An old woman carrying a vegetable basket nearby nodded emphatically. "Isn't that the truth?! The Golden Eatery is serving charitable porridge every morning now. That porridge is cooked so thick, you can even find bits of minced meat in it! My old man says he's never had such substantial charity porridge in all his years. It's just... every time after it's cooked, the staff have to add a handful of crushed stones. Turns the white porridge grey. Such a shame, don't you think?"
"What do you, a housewife, know? That's precisely what makes it *charity* porridge!" a scholar whispered in explanation. "Only by adding a handful of stones can you ensure that pot of porridge reaches the hands of refugees who are truly starving..."
A middle-aged man in faded military uniform spoke excitedly: "My son is fighting at the front. Not only did Elder Phaethon send people with food and medicine, but he also came personally to visit the homes of us military families. He said, 'Soldiers shed blood on the front lines; we cannot let their families shed tears back home.'..."
A few women huddled together, whispering: "Those women who try to falsely claim military family pensions have no chance now! We military families have organized ourselves! If we spot anything suspicious, we report it immediately. It was all Elder Phaethon's idea!"
"Elder Phaethon is truly Okhema's savior..." Such praises were endless.
Cyrene and Castorice exchanged a look, seeing deep confusion mirrored in each other's eyes.
"Little Phaethon?" Cyrene murmured unconsciously. "Since when does he do things like this?"
An older woman passing by heard this whisper. She had just frowned, ready to scold the speaker for disrespect toward an Elder, but upon recognizing Cyrene, her face immediately broke into a smile. "Ah, I wondered who dared address Elder Phaethon so affectionately! It's you, Miss Cyrene! Your family's young man has really brought so much warmth to Okhema lately."
The woman leaned in closer, continuing warmly. "Elder Phaethon not only used a large amount of his own balance coins to aid struggling families and mobilized the Golden Eatery to serve porridge daily, but what's most commendable is his care for military families. He often visits them personally with delicacies, showing such meticulous consideration."
She suddenly lowered her voice, adding mysteriously. "And somehow, Elder Phaethon always knows exactly who is trying to falsely pose as a military family to scam pensions. Now the military families have spontaneously organized, helping and watching out for each other. It's created a wonderful atmosphere."
Castorice leaned in slightly, whispering in Cyrene's ear. "This sounds... completely unlike Lord Phaethon's usual style. He has always preferred solving problems at a systemic, institutional level, not through this kind of... personal charity."
The woman seemed to remember something else, her voice dropping even lower. "And, I've heard—this is just hearsay, mind you, can't guarantee it's true—Elder Phaethon and Lady Aglaea have been getting particularly close recently. Someone saw with their own eyes Lady Aglaea personally persuading Elder Phaethon to stay. Her manner... oh my! It was like a maiden in spring trying to keep her sweetheart! Something like, 'Will the wandering wind linger for me?' So gentle it could melt your heart! In the end, Lady Aglaea really did get Elder Phaethon to stay for dinner. The main course was fish! A candlelit dinner!"
"Fish? Candlelit dinner?" Cyrene and Castorice said in unison, their expressions growing even more complex.
"Yes," the woman confirmed, her face showing a look of yearning. "If you ask me, if anyone deserves to embrace her own happiness, it's Lady Aglaea, who has guarded the holy city for over a thousand years. Elder Phaethon is a good man, too. If the two of them could really come together, it would be a beautiful story. And, the Golden Eatery has recently launched a whole series of signature fish dishes. They say the recipes were all provided by Elder Phaethon, too..."
*(Castorice: Lady Aglaea and Lord Phaethon? I can't write this in front of Lady Aglaea, can I? Wait! Does this mean I'll have to live in the Nether Realm from now on? Noooo! What have I missed? My new fanfic material!)*
...
After gathering this information, Cyrene and Castorice retreated from the crowd to a quiet street corner.
Castorice's brow was almost knotted. "Lord Phaethon has never had a particular fondness for fish. On the contrary, I recall he wasn't especially keen on seafood in general. Besides, with the heavy responsibilities on his shoulders now, how could he possibly have the leisure to research cooking recipes?"
A strong sense of unease spread between them. Cyrene immediately took out her message slate from her pack. Her fingers trembled slightly as she sent a message to Phaethon.
...
Outside Castrum Kremnos, the aftershocks of the Black Tide had yet to fully subside. Phaethon stood on the city walls, having just repelled a fierce assault with the defenders. As he was about to take a brief rest, the message slate at his waist vibrated.
After reading the contents of Cyrene's message, his entire body froze on the battlements.
The light from the torches burning along the wall illuminated his eyes, wide with shock.
Phaethon muttered in disbelief.
"What do you mean there's a 'Phaethon' in Okhema handing out money everywhere?"
"And what do you mean there's a 'Phaethon' who played matchmaker for Elliot and Evelyn?!"
"And WHAT is this about someone who impersonated me? There's a 'Phaethon' who's been collecting the Golden Eatery's profits for me for over a week?!"
"And what the hell is this about another 'me' being with Aglaea?! Is this a joke?!"
...
By the time Phaethon arrived in Okhema, reeking of smoke and emanating a chilling pressure, Cyrene and Castorice had already been waiting at the meeting point for some time.
Seeing Phaethon appear, Cyrene immediately rushed over, circled him three times, and pinched his cheek hard. "Hmm, the texture is right. It's the real little Phaethon. Not a substitute."
"What substitute?!" Phaethon's face was as dark as a storm cloud. "Talk! What's going on? Where did this impostor come from? My money? And that fatal rumor!"
Castorice and Cyrene concisely reported what they had uncovered: the charitable "Phaethon," the matchmaker "Phaethon," and... Aglaea's "guest of honor, Phaethon."
With each sentence, Phaethon's face darkened further. By the end, it was so dark it seemed ink could drip from it, and the chill he emitted could genuinely be used as refrigeration.
"No need to guess. I know exactly who it is. Cipher! You'd better hide well! Don't let me find you!" Phaethon said through gritted teeth.
On the other side, Phaethon (Cipher) was happily taking a bite of grilled fish handed to him by a server when he suddenly shuddered.
"Brrr— Why so cold? Not enough sun lately? Or... has Phaethon returned?"
*(Cipher: I helped ignite Castorice's writing inspiration, helped Cyrene's best 'girlfriend' find a husband, and helped Phaethon collect money for a week. Dear readers, do you think I'll survive?)*