Chapter 263: Chapter 263

Jenkins blinked, setting the tray on the bedside table. "What does this do?"

"If an Enchanter drinks this—about two mouthfuls should do it—their rate of spirit accumulation will increase by about thirty percent for a whole year, depending on their constitution... What's more, for a few weeks after, their chances of connecting with the world through insight and grasping new abilities will skyrocket. The spring vanished right after I filled this waterskin. There's enough here for three people. But it has to be drunk within thirty days of leaving the spring. Otherwise, the water will turn black and become a deadly poison that only affects Enchanters."

She shook the waterskin, and the sound of liquid sloshing within echoed softly.

"I see," Jenkins mused. "So this is what A-11-02-3219 was searching for. It truly is an incredible treasure."

Jenkins looked from the waterskin to Hathaway, then fell into thought for a moment. "Go get some containers," he said. "Let's split it."

"You want to share it with me?" she asked, her voice laced with surprise. "But you risked your life for this. I'm not exaggerating—from what I know, a single portion of this is worth at least thirty thousand pounds. Even in Nolan, that's enough to buy you a grand estate with stables and a farm!"

She pointed to herself, her beautiful eyes swirling with an unreadable mix of emotions.

For an Enchanter, accumulating spirit is a slow and arduous process. A price of thirty thousand pounds might sound astronomical, but for what this water could do, it was a bargain. The middle class might be stunned by such a figure, but for the capitalists at the top of society, it was less than a year's income.

"You saved my life today."

"But you know what this is worth, and you're hardly wealthy, are you?"

Jenkins chuckled. He might be frugal, but he had his principles. If Hathaway hadn't shown up, neither of them would have escaped with the water. And if she hadn't told him about it, he never would have known how much she'd collected.

Repay every favor, and settle every score—that was the writer's code. He was no saint, and not even a good person in the strictest sense of the word, but he lived by his principles. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novelFirｅ.net

Of course, he had hesitated for a moment upon hearing the words "thirty thousand pounds." His heart had trembled when he finally made the decision.

"With my luck, I'm bound to run into more things in the future."

He reassured himself with that thought, then turned to the young woman, who was now staring at the floor in contemplation.

"Two shares for me, one for you. Since I'm the one who found it, I get the larger portion. Any objections?"

For a long moment, she didn't seem to know how to respond.

"Jenkins, you're a truly good person," she finally said. "But an Enchanter must learn to restrain their own burgeoning desires. They can't afford to be a paragon of virtue, completely devoid of want."

"No, no, no," he protested. "I'm definitely not a good person!"

Jenkins had killed and plundered before. That art student, Black Velte, had died with his eyes wide open, and his body probably hadn't even finished decomposing yet.

Unlike Jenkins, an Enchanter who had the support of Papa Oliver and materials supplied by the Church, Hathaway had to perform all her rituals independently. Consequently, her home was equipped with tools like graduated cylinders. She carefully poured the spring water out in front of him, measuring it precisely and not wasting a single drop.

Chocolate's little dark nose twitched as he sniffed the air, his gaze suddenly sharp.

This water was a testament to their friendship. Though nothing was said aloud, Jenkins trusted that Hathaway understood his intentions.

After storing the remaining water, Hathaway produced two stemmed glasses and filled each with the clear liquid.

Jenkins, still sitting on the bed, held his glass by the stem and gently touched it to hers. The red-haired young woman's cheeks were faintly flushed.

"Cheers," she echoed.

Hathaway tilted her head back, her red hair brushing against her pale neck as she drained the glass in one go. She set it down, about to say something else, but then she noticed he hadn't taken a sip. Instead, he was staring thoughtfully at his own glass, and her brow furrowed.

"Is something wrong?"

"I was just wondering," he said slowly, "if this counts as my bathwater?"

Chocolate, whose gaze had been so sharp a moment ago, flopped down again with a look of utter dejection.

Hathaway said nothing, but she shot Jenkins a fierce glare. Realizing his mistake, he quickly tipped his head back and drank the water.

It was unlike anything he had ever tasted. The moment the liquid slid down his throat and into his stomach, he could no longer feel it. He couldn't even be sure he hadn't just swallowed a mouthful of air. Then, in the next instant, it felt as if every pore on his body had opened. A thrilling, goosebump-inducing sensation washed over him from head to toe. Jenkins let out a long, slow breath, feeling the accumulated fatigue of the past few days vanish completely.

Suddenly, Hathaway turned her head away from Jenkins, her entire body trembling. A deep flush spread across her exposed arms.

This was, indeed, Hathaway's bedroom. Not in Earl Hersha's estate, but in a property she owned herself. A noble lady, it seemed, was far wealthier than a famous author.

Jenkins had only been unconscious for a few hours. They talked until seven in the evening, at which point Hathaway stood up, preparing to leave.

"You should rest here for the night," she said. "You still look pale. This is my room; no one can enter without my permission. I have some business to attend to, but I'll be back around ten. We might have some things to discuss then. Oh, and if you need refreshments, or need to... use the washroom, you can just go yourself. The maids aren't allowed on the second floor, but be careful all the same. It would be best if you didn't leave the room."

In truth, Jenkins felt he had mostly recovered. The flame of his newly fused Bestowal, the Unquenchable Purification Candle, was continuously infusing him with vitality. But seeing Hathaway's firm insistence, he didn't argue.

She turned her head, looking at the docile Jenkins lying on the bed and the equally docile Chocolate resting beside him. She seemed to want to say something, but in the end, she left without a word.

After Hathaway left, Jenkins decided it was rather improper to be lying in an unmarried woman's bed. He scooped up a reluctant Chocolate and padded over to the window.

"Oh, this is a nice area."

He gazed outside, instantly recognizing the east bank of the Westminster River. The night was dark, the banks shrouded in mist, and clusters of buildings lined both sides. The river was still being dredged, so there were no ships to be seen, but he knew that before the brief winter freeze set in, another fleet of merchant vessels from the south would pass through.

Come to think of it, the house where the Doomsday Slate was discovered was also on this street.