Chapter 292: Chapter 292

Mr. Pisco, it turned out, was genuinely here to buy a story. The little tale Jenkins had spun on the spot about a fallen nobleman seemed to be exactly to the man's liking. In the end, he actually offered to spend twenty pounds on a copper pot from one of the store's shelves.

But everything Papa Oliver displayed in the main shop was imitation. The real treasures were kept on the shelves behind the counter and in the warehouse out back. The pot in question likely cost less than ten shillings to make. A sliver of commercial conscience made Jenkins hesitate, but Mr. Pisco was unconcerned.

"I told you, I'm not here for the antique, but for the inspiration."

Despite his shabby appearance, the man produced a five-pound deposit on the spot. He requested that Jenkins deliver the pot to his residence the following Wednesday—the last day of the month. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novel_fіre.net

Jenkins suspiciously inspected the banknote for authenticity before slowly nodding. "Very well, sir."

Long after the man had left the shop, Jenkins was still mulling over how utterly strange the customer was. Perhaps all writers are like that, he mused.

"Huh," he realized. "I suppose I'm a writer, too."

He shook his head, unlocked a drawer beneath the counter, and tucked the five-pound note inside. After locking it again, he took down the memo book hanging on the wall, flipped ahead a few pages, and under the tab for October 31st, jotted down a reminder:

Delivery to Mr. Mason Pisco (Tag 103).

"That wasn't so hard."

He mumbled quietly as he settled back into the rocking chair by the fireplace, his thoughts turning to Papa Oliver and what could possibly be keeping him.

As evening approached, strange noises echoed from the warehouse behind the antique shop. Jenkins, thinking a burglar might be about, nervously gripped his pistol and went to investigate, only to see an enormous rat scurry past him.

He glanced back at Chocolate, perched on his shoulder.

"As a cat," he said, "seeing a rat scurry right in front of you, aren't you supposed to react in some way?"

The cat only let out a soft cry, completely ignoring Jenkins's pointed suggestion.

Since his kitten wouldn't hunt, Jenkins had to take matters into his own hands. Fortunately, the goods in the warehouse were stacked neatly, leaving no gaps the rat could slip through that he couldn't follow. One shot was all it took to blow the creature's head apart.

The corner of his mouth twitched in disgust. The gory scene was nauseating; for a moment after its death, the rat's severed, pinkish-gray tail continued to convulse.

After washing away the mess, Jenkins inspected the warehouse and found that the rat had come from a drainage pipe. One of the bars on the iron grate covering it had broken off at some point, allowing the creature to squeeze its way in from the sewers.

Jenkins made another note in the memo book; Papa Oliver would have someone fix it. Of course, given that his feline majesty refused to hunt, and to prevent any more rats from gnawing on fragile merchandise in the interim, he hauled over several heavy crates of miscellaneous goods and securely blocked the opening.

By dusk, there was still no sign of Papa Oliver, but Captain Bincy himself paid a visit. Following the instructions Papa Oliver had left, Jenkins handed over a small casket. As they were verifying the receipt, Captain Bincy brought something up.

"Did you hear? The Twin Demons appeared again last Sunday!"

He expertly feigned surprise, a performance he was growing accustomed to. He had expected to hear the news much sooner; he hadn't thought it would take nearly a week for someone to bring it up.

"I hadn't heard. I haven't been to the church this week, and Papa Oliver never mentioned it."

"Not many people know, actually."

Captain Bincy lowered his voice. Seeing the satisfying look of curiosity on Jenkins's face, he continued:

"He appeared very near a church of the Unlit Moon, so the Nightwatchmen handled it. Our church only received the full report yesterday. It seems the Twin Demons appeared to kill three Enchanters from an illegal organization. That's right—from the Witch's House."

Jenkins drew a sharp breath. "Why would he do that? He isn't just killing at random, is he? I've heard there have been several serial killings across the kingdom."

"Of course not. High-level Enchanters, unless they're madmen like Femishue, rarely kill without reason. The Nightwatchmen are looking into the Twin Demons' motive, but they haven't come to any firm conclusions yet. Right now, they suspect those three witches had something valuable in their possession, and that's what drew the Twin Demons to them."

The captain shrugged and cast his gaze toward the hearth. "Heh. Papa Oliver still loves his fireplace. Back when Stanford was around..."

"Hm? It's nothing. I didn't say a thing. Now, where was I? Right. The man code-named Twin Demons. We're almost certain he's an associate of that man in the black robe. Since the robed man likes to collect Mysterious Objects, it stands to reason the Twin Demons might be collecting things as well, doesn't it? Of course, that's all just speculation; we don't have any evidence. Damn it all. Every time these strange types show up, all prophecy, spirit-channeling, and divination goes haywire."

Captain Bincy had deliberately changed the subject, but he showed no sign of awkwardness. Jenkins, in turn, was tactful enough not to press him about the name "Stanford," though he couldn't help but wonder if this was one of Papa Oliver's former apprentices.

It was also during this conversation with Captain Bincy that Jenkins learned the three witches he'd killed all had criminal records. In other words, they each had a bounty on their heads.

He did his best to sound merely curious, not personally invested.

"Let's see now," Bincy mused, calculating. "There's the official kingdom bounty, the bounty from the Orthodox Church, and the rewards offered by the victims' families... for all three of them combined... I'd say around one hundred and ninety pounds. It might even be two hundred, but I can't be certain."

Jenkins swallowed hard.

Two hundred gold pounds in cash. That was enough for a well-off family to take a long, pleasant trip for the entire winter. But he knew full well that those colorful slips of paper would never find their way into his hands.

"I suppose the Twin Demons won't be coming to claim the reward, then?"

He asked, his feelings a complicated mix of regret and resignation.

Captain Bincy tucked the receipt away, took the casket in hand, and settled a worn yellow hat on his head. "The man seems to have no interest in dealing with the Orthodox Church. According to standard procedure, a bounty concluded this way will be held by the Church and the police for one year. If it goes unclaimed after that, half the money goes to the public coffers, and the other half is d to charity."