Chapter 113: Chapter 113

“What kind of music is this? It’s so strange.”

Unable to bear the peculiar atmosphere between them, Jenkins asked in a low voice.

“It’s not any particular style. In fact, what the phonograph is playing right now is a Series B Extraordinary item.”

“Oh? You mean the black record?”

He glanced over at the elegant copper phonograph in the corner. Its classic, lotus-blossom horn was stately and beautiful as the clockwork turntable spun the record.

But through his other sight, the record itself had no constant aura. Instead, a golden light flickered into existence right where the needle touched the disc.

She quietly explained:

“Series A, B, and C items aren’t limited to physical objects. They can also be living things, information, or even a specific phrase. This one is B-10-5-7722, ‘A Fitting Melody for a Fitting Moment.’ It’s a melody that can be recorded, but every time it’s played, the tune is different, though it always perfectly suits the occasion.”

Jenkins grew wary. How did a group of young nobles get their hands on something ?

“It belongs to the host of this party, a certain thrill-seeking baron. There’s no need to worry. B-10-5-7722 can be duplicated through recording, so they aren’t too difficult to come by... especially when your pockets are lined with gold pounds.”

The young woman’s voice was gentle. As they turned, her red hair brushed against the tip of Jenkins’s nose, and he caught a strange, alluring scent.

He immediately went stiff.

“I’m fine. By the way, is that the only effect of this Extraordinary item? It seems... very different from the ones I’ve learned about.”

Miss Hersha chuckled.

“Anyone who hears its melody will have some of their emotions drained, more or less. But it only leaves a person feeling a bit numb for a few days. It doesn’t cause any permanent harm. Of course, it only works on ordinary people. An Enchanter’s spirit is strong enough to resist it.”

“It still sounds like an unsettling thing.”

“That’s true. Jenkins, how many Series A, B, and C items have you encountered? As I see it, they could all be called Cursed Items. The only difference is the degree of their strangeness.”

Jenkins was stunned for a moment, letting the young woman guide his movements.

What she’d just said... actually made a lot of sense.

“Also, why do you just call me by my name? It feels a little... unfamiliar,”

The girl smiled but didn’t answer his question.

The party progressed smoothly. When the last guest—a brown-haired young man in a double-breasted trench coat, his companion on his arm—arrived, the servants closed the main doors from the outside, leaving only the masked ladies and gentlemen inside.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!”

A slightly older man in a striking white suit appeared at the carved wooden railing of the second-floor landing. He clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention and called out.

The strange background music instantly swelled into a passionate crescendo, as if painting a scene of a furious, stormy night.

“That’s our host. I don’t remember his name.” Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on ⓝovelFire.net

The young woman and Jenkins stopped, gathering with the others before a massive oil painting at the front of the hall, while the man stood above them.

It seemed Miss Hersha had only been invited through a friend; the host likely had no idea who all his guests were.

“I know you’ve all been waiting impatiently, and that’s quite alright! But what happens here tonight is our little secret, so a certain amount of discretion is required. I spent quite a few gold pounds to finally learn this little ‘trick.’ And now... it’s time to witness a miracle!”

The crowd erupted in a frenzy of cheers as the music from the phonograph shifted to a slow, somber piano melody.

Jenkins half-expected a woman in an evening gown to appear and perform a magic trick.

Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Instead, several young men in white shirts and black tailcoats emerged from behind the baron, carrying an iron cage holding a rooster, a stone basin, an iron stand, and several sharp scalpels, which they placed before him.

From below, the audience had a perfect view of the proceedings.

The music reverted to the strange, almost frenzied tune that had been playing when they arrived.

The baron removed his white gloves and draped them over a chair. He then roughly snatched the rooster from its cage, while his other hand elegantly picked up a gleaming scalpel.

The fashionable, well-dressed young men and women below all held their breath. The rooster’s frantic squawking nearly drowned out the music from the phonograph.

“This atmosphere is... wrong.”

Jenkins whispered, but as he scanned the scene, neither the stone basin, the rooster, the baron, nor the blade revealed any kind of aura.

“Just keep watching.”

the young woman replied.

The baron displayed the rooster and the scalpel to the crowd below. He then had one of the young men in tailcoats hold up the stone basin, against which he pressed the rooster's neck. He raised the scalpel high, then brought it down in a vicious slash.

Scarlet blood gushed from the severed artery, spattering the baron's face. He simply wiped it away with his sleeve before spreading his arms wide, gesturing triumphantly to the audience below.

The moment the poor rooster was dispatched, the cheers exploded throughout the hall like a steam bomb.

The scene was little different from a cult ritual, yet there seemed to be no supernatural element at play.

He tossed the executed rooster into the stone basin, and its blood slowly pooled, filling the shallow dish.

The baron produced a gold coin from his pocket—a one-pound piece—and tossed it into the blood.

A moment later, he retrieved the coin from the rooster's blood with his bare hand. He shot a confident smile at the crowd below and, with a flick of his thumb, sent the coin spinning down toward them.

The people below scrambled out of the way, but no one heard the clink of the coin hitting the floor.

Looking up, they saw the gold coin, still dripping blood, hanging silently in the air.

The somber music from the phonograph swelled dramatically, and the crowd roared in approval. It was a successful performance.

“What’s the principle behind it?”

Jenkins asked, puzzled. The coin had been an ordinary object, but after being pulled from the blood, it had begun to emit an extremely faint golden glow.

The young woman shook her head gently. “Probably some strange ritual he learned from an old book. Making a coin float isn’t that difficult. I wanted to bring you here today so you could see for yourself what these people, obsessed with the supernatural and infatuated with mystery, are capable of. Do you see now? Even ordinary people can become this fanatical just for a glimpse of the extraordinary... to say nothing of Enchanters like us...”