Chapter 257 (1/2)

Chapter 257 Mystery

Ever since the five witches from Sleeping Island arrived in Border Town, Roland was in a constant state of excitement. Which meant that even after the end of the banquet, he found it impossible to fall asleep as he lay in his bed. Without any better option available to him, he got up to drink half a cup of white spirit and tried forcing his body to fall asleep.

On the next morrow, when the cicadas in the courtyard all began emitting “ziya” sounds, he had already recovered a clear head. He was full of energy by the time he climbed out of bed, and after a simple washing he immediately headed to the office – at this time the marble white color of dawn appeared in the sky, and sent out the first rays of the morning sun through the window, sprinkling it evenly throughout the room.

Even after looking around for a long time, Roland was still unable to detect the familiar figure of the past. He was used to Nightingale being there, lazily laying on top of the chair whenever he pushed open the door and entered.

With a helpless smile, Roland sat down at the table and removed a notebook from the drawer, then began to plan out the next generation of witch training programs.

First, he would let Wendy and Scroll to help the newcomers become familiar with their new environment that they could start blending in with the community. Furthermore, he also planned to launch a sugar-coated bullet barrage, he would have the visiting witches fully enjoy Border Town’s unique and comfortable lifestyle. Meaning that it wouldn’t even be necessary for them to stay in town for his plan to succeed, even if they went back afterward, as long as they spread the news about the fabulous lifestyle in Border Town it would still be for the better.

By the time the sun was completely hanging over the sky, Nightingale finally came into the office, “Oh? You were actually able to rise so early today? Don’t tell me that it’s really as Lily like said, were you really so impatient for the new witches to arrive that you couldn’t wait?”

“What kind of nonsense are you talking about?” Roland smiled as he asked, then put a bag of dried fish on the table, “How did you get along with your new sister last night?

“Sister?” Nightingale curled her lips, “You can’t trust them too much.”

“What happened?”

Nightingale reached out with her hand to grab the bag and then turned around to sit on the couch, “The witch named Sylvie, out of the ten sentences she’d spoken, half had been lies. Although they haven’t been so grave as to mean that she has some evil intentions towards us there are certainly still a lot of thoughts she is trying to hide.”

“Well… that’s somewhat understandable,” Roland seemed to not care about it, “She probably wanted to see if I was the real Roland Wimbledon or not.”

“What?” Nightingale blanked slightly.

“In case one of your close relatives were to suddenly change by a great deal, you would certainly also come to think that they had either been replaced or are become controlled.”

He smiled, “I guess Tilly thinks that one of those possibilities might have happened to me. In King’s City, I was well known for always idling away my days, and being without any learning or skills. I was someone who bullied the weak and feared the strong. How could such a person so suddenly change as to straighten his back and start sheltering witches?”

In fact, any bad comments that were used to describe the 4th Prince weren’t exaggerations. One of his still existent childhood memories went like this: One time the 4th Prince was playing in the palace, and he ended up accidentally breaking a few crystal-glass jars.

However, to avoid punishment not only did he push all of the blame on Tilly Wimbledon. No, to complete the forgery of the scene, he even pushed the around six or seven years old girl onto the broken shards of crystal-glass. Having this kind of dark history, wouldn’t it be a wonder instead if the other party’s impression of him was good? It was reasonable that there would be doubt when the older brother’s nature showed such a dramatic change that he no longer appeared to be himself, in fact everyone would have liked to go and investigate these changes.

“Hearing you speak like this, I also want to know,” Nightingale asked curiously, “Are you really Roland Wimbledon after all, or not?”

“I’m both, so yes and no,” Roland answered, and spread out his arms.

Nightingale was shocked, “Why does my ability tell me that your sentence is true?”

“Because that’s how it is.” Nightingale’s ability could only detect deliberately told lies, and he didn’t think he was telling her a lie.