Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 1063

Jenkins lingered at Pops Antique Shop for another half an hour, wrestling with his scattered thoughts before finally leaving with his cat.

The cat was quite satisfied. It had long yearned to see the look of shock on Jenkins's face as he slowly unraveled the world's secrets. It was one of the creature's simple pleasures, but unfortunately, Jenkins wasn't always so easily surprised.

The cat trotted ahead of Jenkins, leading the way with a cheerful air. It was in high spirits today and preferred to walk on its own paws rather than ride its usual mount, Jenkins.

Jenkins was more than happy to let his cat get some exercise; it was usually far too lazy.

The rain that had started in the morning had finally stopped, but the entire city was slick and damp. As Jenkins followed Chocolate, he wondered how much mud would cling to its tiny paws. He'd have to wipe them down with a towel when they got home.

It was late, and the day's rain had kept most people indoors. The good news was that the rain and wind had thinned the fog a little. Looking up, he could faintly make out the stars and the twin half-moons. According to the lunar cycle of the material world, it would be another two weeks before the full moon needed for brewing elven potions.

“I should have asked Mr. Siannod about that elven potion this morning. He might have been able to identify it.”

Jenkins made a mental note to ask during his weekend visit. The old elf held many secrets, and Jenkins was confident he could eventually uncover them.

“Hello there. Why aren’t you home yet? It’s awfully late.”

It was a young flower seller, one Jenkins recognized. She was a friend of Fini's named Louise, who lived with her family in the southern slums. The little girl noticed him too and greeted him with a blush.

She wasn't out this late to sell flowers—nor to "sell flowers," for that matter. She explained that she had lost a three-pence coin while passing through the area earlier in the evening. As soon as she realized it was gone, she'd come back to search and had been looking for two hours.

“I'll help you look,” Jenkins offered.

“Oh no, sir, that's alright,” the girl demurred. "I'm sure I'll find it soon. You don't have to trouble yourself."

She stood there, looking flustered. She clearly respected Jenkins and, despite how much the three pence meant to her, didn't want to impose on his time.

“It's no trouble at all,” he insisted. “Besides, I have a special knack for finding lost things.”

With that, he bent down and patted the cat beside his feet. Chocolate let out an impatient meow but dutifully began sniffing around the ground.

It quickly padded over to the back of the mailbox, into a spot outside the girl's line of sight, then turned to look back at Jenkins.

“Is it over here?” Check latest chapters at N0velFire.ɴet

Jenkins walked over, placing a hand on the ground as if to steady himself. He dropped the coins he had concealed in his palm under the mailbox, then swept beneath it with the tip of his umbrella. Sure enough, out rolled the three coins he had just planted.

“Ah, praise the Sage! I've found them!”

He exclaimed in feigned surprise, picking up the coins. He wiped them clean with a handkerchief from his pocket and presented them to the girl. With a little gasp of astonishment, she reached out and took them back.

It was far too late, and Jenkins worried it wasn't safe for the girl to walk home alone, so he went out of his way to escort her. Along the way, she couldn't stop praising his cat, asking where he'd adopted Chocolate and if he was a rare breed.

“Oh no,” Jenkins chuckled. “My cat's just got a keen sense of smell. He's actually a very common breed.”

The cat, slightly offended, flicked its tail against the back of Jenkins's head, but Jenkins was too engrossed in the conversation to notice.

He walked the girl to the mouth of her alley and watched as she knocked on a door. A weary-looking middle-aged woman opened it and pulled her into a tight embrace. Only then did Jenkins turn and disappear back into the deep night. He enjoyed doing good deeds ; they always lifted his spirits.

Jenkins had always believed he'd been transmigrated to this world after dying from exhaustion due to too many sleepless nights. Because of that, after becoming Jenkins, he avoided staying up late unless it was absolutely necessary.

As a result, he had developed a very healthy routine over the past six months. Of course, going to bed early was his own doing; waking up early was entirely under the control of his cat.

Tuesday morning began, as always, with his cat's wake-up service. The energetic feline was eternally punctual. Thanks to its diligence, the gear-driven alarm clock Jenkins had packed when he moved from Maidenhaven Road had never once been used. After all, the "Chocolate alarm" was just as reliable.

After breakfast, he headed out for work. The previous day's light rain had briefly improved the air quality, but the reprieve had only lasted half a day. As he stepped outside, he was once again greeted by a city shrouded in a thick fog—a mixture of industrial smog and natural morning mist.

The sky was overcast, but in the distance, the towering smokestacks and their plumes of smoke, leaning in the wind, stood out with stark clarity.

The sight suddenly reminded him of the Air Protection Act, a piece of legislation that had been proposed long ago but never implemented. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind:

“I wonder if the Queen's successor will be able to change any of this. Perhaps I should encourage the Church to get involved in the war of succession, to help pick a monarch who would actually enforce the Air Protection Act.”

Of course, that was impossible. The High Tower Accord explicitly forbade religious powers from interfering in secular royal succession. While the enforceability of that clause was debatable, the Church couldn't afford to be seen meddling openly. Any interference would have to be done without leaving a shred of evidence.

“What an age we live in.”

He sighed, his gaze fixed on the distant smokestacks and the gloomy sky, as he pushed open the door to Pops Antique Shop. For once, Pops wasn't in his rocking chair with the morning paper. Instead, he was standing behind the counter, wearing gloves and peering at a small stone statuette through a magnifying glass.

Jenkins was puzzled for a moment before he stepped inside and realized what it was: the statuette the insurance salesman had sold him so cheaply the previous night. He'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of the Sin Coins before leaving that he'd forgotten the box on the counter.

“You bought this for a single pence?”

Pops asked, his tone laced with disbelief. He must have already counted the money in the drawer.

Jenkins shook his head vehemently, taking off his overcoat and hat to hang them up before explaining what had happened the previous night.

He told the truth, for the most part, explaining about the insurance salesman and his proposed "partnership." Aside from omitting any mention of the Sin Coins, his account was entirely honest.