Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1053

"My name is Bruce Laclaise Siannod," he clarified. "You may call me Mr. Siannod."

The old elf had finally revealed his name. Unfortunately, Jenkins wasn't familiar with elven surnames; otherwise, he might have deduced the man's identity from it.

"Alright, Mr. Siannod. I appreciate your help, but I still need to know about my heritage. My parents and brothers are all ordinary people. Aside from being a bit healthier than most, there's nothing special about them. I've long suspected something about my family's bloodline, and I was hoping you could give me some answers."

Jenkins's tone was far more courteous now, a stark contrast to his rude intrusion moments earlier. But at the question, the old elf immediately clamped a hand over his mouth again, a clear sign of his resolve to remain silent.

"I understand that some things can't be said, even if they're known. If you could just give me a hint..."

"Oh, damn it. Who could that be?"

The soundproofing in the building was poor; the knocking from downstairs was clearly audible even in the bedroom. Jenkins's sentence was cut short. A moment later, he, the elf, and the cat all heard their landlady's irritated voice drift up:

"Looking for old Bruce again? Oh, for heaven's sake, how many more visitors is he going to have today?"

"That would be a friend of mine," the elf explained. "We had an arrangement for him to help me with my will. When you were knocking earlier, the landlady must have mistaken you for him. That's why she let you up."

Jenkins glanced back and realized the newcomer was an Enchanter. He'd even seen the man twice before: once at the Corpse Gentleman's gathering, and again just last week, when the old man had come into the antique shop at night to sell a ring identical to one belonging to Miss Skylark, the tomb raider.

"Yes, I've known him for many years. We're friends. For goodness' sake, young man, he has nothing to do with our business. Please, don't drag him into this."

"I understand," Jenkins replied. "But in a few moments, when he opens that door, you will need to introduce me. Give me a plausible identity."

With that, Jenkins scooped up his cat and walked out of the bedroom to answer the door. Just as he'd expected, the man outside, in the middle of removing his hat to knock, was the very same old man who had peddled the ring at the antique shop last week.

The man was visibly surprised to be greeted by an unfamiliar young man. It was only after he stepped into the bedroom that Old Bruce explained Jenkins was the son of an old friend, recently arrived in Nolan on business and paying a visit.

"You see? Such a coincidence."

The old elf's expression was grim, and his words carried a double meaning. "Here I am, on my deathbed, and an old friend's son shows up to visit."

"This is a fortunate day for you, Siannod! I'd say fate itself is smiling upon you. How very lucky!"

The old man beamed, then politely asked Jenkins if he was finding the Nolan weather agreeable.

The visitor's name was Halama Rynsarm, and he claimed to be sixty-five. Despite his advanced age, he looked quite hale—certainly more so than the old elf.

He had come today for a final review of Siannod's will, just as they had arranged last week. Wary of Jenkins's presence, however, Mr. Rynsarm stuck to innocuous topics after entering the bedroom, chattering about the weather and the recent plague.

The old elf, sensing the awkwardness of the conversation, finally spoke up.

"Halama, I think we can put the will on hold for a while. I've felt the strength of my ancestors. They don't wish for me to pass on just yet. I believe I'll live a while longer. We can discuss the will again next year."

He tossed out the excuse without a second thought.

The wiry Mr. Rynsarm stared at the old elf on the bed, astonished. Jenkins read his expression and guessed the man was half-expecting the elf to break out with, "Ha! Got you! I'm actually dying tomorrow."

But the old elf simply held his gaze with a sorrowful expression, staring until a chill ran down Mr. Rynsarm's spine. The man finally gave a sharp shake of his head as if startled out of a trance.

"Fine, fine! Have it your way. You've always been an odd one."

He waved a hand in front of his face as if swatting away a fly, then stood up to leave.

"Siannod, this joke is in poor taste," he declared. "I really thought you were on your last legs."

He spoke in a tone of mock severity, then sighed. After glancing at Jenkins, who sat by feigning bewilderment, he bid a quiet farewell and left the apartment.

"Does he know you're an elf?"

Jenkins pressed himself against the wall beside the window, parting the curtain with a finger to watch the old man depart. Only when he was certain the visitor was gone did he ask his question.

"Of course he knows. We're privy to each other's secrets. As fellow outsiders, we've been friends for a long time. I'm warning you, he truly has nothing to do with the affairs of elves."

The old elf couldn't help but comment, watching Jenkins's practiced way of peeking out the window. For more chapters visıt novel※fire.net

"I know. I'm not interested in your friend."

Jenkins replied, moving from the wall back to the bedside. Seeing the old elf was still coughing, he took a soiled teacup from the nightstand, poured some hot water into it, and offered it to him.

The instant the elf took the cup, Jenkins's hand clamped onto his wrist again. A steady current of green energy flowed from Jenkins's hand, up the elf's arm, and into his aged body. Jenkins couldn't reverse the elf's age, but considering the vast lifespan of a long-lived species, even though he would eventually succumb to old age, this infusion of life had extended his existence by at least five years.

For some reason, the life force generated by his [Life Source] ability was remarkably compatible with the elf's body. Jenkins had never treated another Enchanter who could absorb his healing so efficiently, with so little loss.

"He's an elf, after all—a race naturally attuned to life and nature," Jenkins mused. "And it's highly likely I have some elven blood myself. Perhaps the emergence of my [Contact Healing] ability has something to do with this body's lineage."

With that thought, the anomaly no longer seemed so strange.

"I'm not healing you to hold a favor over your head or to force an answer out of you."

He spoke while still channeling his ability, wanting to prevent any misunderstanding. "I'm helping because I believe you still have value."

This time, the old elf didn't try to pull away. Instead, he simply stared off into the distance, his mind seemingly a thousand miles away, lost in thought.

The old elf remained silent, even after Jenkins finished the treatment. He maintained a puzzlingly contemplative expression, and Jenkins couldn't begin to imagine what profound matter he might be considering.