Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1051

Following Papa Oliver's instructions, Jenkins closed up the shop. He didn't head home, nor did he go looking for the girls. Instead, guided by the information he'd gathered last week at the seaside grocery, he set out to find the fruit platter's original owner.

The owner was an old man who lived alone. A thief had stolen the item from his home, and it had passed through several hands before ending up with Jenkins. In truth, Jenkins wasn't very hopeful about uncovering the platter's secrets. Even if he found the original owner, the chances of him knowing anything were slim.

The old man lived in a rental apartment in the southern part of the city. By the time Jenkins stood across the street, gazing at the building with his umbrella held high, the rain had grown heavier. He pressed his cat, who was peeking out from the gap in his coat buttons, back inside before turning into a small alley to alter his appearance.

Mulling over what sort of excuse he could use for the visit, he waited for a carriage to pass before crossing the street to the apartment building. He took a breath and knocked a few times. The rain-slicked wood instantly dampened his fingers, and flecks of rust from the door clung to his skin.

Thirty seconds later, he heard footsteps from within. The door opened to reveal a sharp-faced woman of about thirty. She wore a red sweater, held a teacup in her left hand, and sized him up with a scrutinizing gaze.

"You must be old Bruce's friend?"

Jenkins didn't know any old Bruce. She must have mistaken him for someone else.

she warned, her tone suggesting Jenkins was no better than a foul-smelling beggar. The words "You're not welcome here" hung unspoken in the air.

He had intended to clarify his identity, but the second room on the third floor was precisely his destination. It sounded like the reclusive old man was home, making this the perfect opportunity for a visit.

Judging by the state of the building, the old man's financial situation was likely poor. Jenkins figured a few gold pounds could compensate for the impoliteness of his sudden intrusion.

"But what if he's an Enchanter?" he wondered. "No, he can't be. Otherwise, the fruit platter wouldn't have been stolen so easily."

With that thought, he was already ascending the stairs to the third floor. Three rooms lined the landing, all with their doors closed.

Though he had dismissed the idea, Jenkins activated his Eye of Reality just in case. What he saw was the reclining, human-shaped blue aura of an Enchanter.

He spun around, ready to head back downstairs, but a weary, aged voice drifted from within the room.

"Is that you, Halama? Please, come in. I didn't lock the door. I just heard Mrs. Rubik letting you in."

Jenkins cursed under his breath. His left hand slipped inside his coat, fingers brushing against the handle of his pistol. He turned back, approached the door, and pushed it open.

The room held the fresh, crisp scent of a forest at dawn. The space itself wasn't large. As Jenkins stepped inside, the old man in the bedroom spoke again.

"I've finished writing the will. I think one more proofread should do it. Oh, Willy, you lucky dog, you'll finally get my walking stick, cough, cough~"

The owner's health sounded terrible. Jenkins hesitated for a few seconds at the bedroom entrance before slowly walking in.

"Halama, take a look at this..."

The old man, propped up in bed with a blanket over him and wearing pajamas, finally realized the person who had entered was not his friend. His expression tightened with tension, and he instinctively shrank toward the foot of the bed, a look of fear creeping onto his aged face.

"A robber? Get out! There's nothing for you here."

His voice was stern, but Jenkins could hear the tremor of fear beneath it. He was trying to scare him away, but it was a futile effort. Jenkins stood blocking the bedroom doorway, watching him for a long moment before opening his right palm to reveal the talisman nestled there.

"This is a sound-proofing talisman. I believe you recognize it. So don't bother shouting. The woman downstairs won't be able to hear you."

Seeing the talisman, old Bruce instantly understood that Jenkins was an Enchanter. Though unsure of what was happening, he assumed the stranger who had barged in was likely hostile. He thrust an arm forward as if to cast something, but the motion triggered a violent coughing fit that scattered the spirit he had painstakingly gathered within his body.

The old man's life was probably nearing its end. Even long-lived species like his had to face this day eventually. He coughed for a long while before it subsided. Jenkins handed him the towel from the bedside table, and the old man wheezed a quiet thanks.

Jenkins pulled a chair over from the desk and sat by the bed. The room was stuffy, so he unbuttoned his coat. The cat promptly leaped onto his lap and curled up, while Jenkins draped the coat over the back of the chair.

"Who are you, and what are you here for? I'm a dying man. I have no money, nor do I have any abilities or rituals worth mentioning."

The old man coughed again. He remained vigilant but knew he couldn't force this strange intruder to leave.

Jenkins stated, grabbing the old man's arm as he tried to pull it away.

"Yes, yes, I'm certainly not human, cough, cough. I'm a dying old elf. Young man, what is it you want? There's nothing for you here. If you're looking to rob someone, you've come to the wrong place." Googlᴇ search novel★fire.net

He admitted his identity without hesitation, still trying to pull his hand from Jenkins's grasp, but to no avail.

"I want to ask you some questions. I think you might be able to give me some answers."

Hearing the old man identify himself as an elf filled Jenkins with a jolt of excitement. Observing him closely, he could indeed see traces of a disguise ritual. The human facade was cleverly done, but not impossible to see through.

"An elf? So that's it. I knew finding a lead on the fruit platter this easily couldn't be a coincidence. It really is an elf, and the platter is connected to them. This body is most likely connected to them too. Is this the guidance of my bloodline? Whatever it is, I came to the right place!"

he thought, his gaze returning to the old elf's eyes.

the man on the bed asked. Seeing Jenkins staring, he voluntarily dropped his disguise. He was indeed an elf. Even with a face etched with the wrinkles of a lifetime, he was strikingly handsome, and his withered ears were pointed at the tips.

That face was enough to brand him a charming old gentleman—if only he weren't wearing crumpled pajamas.

Jenkins had encountered elves before in a false world created by a Cursed Item, and he held a favorable view of the species. Noticing the old man was still coughing, he channeled his Life Source through the hand holding the elf's arm, offering a touch of healing.

The old elf wasn't suffering from any illness; his natural lifespan was simply coming to an end. Jenkins couldn't prevent his death, but extending his life by a few years was well within his power.