covered his face, stifling his laughter—a deranged, scornful laugh. “They’re all just two-legged animals, this so-called noble blood! A pack of useless fools living off their ancestors’ glory—what right have they to look down on me?”

The steward hurried to comfort him, “My lord, you could use this opportunity to help the other great houses, to win their favor and blend in.”

“Blend in with them?” Count Dainar’s laughter stopped abruptly. He lifted his head, a flash of crimson in his eyes, his voice chilling. “Why would I want to blend in? And what would I gain? Their so-called acceptance? Their high society? Those filthy, chaotic balls?”

“That’s not what I want. I am a very greedy man—how could they think such worthless things would satisfy me? Utter foolishness!”

At that moment, the carriage stopped before the two-story house Count Dainar had rented for the time being. He opened the door, the lantern by the steps swaying gently. Turning to his dazed steward, he grinned, “My dear steward, I feel as if I’ve regained the passion I had when I was a monster hunter. My blood is surging. No matter what comes, I will greedily take what is mine—and more, whatever I can seize.”

“Tucker, this is your second chance. I hope you won’t miss it again, or you’ll have no right to stand beside me in the future.”

…

The Royal Palace.

Qin Le dined with the king, and afterward, escorted by two maids, returned to his room. The Falcon, on duty tonight, followed closely behind.

Sinking into a gold-and-crimson sofa, Qin Le was immediately attended by the two lovely maids, who began to massage his shoulders with slender fingers—just the right pressure, skillful and soothing.

Seated opposite him, the Falcon maintained perfect posture, motionless as a statue, her expression as cold as ever.

“No need to massage me,” Qin Le waved them off.

Though he knew it was the king’s goodwill, he could not accustom himself to being served like this—as if he were an invalid, with everything done for him. Of course, he could not directly dismiss the maids; that would only make the king suspicious.

The two maids obediently stopped and took two steps back, standing quietly.

“Report the casualties.”

“Yes.” The Falcon’s face remained impassive. “In today’s operation, we lost one helicopter and four special operatives—numbers 326, 118, 254, and 240. Their bodies have been recovered and confirmed dead.”

As she spoke, the Falcon placed four military insignias on the table, each stained with indelible dust and blood.

“Captain, please name them.”

Looking at the insignias, Qin Le sighed. “Didn’t the Republic already give you names?”

The operatives still clung to the old Empire’s traditions. They didn’t flaunt it, but every one of them adhered strictly to those rules. This was troubling; it showed they had not embraced the new era, still living in the past.

The Falcon answered gravely, “While alive, we use our codes—the ones on our Republic ID. Only in death do we need names.”

They stood at an impasse for over ten minutes, until Qin Le relented, “This is the last time.”

“Understood.” Though her face remained cold, the Falcon’s eyes betrayed a flicker of joy.

Half an hour later, the Falcon departed, and the operative on night duty outside swapped shifts.

Inside the room, with the maids’ assistance, Qin Le quickly changed into his nightclothes. Then, the two maids undid their garments and wrapped themselves in thin, semi-transparent white cloths, their voluptuous figures accentuated beneath the fabric, alluring beyond words.

“Your grace, tonight we are here to serve you.”

“One moment.” Qin Le produced two white pills and handed them to the maids. “Swallow these directly. They’re good for your health.”

Though puzzled, the maids obediently took the pills and swallowed them whole. Qin Le pointed to the large bed. “Go lie down for now.”

“Yes, your grace.” The two maids remained unfailingly humble and compliant, quietly climbing onto the bed and waiting for the Grand Duke to join them.

Before long, soft breathing filled the air—the two beautiful maids, specially chosen by the king, had fallen sound asleep.

Qin Le sat on the sofa, poured himself a glass of red wine, took a sip, and smiled wryly. “Am I actually feeling pleased? Comrade Qin Le, your ideological resolve needs work.”

The King of Dawn had arranged maids for him more than once, and this lightness of heart was not new either. Qin Le had to admit that, at heart, he was an ordinary man—faced with such naked temptation, he could not help but feel stirred.

Draining his glass, Qin Le was just about to settle on the sofa for the night when his gaze snapped to the front. “You can come out now.”

“Oh? How did you notice me?”

A clear, ethereal voice drifted from the air itself.

Under Qin Le’s wary stare, a figure stepped out from thin air—a green cloak, exquisitely crafted leather armor, pointed ears, green hair and eyes.

“Aimeya?”

“That’s right, it’s me—the elf herself.” Aimeya smiled and took a seat on the sofa as if it were the most natural thing in the world, pouring herself a glass of red wine. “Tsk, tsk, Qin Le, who would have thought you were this kind of man—trying to toy with two untouched girls at once!”