Chapter 108: Chapter 108

She suddenly leaned in, resting a hand on Jenkins's shoulder. "Listen here, kid. Becoming an Enchanter means you're going to face a much more complicated reality. And reality is never as black and white as it is in your stories. It's Monday today. Wait for me here next Monday evening. I'll show you what I mean and make you understand just how terrifying the supernatural world truly is."

"I'm older than you."

Jenkins protested, brushing her hand off his shoulder.

"Only in years, maybe. But in experience, maturity, and Enchanter level, you should be calling me your big sister."

For some reason, a strange blush crept onto Hathaway Hersha's face when she mentioned the word "sister."

"Has all the stress made her weird?"

Jenkins mused. Given the different personalities she displayed in front of Briny Mikhail versus with him, it seemed entirely possible. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novel•fire.net

He hunched his shoulders slightly, offering a cautious nod under the assertive girl's intense gaze.

"Alright, see you next Monday."

She said with satisfaction.

On his way home, Jenkins reflected on his interaction with Hathaway Hersha, but he found he only felt the barest hint of shame.

"Guess it wasn't too much, then. I didn't hurt her, and I probably made things more interesting for her."

With a clear conscience, he pushed the matter to the back of his mind.

After settling his cat, Jenkins put on a light disguise. With the two hundred pounds he had just acquired, along with his recent savings, he headed once more to the underground black market. This time, he wasn't there to buy. He slipped into the shadows of a sewer tunnel, summoned his black-robed disguise, and sought out the middleman known as the Clown.

"I have a tricky job that needs investigating," he stated plainly. "It might involve gathering information out of town. The budget is around three hundred pounds."

"Is it related to Enchanters?"

The Clown inquired in a low voice.

The Clown pinched out the candle with his fingers and, just like last time, told Jenkins to wait right there. He returned two hours later and led him to the same room they had used before.

A familiar woman was sitting on the dimly lit sofa, her legs crossed.

"What a coincidence. You again?"

Jenkins steadied himself on the sofa as he sat down across from her.

The huntress raised an eyebrow. "A regular, and one who's good with disguises? Let me try to guess who you are..."

She studied Jenkins's movements carefully, ignoring his clothes and appearance. It seemed she had some experience when it came to the disguises of Enchanters.

"Are you that cheapskate who had me investigate a house last time?"

Jenkins denied it immediately.

"Hmm, right, it is you. What's the job this time?"

"Habitual posture can give me away," Jenkins reminded himself, then stated his purpose. "You've heard of the Silver Jasmine Opera Troupe performing in the city, I assume? I need you to find out something for me. When the troupe was in New Truman City, one of their members supposedly died suddenly. I need the location of their burial site."

According to the information he'd received during his last divine trance, the descent of any god—Righteous or Pseudo—required divinity and a vessel.

The vessel was always a mortal shell, and once used, that shell was destined to perish. Since those two brothers from the other night had dared to covet an item merely touched by a saintly being, it was clear that the Pseudo-God who had descended was long gone.

The descent of a saint was a monumental event. If it had been exposed, Jenkins, as a Scribe for the Church, would surely have heard whispers of it.

Therefore, he concluded that besides those two "fast runners," no one else knew about the descent during the "Evil God Scion Incident." After the saint departed, what would have become of the soulless body?

Most likely, it would have been buried on the spot, the death explained away as a sudden illness. And what might be left inside that body? Could there be any residual divinity?

Jenkins had no idea what that Pseudo-God had been planning or how it had failed. But the mere possibility of lingering divinity, he decided, was worth spending the money to investigate.

"New Truman City? Why are you always asking for information on such troublesome places?"

She didn't state a price, but Jenkins knew the negotiations had begun.

"You don't need to go anywhere near the city. I'm well aware of what's going on there. You just need to talk to the ordinary members of the opera troupe and find a way to get the information."

He said with an air of ease.

"If it's so simple, why did you quote a three-hundred-pound fee to the Clown?"

"Because I need a truly capable Enchanter."

Jenkins ran a hand through his hair. That was a mistake. Looks like I'm about to be fleeced.

"Two hundred pounds. I'll ask around the opera troupe. We meet here in one week. If I succeed, you pay on delivery. If I can't find anything, you have two choices: pay me one hundred pounds for my time, or add another five thousand pounds to the fee, and I'll go to New Truman City myself."

"What an exorbitant price."

Jenkins snorted, but he didn't get up to leave.

"Of course, I also accept trades—abilities, rituals, items. You don't have to pay cash."

"Three hundred pounds. I don't care how you do it, just give me an answer in one week," he declared. Inwardly, his heart was bleeding; that was the price of a decent house in Nolan.

"That's impossible. The risk is too high."

The huntress licked her lips. "Why be so fixated on gold pounds? I'm open to other forms of payment."

"How about an ability?"

"Would you dare to accept a divine ability?"

Just as he'd expected, she hesitated. "Righteous God or Pseudo-God?"

Jenkins whispered. When it came to gods, one didn't dare speak loudly, even without mentioning a specific name or title.

"You should have just said so!" she exclaimed. "Of course I'll take a divine ability from a Righteous God. The ones from Pseudo-Gods are full of flaws, but there are plenty of believers of the Righteous Gods who like to do business on the black market. So, what's the ability?"

Jenkins felt his worldview expanding once again. He paused for dramatic effect for a few seconds before revealing what he had learned from the Month's End Whisper: "War Blessing."

The huntress had clearly heard of it; she didn't even ask about its specific effects.

"That one... It must be fate," she murmured. "I know some of the required ritual components myself, so if you're willing to trade, there's no need to verify its authenticity. How about this? It's not our first time doing business, after all. You give me the learning ritual for the ability, and I'll give you your answer next week."

Jenkins's left index finger tapped a steady rhythm on the sofa cushion. He considered her offer. The ritual hadn't cost him anything to learn, and saving some cash for emergencies was always a good idea. Besides, he might need to work with this huntress again in the future. Since the matter was urgent, it was probably best to be generous.

"Fine. But be quick about it."

He left one hundred pounds as a down payment. At their next meeting, Jenkins would provide the complete list of materials and steps for the learning ritual, and in return, the huntress would deliver the information and give him back his hundred pounds.