Chapter 247: Chapter 247

"Just as I thought. Pops was already back—that's why I didn't see him earlier."

Jenkins set Chocolate on the ground, then straightened his clothes using his reflection in the window of Mrs. Sally’s shop next door before rapping sharply on the door.

A moment later, he heard the shuffle of slippers on the staircase, and then Pops opened the shop door, a frown creasing his brow.

"Jenkins? Oh, it's you."

He gave a resigned wave. "Finished with your church business?"

Jenkins replied quickly, rubbing his hands together for warmth. The formal suit's biggest flaw was its lack of insulation, and he hadn't anticipated how drastically the temperature would drop in the evening.

Pops beckoned him inside.

Shaking his head, Jenkins reached into the large inner pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a pair of brown socks. "Happy Reading Festival!"

The moment Pops took the socks, Jenkins bent down, scooped up Chocolate from the ground, and tucked the cat inside his coat. He fastened the buttons again, leaving just the one at his collar undone.

He gave a sharp shiver. A cat's body temperature was a little higher than a human's, and with the feline tucked against his chest, it was almost like having a hot water bottle.

"Socks? A rather traditional choice, isn't it?"

He didn't turn them down.

"Yes, I knitted them myself."

Jenkins stomped his feet twice as he spoke, the simple action making him feel warmer, at least psychologically. He was no master of the domestic arts, but he had learned how to knit socks in an elective course in his previous life. After comparing the costs, he'd found knitting to be more economical than buying, so he had maintained the skill ever since.

Pops glanced down at the socks in his hand, then looked up at Jenkins, who was shivering from the cold.

"You knitted these... You rascal, a bachelor learning how to knit!"

He exclaimed, holding up the socks. Jenkins laughed and took a step back, ducking his head as he waved goodbye and hurried back to his carriage.

Leaning on the doorknob, Pops watched Jenkins get into the carriage. He then glanced down at the brown wool socks in his hand, a slow smile spreading across his face.

He was about to turn and head back inside when he suddenly looked up at the sky. He took a couple of steps forward, out from under the black awning, and held out his empty left hand. A tiny, crystalline snowflake drifted down onto his rough, ruddy palm, then vanished.

"It's starting to snow?"

Yes, in the 18th Epoch, the year 1865 of the Universal Calendar, the first snow of the year fell upon Nolan City, arriving quietly in the third week of the Month of the Sage and Harvest.

(Chocolate breathes peacefully...)

The Williams family didn't allow pets, not because anyone was allergic to fur, but simply because Jenkins's mother, Mary Williams, disliked cats and dogs. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel·fiɾe·net

Today, however, was an exception. Jenkins was spending the cozy Reading Festival with his family, so they had made a special allowance for him to bring his cat to dinner. He had even set up a separate chair behind his own, complete with a soft red cushion, where Chocolate could curl up and lap at a saucer of milk.

The entire family was gathered tonight. Newman Williams, who had been away on a study trip with his professor, had hurried back just in time for the festival. John Williams, who was away at college, and their father, Robert Williams, had also returned home punctually from their day. They had all attended the church service at noon but had their own engagements in the afternoon.

The festivals of the Orthodox Church weren't official kingdom holidays. So, if one fell on a workday, a merciful employer might grant a day of unpaid leave, while a less charitable one would simply feign ignorance.

In any case, it had been a long time since the entire Williams family was gathered together, and Mary was quite pleased that Jenkins had been the first one home.

That didn't stop her, however, from steering the dinner conversation toward Newman's fiancée, repeatedly hinting that her eldest should draw Jenkins into the topic. It was quite clear that the tall Newman, preoccupied with the discussion and the cured meats on the table, completely missed his mother's cues.

After the traditional exchange of gifts and reading by the fireplace, Jenkins and his father retired to the study. Robert was deeply pleased with the recent conduct of his son—the one who resembled him most.

From any ordinary person's point of view, Jenkins Williams was certainly a promising young man, and Robert was especially pleased that he maintained such a strong connection with the Church.

Mary forbade the men of the house from drinking alcohol outside of mealtimes—not even wine. As a result, the two men sat under the dim glow of the gas lamp, each holding a teacup. During their conversation, Jenkins casually steered the topic toward the plague from thirty years ago. He was curious about the details, and also about the history of his otherwise ordinary family.

Robert glanced up at the cat squirming in Jenkins's lap, then casually picked up the fountain pen from the oak desk and twirled it—a familiar habit of his.

"Our family settled in Greenfield Town, in the city of Gufreire, a long, long time ago. I've lost count of how many generations back that was. Your grandparents passed away young, and I had no brothers or sisters, so when I had to flee, there wasn't much to leave behind. As for the plague... I don't know all the details, but it was a truly terrible disaster..."

He shook his head slowly, his gaze clouding over. "I can still see it to this day. Old Mr. Steele, our neighbor for more than sixty years, died right in front of me. When I first arrived in Nolan, I often dreamed of him, but the memories faded over time. If you hadn't brought it up, I'm not sure I could even picture his face anymore. That damned plague."

As an ordinary man, Robert Williams didn't know much about the great plague caused by a Mysterious Object thirty years ago. But he knew it had been airborne, and that burning the bodies was the safest way to dispose of them... even if it was a desecration.

The crow-beaked masks worn by plague doctors even now first became common during that time. The plague itself, dubbed the "Black Death," had been gone for more than two decades, but doctors still instantly recalled the terrible catastrophe whenever a patient appeared with similar symptoms.

Newman, Jenkins's older brother, came in during their conversation. He was wearing a comical pair of bunny slippers that stood in stark contrast to his tall, imposing figure. He, too, held a teacup. Jenkins didn't pay it much mind until Chocolate shot a disgruntled paw in Newman's direction, and he caught the faint aroma of wine wafting through the air.