Chapter 139: Chapter 139
Basking quietly in the moonlight, Jenkins continued to explore his abilities. He finally confirmed that the quality of his creations was still limited by his own understanding of the objects.
In other words, creating something like a bicycle—where he knew the specific materials, form, and proportions—wasn't difficult. However, he couldn't create something he'd only imagined but never seen, nor could he create items that possessed a natural spirit.
This thwarted Jenkins's plan to simply draw a pile of gold, as the raw minerals of this world inherently contained a faint trace of spirit.
All in all, the limitations were significant. If he wanted to use this ability to get rich, it would be less efficient than simply working diligently at Papa Oliver's shop. Still, it had its uses. For instance, instead of creating an object, he could simply use the ability to transfer an image from his mind onto paper. This cost almost no spirit and produced a result with the quality of a color photograph.
He set the puzzle cube aside for Chocolate to bat around and summoned his black robe.
He remembered Hathaway—not Miss Hersha, he corrected himself—mentioning that certain supernatural items of the same kind could devour one another, inheriting both beneficial and malevolent properties in the process.
Back at the Gate of All Things, his gifted Black Robe had devoured another, yet he hadn't noticed any change in its properties. He had once fantasized that it might gain the ability to mimic anyone's appearance, but for now, that would have to remain a fantasy.
Divinity could temporarily enhance the power of a Bestowal. The black robe, for instance, gained a powerful concealment effect when imbued with it, allowing Jenkins to slip into the manor from the woods completely undetected. Similarly, when touched by divinity, his creation pencil could break free of its usual limitations, and he could even unmake his creations at will.
"I wonder what the ring and candle could do if they were imbued with divinity," Jenkins mused.
Chocolate seemed fascinated by the puzzle cube, but being a cat, it was too small to twist the sections. Instead, it could only bat the cube around, pushing it from one spot to another.
Jenkins had a packed schedule. Tomorrow night was Mr. Hood's gathering, and the night after was the Corpse Gentleman's. He also needed to find time to visit Briny Mikhail, who was still recovering. He hoped the recent ordeal would convince her to abandon her pursuit of the supernatural.
Finally, he needed to determine the function of his new red ability, [Twin Demons]. The name was disconcertingly vague, and to avoid demolishing his own house, Jenkins decided he'd better find some time to test it in the countryside.
He went to work at Papa Oliver's the next day as usual. Thanks to the sudden popularity of gear-based antiques and curios, his mentor had ordered a large shipment of new goods. After lunch, Papa Oliver left Jenkins in charge of the shop and headed to the Nolan train station to pick them up.
Pen in hand, Jenkins continued to outline his story about the ice princess, but he was struggling. A continuous, long-form narrative was far more difficult to craft than a simple short fairytale. For the book to be truly exceptional, it needed more than a unique world; the story itself had to be compelling.
He'd recently purchased a stack of popular novels in the "secret histories of the royal court" genre. The authors' prose was excellent and their vocabulary ornate, but the plots lacked any real teeth. In other words, they focused more on melodramatic, overwrought tales of morality—some of which were as sensational as the plots in the "Detective Knight Biography."
Jenkins had no intention of writing something so lurid. After some thought, he decided to stick to the tone of a classic fairytale, exaggerating certain elements to give the story a less realistic feel. The true focus, he determined, should be the evolving relationship between the two princesses.
Since it was a fairytale, he could afford to be more romantic. The visual spectacle of conjuring a city from ice or creating a staircase with every step was stunning, but translating that grandeur into words would be a challenge. It looked like he'd need to commission the old painter for illustrations again.
He lowered his head, focusing on meticulously describing the eldest princess raising her hand, gathering snowflakes from the air to form a translucent, crystal-clear ice rose. Just as he was immersed in the scene, the shop door swung open.
"Welcome to Pops Antique Shop. How can I help you?"
Jenkins immediately put down his pen.
The man who entered was middle-aged, with spectacles perched on his nose and dressed in a tasteful, dark suit. He carried himself with a puffed-out chest and a high chin, giving off an air of imperious authority. The first impression he made was that of a proud, perhaps arrogant, gentleman.
"I have some items I wish to sell," the man announced.
He strode directly to the counter and produced a rolled-up handkerchief from his coat pocket. He carefully unfolded it to reveal a small, rectangular, and rather dark-colored slip of paper nestled within.
On its face were three curly-haired men in military attire, standing before what looked like a grand hall. The reverse side bore the holy symbol of the Lord of War, with the church's tenets inscribed in fine print alongside it.
There was no supernatural glow around the customer, and the item itself appeared perfectly ordinary. Jenkins breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"Is this... a bookmark commemorating the kingdom's founding?"
Jenkins recognized it at once. For the centennial anniversary of its founding, the royal family of the Cheslan Kingdom had released a set of bookmarks to commemorate a great victory. The complete set consisted of ten bookmarks, each depicting one of the kingdom's legendary heroes.
For some reason, however, the bookmarks had been sold at an exorbitant price. Even today, historical texts contained remarks from critics mocking the decision. Consequently, not many survived, but after nearly five hundred years, their value had increased at least a thousandfold.
"It's not easy to find one in such pristine condition."
As he spoke, Jenkins pulled on a pair of white gloves. He retrieved a small box, from which he took a jeweler's loupe, and began to carefully examine the bookmark's surface.
In truth, he had already reached a conclusion. When the set was first issued, each bookmark had been inscribed with a unique serial number. Moreover, they were crafted from the wood of an extinct species of tree, making them nearly impossible to forge.
Jenkins had been studying under Papa Oliver for over two months. He was quite confident in his ability to authenticate an item , which could be verified with a simple inspection.
"If you had the complete set, I could offer four thousand pounds. But for a single piece, even in perfect condition, the value is considerably lower. One hundred pounds." Fresh chapters posted on novelFɪre.net
Jenkins paused for a moment, double-checking its authenticity in his mind before stating his price.
In reality, based on the market value, Papa Oliver could likely resell the bookmark for five hundred pounds. But in business, you never lead with your best offer.
"Higher," the man said, his tone firm. "One hundred pounds is far too low. I'm in a hurry to catch a train, and I won't be returning to Nolan. If we can't make a deal, then I'll be on my way."
The man pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head, leaving Jenkins no choice but to raise his offer.
In the end, Jenkins purchased the antique bookmark for three hundred and forty-nine pounds. He wasn't worried about being swindled. After all, he had noticed one of the man's hairs fall onto the counter.