Chapter 416: Chapter 416

Jenkins seized the opportunity during their conversation to make his own request. Much like Hathaway, Miss Stuart agreed that finding a professional etiquette tutor on such short notice would be difficult, so she decided to instruct Jenkins herself.

In exchange, Jenkins and Miss Miller were to assist her in training Julia. The maid had just stepped into the world of Enchanters, and while Miss Stuart would serve as her guide, she felt the path she had taken was not suited for anyone else.

"There is some magical power in the bloodline of the Kingsley family..."

She offered only this vague explanation.

Though puzzled by Jenkins's request for "etiquette for socializing with nobles, and even royalty," she asked no further questions. It was not until nearly midnight that the princess took her leave with her maid.

Miss Miller had said little all evening. She had sat there silently for hours, a mirror of the reserved Julia standing opposite her.

The maid, for her part, was deeply displeased with Jenkins. His rapport with her princess was, in her opinion, far too familiar.

"You should be on a train right now, shouldn't you? Can you project even while moving at high speed?"

To his surprise, that was her primary concern.

Jenkins sat back down, rubbing his lower back. While practicing his bows, he'd heard a distinct crack from his bones.

"So, how are things going with the princess?"

"I've secured her initial trust. My short-term goal is to become her personal tutor. That shouldn't be too hard; it's clear she's eager to interact with other Enchanters."

"What do you plan to teach?"

It had been an offhand question, but to his surprise, Miss Miller began to consider it seriously. "I've thought about dance—I studied it for many years as a child. Painting and literature would also be options. While I can't write tales famous across the continent like you, my appreciation of the arts is more than sufficient."

"Haven't you considered being a math tutor?"

At this, Miss Miller unconsciously ran a hand through her hair.

"I have," she admitted, "but I've always been... resistant to the idea. Me, a math tutor..."

It wasn't a look of disdain, but rather one of someone lost in a memory. Everyone has their story, it seemed, so Jenkins didn't press her for more. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by novelFɪre.net

The charcoal in the fireplace crackled softly. Chocolate was curled up in the softest spot on the rug, eyes peacefully closed.

He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner; the hands were creeping toward the early hours of the morning.

"Do you have a plan for your... relationship with the princess? Frankly, I don't particularly approve of this 'deceptive' approach to friendship. But I don't oppose it, either."

Miss Miller smiled at Jenkins, tilting her head as she looked at him.

"I admire this about you, Jenkins, I really do. If the world were only filled with people like you, life would be so simple."

"No, it's a compliment."

She rose and turned to face the hearth, her long shadow stretching nearly to the far side of the room.

"Just because I like to calculate everything doesn't mean I enjoy making life complicated. If everyone was like you, as simple as one plus one equals two, my life would be much more pleasant. Yes, Jenkins... I like people like you."

Before Jenkins could even formulate a reply, she turned with a soft laugh and walked over to his chair. Leaning down, she cradled his head in her hands and kissed him...

Chocolate's fur stood on end. The cat shot to its feet and leaped, but Jenkins's flailing hands managed to snatch it out of the air.

After a long moment, the two of them finally separated.

Gasping, Jenkins tried to shrink back into his chair, holding Chocolate in front of him like a shield. Miss Miller touched her lips with a fingertip.

"Mr. Williams," she said, "if you're still unmarried when you turn thirty, I will most certainly propose to you."

He was in no state to ask about her plans. He just gave an awkward nod, and then both he and the cat vanished from the chair.

Miss Miller, her smile never wavering, turned back to the fire.

Let's rewind to around eleven o'clock. The steam train continued to cut through the wilderness, but its clamor made no impression on the vast, silent world.

Under the twin moons, a small black dot approached the last car of the train from behind. It was a middle-aged man in a black trench coat, riding a skeletal horse. The steed was very similar to the mounts of the undead knightly order Jenkins had once encountered, only without the burning flames.

He gradually drew closer to the train, eventually reaching the second-to-last car. It was a freight car, filled with fresh straw.

The clatter of hooves was completely swallowed by the clanking and rattling of the train. The man guided his steed alongside the car, then lunged, his hands reaching for the iron grab bar by the door.

But he missed his grip and tumbled down.

He must have been a formidable Enchanter, because in less than two minutes, he reappeared on his horse beside the car. His clothes were now dusty and worn, with several small, frayed holes.

This time, he successfully grabbed the iron bar and smoothly vaulted onto the roof of the car. He took a bone whistle from his chest and blew it lightly. The skeletal horse, still running, transformed into a black speck and flew into the whistle. The pure white bone whistle turned black.

He crouched on the roof for a long time to recover his stamina, then carefully made his way toward the cars ahead until he reached the fifth car from the end—the VIP car.

"Damn it, finally made it."

He cursed softly, and sure enough, was rewarded with a mouthful of wind for his trouble.

As he pondered how he should get inside, he took a pair of glasses from his pocket. He had obtained this item from a stranger named Mr. White Cat before setting out from Nolan. It had been temporarily granted the ability to see through things.

"That damn swindler."

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but curse the man internally. If this assassination mission hadn't offered a larger cash payment, he would never have agreed to such a price.

Holding the glasses by the temples, he placed the lenses before his eyes. First, compartment number one. He could vaguely see a man sitting on the bed, holding a small cat. The man remained in that position, the cat lying still in his arms.

"What a weirdo. Are all rich people this strange?"

As this thought crossed his mind, he shifted his gaze to compartment two. Back in compartment one, however, the cat's eyes suddenly snapped open, its amber gaze fixed on the ceiling above.