Between Dreams and Desperate Choices

Chapter 1

**Synopsis:** Julian Yue is deeply in debt, clinging to the notorious Mr. Quentin Frog for support.
Rumors swirl about Commander Leo the Brave—a ruthless tyrant, a man who thrives on chaos and fear.
With trembling hands, Julian Yue makes the decision to marry him.
Believing that his fate is sealed—likely to meet a gruesome end in the wilderness—Julian is astonished when he discovers that the feared commander has a surprisingly soft heart.
……
Sir Rowan Green remarks on his impulsive choice of a young man to care for, certainly thinking it will be easy—
……
A year later.
Sir Rowan Green: This is delightful!
……
As time passes, the word "divorce" becomes a taboo in Mr. Quentin Frog’s world.

Chapter 2

Julian Yue stood on the rooftop, the night breeze tousling his hair. He let out a frustrated sigh and pulled out his phone, typing in a desperate search query: [How to make quick cash?]
The wisdom of the internet is limitless, and as Julian scrolled through the suggestions, he distilled them down to four possibilities: 1. Commit a crime, 2. Win the lottery, 3. Sell himself, 4. Reincarnation.
He hesitated for a moment before turning to head back downstairs.
After some searching, he found a lottery kiosk just as the owner was preparing to close up for the night. Julian purchased a $20 ticket for the Powerball draw.
As he awkwardly recited his numbers, the shopkeeper, speaking with a heavy accent, asked, “Young man, are you sure, or do you want to think about it until tomorrow?”
Julian quickly shook his head, the small tuft of hair at the back of his head bobbing comically. “Let’s just go with 01 to 09, then.”
He pocketed the ticket, only to realize that the drawing was three days away, and tomorrow marked the final deadline for his entry...
Julian stood frozen, struck with realization, and then dialed a number. One hour later, he found himself at a well-known upscale club in Autumnshire.
The dimly lit bar was alive with wealthy patrons dressed in sharp suits and lavish gowns, leaving Julian feeling like an outsider in a world he didn't belong to.
A suited man approached him and said, “You’re the one Sir Rock sent over.”
Julian awkwardly nodded.
The man laughed heartily, “You seem a bit naïve. Got any talents?”
“Can… can I play the piano? Does that count?”
The man paused, momentarily taken aback, then his face broke into a wide grin, the wrinkles on his cheeks deepening. “Sure it counts! How good are you? Why don’t you go up and play a little something for us—oh, and you better know what you’re doing. If you sound terrible, our guests will demand a refund!”
Julian didn’t exhibit the panic or apprehension the man expected; instead, he nodded seriously. “I can play.”
The man grinned, having heard that someone wanted to secure a good price for this kid tonight. Showcasing him was just the first step.
Julian was then escorted by an oddly dressed individual to a dressing room to change clothes—into a crisp white shirt and black pants. His messy, red elastic-banded hair was styled neatly, adorned with shiny diamond hair accessories.
Julian looked awkwardly at his reflection, while the stylist chuckled, “In our little world, you’ll be the star tonight, trust me.”
Unbeknownst to Julian, his heart raced a little faster at the thought.
No matter what happened, once the night was over, he would have the money he needed to enter the competition.
The bar's lighting was dim, but a spotlight illuminated the small stage above him.
Earlier, Dame Melodia, with her raspy voice and guitar in hand, shot Julian a hostile look as she stepped off the stage.
Julian sat down at the piano.
“Lord Cedric, what’s wrong with you tonight? Are our ladies not to your taste?” one of the men at a nearby table called out.
In the corner, a group of men toasted while holding onto some ladies, glasses clinking as amber-hued liquor shimmered in the soft light.
The man known as Lord Cedric yawned, lazily pinching the waist of the lady beside him. “It’s not that I don’t like them, they just seem... uninteresting.” The girl tensed, her face pale, struggling to smile.
The sight only soured Cedric's mood further, prompting him to push her away and pour himself a drink. “This Golden Chalice Tavern just keeps getting worse. The girls can’t let loose; if it weren’t for the security, I wouldn’t bother coming at all…”
His friends chuckled, one chiming in, “Right, right! Next time, let’s find a new spot, huh?”
Cedric just grimaced. “Sure, we all know what you guys really want… you’re just dying to ask me about that land deal.”
The other men at the table perked up in interest, the atmosphere shifting palpably.
Before Lord Cedric could say more, a smooth piano melody enveloped the room, capturing everyone's attention.
Cedric froze, momentarily surprised.

Chapter 3

Julian Yue squinted as he looked up at the stage, trying to recall his last thought, but it slipped away as he spotted someone new. The charming Dame Melodia he had seen earlier, cradling her guitar, had been replaced by a guy in a crisp white shirt—Gandalf Glasses, he thought—whose hair was tied back in an adorable little bun.
He sat down at the piano and started playing a lively, mysterious classical piece. Lord Cedric recognized it as something he'd heard before but couldn’t quite place. It was beautiful. There were plenty of people who could play the piano, but capturing the audience's ears was a rare talent. Suddenly, Lord Cedric found himself intrigued by the performer.
Judging by the number of enraptured faces around him, he wasn't alone. He glanced around the crowded bar, murmuring to his friends that he'd catch up with them later, and stood up to get a closer look.
The young pianist wore the standard uniform of The Golden Chalice Tavern, making it clear he was fair game for attention here. He patiently waited at the edge of the stage for Julian Yue to finish. The seemingly unremarkable tune grew more vibrant and passionate, and soon Julian was completely immersed, drawing in the gazes of half the bar by the time he reached the climax.
When the piece ended, the notes lingered sweetly in the air, and Julian hesitated for three beats, hands clammy with sweat. Then, sensing the moment was still ripe, he struck another chord. But before he could continue, someone in a server's outfit approached him, whispering something in his ear.
Julian pulled his hands back from the piano and nodded, stepping offstage.
In his absence, the crowd's gaze subtly drifted, some returning to their conversations.
Lord Cedric watched the young man, who now looked a little lost, and couldn’t help but chuckle. His prominent front teeth reminded him of a bunny, and when Julian caught a glimpse, it almost made him laugh out loud. But he held back, knowing it wasn’t the right time.
Without the stage lights on him, Julian appeared shy and unsure. Lord Cedric raised a glass of whiskey and teased him, his hand gripping Julian’s as he poured.
Julian shivered under the sensation, his mind swirling as he drank.
"Did I just toss you around like a sack of potatoes?" Lord Cedric laughed, knowing he could have easily knocked him over.
As the noise of the tavern washed over them, Julian's head swam after a few drinks.
Lord Cedric leaned in closer, mischief glinting in his eyes. "Is this your first time?"
Julian squinted, sounding deflated as he nodded in response.
This only made Lord Cedric more pleased. “Since you’re with me tonight, if you play your cards right, I might just consider giving you a little bonus… you know, kicking back and counting your cash at home sounds like a dream, doesn’t it?”
Julian had no interest in lounging around counting money; he blurted out, “How much can you give me tomorrow?”
Lord Cedric, momentarily stunned by the practical question, raised an eyebrow. “Just for tonight. How much do you want?”
“... Fifty grand.”
Lord Cedric grimaced, half-laughing, half-annoyed. “Whoa! The Golden Chalice Tavern is truly something now! Fifty grand a night? Are you selling your body or your kidney?”
Julian replied with dry humor, “Selling a kidney wouldn’t fetch that much.”
Lord Cedric was losing the thread of their conversation, and then his friends chimed in cheerfully, “Hey, little buddy, Lord Cedric only picked you because he sees your potential. Treat him right, and you could make fifty million down the line!”
Julian pursed his lips, his forced smile vanishing. “I need fifty grand tomorrow.”
Cedric kicked Julian’s stool hard.
The loud thud sent Julian crashing to the floor, his forehead striking the corner of a table. He saw stars, struggling for a moment to regain his footing.
The commotion caught the attention of those nearby, but no one came to help.
Once Julian finally stood, holding his head, Lord Cedric lounged back on the sofa, his tone casual. “Anyone willing to drop fifty grand in a night isn’t that hard to find, trust me.”
He continued with a teasing lilt, "I've been hanging around these parts for too long. This establishment welcomes anyone with money. But the people who make the big bucks aren't fools; they know what they’re spending. If you really want to pull in fifty grand in a single night, your best shot is—”
Julian looked at him with wide eyes, hanging on every word.
“Unless you want to cozy up to Mr. Quentin Frog.” Lord Cedric lowered his voice conspiratorially, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Mr.... Frog?” Julian echoed, confused.
“Just a joke—don’t take it seriously."

Chapter 4

"Who is Mr. Quentin Frog? Why would he be interested in something so trivial?" interjected one of the guys with a quick chuckle. "Besides, he hardly ever shows up—how could we say he's flirting with anyone?"
Before he could finish, his gaze froze, eyes wide.
Mr. Quentin Frog, whom they had just mentioned, was walking through the center of the hall with a friend, heading for a private booth.
“...Well, how about that," the jokester stammered, forced to acknowledge the coincidence.
Julian Yue strained to get a glimpse, catching only the tall figure in a suit walking away.
Lord Cedric let out a sharp laugh and snapped his fingers. "Now that's intriguing."
Julian Yue pursed his lips and nodded.
"Why don’t you play another piece? If it sounds good, I can show you how to catch Mr. Quentin Frog's attention."
The bar was dimly lit, and Julian could feel the warmth of the alcohol flooding to his face.
With determination, he climbed back onto the stage, deciding to showcase a flashy piece—a rendition of "The Clock."
If his prior piece, the "Impromptu Fantasia," had drawn a few glances, this performance could only be described as captivating.
As Julian concluded his performance and prepared to rise, a firm hand pressed down on his back.
He felt slightly uneasy but remained silent, hearing Lord Cedric's voice behind him, "How many years have you been practicing piano?"
Feeling the pressure ease slightly, he straightened his back. “Twenty years.”
"Ah, so you think that gives you the right to raise your own worth."
Julian opened his mouth to explain but couldn’t find words and instead fell silent.
Lord Cedric scoffed, holding his drink, and as he turned to say something, he accidentally spilled a bit.
Golden liquid dripped down.
Julian instinctively reached for his sleeve to cover it while also blocking Lord Cedric's drink with his other hand.
Cedric flinched in irritation. "It's not like this piano is yours! Doesn't it matter if I spill it—"
He was saying it when, in a split second, Julian leaped forward, placing himself over the piano.
The keys were struck down with a heavy resonance.
Alcohol soaked through his back as he landed awkwardly.
As other patrons watched the spectacle unfold without complaining, the manager wiped his sweaty forehead, hustling to diffuse the tension on stage. In mere moments, Cedric regained his composure, commenting disinterestedly, “Forget it. Someone like you isn’t worth my time, even if you did throw yourself at me.”
Julian’s shirt clung to him, dripping wet, his hair disheveled as he lowered his head, looking pitiable.
Cedric took a breath. "Aren't you interested in getting close to Sir Rowan Green? If you’re willing to take the risk, Mr. Quentin Frog might just be willing to fork out that fifty grand." His grin twisted in the dim light, revealing a more sinister side: “Sir Rowan Green... has his quirks.”
The manager, sensing the conversation's tone, quickly retreated, leaving only the group at their table to listen, wide-eyed, as Lord Cedric elaborated on the rumors surrounding this ominous figure.
Julian swallowed hard. Lord Cedric continued, "Mr. Quentin Frog has a penchant for... how shall I say it, exquisite pleasures. He doesn’t mind a little blood, and you might wonder about the 'games' he plays behind closed doors. Once a friend of his brought him a young boy, and the kid ended up in the hospital for over two weeks."
One of the guys at the table nervously added, "It’s true! Since he took over Linden Enterprises, their stock has soared... but he’s gone through secretaries like tissue paper; no one can handle him. His temper is notoriously bad.”
...
Back and forth they went as Julian pieced together a conclusion: there was a Mr. Quentin Frog, a terrifying overlord with a wealth to match.
Adjusting his composure, Julian raised his glass, trying to show sincerity despite his overwhelming emotions: "Thank you, everyone. I... I’m going to find Mr. Quentin Frog."
Cedric’s simmering frustration seemed to dissipate, replaced with a genuine curiosity to see the unfolding drama. “That fifty grand isn’t easy to come by; you might end up paying a higher price.”
Julian steeled himself, his face pale yet determined as he stepped towards the booth where Sir Rowan Green had gone.
Approaching the booth, a Page spotted his unusual advance and rushed over. “Hey, wait! Where's Lord Cedric—”
But Julian kept moving, waving his hand dismissively. The Page fell back, helpless, watching as Julian headed straight toward the most dangerous table—the one where they said, "Never let unknown faces come too close."

Chapter 5

Sir Rowan Green stared at his phone, his expression notably distant.
His friend, Gideon Cloud, leaned in and jabbered, “A marriage of convenience? Why not? You're single. That choice from the Lindens can’t be too bad… I heard it’s Yvonne Grace’s little sister.”
“Sure, you could stand up to them, but wouldn’t it be easier if you had a partner to bring home? Just say they’re your true love, and you’ll be golden… Besides, don’t you think your family will start to wonder if you don't?”
Still, Sir Rowan didn't budge.
“Hey, speaking of which, what’s your type? I think I’ve seen Yvonne’s younger sister. She’s cute enough. Or maybe you prefer the older, feistier types? Perhaps even a soft boy... Nah, scratch that. A younger boy could be fun. They’re just as cute as girls and don’t come with the pregnancy risk…”
Sir Rowan set his drink down on the table with a thud.
“Okay, okay, I’ll pipe down...” Gideon waved his hands defensively.
Sir Rowan’s icy demeanor today was stronger than ever, and Gideon sensed his annoyance. He quickly poured another drink for him.
“Forget everything else. I’ll support you, no matter what.”
Finally, Sir Rowan shifted his gaze, and the two clinked their glasses together.
In the midst of the cheerful clinking, a voice cut in. “Mr. Quentin Frog…”
They both turned.
The table wasn’t large, containing only two people, unlike Lord Cedric’s side which boasted a handful of party guests and entertainers. Yet, the intensity from these two was enough to overshadow that section by miles.
Julian Yue's face turned a shade paler. He could almost envision himself being torn apart like a martyr in a gruesome historical account.
“Uh… Is this Mr. Quentin Frog?” he stammered.
Sir Rowan furrowed his brow.
This corner booth at The Golden Chalice Tavern had been reserved just for him—a peaceful spot away from the crowd where anyone who approached would have been turned away, yet today, a little fish slipped through the cracks.
Julian had caught Rowan’s attention earlier with an enchanting rendition of “Twinkle Variations.” Now, however, the poor guy looked like he had been caught in a rainstorm—drenched and reeking of alcohol, as though he’d been bullied.
When Julian received no answer, he steeled himself, closed his eyes, and shouted, “Mr. Quentin Frog, would you like to buy me? Just fifty grand.”
Fifty grand for himself.
The proclamation hit like thunder.
Even Sir Rowan raised his eyebrows, while Gideon burst into laughter, pointing to Julian and then at Sir Rowan. “Who sent you? This is a perfect comedy act! You pinpointed the great Sir Rowan Green! The Golden Chalice Tavern is really pulling out all the stops with these new business strategies.”
The manager immediately rushed over, but Julian was immovable, standing firm as if he wouldn’t leave without clinging to the great man’s side.
Mr. Quentin Frog, with his striking features and cold demeanor, radiated a formidable presence. Julian trembled despite his good looks, as they reminded him of a sculpted doll. The earlier descriptions only added layers to the intimidation he felt.
Yet, fear aside, Julian felt he had reached the end of his rope.
Mr. Quentin Frog observed the manager tugging at Julian's drenched clothes and finally spoke. “Let him go.”
The manager released him, trembling, while Julian straightened out his wrinkled attire and stood proud, like a student delivering a speech beneath a looming flag.
“Mr.. Mr. Quentin Frog…”
At last, Mr. Quentin Frog graced Julian with a meaningful glance.
His gaze, under the dim tavern lights, had a frosty allure that sent shivers down Julian's spine, commanding respect.
After a long, tense silence, Sir Rowan spoke.
“Fifty grand.”
Julian's expression brightened. “Yes.”
“For anything.”
Julian clenched his teeth. “Yes.”

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