Ch7 - In a familiar residence, Morel prepares a candle-lit dinner for the Earl.

“Can I meet with the Earl right now? …I want to see him!”

“You won’t be able to meet him right now, little thing!” The maid pulled open the olive-colored curtains with blue sequins, letting the white light of dawn illuminate the entire room, “He has a private mansion and is often too busy to come back here. Even if he does, it would be late at night. He has to run his confectionery company, inspect the academy he’s subsidizing, and recently the royal family seemed to have entrusted him with several tasks…sigh, in truth, we rarely see him normally…” 

Morel lowered his head in disappointment.

“Don’t feel too down, you’ll meet eventually.” The maid smiled, “Now lie down like a good boy, what do you want for breakfast?”

Morel felt overwhelmed by her kindness.

He never experienced such treatment before. After all, he only ever had the choice of eating whatever was available. 

He stuttered, “I can pick?”

The maid was stunned for a moment, “Little thing! You’re really unlike a child! Just say what you want to eat, no need for hesitation, you’re His Highness’ important guest so how could we possibly mistreat you!”

“Then, bread and milk!”

“That’s all?”

“Yes!” Morel nodded his head.

Moments later, the maid delivered a wide spread of breakfast. Other than milk and croissants, there were sandwiches, toasts, a fruit tower, and hot chocolates.

Morel widened his eyes. I don’t remember asking for this much!

The maid stood to the side watching Morel devour the food while prattling, “Goodness me, that was the first time in my life hearing a master asking for only bread and milk for breakfast and being so happy about it. If my little girl at home ever heard that breakfast was only bread and milk, she would be pouting…what a pitiful little thing! Look at how thin you are…from now on with this old lady serving you, you’ll definitely become plump and white!” 

When he finished eating, Morel said politely, “Thank you.”

“What are you saying thanks for!”

“May I ask how to address you?”

“You can just call me Karin.” 

“Okay, Auntie Karin.”

Goodness me, this child’s mouth was so sweet!

Karin vowed in her heart to take good care of the skinny little thing.

Before she left, she repeatedly exhorted, “If you want to go outside, be sure to put on a jacket. It may be April but the weather is still quite chilly. If you need anything, remember to ring the bell!” 

It was boring to stay inside the room, so Morel put on his jacket, slip on the slippers, and stepped out of his room.

The residence was extremely large. He discovered that he was on the second floor and that there were four floors in total.

The colors inside the residence were plain, or to say, low-key, but upon closer inspection, every piece of furniture and ornaments were expensive, genuine goods. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air and every corner of the residence revealed the extraordinary taste of the owner.

There were antique brocades, green bronzes, lacquer crafts, flower sculptures, intricate oil paintings, and soft carpets…even the dark-colored walls, upon closer inspection, were covered in ancient and delicate totems that gave off a sense of mystery. 

But Morel didn’t feel a sense of unfamiliarity, rather, there was a feeling of déjà vu like he had once lived here for a long period of time.

His deepest impression was definitely of those picture scrolls.

They were like ordinary landscape paintings, yet they weren’t very realistic and hardly seemed to be drawn for the scenery itself. However, the elegant and complicated colors drew in people’s eyes. One painting portrayed the sea and the sky converging on the horizon at sunrise, another showed a black sailboat in the middle of a rainstorm, and yet another painted a rainbow sea of flowers…Morel stood on the tip of his toes with a vague feeling that someone had explained these paintings to him before. And there was even…a bizarre feeling that he had seen the artist complete these paintings with his own eyes!

He slowly descended the stairs and when he saw the black piano in the corner of the lounge, he wasn’t the tiniest bit surprised. 

A slow, beautiful melody floated from his memory…

It came so naturally, it was as if it had belonged to him to begin with!

He lifted the piano’s cover, and his finger subconsciously pressed a white key, then a black key…then a white key…and the simple melody like the one in his mind just now, it really appeared! But…he had never learned to play the piano before!

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

Zbgfi ibnfv kjcvfglcu jgbecv atf ijguf gfrlvfcmf jcv ilxf j vfafmalnf, tf rbeuta fnfgsatlcu gfijafv ab Dlii, jr kfii jr tlr ragjcuf rfcrf bo vépà ne. 

Lf qjrrfv atf fcalgf vjs lc j oijrt ilxf atlr, cba offilcu algfv ja jii.

Ca cluta, tf kjixfv bea bo atf gfrlvfcmf.

He strolled in the great outdoors, and he discovered, not only were there hills beside the residence but there was an endless view of the vast ocean and a dense forest sprawled in the backyard!

Morel inadvertently discovered an indolent cat curled up and napping on top of a tree! Cats were rarely seen in England after someone brought up the idea that the plague was spread by the cats and dogs and all of their kinds met a gruesome end. For Morel, this cat was nothing short of a mystical creature! 

He stood up, ran to the tree in marvel, and copied the cry of a cat.

“Meow~~~”

His imitation was miles off the mark.

The cat yawned, stretched its body, then curled up again to continue sleeping. 

“Mew!” He tried a different call.

The cat opened its golden eyes, glanced at him, then turned its head the other way and continued napping.

“Meow!”

“Mew—” 

“Meow, meow—”

Ah!

The cat finally stood up!

It stared at Morel, its back arched, its ears pressed, its hackles raised, and its tail curved… 

Not good!

The cat looks angry!

Before he could run away, the cat “meowed” and lunged at Morel!

Looks do lie, the cat was deceivingly heavy, directly knocking 12-year-old Morel off his feet, its sharp claws slashing across Morel’s cheek! 

“Ouch!”

Morel covered his wound.

The cat leaped to the side, licked its claws, and didn’t spare a single glance for Morel. The air around it was proud and arrogant.

“You have such an awful temper when waking up!” Morel grumbled. Luckily, it was just a skin wound. 

The cat ignored him still. It got up, its head held high, its little butt and tail raised, and walked away elegantly.

Morel felt terribly gloomy.

It turns out cats are such haughty creatures?

Although Morel was dejected because of the cat, the scenery around him was nothing short of breathtaking. 

Walking through the bushes, he saw the lilac flowers drooping heavily from the tree while swaying to the wind and he couldn’t resist lying down in the bushes, his eyes narrowing as he watched the changing colors of the sunset and listened to the song of the grasshopper and the dragonfly that occasionally landed on a flower.

He fumbled through an entire day and a wave of drowsiness suddenly hit him.

And like this, he accidentally fell asleep.

He slept deeply and didn’t hear the whinnies of the horse. 

A man alighted the horse carriage and the cat that had disappeared for a long time poked out of the bushes and eagerly ran to its master. It rubbed its ears against its master’s boot and its tail was perky…A servant looked at the child lying in the bushes and reported it to His Highness. The man immediately walked towards the child, his footsteps a little faster than normal.

He crouched down quietly, tilted his head, and looked at the child fast asleep in the bushes.

His black hair slipped from his scarf like a waterfall.

The child was sleeping soundly, his body slightly huddling, and his small hand pressed beneath his ear. His long lashes were curled upward and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Some petals from the lilac flowers had fallen onto his clothes and golden hair. 

The man subconsciously reached out and brushed off the petals from the child’s head.

He pulled off his black glove, and his pale, flawless hand carefully approached the child’s cheek where there was an obvious claw mark from the cat.

He faintly creased his brows and looked towards the cat.

The cat meowed and twisted its body, acting all innocent, but seeing how its master’s expression wasn’t quite right, it turned tail and fled. The man helplessly sighed. He took out a tube of medicine from his pouch, squeezed some of it onto his finger, and carefully applied it on the child’s wound. 

In the depths of his dark grey eyes, for just a brief moment, there was a flash of pure purple. The color was even more beautiful than the purple lilacs…

The child let out a soft sigh, his body squirming in his sleep, and he reached out a hand to touch his cheek, clearly feeling itchy there.

His eyes fluttered open and his pale green eyes were momentarily at a loss. But in the next instant, he seized the wrist of the person who was about to get up!

“Bill gege!” 

He called out loudly.

The Earl looked at him, into those beautiful eyes, but all gentleness had disappeared from his face without a trace!

“I’m not Bill.”

He said dully and stood up. 

“Why are you lying to me? You’re Bill, although you’re hair color changed, everything else about you is the same! And if you’re not him, then why did you save me?”

The Earl smiled without a hint of kindness.

He reached out his hand, pinched Morel’s chin, and leaned in towards him, “Even if I’m Bill, so what? What do you hope to obtain from me?”

The pair of grey eyes were cold and piercing, like the eyes of a cold-blooded predator ripping into prey with its fangs. 

Looking at the face mere inches away from him, Morel’s mind went blank and he lost the ability to speak.

The Earl stood up and said with a flat tone, “Keep it in mind, Bill is already dead.”

By the time Morel snapped out of it, the Earl had long left.

Morel didn’t understand. 

He really couldn’t understand.

But he knew how cold the Earl could be.

As they ate, other than the things he needed to tell Morel, he cherished his words like gold and didn’t converse with Morel. When Morel tried to talk with him, it was no different than talking to himself, and the other would give terse responses such as “en” without so much as sparing Morel a single glance.

After eating, the Earl retired to his room and didn’t come out again. 

In the following days, the Earl left at dawn every morning and only returned at night for dinner.

The two would only meet at dinner but barely a few words were spoken between them, making Morel very sad.

The residence was extremely big but there were few servants. There were only two, one was Auntie Karin and the other was Uncle Drex who looked after the horses and had his own cabin so he rarely entered the residence. Auntie Karin said that the Earl liked peace and quiet and hated it when others disturb him, and since he rarely stayed in this residence, most of the servants either worked in the Confectionary Company or the residence at the city center.

Auntie Karin and Uncle Drex each had their own families, they came to work in the morning but they could go home at around 7 pm. That means from 7 pm up until the next morning, Morel was all alone in the enormous residence that was the size of a castle. 

Morel was very sensible and often helped Auntie Karin with cooking or cleaning.

Even when a few days later, when Auntie Karin’s little girl, Lily, fell sick and she couldn’t come and take care of Morel, Morel only nodded his head and smiled, “It’s alright, I’m already 12 years old and can take care of myself! Lily’s illness is more serious!”

Karin left all the necessary ingredients on the table and quickly left.

Afterward, he was truly by himself… 

No, actually, there was still a black cat keeping him company.

Morel resolved to make a delicious meal!

He stepped on a tiny stool and chopped the meat and vegetables with the speed of a turtle. He was managing quite well while peeling and cutting the large carrots, but when the time came to slice the rounder objects, like the bell peppers, for example, Morel accidentally cut his left finger, causing a captivating bead of red blood to form.

Morel was already used to such things happening. He calmly washed the wound under running cold water then placed it into his mouth; his grandma once taught him that people’s saliva had healing effects. Fortunately, the wound was shallow, the bleeding stopped soon and Morel continued to busy himself. 

He tried to make everything based on his memory of how Auntie Karin did it. He failed many times at first. He wasted many eggs just by attempting to crack them and oil splashed on him from the pan. It was so hot! As for the meat stew he made, he ladled a small bowl and placed it in front of the black cat. The cat sniffed it, gave it a lick, then turned its butt and ran away…w-was it that bad?

But he still persisted very earnestly. For the sake of making a meal, he experimented from morning till dusk and to achieve some mastery. He learned that when he poured in the oil, he had to be careful about the water dripping from his hands. He learned whether to put in meat or vegetables first, or when was the best time to lift the lid, or when the bread in the oven was baked well and not burnt, as well as how much grounds were needed for coffee and how much sugar and milk he should put in…

The best proof of his effort was when he was making the chicken wing. At the time, the black cat had come back inside.

A piece of chicken wing accidentally dropped to the floor and the black cat pounced on it, scurried to a corner at the speed of light, and started gnawing on it ravenously… 

In any case, that day he made an entire table of dishes.

He cleaned up the mess he made, lit some candles, and gleefully sat on the sofa, so excited that it felt like his blood was boiling.

But then he smelled his clothes. Huh? He stank of oil! He ran to the mirror! Wah, he looked like a soot man!

He recalled how the Earl was always clean, he must hate dirty people! He quickly ran upstairs, wiped himself down, changed into a new set of clothes, and sat back down. 

He looked at the time, it was exactly 6 o’clock. All preparations were in order!

He was super excited; the black cat was excited too and kept begging for food.

Its attitude towards Morel had become much better, it no longer threatened Morel with its sharp claws and from time to time, it rubbed against Morel’s legs making adorable “meow meow” noises.

But the black cat was quick to forget favors and repaid kindness with ingratitude. After it ate and drank its fill, it became haughty again, napping as he pleased and totally ignoring Morel’s call for him. 

The feeling of excitement gradually cooled along with the dishes on the table.

Morel looked at the time. 7 o’clock.

Why isn’t Bill gege back yet?

He sat quietly on the sofa, and because he hadn’t moved in a long time, he felt cold. He hugged his knees, resting his head on top of them, his thoughts a mystery. 

Time passed, second by second, minute by minute.

The dishes on the table were completely cold.

Morel shifted positions countless times on the sofa. The fire in the fireplace has long died down, but he couldn’t be bothered to stoke it.

He wordlessly lay down on the sofa—his golden hair scattered—and curled into a ball. 

Even the proud black cat felt a little sorry for him. It jumped onto the sofa and curled up against Morel’s chest.

Morel hugged the black cat gently, saying with a smile, “You’re the only one keeping me company.”

The black cat bumped Morel’s face with its nose.

Like this, Morel gently stroked the black cat’s head and fell into dreamland. 

When the clock rang 12 times, the door to the room opened with a creak.

The Earl closed the door, hung his jacket and hat on the rack, and changed his shoes. Upon opening the carbide lights, he saw Morel curled up on the sofa with the black cat and the table full of food. His beautiful eyes widened and he froze.