Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1023
Jenkins was familiar with most of the books on Papa Oliver’s shelf, so he could guess their stories just by looking at the titles. In an era where literacy wasn't widespread, the number of people willing to risk a year without an income to write a novel that might never see print was vanishingly small.
This led to a scarcity of popular fiction on the market. For instance, among the authors who competed with Jenkins for the Ritter Prize last year, there wasn't a single writer of popular novels.
This was partly because the award was typically reserved for older authors of serious literature, and partly because it was truly difficult to find successful writers who could make a career out of popular fiction.
“The author of the Detective Knight Biography is from the Cheslan Kingdom, I believe...”
As Jenkins mused, his eyes fell upon a novel as thick as a dictionary with a black spine, titled The Cat and the Thirteen Fingers.
“Ah, so it's this one.”
An expression of disgust instantly crossed Jenkins's face. The book recounted a modern mystery: a baron’s family, living in a mountain manor, vanishes without a trace. A visiting friend, a detective of some renown, arrives to find only the family's pet cat and thirteen severed fingers, each from a different person.
The detective endures incredible hardships, battling mysterious creatures in the valley, deciphering ancient murals in a great pit beneath the manor, and even comes close to being framed as the murderer by the local police.
In the end, the detective reaches a conclusion: the true killer was the pet cat. It had eaten everyone.
“Such an illogical deduction, careless clues, and a clumsy conclusion... And besides, how could a housecat possibly do something like that!”
Jenkins couldn't help but mutter as his finger skimmed past the spine of The Cat and the Thirteen Fingers. Chocolate, crouched by his feet, immediately nodded in agreement. Chocolate didn't eat people. Cats didn't like humans. Jenkins wasn't human.
There were fewer than twenty novels on Papa Oliver's shelf. In the end, Jenkins selected The Rudolph Case Files, a book chronicling the adventures of a detective named Rudolph.
He flipped through the as he walked downstairs with his cat, his attention captured by the third story: The Case of the Corpse in the Antique Shop.
“This looks interesting. I'll go with this one.”
He made a note of the page number, closed the book, and went back behind the counter with his cat.
The evening glow on the horizon faded with each turn of the clock's hands. The streetlamps flickered a few times before their light gradually spread, illuminating the stone pavers of Fifth Queen's Avenue.
Inside the shop, Jenkins read with his head bowed over the counter. Beside him, Chocolate clutched the ring that sealed Jenkins's calamitous black stone, twisting and turning, absorbed in some mysterious activity. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novel✶fire.net
The man and his cat were each occupied with their own tasks, so the antique shop was silent, save for the occasional rustle of a turning page.
Jenkins was completely captivated by the book. He never imagined that a humble antique shop could be the setting for such a thrilling detective story.
The bell on the door chimed, signaling that someone had pushed it open. It wasn't yet eight o'clock, so it couldn't be the customer who had an appointment to pick something up from Papa Oliver.
Jenkins looked up in surprise and saw Miss Capet walking in.
“Good evening, Williams. Is Papa Oliver in? I have some business with him.”
The woman greeted Jenkins with an easy familiarity, only to learn that Papa Oliver wouldn't be back until midnight at the earliest.
She was dressed in a simple linen dress today, devoid of any adornment, which made her look like an ordinary worker from a textile mill. But no ordinary mill worker would have such delicate skin and fine features, much less the distinctive aura of a clergy member.
“That's a real shame,” she said. “I had hoped to borrow a book from him... I'll just have to try again another time. My luck can't be this bad forever.”
She was about to wave goodbye, but Jenkins stopped her.
“Please wait, Miss Capet. Have you heard about Miss Knight and the dragon scales?”
“Of course. I was the one who recognized the patterns appearing on her skin. But I'm not aware of any further developments.”
Just as he'd hoped, she was interested. She immediately abandoned her intention to leave.
“This is actually confidential,” Jenkins began. “I'm only bringing it up because we're friends, companions from our adventure in the Mirror Realm.”
In truth, Jenkins was just looking for a pretext to keep her there so he could ask about becoming Papa Oliver's apprentice. Miss Knight's bloodline regression was a matter of great importance, potentially involving the dragon clans, so a member of another faith—one only temporarily recuperating in Nolan—would never be included in the subsequent investigation.
“I only just heard about it from Papa Oliver myself. They say Miss Knight might be experiencing the reawakening of an ancient bloodline.”
“Is that so? I knew it! When she separated from us in the Mirror Realm, it had to be because she'd made some important discovery!”
Miss Capet's suspicion mirrored Jenkins's own. She also believed that their companions who had left the group early hadn't actually run into any danger.
“I imagine Miss Knight must have made a significant gain in the Mirror Realm to awaken a non-human bloodline so quickly. Heh... but that isn't necessarily a good thing.”
“Yes, it certainly isn't necessarily a good thing. Dragons are not a humanoid species; awakening their bloodline carries considerable risk.”
Jenkins readily agreed.
It was the truth. For humanoid species like elves, the sea-folk, or vampires, awakening such a bloodline wouldn't cause drastic physical changes—at most, there might be subtle alterations, like pointed ears. But non-humanoid beings like dragons were another matter entirely. Even the reawakening of an extremely diluted bloodline could lead to the mutation or even deformation of one's limbs.
Take, for instance, the woman from a few months ago who awakened a mantis bloodline under the influence of Pomphey's potion. Her madness and grotesque mutations were inextricably linked to that non-humanoid heritage.
“Still, I'm more curious about what actually happened to Miss Knight in the Mirror Realm.”
As Miss Capet spoke, she placed her handbag on the counter—a clear sign she wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.
Taking the hint, Jenkins prepared some hot tea for her before they resumed their conversation.
“I doubt she accepted power from one of the Mirror Realm's malevolent entities, though they are certainly formidable. I suspect it has something to do with one's own reflection. A mirror reflects the self—perhaps it can also reveal what's hidden deep within the soul and body.”
Jenkins was just talking off the top of his head. In reality, he was more interested in discussing the matter of an apprenticeship with Papa Oliver, but he still hadn't figured out how to broach the subject.