Chapter 1615: Chapter 1615

"You found the painting? That's wonderful. Where was it?"

The professor asked, clearly delighted.

Jenkins pointed upward.

"So it was here all along. I was worried we wouldn't be able to find it. This house belongs to the mother of my student, Taylor. He fell gravely ill not long ago, and when I went to visit, I realized he seemed to be cursed. After inquiring about the circumstances, I learned that the scamp hadn't visited the poor woman for a long time before she passed away. That's why I suspected her resentful spirit was lingering here, refusing to move on. As for the source of her resentment, Taylor told me it was likely the oil painting he'd made for his mother many years ago."

As they spoke, they made their way to the master bedroom on the second floor. After taking down the warped door, they confirmed it was indeed the room depicted in the painting's background. The professor moved a three-legged chair from against the wall to the window, and Jenkins unfurled the canvas, holding it up. Before long, the temperature in the room plummeted, and the spirit that had refused to leave for so long finally appeared.

Before the spirit, which was on the verge of losing its sanity, could attack, Jenkins darted forward and laid a hand on its shoulder. A sacred radiance suppressed the grim atmosphere that had descended upon the room with the spirit's appearance. Jenkins needed to do no more; the professor stepped forward and spoke to the spirit. After his words of comfort and reassurance, a look of gratified relief washed over the woman's face. Then, she dissolved into a mote of light and vanished.

"That should do it. Everything went so smoothly! Taylor can finally get out of bed and work on his thesis! The university's archaeology department is organizing an excavation team—now I can sign him up just in time." Dıscover more novels at novel•fire.net

The professor mused, stroking his chin with a smile, then looked at Jenkins.

Under normal circumstances, Jenkins wouldn't have minded, but he was incredibly busy tonight. He regretfully declined the professor's invitation, cutting a corner from the painting as proof of his work and handing the rest to the professor to return to his student.

Before they parted, the professor mentioned that he'd recently stumbled upon some interesting rumors while researching elven history and invited Jenkins to come take a look when he had a moment. Unfortunately, both of them were quite busy lately. It would likely be August or September before either had any significant amount of free time again.

After getting his bearings from the professor, Jenkins continued walking deeper into the city. Nolan was a relatively peaceful place; the night wasn't as terrifying as he had anticipated. Still, moving through the thick, enveloping fog produced a strange sense of imbalance, which he attributed to his inability to see the end of the road.

It wasn't long before he found his next target: a late-night bar. It looked ordinary enough, much like any other tavern in the city, but the intense yellow spiritual aura blanketing the entire storefront told him it was connected to a Series B Extraordinary phenomenon.

"Oh, finally something tricky!"

The tasks he'd dealt with so far had been trivial; this was the sort of challenge Jenkins was used to. He couldn't discern its designation number from the outside, so he straightened his clothes and, with his cat, stepped into the unusual tavern, feigning the air of an ordinary customer.

He saw a familiar face the moment he stepped inside. Miss Stevel, his senior, was sitting alone at the bar, staring blankly into a transparent glass. It likely held some kind of liquor, but Jenkins knew little about spirits and couldn't guess what it might be.

"A glass of grape juice."

Jenkins took a seat next to Miss Stevel and tossed a handful of change toward the bartender, who wore a white, smiling mask. The bartender froze for a second, and it was hard to tell whether the surprise was from the order for juice or the casual toss of the coins.

Chocolate suddenly poked his head out of Jenkins's pocket and let out a cry.

"Make that two juices. There should be enough there for an extra cup. My cat wants to drink from it."

He reached into his pocket as if to grab more coins but found it empty. He'd thrown all his change.

"That should be enough," he added. "Just give me back the difference if there's any left over."

He didn't know the rules of the place, so for now, he was treating it like any other tavern.

The bartender stared at Jenkins for a long moment before finally giving a nod and turning away to prepare the drinks.

The cat's cry drew the pensive Miss Stevel from her thoughts. Only then did she notice Jenkins sitting beside her.

"What are you doing in Turin?"

"I think we're in Nolan."

He glanced at the street outside. It was, indeed, the fog-shrouded city of Nolan. A theory about the tavern began to form in his mind. As the bartender slid the glasses toward him and his cat, he asked,

"Does this tavern... teleport?"

"Yes, sir. It relocates every three hours. The last shift had just finished when you walked in."

The bartender replied amicably, though his expression remained hidden behind the mask.

"So I'm back in Nolan now?"

Miss Stevel asked with a self-deprecating laugh, then raised her glass and downed the contents in one go. A corner of Jenkins's mouth twitched, and he lifted his own glass of grape juice to hide his expression.

Having recently experienced an unexpected spatial transfer to a foreign land himself, he could sympathize with Miss Stevel's frustration. He offered a few words of comfort.

"It's been a while. I'm surprised to see you here. Still, you know Nolan well. It's better than ending up in some unfamiliar city, right? And I'm sure there's a way back..."

"The tavern's spatial transfers are random," the bartender interjected. "We do not provide transportation services."

"You don't have to comfort me, Jenkins," she said. "I'm just marveling at my strange, fated connection to this city. And it's not so bad, coming back. I hear they're short-handed here."

She set down her glass and gazed out at the street.

"It's funny... All these years I've wanted to come back. To see Papa Oliver, to visit the places I lived when I was younger..."

She looked quite young herself.

"To think, just when I'd resolved to stay in Turin, I'm suddenly back here. Well, maybe it's for the best..."

The knowledgeable Miss Stevel had already identified the place. The tavern was designated B-11-04-2529, "The Tavern That Doesn't Sell Poison." As its name implied, patrons could purchase any kind of alcoholic beverage imaginable—except for poison. Every time it materialized in the physical world, it would randomly teleport every three hours, appearing in a corner of some city or town.

Any intelligent life form could visit. Paying with ordinary currency or its equivalent would get you a normal drink, and as long as you left before the next relocation, the experience was just like being in any other tavern. However, offering precious brewing ingredients, foodstuffs, or other items the tavern desired could get you a trade for beverages with supernatural properties.

Furthermore, the bartender and the yet-to-be-seen staff also accepted designated items for barter, appraisal, or buyback. In essence, it offered most of the services one might find in a typical pub.

The tavern treated all its patrons well, provided they didn't cause trouble. There was a catch, however: each guest could only visit once. After leaving, they would never be able to find the entrance again, nor could they lead anyone else to it.

"Since I've wound up here, I plan to stay for the full three hours. I'd rather prevent any ordinary citizens from accidentally getting teleported somewhere else. Afterward, I'll report to the church and see if there are any followers of the God of Music in the area. What about you, Jenkins? Do you have other business tonight?"

Miss Stevel asked, her gaze distant as she stared into her glass. It was clear she hoped he would stay and keep her company.

Unfortunately, Jenkins's work for the night was far from over. Knowing the place was safe—and that Miss Stevel was there to watch out for any stray citizens—he stood up to leave.

But on second thought, he pulled a Sin Coin from his pocket and slid it across the bar to the bartender.

"A drink to lift this lady's spirits, and one for me that brings a bit of temporary luck..."

"And something for my cat... anything is fine. Just match it to this price."

He tapped the Sin Coin, then smiled at Miss Stevel.

"You just got to Nolan. This round's on me."

Miss Stevel seemed to recognize the Sin Coin, though she appeared surprised it could be used as currency. As his senior, she shouldn't have let him pay, but seeing he was insistent, she didn't protest.

However, as the bartender set down the drinks one by one—a tall glass of vibrant red liquid garnished with a lemon slice, a square tumbler of sparkling golden liquid, and a small wooden bowl of what looked like plain water—he also slid the Sin Coin back across the bar to Jenkins.

"These three are on me."

The bartender said, his voice magnetic.

"It is my honor that you and your cat have graced my establishment."

The bartender answered without affectation, then picked up a nearby cloth and resumed wiping a glass.

Jenkins chuckled at the reply. He lifted the square glass and downed the drink, which had a peculiar vanilla flavor, in a single gulp. On the bar, Chocolate dipped his head to try the "plain water," and his eyes instantly brightened.

He took the simple cup his cat had used—a token to prove he had "resolved" this incident—bade his senior farewell, and continued his trek through the city with a very satisfied Chocolate.

Running into acquaintances three times in a row made him wonder if everyone he knew had chosen this particular night to be out and about. However, at the next few hauntings he investigated, he didn't encounter a single familiar face—or any bystanders at all, for that matter. While this made his job easier, he couldn't help but feel a little bored.

He suspected the lucky drink he'd just had might be responsible.