“The Will of the Forest says this matter lies upon its shoulders; it will cleanse whatever lingering taint clings to your body or soul.”

  Gortaya repeated the message the moment she received it.

  “I never meant to blame it,” Glenn replied. “No one could have imagined something like that was hidden below. Miscalculations are inevitable.”

  “Then… should we return now?” she asked.

  “Let us go.” Glenn started forward, and Gortaya silently followed.

  …

  Knock, knock, knock…

  Tia, in the midst of preparing breakfast, set her work aside and wiped her hands before opening the door.

  Outside stood an elderly man dressed immaculately, a head of fluffy white hair giving him an air of bohemian artistry.

  “Sir, may I ask whom you are looking for?” Tia asked politely.

  She knew this estate was far from ordinary; anyone coming here was unlikely to be simple.

  But she was overthinking.

  “I am Hopedo, a painter devoted to the arts. I have come seeking the author of those fairy tales—Mr. Glenn. He lives here, correct? I searched for ages before that little girl named Bonnie finally told me. Forgive my bluntness, but the environment here is dreadful—utterly unworthy of a genius like Mr. Glenn.”

  The old man gestured animatedly as he spoke, his quick tempo leaving Tia stunned.

  But all she needed to understand was that he had come for Glenn.

  “Please, come in and have a seat. I will go call him,” she said.

  Tia guided him to the living room and hurried upstairs to knock on Glenn’s bedroom door.

  Moments later, Glenn came down, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “You were looking for me?” he asked.

  “You are Glenn—the one who wrote those fairy tales?” Hopedo straightened his clothing with ceremonial seriousness.

  “I… yes, I wrote them,” Glenn answered, still unsure of the man’s intentions.

  Upon receiving confirmation, the old artist’s expression exploded into theatrical joy. He surged forward and gave Glenn a crushing embrace.

  “My heavens! I finally found you! Thank you for your stories—they have given me such inspiration! I am Hopedo, a painter from Lyons City. We shall have so much to talk about!”

  Glenn stood dazed, overwhelmed by the man’s rapid-fire enthusiasm.

  “Please sit, Mr. Hopedo. We can talk slowly,” Glenn managed, deciding to first settle him down before figuring out how to deal with this eccentric painter.

  “Mr. Hopedo, it is an honor that you enjoy my tales. For any author, that is the greatest praise—and coming from an artist, no less.”

  He offered the polite opening lines. “I never imagined my work would compel you to travel so far just to find me. But… was your purpose merely to meet me? That would make me quite embarrassed.”

  “You absolutely deserve such treatment! But no, meeting you is not my sole purpose. I am here to invite you to join our club—a club reserved only for artists!”

  Hopedo explained with a bright smile.

  “A club?” Glenn asked, feigning interest.

  “Yes, a club,” Hopedo echoed, clearly proud. “The full name is the Genius Kitchen Club. Every member is like a chef yearning to craft exquisite dishes that satisfy all who taste them!”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “What a splendid name,” Glenn said with warm admiration.

  Just then, Tia served Glenn’s special fruit drink. Having overheard their conversation, she privately thought Glenn indeed was a wonderful chef.

  “But—” Glenn was just about to decline when Hopedo remembered something.

  “Oh! And our club is funded by the kingdom’s Third Princess herself. Each member receives a staggering annual budget solely for artistic creation.”

  Glenn swallowed his refusal instantly, clasping the old man’s hand with a bright smile.

  “I actually have a wealth of ideas waiting to take form. If I join, I will finally have the means to bring them to life!”

  “I knew it! You are a genius like us!” Hopedo beamed.

  The two warmed to each other quickly. Hopedo asked endlessly about Glenn’s creative process, eager to extract any spark of inspiration.

  Glenn, though not the true author, easily discussed his past-life views on fairy tales without exposing himself.

  When it was time to leave, Hopedo stood and said warmly:

  “To join, you will need to complete a few formalities in person. Would you like to come with me now? Once we arrive, I can host you properly and handle the paperwork.”

  Glenn paused briefly before refusing.

  “I would love to go immediately, but I still have matters to handle here. Please give me your address, and I will visit you myself.”

  Hopedo thought nothing of it and directly gave the exact address.

  Outside, he couldn’t resist lamenting, “Good heavens, look at this place—it is like a forgotten pre-war ruin! Completely unfit for living! Mr. Glenn, you deserve better. Trust me, buy a house in the capital as soon as you can.”

  “I will,” Glenn said.

  Studying the dilapidated surroundings, and then Hopedo’s utter lack of fear, Glenn added,

  “Mr. Hopedo, ordinary people would not dare come here alone. You are quite courageous.”

  Hopedo paused at the street, turned back, and smiled.

  “My boy, do not be fooled by my age. In my younger years, I marched on battlefields. Even a magical beast would not frighten me.”

  There was a glimmer of pride in his aged eyes.

  Glenn chuckled softly, bid him farewell, and instructed Night Howl to protect him discreetly.

  A club… Glenn mused. I will need to build up a stockpile of manuscripts. Cannot accept their funding for nothing.

  With that thought he shut the door.

  Night came quietly.

  In the living room, Glenn, Tia, and Ravel shared a late-night meal.

  After eating, Glenn suddenly turned to Ravel.

  “Your parents have returned. I spoke with them when I came back from the capital. You may leave tomorrow.”

  Ravel froze.

  Glenn continued, “You too, Tia. You will leave with him.”

  The little maid lowered her head silently.

  “I can leave tomorrow…?” Ravel asked, bewildered.

  “Yes.” Glenn nodded, then added coldly, “After spending so much time with me, you should know my temperament. If you ever do something that displeases me again…”

  His eyes sharpened into icy blades.

  “…the fate of Earl Punk will be the fate of your family.”