Chapter 346: Chapter 346

The puppet leaped down from the counter, nearly falling to pieces as it hit the floor. It even had to stoop and reattach its right leg, which had popped off.

It hopped and skipped, trying to approach Jenkins, but then it saw the cat peeking out from between the buttons of his coat. The feline made a show of licking its paws, and the puppet froze.

Its pair of button eyes somehow managed to convey a fawning expression with startling vividness.

"What do you require? Please, just ask."

The puppet's hands were a pair of cotton mittens shaped like bear paws, and it wrung them together as it spoke.

Jenkins didn't answer right away. He was still scanning his surroundings, terrified the little girl would suddenly appear from around a corner of the shelves and ask him to buy a flower.

"What are you looking for?"

The puppet grew a little impatient. The blood-red, gaping mouth drawn on the paper of its face shifted into a pouting downturn of the lips.

he said, his expression tense.

"Oh, this way, please!"

The puppet took the lead, heading into the aisle between the third and fourth rows of shelves. When it noticed Jenkins hadn't followed, it poked its head back out and beckoned to him.

"On the shelves? Don't tell me she's been packed in a cardboard box?"

He swallowed hard and followed the puppet on tiptoe. They didn't have to go far into the aisle. In fact, the girl was right there, on the third shelf of the fourth row.

It was a small, palm-sized cloisonné figurine. Its skin was the finest milky white, and the vibrant colors of the enamel made its tattered clothes seem exceptionally bright.

It was only palm-sized, standing quietly on a black base. In other words, it was a...

And not only that, on the shelf to the left of the little enamel girl, was an equally lifelike cloisonné figurine of A-11-2-3301, the Malicious Coachman.

The black horse and the coachman's half-burnt face looked completely real, but it too was just an inanimate object.

"Guest, have you heard of our shop before?"

He nodded hesitantly.

"Then you should know that our shop only sells replicas. As such, their quality is inevitably a bit degraded."

"This isn't just degraded, this is completely..."

"No, no, no, they still have some use."

As it spoke, the puppet wobbled, and the wooden planks that formed its legs rapidly extended until it was level with the items on the shelf.

"This is no ordinary doll. Esteemed guest, you see, this is blood..."

It seemed to pull a test tube filled with crimson liquid directly out of thin air. With a gentle nudge, it lifted the lid on the basket held by the figurine and carefully poured the blood inside. A few seconds later, a scarlet rose squeezed its way out of the narrow opening of the basket.

"See? It still has some use."

The reason Jenkins had risked entering the replica shop was for an item that could potentially defeat the Thousand-Eyed Priest in a single blow. He found it after a few turns around the store, and after asking the puppet about its degraded function, he received a very satisfactory answer.

The longer he remained in the shop, the stronger the faint, nagging headache became. This was a numbered Cursed Item, after all. Though the shop's master seemed warm and hospitable, it was, in reality, a profoundly bizarre entity.

For safety's sake, Jenkins only intended to buy the item that might defeat the Thousand-Eyed Priest. But after a moment's thought, he took the figurine of the flower girl from the shelf as well.

The puppet had, at some point, returned to its spot behind the counter. Jenkins let out a long breath and brought the two items before it.

"Esteemed customer, are you ready to check out?" Chapters fırst released on noᴠelfire.net

He nodded, placing the items on the counter, and reached out to gently stroke the soft fur on Chocolate's head.

"Very good. The total is two stories. You may pay now."

The black button eyes changed shape again, and the puppet's face filled with an expectant expression.

"Who killed Cock Robin?

'I,' said the Sparrow,

'With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin.'

'To all whom it may concern, this notice is to inform, that at the next trial of the birds, the Sparrow is the one to be judged.'"

Jenkins recited the nursery rhyme in one breath and let out a long sigh. He'd memorized the English version in class once. He had considered including it in his "Stranger's Story Collection," but gave up on the idea because the content didn't quite fit and the tone was too different from the other tales. That was why he had the chance to use it now.

"Yes. That counts as a story, doesn't it?"

"Of course, it certainly counts as a story. A very good story! Does it have a name?"

"Who Killed Cock Robin?"

"Right, right, very fitting. Though the story is simple and brief, it is indeed a good one."

The puppet muttered to itself for a moment before gesturing for Jenkins to begin the next story.

"Ten little soldier boys went out to dine;

One choked his little self and then there were nine.

Nine little soldier boys sat up very late;

One overslept himself and then there were eight.

Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun;

One got frizzled up and then there was one.

One little soldier boy left all alone;

He went and hanged himself and then there were none."

Jenkins had memorized this one from a detective novel. There were many such famous dark nursery rhymes in his previous world, but these were the only two he could remember. To avoid ruining his reputation as a "writer of fairy tales," he couldn't circulate rhymes like these in public. Paying the puppet with them was the perfect solution.

"Another nursery rhyme? This is good, very interesting."

The paper that formed the puppet's mouth shifted again, now a crescent moon of a smile, drawn in a dark red line.

"Very interesting indeed. These are excellent stories. Very well, guest, you have paid for your goods. They are now yours!"

Jenkins didn't say another word. The mental contamination from the replica shop was growing stronger. He snatched up his items and hurried toward the door.

"I look forward to your next visit!"

the puppet called after him.

"I, for one, do not," he muttered.

He pushed open the door and stepped outside. The Thousand-Eyed Priest was still there, looking just as ready to devour him as before.

Still bare-chested, the eyeballs embedded in his back had detached from the flesh and crawled up onto his shoulders. The man spread his arms and lunged toward Jenkins at the bottom of the steps, his dozens of eyes stretched wide to their very limit.