Chapter 1253: Chapter 1253

Unable to find any stray hairs, he paused for a moment in thought. Pulling out a small knife, he snipped off a lock of the man's hair and tucked it into a small paper bag. Then, he tossed a ball of fire onto the body. Once he was certain the corpse had been burned to ashes, he slipped his hands back into his pockets and left.

"No, we can't eat yet. I still have things to do in Nolan today. Of course, if you're hungry, you can head back to Ruen by yourself. All the maids at the house know you."

Jenkins told his cat.

Chocolate, of course, wouldn't leave Jenkins, so it remained perched sullenly on his shoulder, its drooping tail a clear sign of its displeasure.

The rendezvous point with the mysterious man wasn't far from the black market exit, so Jenkins arrived at the alley right on time, "around eleven o'clock." He had already changed his appearance again, taking on the height and build of the man he'd just dealt with.

This way, as long as he kept his face and hair concealed, his contact—if they even showed up—wouldn't recognize him at first glance.

Unfortunately, the alley was deserted. It was less an alley and more of a narrow passage between two buildings. High, unscalable walls rose on either side, covered in suspicious stains. Trash and filth littered the pockmarked ground, and a single trash can stood midway down the passage.

The trash can was tilted, its body visibly dented as if struck by a heavy object. It didn't even have a lid; Jenkins suspected it was just another piece of refuse abandoned in the alley.

Before Jenkins even stepped into the alley, his cat had already hopped down from his shoulder. Only when he was out again did it demand to be picked up, its expression a mask of pure disgust.

Jenkins glanced back at the quiet, garbage-strewn alley and gave a subtle nod to himself. He checked the time—five minutes to eleven. He didn't linger. Instead, like any ordinary person, he walked down the main street away from the alley's entrance.

He hadn't really left, of course. He simply circled the block, changed his appearance again, and took a seat in the restaurant diagonally across from the alley.

Although Jenkins was now back in his own form, he remembered his promise to have lunch with the girls, so he ordered some food but didn't touch his cutlery. His cat, now a mere projection, was still enthusiastically gobbling down food, even though its sense of taste was greatly diminished.

He waited from eleven o'clock until noon, but no one showed up. Watching the clock, Jenkins debated whether he should leave his cat to stand guard while he went back to Ruen for lunch. The cat, after all, had already eaten its fill.

But it seemed luck was on Chocolate's side. Just as Jenkins was mulling over how to convince his cat to stay behind, he noticed something odd—the trajectory of a newspaper gusting through the alley was completely unnatural. Fresh chapters posted on novel★fire.net

In the blink of an eye, a thin red thread descended from above, dipping into the alley and tracing a complex pattern. Its manipulator likely couldn't see inside the alley, or the thread wouldn't be darting about so erratically, as if searching by sheer luck. Jenkins recognized the ability—he'd had it once himself. It was [String-puller].

Without waiting to see if the thread would find the trash can, Jenkins rose from his seat, called over the waiter to pay his bill, and left a tip under the plate. Then he headed out, following the thread back to its origin.

He made sure to act nonchalant, and as far as he could tell, he succeeded. So when he reached the other end of the alley, the man standing by a lamppost, holding a newspaper, didn't seem to notice anything was wrong.

The man wore a brown hat, with a suitcase resting on the pavement by his feet. He looked travel-worn, like a visitor who had just arrived in Nolan.

He had an unfiltered cigarette dangling from his lips, the lit end peeking out from behind the newspaper he held up, completely obscuring his face. The front page featured the mayor's solemn expression; judging by the headline, it was about a war mobilization order. Even though Nolan wasn't part of the conscription drive, as one of the kingdom's premier industrial cities, it was still obligated to provide material support for the war effort.

He leaned against the lamppost, looking for all the world like he was waiting for someone. Even on a bustling street, the pose drew no attention.

Jenkins watched him for a moment, then committed the signature aura of the level-4 Enchanter to memory. A thought then struck him, and he recalled the upscale luggage store he'd passed on his way here.

He turned and walked away. A few moments later, a middle-aged man with a weathered face approached, walking along the edge of the street. He had a cat on his shoulder and carried a suitcase in his right hand.

Compared to the man with the newspaper, Jenkins—in his current guise—looked even more like a weary traveler from a distant land, from his clothes and appearance right down to his expression.

As he walked, he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and glanced at it, periodically looking around at the addresses along the street as if searching for a specific location.

Soon, he was standing next to the man with the newspaper. Putting on a hesitant act, he looked around once more before setting down his suitcase and saying apologetically to the man:

"Excuse me, sir. Sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know where this address is?"

As Jenkins spoke, the man—who was only pretending to read while manipulating the thread—lowered his newspaper. He shot Jenkins an impatient look, clearly about to refuse, but then seemed to reconsider and took the slip of paper.

"Wrong street. You're going in the wrong direction. Head north, take a left at the second intersection, and walk for about ten more minutes. You'll be there."

He said, thrusting the slip of paper back.

Jenkins thanked him profusely. Ignoring the man's increasingly impatient expression, he bent down, picked up the suitcase at his feet, and hurried off with his cat in the indicated direction.

The man muttered, raising his newspaper again to continue manipulating the thread toward the trash can. A full half-minute passed before something clicked. He snapped the paper down and glanced at his feet. A small suitcase was still there, but just as a dreadful suspicion dawned, he confirmed it wasn't his.

"That guy... he was a thief! Damn it! That suitcase had..."

A thousand unspoken curses formed a single swear word in his mind. Forgetting all about the hair in the alley, he clutched his newspaper and dashed north in pursuit. But with a half-minute head start, the man who'd asked for directions was nowhere to be seen.