Chapter 248: Chapter 248

Jenkins glanced over at the teacup held by his brother, Newman, who was seated in a nearby armchair. It was filled with a transparent, purplish-red liquid.

Newman said calmly, covering the top of the cup with his hand and shielding it from Robert's probing stare.

Jenkins thought, stroking Chocolate's soft fur.

Robert also began to share stories from his academic travels, but they seemed rather mundane compared to Jenkins’s thrilling life.

Even so, Jenkins found himself captivated by his brother's descriptions of the various cultures and customs across the continent. Unlike Jenkins, who had only physically left Nolan once, Newman frequently traveled for his studies alongside his professor.

"If I ever get the chance, it would be wonderful to travel and truly experience the sights this world has to offer."

As Jenkins's mind wandered, Newman's topic shifted to the schools in Nolan. The one where he studied and now worked, St. Louis Public School, wasn't particularly well-known in the city. This was because back when Newman was a student, the Williams family had yet to come into their fortune.

"A history professor at the school, a Mr. Clark, has gone missing..."

The conversation moved on, but Jenkins had a feeling he'd heard that name somewhere before.

He scratched his head, and then it came to him. He had ridden with the same coachman on two separate occasions. The man had told him about a kind gentleman, a Mr. Clark, who would stop at the coachmen's usual gathering spot every morning on his way to the school. He'd read a few news articles to those who couldn't read themselves. But since the night of the workers' riot, Mr. Clark had vanished.

"Would he happen to be the one who reads the paper to the coachmen in the mornings?"

"I don't know the professor well, I've only heard of him."

Newman shrugged, which was understandable.

Jenkins stayed the night. His old room was just as he had left it, and spotlessly clean—Mary had the maid tidy it every day.

After his evening conversations with the family concluded, Jenkins asked his younger brother, John, if he knew a place that repaired pocket watches. As it turned out, the shop John recommended was the very same one Jenkins had visited after his experience in the old castle's Mysterious Realm.

"I'll have to stop by when I get the chance."

He made a mental note, then turned the knob on the gas lamp, extinguishing the flame. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"I am Jenkins Williams."

He told himself before drifting off to sleep.

The item designated B-07-4-7711 remained tucked away in the inner pocket of Jenkins's black coat; he didn't even dare to take it out for a look that night. He refused to let this ordinary family have any connection to such an uncanny object.

Friday was not only the rumored day of the black market Enchanter auction, but also the second day of the Reading Festival, so Papa Oliver had allowed Jenkins to come into the shop late.

He bid his family farewell, giving a tearful Mary a big hug before finally climbing into a carriage to return to his own home.

Miss Alexandrite had been right about its properties. The item could only be activated when multiple Enchanters infused it with their spirit; holding it alone was pointless.

He desperately wanted to replicate the ritual Constantine Sir had used, which would allow the item to unleash its full potential. But with Constantine dead, that was impossible.

Coincidentally, just after stowing the painting away, he opened the newspaper and found a coded message announcing that Mr. Hood's gathering would be held the very next evening.

This was highly unusual. For security, even with random dates, Mr. Hood always tried to schedule the gatherings at least three days after the notice went out, giving everyone enough time to clear their schedules.

"Perhaps I can ask Magic Miss tomorrow night. She's likely to have a solution."

It was a good idea. After all, the deity she worshipped presided over the domain of "rituals." ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ NoveIＦire.net

If his calculations were correct, today should have been the day to pick up the reply from the Aediran District. But with the black market being especially dangerous today, Jenkins thought better of it and decided not to go.

Back home, he changed out of his formal wear, putting on a brown sweater, a thick fabric jacket, and a dark, double-breasted overcoat before hurrying out the door.

A light snow had fallen the previous evening and through the night, but surprisingly, the temperature had risen again during the day. Jenkins had thought last night's dusting was the first sign of winter, but he'd been wrong. Like him, the ladies and gentlemen bustling through the streets were all bundled in heavy winter clothes; everyone had misjudged the weather.

The temperature and the weather kept changing, but the thin mist blanketing the city remained constant. Arriving an hour later than usual, Jenkins found that Papa Oliver had already opened the shop for the day.

In addition to his daily task of transcribing the tadpole-like script, Jenkins also had to write up a report on yesterday's mission. Papa Oliver wasn't standing over him; instead, he was polishing some gold artifacts, his gaze fixed on the burning hearth, seemingly lost in thought.

The cat lay sprawled lazily on the soft rug before the fireplace, its eyes narrowed to slits. It was impossible to tell if it was truly asleep or just feigning it.

He mused, watching his pen glide across the paper, filling it with long, descriptive passages.

The story structure for 'The Snow Queen' was nearly finished, just in need of some polishing. He wasn't in a hurry. Once he sent his letter to Miss Dolores and received her reply, he could flesh out the descriptions of the ice kingdom, and it would be more or less complete.

Although, the letter to Miss Dolores had yet to be sent.

"Papa Oliver, what's on your mind?"

He asked without looking up, pleased with his own improving penmanship.

"It's nothing. The postman brought a package this morning, a Reading Festival gift from an old friend I haven't heard from in ages. I was just wondering what made him suddenly think of me..."

He hadn't even finished his sentence when the bell on the shop door jingled. A blast of cold air swept inside, causing the flames in the hearth to dance.

The customer who entered was an ordinary-looking, middle-aged man wearing glasses. Around his neck was a yellow and black scarf, its ends adorned with a delicate, branch-like pattern.

Jenkins shot a shocked glance at Papa Oliver. The metal nut hanging on his chest was radiating an astonishing amount of heat. This man wasn't just an ordinary carrier—he was the source of the Gear Germs!

Papa Oliver met his gaze and gave a slight shake of his head, signaling Jenkins not to tip their hand. His expression instantly shifted into a practiced, business-like smile as he stepped forward to greet the customer.