Chapter 34 [VIP]

After the show, Henry returned to the palace.

The palace was completely dark, lit only by a few dim candlelights flickering in the wind. Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, making it seem especially desolate.

He stopped in front of the king's chamber. Inside the thick door, the woman's laughter and coquettish voices seemed particularly piercing in the silence.

Henry was not in the dark, and the hand knocking on the door stopped again and again.

Tap, tap, tap.

"Enter."

Henry pushed the door open, took two steps, and knelt on one knee: "Father."

The king was half-leaning on the gorgeous and huge bed, his clothes half-undone, revealing his chest with drooping fat.

He was surrounded by women, his cloudy eyes were covered with a greasy sheen, the corners of his mouth were pulled into a smile, and there was a piece of unwiped-off powder stained in his nasolabial folds - perhaps it was left by a concubine.

Henry was used to such scenes and just lowered his head waiting for instructions.

"Oh, my dear son, please get up," the king drawled, his face resting on his fat hands. "This is a wonderful evening. How was the banquet tonight?"

Henry stood up slowly. "That's very interesting."

"Duke Pearl's daughter is one of the most beautiful women in Furland. Have you seen her?"

"Yes, she is indeed a beauty, and a gentle and charming lady."

"Do you like her, then?"

"No, Father, I still feel that I am not good enough for her."

"Is that so?" The king waved his hand, dismissing the women. "Actually, you just look down on her."

"..." Henry was silent for a moment, "I don't like her."

"So, what date do you plan to set for this wife selection?"

Henry sighed.

He didn't want to hold a regular wife-selection party every month, but facing his father's majesty, he could only helplessly answer: "I haven't thought of a specific date yet."

The king's brow furrowed into a frown. "Again? Henry, this is a matter of great importance to the royal family."

Henry lowered his head, not daring to look the king in the eye. "Another..." He hesitated, "...a living sacrifice?"

"It's been a long time, Henry." The king raised his short eyebrows and spread his hands. "He needs blood, and I need God's gift!"

Henry took a deep breath, his eyes dark, "I understand..."

The king nodded. "That's right, Henry. You should know that Furlan has been able to live in peace for so many years because of that lord."

Henry hesitated, but the king continued, "Why not turn this banquet into a hunt? That way, even if a few people who don't care about anything are missing, we'll have an excuse. We need to continue to nourish that lord with pain, so that he can bless our country with good weather and peace."

Henry stared at himself on the marble floor, his hands curled up at his sides. "Everything is up to you."

The king patted his belly proudly and said, "That's right. Go back and make good preparations. This hunt must be done perfectly."

"Yes...Father. I will arrange everything."

After saying that, he turned and left the room.

Henry returned to his room silently, dismissed all the servants, closed the door, and walked slowly to the sofa and sat down.

The sofa creaked, and he didn't want to turn on the light, letting the darkness engulf him.

After sitting for a while, he slowly took off his coat and took out a high-heeled shoe from the inner pocket of his coat.

He held the high heels in his hands and looked at them from head to toe - it was a small, common style, not as gorgeous or expensive as the ones worn by the nobles, and could be bought in an ordinary shoe store.

He placed the high-heeled shoe on the table. A beam of light shone through the gap in the unclosed curtains, casting a silver glow on the shoe.

He sat at the table, staring at the two shoes that Opesha had abandoned on the table, and couldn't help but think of her reckless self when she was drunk.

After thinking about everything that happened tonight, he couldn't help but laugh.

This may be the only time he has been truly happy in recent times.

But—his smile gradually faded.

He is just a small pawn in this huge conspiracy.

He picked up a shoe and stroked it gently, as if he could feel Opesha's warmth.

A strong feeling of longing suddenly surged in his heart, and this longing made him feel a little painful.

He closed his eyes, the only thing in his mind was the tightly wrapped woman whose face he couldn't even recognize.

"Sinderel..." He pronounced the name aloud.

Can we meet again...?

The second day.

"Have you heard? This banquet has been changed to a hunt!"

"Is this true? Then wouldn't the chance of running into the prince be even greater?"

"Oh my God! If it's true, that would be wonderful. The royal family at the ball would hardly be able to compete with those noble ladies for the chance to dance with the prince."

The news of the royal hunt spread throughout Furland, and people in the streets and alleys were talking about the upcoming event.

And Opesa began to feel uneasy.

She mistakenly triggered the plot that was supposed to belong to Sinderel, disrupting the planned direction. I hadn't finished the novel in the first place, and finally met the male protagonist Henry, ready to continue along the "Cinderella" trajectory. Now, the future has become a complete fog.

She subconsciously clutched the brim of her cloak, her purple eyes flickering in the shadows.

With eyes like this, if the prince really wanted to look for her... Opesa's throat tightened, and her fingertips unconsciously stroked the edge of her cloak.

Maybe he didn't even have the name "Sinderel"? If that were the case...she could pull back the plot line.

Although there is now something like a blocker to curb the evil system, this is definitely not a long-term solution. After all, this is a story world that has been set up long ago. If we don't intervene quickly, perhaps Sinderel's ending will be like what the priest said, taking on the pain of the whole world and becoming a sacrifice of pain.

She is absolutely

While she was thinking, she saw something out of the corner of her eye and her steps slowly stopped. Her face was reflected in the window of a shop next to her.

Opesa was certain of something, so she quickly walked into the store, bought the items displayed in the window, and walked out clutching the brown paper bag.

She hurried back to the store. The latest batch of goods had been sold out. The door of the workshop was wide open and the sound of cutting cloth was particularly clear in the quiet store.

"Mother?" Anastasia poked her head out, a few wisps of cloth clinging to her light-colored hair. "The Cui Liu and Luan Feng are sold out. But we still have a dozen pre-orders on the back."

"I see." Cui Liu was the name of the cheongsam, and Luan Feng was the name of the horse-faced skirt. Opesa put down the bag on her back - to ensure quality, she always went to the fabric store to select the materials herself. "Looks like we really need to hire workers. We can never keep up with sales."

"Mother!" Dusula came bounding out of the workshop, her eyes lit with excitement. "Have you heard? The royal family is going to hold a hunting party!"

"I heard that you can hunt as much as you want and keep the spoils for yourself."

The sound of cutting in the workshop stopped.

"Yes, yes! Maybe I can get a good fur!" Dusula held her face with her hands, her face full of anticipation, "I've outgrown that fur a long time ago. If I can hunt a fox... a ferret..."

Opesa smiled, tapped Dusula's forehead, and asked, "Do you want to go? If you do, go to First Avenue and sign up."

"Mother is the best!" Dusula cheered and pulled Anastasia to run out the door, "This time I must let the prince see me--" Before she finished speaking, she had already run away, and only a string of silver bell-like laughter could be heard echoing.

After her two daughters left, Opesha walked into the workshop.

The blond boy was still wearing a very simple dress, working at the table with his back to the door, and was indifferent to her entry.

Opesa was already used to his ignoring her. She tilted her head to peek at his profile from behind, her hand quietly tucked into a brown paper bag.

"Sinderel!"

A brown leather scabbard caught his eye, its fine, smooth leather reflecting a tapering texture. Sindriel glanced at it casually, his cutting motions pausing abruptly as he turned to look at Opessa, his gaze direct and meaningful.

"This is for you. The edge of your scabbard looks rough. You should get a new one." Opesa put the gift on the table, lowered her eyes, and her voice was full of obvious concern.

Xindrell didn't accept it, nor did he ask her to take it. Instead, he refocused his attention on his hands and said calmly, "Speak."

"……ah?"

"You can't give things away for nothing."

"Can't you just assume I'm just delivering something?"

"No." Having just finished cutting the fabric, Sinderel put down his scissors and looked at her again. "The few times you came to give me something, it was all because of something you asked of me."

Opesa pursed her lips—it seemed to be true. Her little thought exposed, Opesa could only confess, "It's a hunting party hosted by the royal family. Can you... come with me?"

"reason."

"I want to get close to Prince Henry and talk to him about investment. Our business needs funds to expand, and the prince's investment is undoubtedly the best choice." Opesa had already made up an excuse and spoke without thinking.

Xindrel frowned, said nothing, and continued to listen to her.

Opesha continued, "However, I can't ride a horse, so I want you to teach me how to ride a horse, and then make two new clothes..."

"You mean—" He interrupted her directly, his brows lowered, his face as cold as ice, "to curry favor with the royal family?"

Opesa was stunned, not knowing why her words were misinterpreted as flattery. "No."

Xindrel's voice turned cold. "You think I'm not enough, so you set your sights on the more powerful royal family?"

"No... I want you to forget the past..."

"Do you feel that I can't even escape an empty shackle, so you think the prince is better?" He pressed the question word by word, denying himself masochistically, his Adam's apple rolling, his voice filled with broken hoarseness.

His knuckles pressed hard against the edge of the table, their joints turning white from the force and leaving marks from the edge.

Opesa's eyebrows curled into a ball, and her complex emotions forced her to laugh bitterly. "Is that how you see me? You think I'm just a profit-seeker?" Her eyes were filled with disappointment and helplessness, as if she were looking at an unreasonable lunatic. "Do you think I'm a selfish woman who exploits, humiliates, and uses you under the guise of doing good for you?"

She doesn't understand.

She would rather Xindrell hated her as much as before, rather than misinterpreting her meaning over and over again like a paranoid patient.

It would be better to hate her, so that I won’t be trapped by this momentary complex and worry about his ending.

"..." Sinderel's voice choked, as if someone had grabbed his throat. "I'd rather be used by you."

"That's just your wishful thinking. Do I need it?" Opesha tried hard not to scream. "I don't want to hear these words again. Sinderel - listen carefully, you can think whatever you want. I'm not your stepmother Opesha. I will go back sooner or later. I care about you now because I feel sorry for you."

She took a deep breath, sneered, and uttered a harsh word: "Please recognize your identity, Xindrell. To me, you are just a strange, pitiful girl. From now on, I will not discuss anything with you, and you don't need to work for me in the secret language anymore. I will recruit workers, and you just need to do what you want."

After spitting out the unpleasant words, Opesa could no longer bear Sinderel's deep gaze in this narrow and cramped space, so she put down the brown paper bag and left.

She didn't want to say these words, nor did she want to have any more conflicts with him.

She tried to save him, but he sank into the mud, refused all her attempts to save him, and even questioned her intentions to save him.

Anyone would be heartbroken. But Opesha was not a heartless person.

Sinderel watched her leave, then watched the wooden door close tightly, his fingertips unconsciously digging into his palm. He wanted to call out to her, but when he opened his mouth, the words were stuck in his chest.

The new scabbard was still lying quietly on the table. He lowered his head and looked at the swaying shadows of the trees on the floor. The shadows were hazy, just like his mood at the moment.

The mouse crept out from under the cloth, squeaking, and approached Sinderel.

"Am I wrong..."

His words were very soft, and it was unclear who he was asking.

"She can't be like her sister."

"She can't...die like that..."

Rather than that, he would rather kill her with his own hands.

——

Opesha walked aimlessly on the street alone.

Her worries were like cotton balls filled with water, blocking her ventricles. The noise passing by her ears kept adding water, and her boredom could never be calmed.

Now they always quarrel whenever they meet...That's not her intention at all.

But as she walked, her pace gradually slowed down.

She thought she understood Sinderell, so she planned the future for him subjectively, but it seemed that she knew nothing about this family - her ex-husband Brand, and Sinderell's thoughts.

This time, her plan to use the prince's influence to lure the snake out of its hole was based on the assumption that Pace would not sit idly by and watch them grow stronger; by getting investment, she would have bargaining chips... If there really is a merciful Lord, he would forgive her not-so-pure selfish motives, right?

As I was swaying like this, a figure suddenly came up to me. "Madam, are you the manager of Secret Language?"

Opesa paused and looked up. The man was wearing a washed-out cloth shirt and his paint box was stained with spots of paint. He looked like a painter.

In order to prevent the store from being attacked, she gave herself the identity of the store manager of Miyu, responsible for the daily operation of the store.

Opesha asked, "What's wrong?"

He stopped two steps away, his left hand on his chest, his right hand loosely supporting his painting box, performing the formal etiquette of a knight's squire. "My name is Ludovico, an apprentice painter for the church. I've heard the ingenious little items in your shop can alleviate many of the world's worries, so I'd like to compile a collection of their wonders so that more people can witness this divine ingenuity."

Opesa was feeling very bored and didn't even look up. "We don't have that plan right now. Please find another place."

"Why don't you take a look at a few of my humble works?" Ludovico said without getting angry. He opened the painting box and took out the rolled vellum. "Just think of it as conveying God's good wishes."

She casually unfolded the first painting—her breath suddenly stopped: "This is..."

"This is the 'whisper' of your shop." Ludovico chuckled, "But you only display it in your shop. Who knows the effect of the whisper?"

In the painting, there are two women wearing whispering clothes, one fat and one skinny, one on the left and one on the right.

The woman's face has been specially processed, so her appearance cannot be seen clearly, but her whisper is portrayed in great detail. Even the organza is painted exquisitely, as smooth as gurgling water.

Not only are the clothes drawn to look lifelike, but even the unique beauty of different body shapes is also drawn to perfection.

Master. Opesa had never studied art, so these were the only two words that came to her mind.

Opesa's attitude towards the painter immediately changed: "You, you...really want to cooperate with us?"

Ludovico nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

"How much do you want for a painting?"

"Ah, that's okay, because I've always admired Whisper."

"Come on, come on, come to the shop and draw whatever you want!"