Chapter 107: Chapter 107

"It's that time of the month... Honestly, you know I'm not feeling well, yet you still made me come here with you."

The red-haired girl spoke in a low voice before sitting down next to her friend.

After the opera concluded, the two ladies waited until the gentlemen and ladies downstairs had departed before leaving the theater side by side. With a heavy heart, Hathaway Hersha used the excuse of feeling unwell to bid an early farewell to Briny Mikhail and returned home in her family's carriage.

"Who did she go to see just now?"

Waving goodbye to the departing carriage, the smile on her face vanished instantly. The blonde noblewoman turned to the inconspicuous maid standing behind her and asked.

"Miss Hersha left the box for the first time and met Mr. Williams, who was waiting in the foyer. The two of them left the opera house, and their whereabouts after that are unknown."

The maid answered, her expression flat.

"How long were they gone?"

Miss Mikhail's eyes narrowed.

The maid reported the facts she had observed with caution.

The noblewoman's face was cast in shadow, her expression unreadable.

Jenkins had no idea he had been drawn into a troublesome affair. He returned home with Chocolate, changed into his pajamas, and twisted the knob on the kerosene lamp on his desk.

"Scion of the Evil God."

He whispered the words. Chocolate, who was curled up on the bed, twitched his ears a few times before they fell still again, clearly uninterested.

"I have a feeling this matter will involve me. Is this the strange sixth sense that comes with accumulating spirit?"

He once again summoned the purple speck of light. The last time he was in his deified state, he had used the power of his divinity to probe this ability's function. It seemed that when he reached a critical juncture in his fate, if he gathered enough information, destiny would guide him toward an unknown path.

He focused his mind on it, but nothing happened.

He murmured in satisfaction, then picked up a book from the side and flipped through a few pages. He skimmed past the chapter on modern literary history, only to find he still had no desire to read it.

Shaking his head, he got into bed and went to sleep.

He awoke to the sky outside tinged with a faint red glow, and the crisp calls of the paperboys could already be heard.

Jenkins yawned, still in his pajamas, and walked into the courtyard with a shovel to dig up the bone he had buried.

The color of the red thread restraining the Cursed Item's aura had faded significantly. It probably wouldn't be long before it began to freely spread its contamination.

But Jenkins hadn't found any information about a ritual to reinforce the thread in the Secret Trace Library. He decided to keep the item for another week. If he couldn't find a way to destroy it by then, he would find a night to don his black robe and toss it at the entrance to the cemetery district where the Church of Death and End was located. They were supposed to be the experts at dealing with such things.

After reburying the bone, Jenkins cooked himself some rice porridge, fried a few eggs, and brought the newspaper and milk from the doorstep inside. He exchanged a warm greeting with Mr. Goodman from next door, who was leaving for work, and began his peaceful day.

After finishing his daily transcription of the tadpole-like text at Pops Antique Shop, Jenkins took out another sheet of paper, intending to write up a report on last night's events.

"Did something unusual happen?"

Papa Oliver inquired.

"I was in the box the whole time. I fell asleep when the second act started and was jolted awake by the rousing piano ensemble during the scene where Mr. Potter gets scolded by the Saint."

"So, you really went alone?"

he asked again, incredulous.

The cat, hearing his name, immediately let out a cry.

"Oh, right! While I was in the box, I also saw two men in black clothes acting suspiciously in the main hall. One of them was holding a book, and I got a strange feeling from it."

"You weren't the only one who saw them."

Papa Oliver said impatiently. Though highly dissatisfied with Jenkins's performance, he knew he should get to the point. "Those were the Kovold brothers, a pair of rat-like fellows, but followers of the Sage all the same. They probably have their own secrets and aren't registered with the Church, but they're still believers, and the Church occasionally collaborates with them on missions. That book of theirs is indeed powerful... Their combat skills are nothing special, but they always manage to escape danger ahead of time. There was a robbery at the opera house last night—no, a burglary. According to the clues we have now, several groups of people snuck backstage and stole some of the troupe's property... These things have nothing to do with us clerical staff; there are specialists to handle it. Now, tell me, are you really not interested in ladies your own age..."

That evening, Jenkins practically fled the antique shop. He ducked into an alley with his cat, and at the same corner as before, Miss Hersha—who had been waiting for a long time, leaning against a dilapidated wall—grabbed his wrist and pulled him into another corner.

This time, the girl was wearing a simple floral calico blouse, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She looked less like a high-society debutante and more like the girl next door who did laundry.

"You again? Why are you always here?"

"That's no way to treat a beautiful lady."

She chuckled softly, pressing a small but heavy paper-wrapped package into his hands.

Jenkins lifted a corner of the paper. Inside was a stack of banknotes bearing the portrait of the former queen.

"We agreed on a two-hundred-pound fee. It's all here. I changed it into ten-pound notes to make it more convenient for you to use." The most update n0vels are published on N0velFire.ɴet

"Well then, I won't be polite."

As he spoke, he stuffed the unexpected windfall into his pocket and turned to leave, cat in his arms.

"Wait. Don't you have anything else to say?"

The girl leaned against the wall, twirling a strand of her long red hair around her finger as she asked softly.

"Oh, right. The last time you stopped me here, you were running from someone, weren't you?"

Jenkins asked, but before she could answer, he quickly assured her, "I heard about that incident at the hospital. You didn't commit any crime. I won't report you, so please don't worry. Besides, if Miss Mikhail ever heard about this, I'd probably be in for it too."

"And what if the local church was after me because I really did commit a crime?"

she asked, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

"Then I would have no choice but to report you! Justice may be delayed, but it is never denied! As a follower of the Sage and an upright gentleman, I have always firmly believed this!"

The cat wriggled in his arms, hiding its face in Jenkins's chest.

"You're really something else..."