Chapter 431: Chapter 431

Once the stranger had completely vanished from the entrance, the young magician eagerly broke the silence. He was clearly more naive than the other troupe members, his youthful face even sporting a couple of pimples.

"Jason, that thing was too dangerous. It's a good thing we're rid of it."

With his face completely covered in greasepaint, it was impossible to discern the blue-haired clown's expression.

"Why don't we just leave Bel Diran? This place is too dangerous."

The lion suggested in a muffled voice, and the beast tamer quickly expressed his agreement.

The blue-haired clown glanced at his troupe. Aside from the magician, nearly every one of them was injured.

"Alright. We've been performing in the capital for a week, so our departure won't seem abrupt. The question now is where to go next. Should we stick to the plan and head for Sinkville in Rodeburg County, or should we travel farther?"

"Let's go farther," the gaudily dressed dancer suggested, patting her overly ample bosom. "That woman was at least a level 7, maybe even an 8. And the man who came after... he was even more terrifying. I can't even begin to fathom what his power did. This place is just too dreadful..."

The clown pondered for a moment. They were a troupe of wanderers with no fixed home, so leaving a city behind stirred no feelings of attachment. However, their next destination had to be chosen with care... Follow current novᴇls on noᴠelfire.net

"Then let's go to Nolan. It's far enough, and as the kingdom's second-largest city, it won't lack for circus-loving crowds. There was that plague not too long ago, but it's been dealt with effectively. Yes, my friends, our next stop is Nolan City! To hell with all the dangers of Bel Diran!"

Leaving the woefully uninformed circus troupe to their plans, Jenkins quickly found Mrs. Caroline after stepping out of the tent.

She was in a heated dispute with a street vendor over the price of a single potato, their quarrel loud enough to be heard from the other side of the street. Jenkins noticed the commotion from afar and immediately spotted the brown, beaded floral pin in her hair.

"Good day. Are you, by any chance, Mrs. Hill Caroline?"

Taking advantage of a moment when two passing gentlemen were attempting to placate the potato vendor, Jenkins quickly stepped forward and posed his question.

The old woman asked, her voice thick with suspicion. Her distrust was understandable, considering she had recently been swindled out of a great deal of money.

"I'm a friend of Audrey... that is, a friend of Miss Guinevere Catherine Eisenach. She asked me to come and see you."

That was Miss Audrey's real name. Back when she studied dance with Mrs. Caroline, she had not yet taken the name "Audrey."

"I have her letter here!"

He produced Miss Audrey's letter, and only then did Mrs. Caroline finally seem to believe him.

Jenkins helped the old woman with her basket of potatoes, and together they navigated the city's narrow passages, returning to the same alley in the slum district. The policemen and the scattered corpses were gone, but dark stains still marred the ground.

Noticing Jenkins staring at the bloodstains near the corner of the wall, Mrs. Caroline spoke as she slowly fumbled for her keys.

"That's human blood. Someone else has likely died here. It's nothing new, young man. Judging by your clothes, I'd bet a bottle of gin you've never lived in a place ."

He suspected Mrs. Caroline was hinting that he had come to visit an elder empty-handed.

It was a shared tenement, and upon opening the main door, they were greeted by a foyer piled high with odd-smelling clothes and shoes.

They spiraled up the creaking, ancient wooden staircase, the scent of decaying wood filling Jenkins's nostrils. On the door of the second-floor room nearest the stairs hung several plaster skulls, altering his perception of the building yet again.

"Old Scopy's. He's an odd one."

Mrs. Caroline muttered, leading Jenkins farther upstairs. Her room was at the far end of the third-floor landing. An umbrella lay tilted against the wall beside the door, but otherwise, the space was quite clean.

Inside, the apartment lacked the foul odor Jenkins had expected. The living room's decor and the arrangement of its furniture were surprisingly tasteful. Jenkins was particularly drawn to a set of ornaments on a wall cabinet: three small automatons, pieced together from polished screw rods and posed in different stances.

Mrs. Caroline also owned a cat. Though its mistress had been away for days, the feline hadn't gone hungry. It was a snow-white she-cat, much larger than Chocolate and with a remarkably long, slender body. It had a pair of beautiful eyes, and as Jenkins followed Mrs. Caroline through the door, it was perched on the dining table, seeming quite interested in Chocolate.

"Is your cat a tomcat?"

Mrs. Caroline asked abruptly.

"No, she's a female."

The old woman immediately lost interest in Chocolate.

She spent a long time rummaging through her kitchen before finally producing a cup of tea for Jenkins. He didn't mind the quality of the tea, but the cup itself looked less than clean.

He politely raised it to his lips for a small sip, then set it down and left it untouched.

"Living in a place , isn't it too dangerous for you?"

With no other topic presenting itself, he decided to ask about recent events. He would have to report back to Miss Audrey on Mrs. Caroline's living conditions upon his return to Nolan, so it was best to gather as much information as possible.

"It is a little dangerous," she conceded, "but as long as you stay indoors after sunset and keep away from the windows and doors, you'll be fine... unless, of course, someone decides to use a steam bomb around here."

"Would someone do that?"

"I seem to recall one going off last year. It wasn't a bomb, though, just a steam pipe in the alley. After that night, every resident on the first floor of this building was new."

Her voice betrayed no sadness, no joy; she was merely stating a simple fact.

"Have you considered moving? I imagine it wouldn't be difficult to find another apartment with similar rent."

he suggested, finding it impossible to imagine living in such a place.

"I'm used to it here."

Mrs. Caroline waved a dismissive hand. "Besides, I'm not young anymore. I don't have the energy to adapt to a new life. This place is fine... Tell me about Guinevere. We correspond every year, but the last time I actually saw her was at the Harvest Festival, ten years ago."

Miss Audrey hadn't told Jenkins what sort of profession she was meant to have in the eyes of ordinary people, nor did Jenkins know what Mrs. Caroline's perception of her was. To avoid revealing Audrey's true identity, Jenkins could only claim to be a simple acquaintance of Miss Eisenach, delivering the letter merely because he happened to be passing through.

But Mrs. Caroline clearly didn't believe a word of it.