Chapter 2202: Chapter 2202

As he spoke, Jenkins felt like a devil tempting a soul.

"Try it," he coaxed. "Walk the streets, and if you see a house surrounded by police, or if you spot something interesting, run to a newspaper office and ask if anyone needs a fresh story."

"Does it cost anything to try? If you don't succeed, your life won't change. But if you do... what then?"

The point of the conversation wasn't what Jenkins said, but what he wanted the boy to realize on his own.

"If I succeed, I could build a connection with the newspaper and earn extra income by providing them with fresh news!"

"Exactly. Editors and reporters would certainly not be stingy with a clever boy willing to gather information for them."

Jenkins nodded with a smile. The cat on his shoulder, bored, flicked the tip of its tail against the back of his head, wondering why a fight hadn't broken out yet.

Jenkins trailed off, and the boy didn't ask him to continue. They just looked at each other. Jenkins saw the boy's eyes light up. On his face, he saw hope, fervor, the dreams of a young man.

What he suggested was difficult, of course. For a poor family to scrape together money for a child's education was almost unthinkable. But in this era, anything was possible. Even the slums had their own little makeshift schools. With enough luck, the boy could achieve everything Jenkins had described.

Of course, that would require extraordinary luck. But the boy was young, his future full of possibilities. Jenkins had only offered one of them. He might succeed, or he might fail, but at least he had looked up for a moment. That alone would benefit him and the generation that followed.

After a long moment of silence, the boy finally spoke, his voice already a little hoarse.

"Can I really do that?"

"It's your future. I can't give you a definitive answer. You should be asking yourself."

Jenkins patted the boy's shoulder gently.

"Do you truly want to spend your life as a cart driver? Or do you want to truly know the smell of this ink?"

His voice was soft, yet it held an inexplicable, bewitching power. The boy gulped and subconsciously took two steps back, frightened by the future Jenkins had painted for him. He had never known such a future could be his.

The boy didn't give a direct answer, but thanked him earnestly. Jenkins said no more, and the boy simply lowered his head in thought instead of trying to find more customers.

In this state of silence, the boy presumably could no longer see Jenkins, but he would not forget their conversation.

"See? I did a pretty good job, didn't I?"

Jenkins turned to the Gear Man standing before the boarded-up shop window. The automaton exhaled a puff of steam.

"But you haven't obtained the heart yet."

"Then just wait and see. I think the second task is as good as done."

Jenkins, the cat, and the Gear Man didn't have to wait long. The pensive newsboy heard someone calling his name.

The boy walked into the rain to meet a cheerful, middle-aged man with a thick beard. He wasn't carrying an umbrella either, seemingly unbothered by the light drizzle.

"Why aren't you home yet?"

the man asked, embracing his son.

"I haven't sold all the papers. There are still about a dozen left,"

the boy answered dejectedly. The middle-aged man patted his head with a broad hand.

"In this blasted weather, it's normal if you can't sell them all. Come home with me. Your mother must have a hot meal waiting. Let's go home together."

The boy immediately began to skip along behind his father, walking with him along the edge of the street into the distance. He didn't even greet Jenkins as he passed.

Jenkins, the cat, and the Gear Man watched their retreating figures. Follow current novels on novel⁂fire.net

the boy called out cautiously, as if he'd just remembered something.

The middle-aged man turned and looked down at his eldest son, who seemed conflicted but asked the question anyway:

"Would you mind if I waited a few more months before I learn to drive the cart?"

A flawless, heart-shaped diamond materialized over the boy's heart and flew automatically toward Jenkins.

Jenkins reached out and caught it, cupping it in both hands as before. The translucent diamond was slightly warm, warming not only his palms but his heart as well.

the Gear Man praised. Jenkins replied with a hint of self-satisfaction:

"See? I told you the second task was done."

He paused for a moment, then asked suspiciously:

"This Mysterious Realm corresponds to my final ability, [The Unknown Path]. What exactly are you trying to say?"

"Nothing in particular. I simply wanted to witness this glorious era with you."

the Gear Man stated. Its tone was not particularly rich with emotion, but its next words carried a note of contemplation.

"After the final battle, one of us must fall into eternal sleep. I have lived through countless ages and orchestrated many plans, yet I have not had the chance to truly see your world. As for you, if you die, this will be your last chance to see this era. To walk with me through your time, to trace the contours of an age through the eyes of these insignificant people, to feel the warmth of civilization in these rainy scenes... is that not a fine thing?"

"What's so fine about it? You and I are not close friends, nor are you a lady whose appearance and figure meet my aesthetic standards. Why should I watch all this with you?"

"Because I want you to understand one thing: human civilization may seem glorious, but it is rotting from within. That boy just now—what is the difference between him and a boy of the same age born to nobility? It is only the accident of birth that sends their lives in completely different directions, denying them even the chance to compete on talent and perseverance.

Savior Williams, you possess a noble bloodline, but you should know better than I that aside from the very few inheritors of ancient lineages like yourself, most people in this world—nobles and commoners, the high and the low—are no different. They are all born with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. So why is a newsboy destined only to drive a cart? It is the man-made divisions of class that set them apart, that create the inequality of their lives.

Williams, do you truly believe such a civilization is right? Do you truly believe that none of this needs to be changed?"

If it weren't for the fact that certain books didn't exist in this world, Jenkins would have suspected his adversary had been doing some reading.