Chapter 246: Chapter 246

"No, I've been standing just outside. No one has come by, aside from her ladyship asking me to hurry you along. The ball doesn't start for another half an hour. Let me adjust your gown. Yes, right there... please hold still. You'll be ready to attend in just a moment."

The maid, lifting the hem of her own gown, knelt down and placed her hands on Dolores's waist.

"This will do. It's crucial that no one finds out I'm an Enchanter. They would never imagine it, would they? That a royal princess could be..."

Her voice faded, her thoughts turning back to the powerful Mr. Zircon.

"What a pity, though. I doubt there will be another Gem Assembly. Julia, I need you to make some inquiries in the West District. And don't forget about the silver key."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"When no one is around, you may call me... actually, never mind."

A look of irritation crossed Dolores's face, but she quickly dismissed it. She held out her arms, allowing Julia to arrange her gown. Her mind then turned to one of the few amusing diversions in her life, and a smile began to spread across her face:

"Has Mr. Jenkins Williams written back yet?"

Bending over to help the young princess with her sash, Julia offered a reasonable guess:

"As you've said yourself, life is quite hard for a reclusive mathematician like Mr. Williams."

"Yes, yes, you're absolutely right!"

Dolores's voice rose with excitement, her smile widening. "I'm sure a man like Mr. Williams lives alone in some crowded slum, rising at the crack of dawn. He must wear starched, faded clothes as he heads out into the morning mist for some humble but dignified work. It's only in the evening, when he returns, stooped with exhaustion, to his cramped little room and carefully lights a candle, that he can finally dedicate himself to his mathematical studies! He must be that kind of recluse! Oh, what a noble man!"

Her Highness pressed her left hand to her heart, extended her right arm, and, just as Miss Joquel had taught her a few days prior, she delivered the final line in a resonant, operatic tone.

Carefully adjusting the jeweled pendant at the princess's waist, Julia pressed her lips together and chose not to argue.

The two of them had often speculated together during dull moments about who this "Mr. Williams" might be. In reality, judging by the official Church of Knowledge and Books stationery he used, the man was likely quite well-off.

But the princess, who had yearned for the life of a hermit—solitary and free—since she was twelve, insisted that poor Mr. Williams probably couldn't even afford his steam heating bill in the winter. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ N()velFire.net

Poor Mr. Williams pinned the steak with his fork and sliced off a small piece with his knife. Grease oozed from the meat, staining the white silver platter. He looked up and once again saw the dead fish floating in the thick soup—Mary's handiwork. He shot it a discreet look of disgust before turning his gaze to Chocolate, who was lapping up milk on the side.

Chocolate gave the dead fish a similarly disgusted look, then turned slightly and went back to drinking his milk.

After seeing off Miss Alexandrite, Jenkins had made his way to the forest outside the castle, where he quietly awaited his transport back.

There were no further incidents. He even displayed his Soul Emblem to confirm his identity and briefed the first combat squad from the Orthodox Church to arrive on the situation inside.

The first to arrive were the knights from the Church of Sun and Justice. The sight of them reminded Jenkins of the drop of divinity he had embezzled.

Back in the Nolan office, the three gentlemen there were visibly pleased and offered a prayer to the Sage in unison. The rest of the matter would be handed over to the Kingdom of Cheslan to handle, and a report would then be sent to the Holy See. Only then could Jenkins's contribution to the mission be officially credited.

As for Jenkins, he was supposed to submit a report immediately, but today was the Reading Festival. More importantly—he was the Saint. No one dared to make demands of him.

So, after giving the three gentlemen a "truthful" report of what had happened, Jenkins left with his cat in his arms. He was quite satisfied with his actions: he had braved danger to complete a Church mission, rescued a possibly innocent young woman, and disabled a dangerous Cursed Item. He had also, for various reasons, embezzled a painting, but that was an acceptable outcome...

As he thought this, his gaze fell on a donation box in the corner. He hesitated, then carefully unstitched a cloth pouch sewn into his undergarments. He pulled out a few banknotes, grit his teeth, added a few more to make a total of three hundred pounds, and dropped them in.

The value of B-07-4-7711, "Gathering in the Forest," was certainly more than three hundred pounds, but the item was a spoil of war that belonged to no one, and Jenkins himself had put in the effort. That made it perfectly fine.

His conscience cleared once more, Jenkins puffed out his chest, held his head high, and made it to the last sermon before evening. The bishop had been busy all day, so Jenkins didn't seek him out for a conversation. Instead, he entrusted Captain Bincy with delivering a gift to him and then left the church.

He had originally planned to go straight back to the Williams' home, but once he was in the carriage, he saw it was still early. He changed his mind and told the coachman to go to Pops Antique Shop on Fifth Queen's Avenue first.

The carriage moved slowly through the thin fog. As it rounded a corner, Jenkins saw several young people holding small red boxes, talking to pedestrians at an intersection. Some passersby just waved them off dismissively and hurried away, while others stopped to listen intently.

"What are they doing?"

He asked the coachman.

"Sir, they're likely collecting donations."

The coachman answered without turning around. "Winter is coming. Collecting for the poor, for stray cats and dogs... who knows?"

Jenkins turned to look back thoughtfully, reminded of Miss Mikhail's cause of rescuing cats.

"Chocolate's 'city residency permit' needs to be renewed every three months, doesn't it?"

He thought to himself, planning to visit again on the weekend if he had time.

Since he was thinking about time, Jenkins reached into his overcoat pocket and took out the damaged pocket watch. It was getting late, and the watchmaker's shop was probably closed. He would have to go another day.

He gave the coachman a five-pence tip and asked him to wait at the corner. Jenkins and Chocolate walked quickly to the front of Pops Antique Shop. He exhaled, his breath forming a white cloud in the air. The temperature today was truly frigid.

Although the cardboard sign didn't say "Open," he could see the faint glow of the fireplace through the crack in the door.