Chapter 1459: Chapter 1459

"Hello, could you tell me how to get to Black Town?"

The traveler, weighed down by an enormous backpack, soon reached Jenkins. He wiped the sweat from his brow and asked the question in a language Jenkins couldn't understand at all. Jenkins sized him up for a moment, then pointed to his own throat and shook his head.

Even without understanding the words, Jenkins knew he was being pitied.

The traveler didn't leave it at that. Instead, he shrugged off his backpack, reached into a side pocket, and after a moment of rummaging, pulled out a necklace adorned with a crow's claw—if you could even call it a necklace.

He hung the necklace around his own neck, then placed his right hand on Jenkins's shoulder.

The man's voice echoed clearly in Jenkins's mind.

"Wait, so you can speak?"

"I've always been able to speak. It's just that most of the time, I can't understand what people are saying, and they can't understand what I'm trying to express. Eventually, I just stopped talking. Pretending there's something wrong with my throat is much simpler than trying to explain my situation."

"I suspect you're under some kind of curse that prevents others from understanding you. That's a simple fix. All you need is a translation..."

As he spoke, he removed his hand from Jenkins's shoulder and began to rummage through his large backpack, eventually producing a small, purple drawstring pouch.

The strange traveler took a pinch of dust from the pouch, placed it in the palm of his right hand, and blew it straight into Jenkins's face. As Jenkins coughed uncontrollably, the man asked:

"Can you understand me now?"

"Yes, I can understand you perfectly now. Ahem, cough... and while I appreciate the help, I'd suggest not doing that again. I think I just inhaled something rather strange."

The stranger was a traveler and part-time merchant, journeying across the world while peddling all sorts of peculiar items he had either invented or collected. The powder he had just used was a substance that allowed people to temporarily comprehend any non-supernatural language. Though its effect sounded incredible, it was actually just a low-grade alchemical product.

"You can buy this stuff at any alchemist's workshop for a very fair price. I think it's alchemical products , the ones that make life more convenient, that will never be lost to time."

"Unless all the different races disappear and everyone in the material world starts speaking the same language."

Jenkins added. The traveler found this to be a fascinating speculation.

The traveler's destination was the town of Black Town up ahead, the only settlement for miles around. With nightfall approaching, spending the night in town was clearly a better option than camping out in the wild.

Upon learning that Jenkins was also headed to Black Town, he invited him to join him for the short remainder of the journey. Naturally, Jenkins didn't refuse.

"I've been to this town before, but it was a very long time ago. It may seem peaceful, but it isn't entirely safe. You'll still need to be careful if you're staying the night."

Jenkins mentioned, offering a subtle warning.

"Indeed. I've seen plenty of terrifying things on my travels across the world. One must be exceedingly cautious when traveling alone."

The traveler agreed with Jenkins's sentiment, but he failed to catch the underlying meaning.

That night, both Jenkins and the traveler checked into the town's only inn. The writer, of course, had no money, so with a guilty conscience, he picked up a stone from the roadside and deceived the innkeeper into believing it was a silver coin.

It was a trick worthy of a swindling wizard from a fairy tale, but Jenkins reasoned that since he hadn't done it with malicious intent, the act, while deserving of censure, wasn't especially egregious.

Jenkins's and the traveler's rooms were adjacent, both on the third floor of the inn. The establishment was filthy and dilapidated; most of the furniture in the room was unusable. When Jenkins opened the wardrobe, the moonlight revealed a large, black, hairy-legged spider crawling across a web that seemed to blanket the entire interior.

Noticing the door had been opened, the spider launched itself at Jenkins's face, only to be frozen solid in a block of ice. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novèlfire.net

"How long has it been since anyone cleaned this place?"

He muttered under his breath. He glanced at the seemingly clean bed and lost all desire to climb into it for the night.

In the middle of the night, faint footsteps sounded outside the door. They passed Jenkins's room without pausing and stopped in front of the adjacent door. Holding his breath, Jenkins could sense someone standing right outside his "neighbor's" room. The person's breathing was rapid, a clear sign of intense nervousness.

According to the original story, the innkeeper, overcome by greed, would soon burst into the room, murder the sleeping traveler, and claim all his possessions. With the help of those miraculous alchemical items, he would transform from a destitute innkeeper into the wealthiest merchant in Black Town.

The townsfolk all knew his fortune was ill-gotten, but no one dared to accuse him. Not until ten years later, when the traveler's grown son happened to pass through, uncovered the truth through a series of supernatural events, and buried the innkeeper and his family of thirteen in a sea of flames.

Jenkins flattened himself against the wall behind his door, ready to rush out and save the traveler at a moment's notice. But the innkeeper hesitated, pacing back and forth in the hallway, unable to bring himself to act.

Finally, he moved away from the traveler's door and walked over to Jenkins's room instead. With nervous hands, he used a spare key to unlock the door.

Though the room hadn't been maintained in ages, the door hinges were not rusted, and it swung open without a sound. In the faint moonlight, the innkeeper saw the bulging shape on the bed but failed to spot Jenkins, who was hidden behind the open door.

"Sorry," he whispered. "This is my first time killing someone. I'll start with you for practice."

Dagger in hand, he approached the bed, took a deep breath to steel his nerves, and viciously stabbed down twice. Even though he had never killed before, he could tell the feeling was wrong. With his free hand, he yanked back the blanket, revealing two pillows lying on the mattress.

From behind the door, Jenkins gently pushed it closed. The innkeeper by the bed spun around, his face contorted into a demonic snarl.

"Your logic is bizarre," Jenkins remarked. "You're afraid because it's your first murder, so you decided to practice on me? I don't understand. Is there a difference between killing me and killing someone else? Or did you just think I looked like an easy target?"

Jenkins asked. By then, the innkeeper's face was a mask of madness. Without a word, he charged forward, only to be effortlessly thrown to the ground by Jenkins.