On the other side of things, Charles had no other distractions—right after the meeting with the ballet troupe, he went straight back to the monastery.
He honestly had zero ulterior motives. Even with Rahman's enthusiasm, and though he didn't refuse his kindness, Charles was well aware of his own limits.
He knew he didn't understand how a professional dance company actually worked, and if he tried meddling, he'd only create chaos.
More importantly, even if he did know, he had no energy to spare. He had real estate to manage, monastery branches to build, the nun roster to expand, more spells to study, feats to train, attributes to enhance… and he still had to work on charming Willo…
That last one wasn't exactly urgent, but the truth was, he barely had time for half of what needed doing—let alone managing a ballet troupe.
So he decided to leave it alone: let them run their own affairs, keep whatever profits they made, just set aside his small share and be on call if he needed their help.
With everything sorted, he headed back to the monastery to rest.
The night passed peacefully, and the next morning he planned to set out immediately—back to the mountain branch to continue preaching to the satyrs, recruiting more nuns.
The combination of druids and Life Domain Pastors would create the world's second most powerful healers, in bulk. They'd be his logistical backbone and a never-ending fountain of wealth.
But before he could even get going, a mosquito buzzed weakly into his ear and whispered, "Master, there's…"
Then nothing.
Couldn't be helped—it was deep winter. Even if Liberl Port was warm, it wasn't mosquito season by any means. Andny's power was sharply limited; even simple communication was a struggle.
Charles stopped short. Rather than hurrying to the branch, he turned around and walked straight to Andny's room, pushing the door open. He found the Insect Witch sitting on his crisp white bed, face troubled, her tiny hands waving.
Clearly, she'd tried to use her magic to control the nearly-frozen mosquito so she could talk to him.
Hearing the door open, the little girl jumped, then quickly turned her head and whispered, "Oh, Master, you're here!"
Behind her, the spiderborn infant in its cradle slept soundly and peacefully—too cute to disturb.
Charles closed the door, sat gently beside her, and wrapped one arm around her waist. "What is it?"
Andny's face was tense. "There are a ton of nasty rumors about you."
Charles's heart skipped. "Be specific."
"In short, lots of people are saying the hunting squad was the real force that killed Montport—you only swooped in at the end." Andny's tone was low. "Now the gossip's evolving, spreading that you're just a slick fake after fame and fortune, actually more dangerous than openly evil people—at least they're honest about being bad…"
Charles's brow furrowed in an instant.
"No way..." he muttered. "It's only been days since Montport fell. Andny, when did the news about me killing Montport start to spread? And when did these other rumors—the ones about me snatching credit, the stuff calling me a fraud—start?"
Andny answered at once, "South Harbor news travels a bit slow. Word about you killing Montport only got around three days ago."
"But the rumors that you stole credit broke out suddenly just before yesterday, and by today people are already calling you a hypocrite…"
Charles's expression grew grim.
That fast?
That couldn't be natural—it had to be orchestrated! Spreading doubt, then personal slander, all so quickly…
This wasn't just petty rivalry. Nobody would go this far just to steal credit—this was designed to destroy his reputation…
His eyes narrowed; a cold light shone in them.
It had to be Regolas!
That cambion loved these little schemes—dirty tricks played in the shadows, leading you step by step into his traps until you lost everything.
A cunning foe with multiple hideouts and perfect deniability—even as a player, Charles couldn't just track him down and finish him off.
Trouble!
He glanced at the Illusionist's Bracers on his arm. Those things were worth a fortune, and after that whole incident, even if this wasn't Regolas, Charles would bet hard money the cambion was still plotting payback.
Which meant taking the initiative was the right call—handle this head-on before any branch business!
Resolved, Charles reached into his Bag of Holding, pulled out a Sending Stone, charged it with magic, and whispered, "Anno, if you're free, swing by the monastery—I've made some discoveries we need to discuss."
...
He didn't have to wait long. That very afternoon, Anno rushed over by carriage to South Harbor District.
After Andny filled him in, Charles went out to greet her. He had barely stepped outside the monastery gates when a two-horse carriage pulled to a stop. Dressed in a wheat-gold close-fitting coat, Anno flicked back the curtain, ready to hop down.
At a glance, her eyes lit up, face breaking into pure delight: "Darling, when did you get back? Didn't even tell me ahead of time!"
She hopped down, paid the driver, and dismissed him. Charles went forward, took her hand, and said warmly, "Just got back yesterday. Been hearing a few things…"
Anno looped her arm around his as if she owned the place, smiling radiantly as they strolled straight into the monastery. "Great timing! I've got good news for you, too!"
Even before Charles could share his news, she carried on, "I sent a full report on everything you did to Blackstaff Tower. They've agreed to escalate it to Mithral Hall—you'll at least earn a viscount title out of this!"
"Oh, and they'll organize a grand investiture ceremony. Vajra herself—yeah, Blackstaff Madam—gave her word on it!"
Charles nodded with a smile. Of course he knew who Vajra was. "That's fantastic."
As they walked through the courtyard, Charles closed the gates and strolled with Anno arm-in-arm toward his private quarters.
Just then, the paladin's tone changed, cheeks puffing out a little with annoyance, "Honestly, though, some mages in Blackstaff Tower are so short-sighted. They kept hinting I should embellish the story, add a bunch of made-up details, and swallow the credit for myself. It was exhausting!"
"If I hadn't stuck to my guns and fought them for ages, there's no telling how far things might've gone."
She tilted her head, face clearly saying, "I did all this for you, so hurry up and praise me already!"
Charles grinned, lowered his head, and placed a soft kiss on her ruby lips. "Thank you, darling."
Anno's eyes crinkled into little crescents; she glowed with happiness.
By then, they'd reached his room. Charles pushed open the door, led her inside, and closed it behind them. Suddenly, he scooped her into his arms, tumbled onto the soft bed, and teased, "Did you miss me?"
Anno held him tight, both of them rolling across the bed, breathing in his scent with heated longing.
But her voice stayed stubborn: "Hmph, no way! I've been swamped, barely had a second to even think about you…"
Charles flipped over to pin her, putting on a dramatic look of heartbreak. "Oh? Darling, I've been thinking about you every night for days…"
As he spoke, he wrapped an arm around her head, massaging her hair while brushing his hot breath along her ear, murmuring, "Seriously, those first few nights after you left, I was nearly crazy with longing—kicking myself every day for not coming back with you…"
Anno closed her eyes, content under his touch, fingertips threading through his hair. She savored his sweet nothings, happiness practically lifting her soul right out of her body.
Inside, she had this wild urge to shout, "I do! Let's do it again—let's lose ourselves together tonight!"
But there was no way she'd ever actually say anything so brazen out loud—that maiden shyness was too strong. Instead, she showed her own resolve: reaching out to unbutton Charles's shirt, sliding her hand inside, holding him tighter.
Charles got the hint, nuzzling her cheek, opening the zipper on her cozy coat to reveal the pink sweater underneath—
Anno, eyes still closed, gently stopped his hand from going further. "No, darling. We agreed—last time was supposed to be the last time…"
Her protest grew softer—less resistance, more flirting. Charles took his time, whispering, "I just wanna hold you, babe…"
Anno, still eyes closed, made faint excuses, "Still can't— it's daytime…"
Charles silently mouthed an incantation. Two invisible Mage Hands floated out, pulled all the heavy curtains shut.
"Look, now it's night."
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