DLMSWSHH Chapter 51

TL: Hua

Chapter 51: Bloodline

The Duke had never heard the phrase “dating” before, but he could roughly guess what it meant.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he fell into silence, his gaze slowly tracing over Zhong Ming’s face.

Zhong Ming’s brow twitched, and his lips tightened. He secretly tried to keep his expression steady. But he also understood that by asking this, if the Duke didn’t answer immediately, the chances of getting the truth were slim.

Whatever the Duke was hiding, for him to refuse to speak at this juncture meant it had to be a massive secret.

Zhong Ming watched him, breathing slowly.

The heat churning in the Duke’s dark eyes faded, returning to a deep, still pool that quietly reflected Zhong Ming’s silhouette. His composure was extraordinary; once his bottom line was touched, all vulnerabilities were pulled back, making him unreadable.

Zhong Ming stared into those black eyes, his lips tightening further and further. After a moment, unable to hold the gaze any longer, he was the first to look away.

The instant he turned his head, the Duke’s hand brushed against his cheek.

The thin calluses on the man’s palm brushed against his cheek, first stroking his hair, then moving downward, tracing a path from the temple to the tip of his chin. The broad palm effortlessly cupped most of his face.

The Duke gently tilted his face up and asked softly, “Truly no one else?”

Zhong Ming was forced to look at him. He wondered: Is that the point right now? Still, he answered, “No one.”

“Good.” The Duke leaned down, pulled him into an embrace, and pressed a light kiss to Zhong Ming’s cheek. “Good boy.”

The man carried a faint, warm woody scent, reminiscent of charcoal crackling in a fireplace on a winter day. Caught off guard, Zhong Ming was completely enveloped in his arms. His eyes widened, and he instinctively pressed his hands against the Duke’s chest.

“Wait—” Zhong Ming’s voice carried a hint of panic. “Your Grace, you can’t do this!”

I just said we can’t date, so why is he still hugging and holding me!

“Hmm?” The Duke acted as if he hadn’t heard him. He kissed Zhong Ming’s temple of his own accord and whispered in his ear, “I love you.”

Zhong Ming felt as if he’d been struck by lightning. The man’s warm breath puffed against his ear, sending a numbing sensation shooting up from his tailbone. Half of Zhong Ming’s face turned bright red, and his knees went weak for a second.

Not a word of truth, but a basket full of sweet nothings!

Though Zhong Ming was mentally resilient, he was ultimately a reserved and shy person by nature. He rarely expressed his emotions directly, unlike these Westerners who could toss out cringey romantic lines so casually.

Pinned by the Duke’s strong arms, Zhong Ming had nowhere to hide. He could only passively endure the trail of fine kisses falling against his skin. The Duke only kissed his face and nowhere else; in terms of Western social etiquette, which was already more intimate, one could argue this was just an elder’s affection for a junior. He was treading right on the line of ambiguity while being handsy with Zhong Ming.

Zhong Ming listened to the Duke whisper words of love in elegant, ancient European phrasing, his tone soft and low. Finally, when the man’s hand moved to wrap around his lower back, Zhong Ming couldn’t take it anymore.

“Your Grace!”

His voice was sharp. The Duke’s movements paused. He looked up to see that Zhong Ming’s face was so red it looked ready to drip blood, and his large dark eyes were clouded with a layer of mist. He looked as if he might burst into tears of shame and anger at any second.

The Duke’s eyebrow arched. He quite liked this side of Zhong Ming and wanted to kiss those reddened corners of his eyes. However, he didn’t actually want to push Zhong Ming to tears, so he slowly released his grip.

Zhong Ming immediately backed out of the embrace. He instinctively raised a hand to touch his cheek; the scorching heat there only made him more flustered.

After a moment of silence, he stepped forward and pushed against the Duke’s chest with both hands. With his strength, he obviously couldn’t move him, but the Duke blinked in surprise. Seeing Zhong Ming’s bright red ears, he hesitated for a moment before stepping back in accordance with the push.

Zhong Ming shoved him out the door, looked up, and pressed the necklace against the man’s chest. “Take this back.”

The Duke looked at his hand but didn’t take the jewelry. Instead, he looked up and said: “No.” He spoke concisely and firmly. “I want to date you.”

Zhong Ming nearly choked. Ignoring the necklace in his hand, he slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

The Duke watched the wooden door slam in his face without moving a muscle. He looked at it as if he could see the frustrated face of the person behind it.

After a while, the Duke lowered his eyes and turned to leave, intentionally making his footsteps a bit heavier.

Even if he was rejected for now, the Duke didn’t think it was a big deal. Unlike humans, whose lifespans were a mere few decades, he had plenty of time to waste with Zhong Ming.

Spending time with one’s beloved is surely the greatest joy in this world, is it not?

Hearing the footsteps fade into the distance, Zhong Ming slowly let out a breath.

His face was a mix of pale and flushed, and his legs were still weak. He looked down at the necklace in his hand and bit his lip, still feeling the lingering warmth of the man’s embrace.

Zhong Ming put the necklace away with the gold coins. He looked up and realized he had been tangled up with the Duke for so long that he was already late to pick up Albert from his lessons.

To be honest, Zhong Ming didn’t want to go anywhere right now. But thinking of Albert waiting for him, he had no choice. He quickly splashed his face with ice-cold water to bring down the temperature of his skin and hurried downstairs to find Albert.

The young master’s face was indeed grim; he stood at the entrance of the nursery with his hands tucked behind his back.

As he watched Zhong Ming run down from upstairs, he lifted his gaze and slowly straightened his posture.

Zhong Ming hurried to a stop before him and lowered his head. “I am sorry for being late, Young Master Albert.”

A trace of resentment lingered between Albert’s brows. He had intended to demand where Zhong Ming had been, but his gaze faltered the moment he saw Zhong Ming’s face.

When Albert didn’t respond for a long moment, Zhong Ming looked up, puzzled. “Young Master?”

Albert watched him, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why do you look like this?”

He frowned. “Who bullied you?”

Zhong Ming froze, caught off guard by the question. His face flushed involuntarily, unsure of how to answer. Seeing this reaction, Albert grew more suspicious. His gaze swept over the corners of Zhong Ming’s eyes and brows; he looked for all the world like someone who had just been toyed with. Yet, it wasn’t exactly a look of pure grievance. There was something else in that expression, something Albert couldn’t quite place.

Albert’s brow furrowed deeper. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, but it made him feel inexplicably irritable.

Just then, Zhong Ming cleared his throat and reached out a hand. “It’s nothing of the sort, Young Master,” he said. “Let us go for our walk.”

Albert stared at him for a few beats before taking his hand with doubts.

Because of the Duke’s sudden raid, Zhong Ming’s entire schedule for the day had been thrown into disarray. Albert refused to let him go on time; even if it meant being late for his next lesson, he wasn’t willing to cut their walk short. Zhong Ming could only sigh and indulge the young master’s whims, knowing he was the one at fault for being late in the first place.

Consequently, by the time Zhong Ming finished his day’s work and reached the chapel, it was already quite late.

Now that winter had arrived, the daylight hours in the valley had shortened. A dim, orange glow spilled behind the chapel, turning the entire structure into a black silhouette against the fiery sunset.

Because of this, Zhong Ming didn’t immediately notice that someone was standing at the chapel doors.

By the time he drew close, it was too late to avoid them. Zhong Ming’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked at the tall man standing there.

The man had noticed him as well. He turned his head and gave a slight nod, the crucifix on his chest glinting in the twilight.

It was the priest.

Zhong Ming’s pace faltered. Players rarely came to the chapel partly because the grounds outside the mansion were considered dangerous but mostly because a chapel’s inherent religious nature made it seem like a death trap in a horror game.

Zhong Ming stopped and glanced at the man’s black robes. If he is a priest, then it’s normal for him to visit a chapel, he thought.

At this point, it would be awkward to turn around and leave.

Zhong Ming hesitated. Fortunately, the priest looked away, seemingly indifferent to his presence, and turned to enter the building.

Zhong Ming breathed a sigh of relief. If the player didn’t care, he had nothing to fear. He followed him toward the chapel.

Reaching the entrance, the priest pulled open the heavy wooden door. The interior was pitch black, save for a few shafts of light from the stained-glass windows hitting the floor. Zhong Ming moved toward the door but instinctively stopped at the threshold to let the priest go in first.

However, the priest didn’t enter. Instead, he took half a step to the side, clearing the path, and looked at Zhong Ming.

Zhong Ming was stunned for a moment. Then, he heard the man speak in accented English: “Ladies first.”

Zhong Ming stiffened. He had been in such a rush all day that he hadn’t found a single moment to change out of his dress.

This strange priest is surprisingly polite, he thought.

He gave the man a nod. “Thank you.”

With that, he brushed past him into the chapel.

The priest followed him inside and closed the door behind them. The chapel was instantly plunged into darkness.

Winter nights fell fast. In the brief moment they had lingered at the door, the last vestige of the sunset had vanished. Standing in the dark, Zhong Ming felt a wave of discomfort knowing someone was behind him; his pace quickened unconsciously.

Luckily, the priest did not follow closely. He waited until Zhong Ming had gained some distance before stepping into the rows of pews, turning to sit in a seat on the right side.

Zhong Ming reached the altar and took the lamp oil stored there. He began lighting the candles surrounding the sacred statues one by one.

The flames flickered to life, slowly dispelling the gloom.

Once the area was brightened, Zhong Ming felt he could finally breathe. He glanced sideways inconspicuously and saw the priest sitting a few rows back. His hands were clasped over his knees, and his eyes were downcast in silence. He appeared to be praying.

As Zhong Ming watched him, a sudden sense of eeriness bubbled up in his chest.

He frowned, unable to pinpoint where this feeling came from. The priest hadn’t done anything out of line; he sat with a relaxed yet solemn posture, quiet and seemingly devout in his prayer.

Zhong Ming looked away. Perhaps he was overthinking it.

He picked up the lamp oil and began lighting the lamps along the walls, starting from the side furthest from the man.

The chapel was deathly quiet, filled only by the sound of Zhong Ming’s footsteps. As he lit the lamps, he kept a close watch on the priest’s movements. The man remained perfectly still, like a statue.

Zhong Ming knew that in the West, some devout believers could stay in a church for an entire day. It was like a third place outside of home and work. They didn’t always sit there to repent; some were there for social reasons, while others were simply seeking inner peace.

After observing him for a while and seeing no movement, Zhong Ming grew tired of watching and focused on his task.

He finished the lamps on one side and crossed over to light the ones near the priest.

However, just as he lit the oil lamp halfway, Zhong Ming encountered a problem.

The chapel lamps were in disrepair. The wick of one lamp was bent to the side. Even standing on his tiptoes and holding the candle high, Zhong Ming couldn’t reach it. He tried several times, but the flame wouldn’t catch.

After a few attempts, his calves began to ache. He lowered his arm and stared at the lamp in frustration; he hadn’t brought a ladder today.

Suddenly, the rustle of fabric sounded in his ear.

Before Zhong Ming could turn around, a hand reached out past his face. It easily reached the wick and straightened it.

Startled, Zhong Ming looked up and saw the priest’s pale profile.

Having fixed the wick, the man lowered his hand and looked down at Zhong Ming. “Give it to me, please.”

His English was mediocre, his phrasing slightly off. But Zhong Ming understood and handed him the candle.

The priest took the candle and lit the oil lamp.

Zhong Ming studied him. The brown-haired priest was very tall, likely on par with the Duke, but his frame was much thinner. His cheeks were slightly hollow, giving him a somewhat morose appearance.

He finished lighting the lamp and handed the candle back to Zhong Ming, as if he had simply been lending a hand.

Zhong Ming paused, then reached out to take the candlestick. He pulled slightly, but it didn’t budge.

The priest hadn’t let go. His gaze pierced through the candlelight and fixed on Zhong Ming’s face.

Then, he spoke abruptly: “You have the scent of evil upon you.”

Zhong Ming froze, his eyes widening. He was blindsided by the nonsensical statement. He wasn’t sure if the man’s English was just poor or if he truly meant those words.

The priest didn’t leave him in confusion for long. He followed up with: “You are close with the Duke.”

Zhong Ming’s eyelid twitched. He kept his expression neutral, but his mind was racing.

A player actually knows about the Duke’s existence? He was horrified. Even high-level players like Li Yizhi and Shen Weinian were unaware of the Duke.

Zhong Ming’s gaze turned wary, but then he blinked, suddenly noticing something.

By the light of the candle, his eyes traced the man’s high browbone, his pale cheeks, and his sharp, defined jawline.

This priest bore a thirty-percent resemblance to the Duke.

From certain angles, that similarity jumped to fifty percent.

Zhong Ming’s hand trembled on the candlestick. He finally understood the source of the eeriness he had been feeling.

The priest noticed his hesitation, glanced at Zhong Ming’s hands, and asked: “What is your relationship with the Duke?”

The question snapped Zhong Ming back to his senses. Hiding the turmoil in his heart, he looked up and said, “It isn’t very polite to ask others such things.”

He added coldly, “And what is your relationship with him?”

At this, the priest’s expression shifted slightly. “You noticed?”

He finally released his grip on the candlestick.

Zhong Ming immediately pulled his hand back, holding the candle in front of him like a shield as he watched the player with suspicion. Once the thought had taken root, he couldn’t stop noticing the features on this brown-haired man that mirrored the Duke’s.

Under his suspicious gaze, the priest raised a hand and touched his own temple.

“I am indeed related to him by blood.” The priest lifted his chin, his light-brown eyes reflecting the candlelight as he spoke in his awkward English. “But I am pure.”

He looked down at Zhong Ming and said coldly, “I came here to sever that bloodline.”

His English was fragmented and inconsistent. Combined with his arrogant demeanor and the disdain in his voice when mentioning the Duke, Zhong Ming began to understand.

In the priest’s eyes, the Duke was “evil.” The priest likely shared a bloodline with the Duke and felt shamed by it. He had entered this game with the intent to kill the Duke and “sever” the connection.

Zhong Ming’s expression suddenly went cold. He felt a surge of irritation at the man’s blatant sense of superiority.

The priest clearly didn’t notice or simply didn’t care. He took a step toward Zhong Ming, leaning down.

“Are you his lover?”

That sentence, at least, was perfectly fluent.

Zhong Ming frowned and took a step back. “I am a servant who tends to the Duke.”

The priest narrowed his eyes, his thick lashes casting shadows over his eyelids. He looked at Zhong Ming and said, “That does not conflict with what I said.”

Zhong Ming disliked the way he was being looked at. He knit his brows, his tone turning even colder. “I believe that is none of your business.”

Seemingly surprised by his retort, the priest paused. Then, he used that annoying, condescending gaze to scan Zhong Ming from head to toe, as if judging whether he was an unruly believer.

After a moment, he deliberately softened his tone. Looking down at Zhong Ming, he spoke in a coaxing voice: “A beautiful and pure lady such as yourself should not be deceived by the devil’s sweet words.”

He looked at Zhong Ming with an expression of pity.

“To consort with the wicked for the sake of fleeting pleasure… it will corrode your pure soul.”

The man’s English suddenly became impeccable the moment he started preaching.

Zhong Ming furrowed his brows, eyeing the man with deep suspicion. He had a nagging feeling that this was no ordinary priest and more like a charlatan of some sort.

As if to confirm his suspicions, the priest took a step forward and extended his right hand toward Zhong Ming.

“Please, give me your right hand,” he said softly. “I shall purify your soul.”

Zhong Ming recoiled, his eyes widening slightly. He felt as though he had accidentally stumbled into a cult ritual, and a look of revulsion flickered across his face.

The priest seemed to sense his resistance. He leaned down slightly and whispered, “Fear not. You can say anything in my presence.” He raised a finger to indicate their surroundings and lowered his voice. “I have shielded us from his eyes and ears.”

Zhong Ming was jolted by this and instinctively looked around. Indeed, there was no sign of the Duke.

Seeing this, the priest’s smile deepened. “Has he been deceiving you with his words?”

His voice was deep and resonant, not necessarily pleasant, yet it possessed a magnetic quality that made one want to listen.

“Devils are masters of silver-tongued flattery,” the priest continued persuasively. He looked at Zhong Ming with feigned understanding. “I know his words sound sweet, but you must remember: monsters and humans are not the same—”

Zhong Ming appeared to be listening intently, but he was actually surreptitiously watching the sky through the stained-glass windows.

In the sky, clouds drifted with the breeze, and the last traces of twilight vanished. A moment later, the moon emerged. Its cold, white light poured through the glass, landing squarely on the face of the Virgin Mary statue at the center of the altar.

Zhong Ming’s gaze shifted past the priest’s shoulder. He watched as the eyes of the statue slowly turned a pure, liquid black, as if ink were dripping from them.

The priest remained oblivious to the anomaly behind him. He stared at Zhong Ming, watching the beautiful maid, who clearly shared a deep bond with the Duke, lower her eyes. Her thick lashes trembled, making her look swayed.

Women are always so easily moved, the priest thought.

To him, an overly beautiful woman was like a delicate flower on the plains; he enjoyed watching them sway in the wind.

The corners of his mouth curled up slightly. “It is alright. No matter what concerns you have, you may tell them to me—”

He continued his attempt to break down Zhong Ming’s defenses, but suddenly, he cut himself off. He looked away, noticing for the first time a thick mist that had begun to permeate the chapel.

The fog seemed to come from nowhere, already submerging his calves.

The priest realized the ominous nature of the fog, and his face suddenly changed color.

In the next instant, Zhong Ming blew out the candle in his hand.

As if on cue, the oil lamps on the chapel walls extinguished simultaneously, plunging the interior into total darkness.

The priest’s face twisted. He lunged toward where Zhong Ming had been standing, but his hands grasped only empty air.

“Fuck!”

The man’s frustrated curse echoed through the dense fog.

He whipped his head around, but the mist was so thick he could see nothing. He had no idea how Zhong Ming had moved so fast. The person had vanished like a startled mouse.

By now, Zhong Ming had reached the door. He looked back through the thickening fog at the statue on the altar. Two streaks of black tears ran down the Virgin’s face, and she was now facing directly toward him.

Zhong Ming felt a slight breeze brush against his cheek. Though it was a cold wind, it brought him an inexplicable sense of warmth.

Then, a gentle force nudged him toward the exit.

Zhong Ming took one last look at the fog, turned, and slipped out through a crack in the heavy wooden doors.

The doors groaned shut behind him.

The moment they closed, Zhong Ming thought he heard the sound of many people screaming all at once.

The sound vanished in a flash, but it made his skin crawl and sent a chill up his spine. He didn’t dare linger. Without looking back, he hurried away from the scene.

Will that priest die? Zhong Ming wondered. He frowned as he recalled the man’s words.

To be honest, he didn’t want the priest to die like that, but it would be better if he lost an arm or a leg, making him easier to control. That way, he could tie him up and maybe even force him to reveal some information.

He thought of the statue. If only he could communicate with the monsters inside; he could have asked them to moderate their enthusiasm.

Zhong Ming returned to the mansion, his mind full of questions.

He looked up toward the study on the fourth floor and narrowed his eyes.

At least one thing was certain: if the priest was related to the Duke, it meant the Duke was a real person from history, not just a fictional game character.

Standing in the main hall, surrounded by exquisite ornaments and decor, a sudden shiver ran down his back. The massive map and the servants with their individual backstories all seemed to make sense now.

This “dungeon” might actually be real.

Zhong Ming’s breathing grew shallow, and his head throbbed with a wave of dizziness. If this place was real, then what was he?

Just then, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Zhong Ming jumped, snapping out of his thoughts. He turned to see Ye Qing’s pale face.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” she asked with concern. “I… I saw you standing here perfectly still—”

Seeing it was her, Zhong Ming let out a slow breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m fine.” He forced a smile. “I was just thinking about some things.”

“I see.”

Ye Qing nodded, though she was still worried. The look on his face just now had been one of genuine fear. Remembering what she had to tell him, she hoped it might cheer him up.

“Zhong Ming, there’s something I need to tell you.”

His mind was still a bit scattered. “What is it?”

Ye Qing didn’t answer immediately. After a moment of silence, Zhong Ming looked back at her in confusion. The moment he met her eyes, he understood.

He immediately composed himself, his mind sharpening. He and Ye Qing walked silently toward the stairs.

Once they were in the basement, Ye Qing suddenly turned around and whispered excitedly, “I’ve figured it out! I know who the Duke is!”