Chapter 272: Chapter 272
With the young Mrs. Howard, Jenkins simply exchanged a polite handshake and said nothing more.
It wasn't until he was back on the main street, blending into the flow of pedestrians, that Jenkins glanced back at the second-floor window. He could see the clerk inside, his back to the street as he prepared some documents.
"She's so young, why is she called 'Mrs.'? Is she married? Or is it just a title of respect?"
Chocolate looked up as well, then tried to bat at Jenkins's chin with a paw.
"Those motes of light from before... she's Magic Miss? Heh. It seems the bad luck from the Unfortunate Wishing Tree is still around. Otherwise, I wouldn't have stumbled upon her true identity so easily."
Stumbling upon Magic Miss's true identity was certainly unexpected. However, the discovery made it even less likely that the detective agency had any ties to an illegal cult.
This wasn't because he trusted Magic Miss completely, but because he simply thought it improbable that an illegal organization would allow an Enchanter to be the public owner of a front company. The risk of exposure would be far too great.
Of course, when Jenkins reported back to the Church, he would simply state that he had discovered nothing. He would let others decide what to do next.
His first objective for the day was completed smoothly, without a single complication. This convinced Jenkins that yesterday's misfortunes must have exhausted most of his bad luck. Surely, such unlucky events couldn't happen two days in a row.
By the time he emerged from the other end, he looked like a completely different person.
He had the cat hidden inside his clothes, leaving the center button on his chest undone so it wouldn't suffocate.
Once everything was in order, Jenkins stepped into the bar. Business during the day was as slow as ever. The bartender stood behind the counter, seemingly fixed in the same posture, squinting as he polished a glass with a rag that looked filthier than the bar top.
Jenkins slid a banknote marked with a special number across the counter. The bartender nodded silently. By the time a waiter arrived with his drink and some cured meat, a small sack had appeared by his feet. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novel•fire.net
Compared to the leather satchel he'd received last time, this woven burlap sack seemed much more slapdash, looking like something a worker from the nearby docks might use. But the change was likely due to the larger number of replies this time.
He murmured the prayer, then began to sort through the contents of the pungent burlap sack. He soon found the letter from Number 13, Green Avenue.
He murmured again, glancing around to make sure no one was paying him any attention. Then, he unfolded the rough sheet of paper and examined the letters scrawled in cheap ink.
The letter was signed by Hunter Bell, and just as in his previous correspondence, he began with a string of compliments for "Miss Fabry." Using prose that was more florid than it was grammatically correct, he praised her social research and her incredible luck.
Jenkins had no patience for this and scanned forward, not finding anything of substance until the fourth page. Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of it; his prayers had gone unanswered. Just as he thought the letter would conclude with simple thanks, Mr. Bell began inquiring about the mining company that had made "Miss Fabry" so rich, hoping to invest as well. He had even enclosed a one-pound note at the end of the questionnaire—Jenkins had no idea where he'd managed to exchange it for the kingdom's currency.
"Goddess, what have I gotten myself into?"
Jenkins nearly groaned. "Does he really trust Miss Fabry that much?"
But on reflection, they had corresponded several times now, and "Miss Fabry" had consistently projected an image of innocence, integrity, and trustworthiness. She was never stingy when asking for help. Even after hinting at her modest finances, she would immediately "repay" the kind people of Aediran as soon as her investments paid off.
Aediran was not a large city, and Jenkins had already sent out quite a few letters. Considering the literacy rates of the era, and that he had deliberately targeted wealthier districts, word of the "generous and upright" Miss Fabry had likely spread far and wide.
"I have a bad feeling about this."
Jenkins swallowed nervously. He took a sip of coffee, only to choke and break into a fit of coughing. The coffee in a dive was absolutely wretched.
He pressed a hand to his chest, tucking Chocolate's tail back inside his shirt. Then he randomly pulled out another letter. Just as he'd feared, it also brought up the matter of investing.
"I went too far exaggerating the returns on that mining company investment," he lamented. "This is a disaster."
He closed his eyes, a profound sense of powerlessness washing over him. It was the first time Jenkins had truly understood how one lie, built upon another, could spiral into such an enormous mess.
He gathered the letters, picked up the small burlap sack, and headed straight for the black market. The place hadn't changed much, though the stench wafting up from the sewers seemed to have grown even more potent.
Hugging the dark, damp walls, he inspected each candlelit stall he passed. But with his pockets feeling light, he was only window-shopping.
"Perhaps I could sell a few things myself," he mused. "Earn some Gold Pounds."
The idea struck him suddenly. Ordinary talismans didn't turn much of a profit, but the one thing that could fetch a high price was Old Jack's [Witch's Kiss]. The Extraordinary potion enhanced a woman's charm, and potions of any kind were exceedingly rare.
The problem, however, was that Jenkins only knew how to make this one particular potion. If he sold too many and drew attention, and Papa Oliver happened to get in touch with Old Jack, his side business of selling potions on the black market would be exposed.
"Wait a minute... is selling potions on the black market even illegal?"
His brow furrowed. He felt like he'd just latched onto a key point.
"Never mind. I'll go back and try making a small batch first, see what the success rate is."
Having decided on this course of action, he now needed to procure some ingredients. As Witch's Kiss was a relatively basic potion, its straightforward effects meant the necessary components weren't rare. In truth, most potions didn't require exotic ingredients; the crucial part was finding an Enchanter who knew the formula.
The middleman known as the Clown was in his usual spot, squatting like a grotesque statue. A single white candle flickered before him, the motionless flame illuminating one half of his face while leaving the other cloaked in darkness. The sight made Jenkins pause, nearly startling him.