Chapter 349: Chapter 349
Surprise flashed across Miss Audrey's face, quickly followed by a shadow of grief.
It was then that Jenkins realized how ambiguous his statement had been.
"Oh, I mean we ran into A-11-2-3301 on our way back," he clarified. "Ha, to think Miss Miller searched for it for so long, only to find it . She's already departed for Ruen. She asked me to apologize for her; she didn't have time to say goodbye."
The woman gave him a look, and for a fleeting moment, the glint in her eyes made Jenkins think she was about to strike him.
"That's quite alright. But you genuinely frightened me for a moment there."
They both took a seat in the living room. It was Wednesday, but with everything that had happened, the evening class had been canceled, so Jenkins didn't have to worry about missing his lesson.
"Did everything go smoothly?"
"Very smoothly. I'm going to see Mr. Pisco shortly. I don't think he has much time left. I need to confirm whether the matter I dealt with was truly the cause of the prophesied disaster."
"I'll perform another divination tomorrow. I've already applied to the Church to use a special artifact. I hope it will be of some use."
Shortly after Miss Audrey departed, Jenkins set out for Mr. Pisco's home, forgoing any rest.
Fortunately, the man was still alive.
When Jenkins arrived, he found the middle-aged playwright propped up in bed, covered by a thick quilt with blue and gray stripes.
His face was deathly pale, and even the gas lamp burning directly above the headboard did little to improve his complexion.
"So much happened today... The commotion you caused... Heh. Even a shut-in like me could see it."
Jenkins was at a loss for words. The man clearly didn't have much time left.
"Did it go smoothly?"
Mr. Pisco asked the very same question.
"Well enough. I did everything I could."
"That's good, Mr. Williams. As long as you have no regrets. I am in no position to judge whether what you did was right or wrong, but it had to be done."
After he said this, they both fell silent.
After a long pause, Jenkins handed him the teacup from the bedside table.
"Mr. Pisco, do you have any regrets in your life?"
He chuckled weakly as he spoke.
"My entire life has been for this moment. Yes, no regrets..."
His translucent form began to solidify, and as it did, the man started gasping for air.
"I have no regrets. None. Mr. Williams, I've already purchased a burial plot, and my friends are all aware of my terminal illness. If you have the time, please attend my funeral."
His murky brown eyes seemed to glow with an inner light. Jenkins nodded slowly.
"Is there anything else you'd like to say?"
"Keep moving forward, Mr. Williams. The road ahead is long. I hope that destiny will always guide you. The sole purpose of my life was to offer you this small measure of help. There will be more sacrifices on the path that lies before you, but don't look back. Just keep going..."
His left hand emerged from beneath the covers, clutching half a sheet of paper that looked as if it had been chewed by an animal. Jenkins reached out for it, but the man's hand drooped, falling limp after extending only halfway.
With that motion, the half-blank page from the Millstone of Fate slowly dissolved into white motes of light and vanished into the air.
Jenkins called out softly. He stood and leaned over, checking for breath under the man's nose, then felt for a pulse on his neck.
he murmured, standing by the bed.
Whether Mr. Pisco had been an ordinary soul chosen by that page, or a soul born from within it, no longer mattered.
He saw the left hand still dangling over the side of the bed, so he lifted the quilt and gently placed it back inside. Only then did he notice that the man's right hand was clutching a picture frame, pressing it over his heart.
He hesitated for a moment before whispering an apology and gently prying the frame from the man's grasp.
The photograph showed a young woman with long hair, her right hand holding a straw hat to her head as she smiled brightly for the camera. Behind her stretched a vast field of flowers and the sails of a windmill.
In the bottom-left corner, an inscription in fountain pen read:
My dearest Andesia ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel★fire.net
Judging by the faded black-and-white image and the quality of the photography, the picture was at least thirty years old.
"So, you were lying," Jenkins murmured. "You did have regrets."
He sighed, closing his eyes, and gently placed the photograph back in the dead man's hands.
Filled with a somber mood, Jenkins went to inform the landlady of Mr. Pisco's passing.
She covered her mouth, weeping softly, though she didn't seem surprised. Just as Mr. Pisco had said, he had arranged his affairs with meticulous care; his funeral, his burial plot, and his inheritance had all been settled.
He had even left the remaining payment for the item he'd purchased from Pops Antique Shop.
To avoid any trouble, Jenkins left and returned home before Mr. Pisco's friends began to arrive.
Standing in the shadows of a street corner, one hand resting on a cold brick wall, he glanced back at the apartment building. Jenkins couldn't find the words to describe the man, nor did he wish to dwell on the life he had led. It was over now.
His heart remained heavy, unable to find peace. When he got home, he flicked his wrist, sending a ball of flame into the hearth before collapsing onto the sofa.
He didn't light the gas lamp, leaving the flickering flames in the fireplace as the only light on his face.
He had already hung his coat on the rack in the hall. Chocolate leaped onto the sofa with a cat's easy grace, settling obediently on his lap, waiting to be stroked.
"Quite a day... and utterly exhausting."
he said to Chocolate. The cat simply narrowed its eyes, enjoying the attention, and paid his words no mind.
"Mr. Pisco was right. His death had meaning. Everyone dies, but not every death carries the same weight..."
His mind drifted. He thought of the documents from the Pandon estate he still needed to examine, of the stack of confidential letters from the council members that Miss Miller had entrusted to him, and of Miss Audrey's lessons. But his final thought was of Mr. Pisco's faint smile just before death, and the old photograph clutched in his hand.
He was utterly exhausted. The day's events flashed through his mind, one after another, as his eyelids grew heavy. At last, his head slumped to the side, and he fell asleep right there on the sofa.