Super Righteous Player
Chapter 773 - 313 Home_1

Chapter 773: Chapter 313 Home_1

Seeing the "Milk Crust" he had been searching for so long... or rather, "Russell," had actually run off to Annan’s side on his own.

Dmitry didn’t feel any loss; instead, he sighed in relief.

He simply felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.

The guilt and tension from losing "Milk Crust" during the transportation of the Frost Beast finally vanished from the bottom of his heart.

Dmitry was very clear... As the first humanoid Frost Beast with high intelligence, renamed "Russell" by Annan, the stakes were incredibly high.

If she fell into the hands of any domestic or foreign power with hostility toward the Winter family, or even the entire Duchy of Winter, she would immediately become a potent drug that could destabilize the whole Duchy. Merely proclaiming her existence could spark unwarranted thoughts in people’s minds.

... Although, according to reason, secretly executing Russell immediately would be the most secure, cautious action, and the one most in line with Dmitry’s character.

But Dmitry, to her, still couldn’t bring himself to be that cruel.

"Since you have other arrangements for her, I’ll withdraw my men from this side."

Seeing that Annan seemed to care about her quite a bit, Dmitry simply handed over Russell to Annan completely.

"I thought you would hate werewolves so much that you’d wish to tear them to pieces,"

Annan teased.

Dmitry curled his lip: "Troubles have sources, debts have debtors. Indeed, I look down on werewolves, and even get annoyed at the mere sight of one, but that doesn’t mean I’d take out my anger on a child who’s not even a year old..."

Thanks to the moral education from Duke Ivan, the three brothers were able to become righteous people despite the absence of positive emotions.

If the Duchy of Winter truly needed it, Dmitry could indeed be ruthless. After all, his heart was encased in ice, devoid of any sympathy.

Instead, it was because he’d done too many things he didn’t want to, accumulated too much negative emotion, that he always looked so troubled and frowned so deeply.

If possible, Dmitry didn’t want to hurt anyone.

But he was also a pragmatic and rational person, inheriting the conservative style of his father Ivan. And as the elder brother, he had his own pride. So he was very clear that some things had to be done...

Yet Ivan’s lineage was far too sparse, and there were things neither Maria nor Annan were suited to do. Someone had to bear the stigma and reach into the darkness.

In the end, only he could do it.

His own talents were far inferior to those of Maria and Annan... after all, his mother was a genuine ordinary woman without any special abilities, unlike the mothers of Maria and Annan, who were unparalleled geniuses.

But because Ivan’s health was poor, both Maria and Annan were raised by Dmitry. To his younger siblings, Dmitry had a sense of "elder pride," as if they weren’t his brother and sister but younger relatives of a smaller generation.

Therefore, he had no one to confide in.

No one to listen to his woes—the only two people he could fully trust, yet because of laughable pride, were unwilling to seek help.

This endless despair, accumulated over a long period of internal contradiction, along with the malice, doubts, and sins he silently endured, continued to build up inside him.

The flower of evil that bloomed from this wicked soil was the deep furrow between his brows.

He was only in his early thirties this year, but deep lines had already formed between his eyebrows. To dispel his depression, he indulged in smoking and drinking every day... If not for the fact that the Blood of the Frigid Winter was too harmful to an ordinary person’s body, he might have even loitered in pleasure districts.

All these were Dmitry’s ways of self-relief, to avoid unleashing his stress on others and harming the innocent.

Among the many ways he entertained himself, the only one he swore he’d never touch again was gambling.

At the moment Dmitry’s words ceased, a peculiar silence filled the air due to Annan’s lack of response.

It was like a noisy classroom where everyone suddenly and without warning fell silent, returning to utter calmness... it even created an awkward impression as if one might suspect that the head teacher had entered the room.

"Dmitry."

Just then, Maria’s voice broke the silence.

She took off her long coat and casually tossed it to Dmitry, "Fetch us some drinks. Annan’s sparkling fruit tea and my lemon liqueur—you know what I like added to it. When that’s done, grab some nuts and bring them over."

"Do I need to go..."

Dmitry subconsciously questioned Maria: Was this task really something he needed to do personally?

But before he could voice the question, he suddenly realized...

This seemed like Maria’s way of getting rid of him.

Did she want to have a private word with Annan?

Although Dmitry was somewhat curious, his sense of steadiness as an elder brother simply made him nod, "I understand. Then I’ll hang up your coat too..."

With those words, he stood up, holding Maria’s coat in one hand and tightening the coat around his own shoulders with the other.

"Don’t let my coat pick up the smell of smoke."

Maria added, "If you want to smoke, hang up my coat first."

"...Got it, got it."

Dmitry coughed, his hand that was reaching for his cigar at his chest stopped abruptly, and stiffly adjusted his collar.

Then he left the room on his own.

And after Dmitry had left the room, Maria suddenly moved closer.

She embraced Annan, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

She inhaled deeply, much like one would sniff a cat. Maria’s long hair brushed against Annan’s face, and he could "smell" a sense of coldness from it... It was a unique scent that just by smelling it, one could associate with "cold" in their mind. Her hair itself felt as cold as if it had been in the snow for a long time.

"Mmm..."

After taking another deep breath, Maria finally narrowed her eyes contentedly.

She stretched out her slender, fair fingers, carefully tracing Annan’s cheeks, temples, behind his ears, and along his neck, confirming the feel with her fingertips. Then she seriously examined the curse mark that was exposed on his left shoulder.

"Hand,"

Maria said.

"..."

In silence, Annan dared not say a word but obediently followed Maria’s voice, handing over his hand like a pet cat placing its paw in its owner’s palm.

She then took Annan’s hand, inspecting his curse vessel. She touched it with her fingertips to confirm its texture, checking that it fitted well and had not left any marks on his fingers.

Since girls develop earlier, she was about four or five years older than Annan. Maria was a little taller than Annan.

But only a little, not even half a head’s difference. From afar, Maria gave off a petite impression, but up close, the mature feeling of an elder surfaced.

Maria, who seemed forever sixteen, contrasted sharply with her youthful and delicate body and her queen-like, solemn, mature demeanor.

Smelling the cold scent in the loose strands of Maria’s hair, Annan felt an inexplicable sense of tranquility.

It was like returning home after working away for a long time... the feeling when a mother checks anxiously to see if you’ve lost weight. There was a profound sense of calm and an urge to break into a gentle smile.

...It was only then that Annan became very aware.

He had indeed come home.

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