Chapter 309: Chapter 309

"Flames can heat, Frost Punch can cool. I'll never have to worry about my food being the wrong temperature, no matter the season."

As he mused on this, Jenkins recalled Papa Oliver telling him he could come in a little late on days with bad weather. Gazing out at the thick blanket of snow, he realized it was the first snowfall he’d witnessed since arriving in this world. An idea took shape in his mind.

"How about we walk for a bit and enjoy the snow, then get the pocket watch fixed before heading over to Papa's shop?"

When Jenkins had first found Chocolate, the cat had been roughly the same size as it was now. The veterinarian who’d issued its city pet permit had estimated its age at no more than six months. This meant Chocolate had likely never seen snow before, either.

But once outside, Chocolate showed none of the typical feline curiosity for the new experience. It merely prodded the snow on the front lawn with a paw before, seemingly unimpressed, it latched onto Jenkins’s boot, demanding to be picked up.

He donned his hat and wrapped a scarf around his neck, then finally stepped out of the house.

He wasn’t sure when the snow had started, but the flurry had at least cleared away much of the city’s usual morning fog. The streets were nearly empty, and the few people out and about hurried along with their heads ducked against the cold, just as Jenkins was.

The uncleared sidewalks were exceptionally slick with slush, but Jenkins, whose abilities were inspired by feline grace, had excellent balance.

This was, after all, one of the most prosperous cities on the continent. The main thoroughfares and essential roads in the Docklands were already being cleared with urgent efficiency. Most of the hired laborers were the city’s poor, hoping to store away a little more food before the harshest days of winter set in.

After walking for a while, he grew weary of the slush and cold, so he hailed a carriage at the next corner. The fare didn’t increase on days with poor weather, but a larger tip was expected.

His destination, the clockmaker's shop, was located in Nolan’s most bustling district, not far from the central civic plaza that had recently, and narrowly, avoided becoming the site of a demonic summoning.

He had been worried the shopkeeper might open late due to the weather, but his luck seemed to be holding. The driver dropped him at the intersection, and as he stepped out, he could see the main road had been cleared, and there were figures moving about inside the storefronts.

He patted his squirming chest. Chocolate clearly detested the cold but stubbornly refused to wear the little sweater knitted for it. Worried the cat would freeze, Jenkins had taken to carrying it inside his overcoat lately, but a cat was certainly not the kind of creature to stay still for long.

Chocolate, however, refused to listen and continued to struggle frantically inside his coat. Jenkins glanced around, embarrassed. Thankfully, the snowy streets were sparse with pedestrians, and no one seemed to notice the peculiar movements under his lapel.

He undid the third button of his coat, and a moment later, a furry black-and-white head poked out. The cat surveyed its surroundings with wide, curious eyes, then let out a soft meow directed at the clockmaker’s shop.

"Hush, now. I know that’s our destination,"

he whispered to the cat. He lifted it from his black overcoat and pushed open the shop door.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The walls were lined with clocks of every shape and size. Grandfather clocks stood sentinel along the walls, while pocket watches gleamed from within glass display cases. Jenkins scanned the room with interest, only to find the shopkeeper absent. A door leading to the back, however, was ajar.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

he called out, stomping his feet on the welcome mat to dislodge the snow and slush from his soles. He removed his hat, gave it a shake, and brushed the lingering snowflakes from his shoulders.

"My apologies! Just a moment, I’ll be right with you!"

A man’s voice drifted from behind the door. He was likely organizing stock in the back room or tending to some other task.

"Now this is interesting."

Standing before the counter, Jenkins perused the pocket watches, each with its little price tag. His eyes were immediately drawn to a few with particularly unique designs. One was shaped like a reclining cat, its belly serving as the clock face, which gave the feline a rather peculiar appearance.

These whimsical timepieces were clearly marketed toward young ladies, and their prices were accordingly exorbitant. As soon as Jenkins saw the cost listed in gold pounds, his interest waned. He turned instead to lecture Chocolate, telling the cat it must never allow itself to get so plump.

The cat looked up at him with an innocent expression, then suddenly leaped, its claws narrowly missing Jenkins’s face.

The shopkeeper soon emerged from the back, carrying a large cardboard box. Judging by the sound, it was filled with tiny gears and bearings.

He was a middle-aged man with a slightly round face but a well-proportioned build, dressed in a wool cardigan over a white shirt. By the time he reached the counter with the box, his spectacles had fogged over.

"My apologies for the wait, sir,"

he said sheepishly. He took the watch Jenkins offered with hands red from the cold, then removed his glasses and replaced them with a professional’s monocle. A brief inspection of the front and back was all it took for him to recognize it.

"I’ve worked on this watch before," ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel·fire.net

he declared with confidence.

"Yes, I’m afraid I dropped it last month. You have an excellent memory."

"A clock has a soul, you see. Every single one has its own unique spirit, and I never mistake them."

The repair cost was the same as last time, but the owner, feeling he had slighted his first customer of the day, insisted on giving him a ten percent discount.

Jenkins made a few token protests for the sake of politeness before graciously accepting.

With the claim ticket in hand, Jenkins was about to leave when a distinct click suddenly echoed in his ears.

In a shop filled with timepieces, such a sound should have been unremarkable. But this particular click was abnormally sharp and loud, as if it had sounded right beside his ear.

Seeing Jenkins pause abruptly, the clockmaker behind the counter asked,

"Is something amiss, sir?"

"Oh, I just remembered we’re in need of a grandfather clock at home. I was thinking of placing it opposite the fireplace."

He fabricated an excuse on the spot. "I’d like to browse a little longer, if I may. All of these are for sale, I assume?"

"Yes, sir, but... Please, feel free to look around. The discount still applies."

Jenkins declined the shopkeeper’s offer to show him around and ambled over to the side, feigning a keen interest in the selection of grandfather clocks.

That unique, sharp click of a clock hand turning sounded again. He gave a slight nod, and in the space of a blink, a different kind of sight opened to him.