Chapter 278: Chapter 278

Jenkins’s eyes narrowed as he stared outside. From where Hathaway stood, even the glow of the bronze gas lamps on the corridor walls failed to illuminate the other half of his face.

Her heart began to pound. Hathaway cursed inwardly, then asked with a touch of anxiety:

“What are you planning to do? This is a matter for the police. We don’t need to walk into danger.”

“The police can’t handle this... That was an Enchanter.” Follow current novels on N0v3l.Fiɾe.net

Even without turning to look at her, he could imagine the astonishment on Hathaway’s face.

Her voice was a little too loud. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, glancing around. When she saw no one was paying them any mind, she lowered her voice to a whisper and asked:

“Are you certain? If that’s true, then this is far more serious.”

Jenkins watched the officer outside, an idea already taking shape in his mind.

“I can do that, of course. But wait—Jenkins, what are you planning?”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. Jenkins gently shook his head. “That woman nearly killed me. I’m going to retaliate, naturally. But don’t worry,” he added, “I won’t be handling it personally. Don’t forget, I have a few... ‘friends’.”

“Besides, this will also help Miss Mikhail, won’t it? I’m sure you don’t want someone plotting against her life at every moment.”

“But I don’t want you to be in danger either.”

The words escaped her before she could stop them. Hathaway immediately covered her mouth again. But Jenkins didn’t seem to notice; he failed to grasp the deeper meaning behind her statement, taking it simply as the concern of a good friend.

The red-haired young woman cursed under her breath, then took Jenkins by the shoulders and turned him to face her. Their eyes met.

“Promise me, you have to be careful. Those ‘friends’ of yours are dangerous people.”

The author, who had been trying to maintain his stoic composure, felt his face flush red. He wasn’t accustomed to being this close to a beautiful young woman, their gazes locked.

“Still the same old Jenkins.”

Seeing him , she smiled tenderly. While Jenkins was still dazed, she took another step closer, rose onto her tiptoes, and, after a moment of hesitation, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just for good luck, understand?”

Jenkins froze, his thoughts of retaliation completely swept away.

He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off.

“I hope you’re not about to say something that will ruin the moment.”

She warned him with narrowed eyes, backing away with her hands clasped behind her. The crisp tap of her heels echoed on the floorboards. “Jenkins, please be careful.”

Jenkins remained where he was, watching until Hathaway disappeared around the corner. He lifted a hand to his cheek. The warm, soft sensation had been fleeting, less noticeable even than a brush from Chocolate's tail. “How did she manage to kiss me again? This is the second time, isn't it?”

Remembering the recent scene and the charged atmosphere, Jenkins blinked. “Could it be... that she likes me?”

It was a rare moment of clarity; he didn’t immediately spiral into a mess of wild speculation.

Then he thought of Briny Mikhail and the complicated relationship between the two young women. He shook his head, pushing the speculation aside for now. There were more important matters to attend to. Besides, from every angle, it was clear that Hathaway was Briny’s lover.

He scooped up Chocolate, who had been watching the whole drama unfold from the sidelines, and started down the corridor. People greeted him as he passed; his calm composure while directing everyone to find the police, fetch doctors, and tend to the injured had clearly left a lasting impression.

Mr. Benz was waiting for Jenkins by the iron gate of the administration office. As a member of Captain Bincy's squad, he and Jenkins were already acquainted.

He hadn’t come because he knew the case involved an Enchanter—there was no evidence of that yet. The Church had simply learned of Jenkins's involvement and sent someone to meet him as a precaution, to ensure nothing unpleasant occurred.

“Glad to see you’re okay. The Captain sent me over as fast as possible!”

He was a cheerful man, certainly more so than the perpetually stern Captain Bincy.

“Sir, about that uniform of yours...”

Mr. Benz brushed a finger over the insignia on his shoulder, then gestured with his chin toward his black leather boots, which were trampling the weeds at the base of the rusty iron fence. He waited until a nearby carriage drove off with a crack of the whip before explaining:

“It’s a genuine police uniform. The combat squads have special duties, so we’re given official credentials. Makes things more convenient.”

Jenkins nodded. That made sense. “So, any leads on the case yet?”

“I asked around just now.”

His tone was lighter now; clearly, he didn’t consider this incident to be a major affair.

“The tracks vanish into that thicket,” he said. “The perpetrator likely escaped through the trees. If you’re still curious about it, I can let you know once we find out more.”

“I’d be very grateful, sir.”

He put on the hat he was holding and looked toward the thicket.

The interrogation of Borglov Steepi, the man from the Demon Eye Collectors' Association they’d captured the other day, was still underway. The results were expected within a day or two. As things stood, it seemed his visit to Pops Antique Shop had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, with no particular motive.

After bidding farewell to Mr. Benz, Jenkins politely declined his offer of a ride, claiming he was heading back to the city with Miss Hersha. In truth, he left alone.

Miss Audrey's neighborhood was also on the outskirts of the city, not far from his current location. Dusk was settling, and the warm, yellow glow of gas lamps began to appear in the windows of every house, except for the one next to hers.

Jenkins straightened his clothes, then reached for the brass bell hanging from the gate, shaking the colorful ribbons a few times. A maid promptly appeared to let him in.

“Welcome, Mr. Williamette. I wasn't expecting you at this hour. Would you care to join me for dinner?”

The woman, dressed in comfortable home attire, was seated in the living room. Beside her on the sofa lay an open, black-covered book, face down. Its title read: *From the Nolan Coast to the Golden Harbor: A Brief History of Trade*.

Noticing his glance, she gave a slight smile. With a flick of her finger against the book's spine, the words on the cover shimmered and reformed into a new title:

*Uncertain Fate: The Thirty-Second All-Seeing Card*

Jenkins sat down, his expression serious:

“I’ll have to decline dinner, Miss Audrey. My apologies for intruding on you so late. I’ve come to ask for your help. Yes,” he reiterated, “your help.”