Chapter 270: Chapter 270
The newspaper featured a photograph from the crime scene—a shattered window, with glass shards and other debris scattered across the floor of the room. One could make out the decor of a study. In the upper left corner of the black-and-white photo, a single, blood-stained hand jutted out from behind a desk, its surroundings marked by a chalk outline of the body.
This was the most interesting news in today's paper. The article's author dripped with sarcasm, mocking the abysmal state of security in Percival, seemingly oblivious to the fact that things in Nolan were hardly any better.
Perhaps because Jenkins had risen earlier than usual, Chocolate was also awake early. The cat padded leisurely down the stairs, leaped from the second-to-last step onto the carpet, then bounded onto a chair before finally reaching the milk bowl on the table.
That single sound served as a greeting to Jenkins.
Generally speaking, the breakfasts of the aristocracy and wealthy merchants of this era were incredibly lavish, including but not limited to boiled lobster, haggis, cold cuts, meat pies, and bacon, all depending on the chef's skill and what was left over from the previous night's dinner. It sounded like an exaggeration, but it was the truth; every year, there were news reports of people literally eating themselves to death at breakfast. It was a common belief that a hearty morning meal would keep a person vital and energetic until their next meal.
This was also one of the primary reasons for the high rates of obesity and its related complications.
As for the middle class, people like Jenkins, breakfast was considerably more modest, though by no means a simple affair. However, a single man had to prepare his own meal, and he was not particularly fond of cooking, so he just threw something together. Get full chapters from novel_fіre.net
Come to think of it, the flame of his enchanted candle could now be controlled freely, separate from the wick. It was perfect for frying an egg and saved a little on the gas bill.
"The price of eggs has gone up again."
He sighed, picking one out with his right hand. He gave it a light tap on the edge of a bowl, then squeezed firmly, letting the white and yolk drop inside. Using a pair of chopsticks he had drawn into existence half a month ago, he whisked the egg briskly before pouring in hot water. Breakfast was more or less ready.
He still had to warm a slice of bread over the flame. This white bread, made from fine flour, wasn't cheap either, but Jenkins couldn't stand black bread. When that stuff went stale, you could use it to kill a rat.
After his meal, Jenkins decided not to go out just yet. Instead, he took out the letter from the wooden cabin he'd found yesterday, the one from a "Mr. W" addressed to a "Mr. Clark." While he didn't yet know who these two were, the tone of their correspondence suggested they were likely cultists of some sort.
He shuffled idly through the other documents and letters he hadn't examined yesterday, his fingers settling on an envelope that had once been sealed with red wax. The emblem pressed into the seal was a cross with a loop at the top.
It was a common occult symbol representing eternal life and resurrection, coincidentally similar to a certain character from ancient Egypt in his past life.
He slid the letter out of the envelope. The very first words of the salutation nearly made him spray the milk in his mouth all over the table:
"Mr. Clark again? Wait, doesn't that surname sound a little familiar?"
Patting the nearby Chocolate, Jenkins felt a growing certainty that in this world, there were no coincidences—only inevitabilities.
The letter's author was not named, but the contents made it clear the letter had not been written in Nolan. It was also apparent that the writer was a follower of the "Lord of Immortality."
He ran his fingers over the surface of the letter; the coarse, yellowish-brown paper felt rough to the touch. The writer had been exceedingly cautious. Aside from the identity Jenkins had already deduced, the letter revealed no other useful information. It only repeatedly mentioned the specific term "Undying Man," making Jenkins suspect a connection to the ability described in the burned letter discovered in New Truman City.
"It couldn't be such a coincidence, could it?"
His eyes fell again on the name "Mr. Clark" at the beginning of the letter, and a feeling washed over him that it probably was exactly that coincidental.
The stack of documents was quite large. By the time he had finished reading through everything, it was nearly ten in the morning. The breakfast plate before him remained uncleared, and the half-cup of milk left in his glass was now completely cold.
The Mr. Clark from the first letter was, unbelievably, the very same history teacher from Newman Williams's school who enjoyed reading the newspaper to coachmen. Subsequent letters confirmed this. Furthermore, the note detailing the method to counter A-11-02-3219 mentioned a "Children of the Mist" plan, which seemed to be connected to the workers' riot that had occurred the same night the Twin Demons appeared.
The documents revealed that Mr. C, also known as Clark, was a member of a large organization and was responsible for inciting the workers' riot. After the plan failed, he had decisively abandoned his current identity and fled. The resident of the cabin, the previous victim of A-11-02-3219, had also been a member of that organization. Like Clark, he had discarded his old life after the failed riot, escaping to that patch of forest to temporarily live and safeguard some important letters and documents, only to die by accident.
The "Children of the Mist" plan, it seemed, was a large-scale ritual that utilized the smog hanging over the city. However, neither the ritual's purpose nor its methods were mentioned in detail, only that the plan would be attempted again at an undetermined time.
The deceased Mr. W's real name was Alan Wesley, and he had been involved in two separate operations. One was the "Children of the Mist" with Mr. Clark; the other was the "Undying Man" affair mentioned in the first letter. The now-missing Clark's primary objective was the "Children of the Mist" plan, while the first letter was something Wesley was supposed to deliver on someone else's behalf—a task he never got the chance to complete.
This meant Jenkins had no idea whether Clark even knew about matters concerning the "Undying Man."
In the end, Jenkins could not uncover the specific details of either operation. Though Wesley had been confident that no one besides Clark could find his hidden effects, his cultist's caution had led him to destroy the most critical information anyway. The most significant clue Jenkins found were two small vials he discovered tucked away in the corner where the documents were buried. Each vial contained a solution of an "illegal long-liver's" ashes. If he were to evaporate the liquid, the resulting powder would be the ashes themselves.
On a short, hastily scrawled note, an unidentified person had instructed Wesley to guard these two materials with utmost care, stating in a very blunt tone:
These things are more important than your life!