Chapter 233: Chapter 233

Under the coroner's precise hands, the body on the bed beneath the kerosene lamp soon vanished, replaced by a collection of components bathed in the soft glow.

The process was utterly gruesome, and nearly everyone was spattered with blood. Yet, they all had to concede that this coroner had elevated the act of dismemberment into an art form.

Once the main task was complete, the coroner removed his gloves, washed his hands, and donned a fresh pair. With a scalpel, he carefully excised small samples from the extracted flesh, entrails, and organs, also setting aside a portion of the fat and bodily fluids.

Before the stunned onlookers, he began to stitch the corpse back together with an ordinary needle and thread. Incredibly, this terrifying process, so reminiscent of human alchemy, was a success.

Despite the missing pieces, the reassembled body looked remarkably handsome. It was still a corpse, yet its features were now refined, its skin tone restored to a natural color, making it look like a person peacefully asleep.

It was only then that Jenkins understood. All that grotesque effort had been nothing more than cosmetic surgery for a corpse.

He felt a desperate urge to vomit, but he knew he couldn't, not here.

After covering the altered corpse with a white sheet once more and arranging the containers of excess flesh, organs, and viscera by the bed, the coroner turned his gaze upon the assembled crowd.

As one, every black-robed figure took a step back. It was an involuntary, shared reaction after witnessing the man's grisly expertise.

These were exceptionally valuable materials, especially since nearly all complex rituals required the use of blood and flesh. Human components, in particular, were considered essential ingredients.

The performance was over; it was time to do business. Awed by the coroner's chilling authority, the unnerved Enchanters obediently made their offers one by one.

The coroner possessed a profoundly unsettling aura. To be caught in his gaze was to feel like a pig being sized up for slaughter. It was the sort of presence, Jenkins mused, that could only be cultivated through years of such work. He certainly didn't dare to meet the man's eyes for longer than a second.

"This is caution, not cowardice."

The amount of excess material from a single corpse was limited, so the prices were steep. Professor Burns paid ten pounds for a fingernail-sized sliver of liver, but Jenkins was merely an observer, with no plans to purchase anything.

He currently had no rituals requiring such components, so buying them would mean storing them at home. The very thought of keeping those gruesome materials in his house was enough to give him sleepless nights.

The most expensive of all the materials was a small piece of flesh cut from the dead man's heart, which, to Jenkins's sight, also emanated the most potent spiritual aura. The coroner, however, had no intention of selling it; he'd placed the vial on a shelf before the bidding even started.

No one wished to linger there. Once the last transaction was finished, and seeing no objection from the coroner, the black-robed figures threw open the door and filed out as if making an escape.

In the chaotic exit, Jenkins was pushed to the back. Just as he prepared to follow the professor through the iron door, a hand landed on his shoulder.

He glanced back. A crimson handprint now stained his shoulder, and the hand gripping him belonged, of course, to the coroner. Behind them, the hanging kerosene lamp swayed gently, casting a shadow of the man so large it nearly swallowed Jenkins whole.

These were the first words the middle-aged coroner had spoken all night. He tossed the vial containing the piece of heart to Jenkins, who caught it in a fluster.

He asked, reluctant to accept the item.

"I've taken a liking to you. This is useless to me, so just take it as a gift."

With that, he gave Jenkins a firm push toward the doorway without waiting for a reply and pulled the heavy iron door shut.

Jenkins, for his part, had absolutely no desire to be "taken a liking to" by a man who could so skillfully dismember a corpse. The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the novel✶fire.net

Jenkins rejoined Professor Burns, and they left the police station through the bronze door that had reappeared. Once back in the alley, they took a long, circuitous route through the nearby streets before finally removing their black robes. Jenkins burned them, and then they found a carriage.

The night had grown late, and dark clouds hid the twin moons from view. The coachman had been sound asleep, arms crossed and hat pulled over his eyes, but he snapped awake the instant he spotted a fare.

Jenkins's stomach was still churning from the earlier scene. He looked up to see Professor Burns sitting across from him, calmly polishing his glasses on his coat as if nothing at all had happened.

"As an Enchanter, you'll experience many things . It's perfectly normal."

He spoke in a low voice. The professor knew when Jenkins had been initiated, and from his perspective, three months was not nearly enough time to become a seasoned Enchanter.

Despite the incredible things he had already accomplished.

The carriage first took Professor Burns back to the university. Though he was a family man, his wife had died from an illness several years prior, and his son and daughter were studying abroad in the Kingdom of Cheslan. As a result, he lived on campus.

They briefly discussed the plan for the next morning. Professor Burns's students were all adults over eighteen, so Jenkins wouldn't need to treat it like a storytelling session for young children.

Just as they were about to say their goodbyes, Jenkins remembered something. He handed the coachman ten pence, asking him to wait for just a moment. The driver agreed, tipping his hat while also urging him to be quick.

"Professor, I'd like to ask you about something—a matter of common knowledge, really."

He pulled the professor to the nearest street corner, letting the shadows conceal them. Jenkins glanced around and then asked in a hushed, conspiratorial tone, "The 15th Epoch... how long did it last in total?"

The professor pushed up his glasses, clearly surprised by the question. He gave Jenkins a careful look, a flicker of confusion crossing his aged face, but he asked nothing. Instead, he answered in the same hushed tone, "That's actually a hotly debated topic in academic circles. There are two prevailing theories: one posits that it ended in 1937, the other in 1899. If you're looking for a more precise date, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"No, no, I just wanted to confirm... the 15th Epoch didn't end sometime after the year 5000, did it?"