Chapter 453: Chapter 453

Through the sliver of moonlight piercing the gap in the curtains, she could see a photograph of herself and Miss Mikhail, their faces blooming with smiles. Judging by their appearance, it must have been taken several years ago.

She gazed at it for a moment before tucking the photo away. After a brief hesitation, she retrieved another slip of paper from the hidden compartment. It was a clipping from a recent issue of the Fidektri Kingdom Times, showing the part with a picture of Jenkins and the Queen. She had secretly cut it out and kept it here.

Although Jenkins was smiling in the photograph, Hathaway, who knew him well, was certain he must have been inwardly grumbling about how troublesome the whole affair was.

The thought brought a smile to her lips. She gently caressed the newspaper clipping with her finger before returning it to its hiding place.

After closing the wardrobe, she lingered by the window for another moment before drawing the patterned curtains completely shut. She then turned, walked to the door, and listened intently, making sure there was no sound of breathing from the other side.

But even in this sealed room, the faint, persistent feeling of being watched remained.

"Alright," she murmured. "It seems this is the only way."

She clenched her fists, steeling herself, then knelt on the soft carpet. Lifting the rug at the foot of her bed, she retrieved a small casket. From it, she took a piece of ritual chalk and sketched a crooked prayer circle on the expensive surface. With a small knife, she pricked her slender, pale finger and, with a wince, drew the holy symbol of her god in the palm of her other hand.

Next, she took out a small, translucent metal ingot as an offering—an extremely rare Extraordinary metal known as Star Gold.

Kneeling on one knee, she pressed the palm bearing the bloody sigil to her forehead as the metal offering slowly vanished. A gentle radiance shone down from high above, and a faint, otherworldly melody drifted into her ears.

She waited, perfectly still, until that grand, almost tangible presence enveloped her completely. At that moment, she felt a heavy pressure settle on her shoulder.

Turning her head slightly, she saw a large, gray-green, centipede-like creature writhing on her clothing. It was clearly terrified, shrinking back and trying to crawl away from her shoulder, but it could only tremble helplessly. This update ıs available on novelꜰire.net

It wasn't a physical being, or she would have felt its touch long before. But whatever it was, under the gaze of the great deity, it could do nothing but slowly disintegrate into dust and vanish completely.

After the ritual concluded, Hathaway wiped the marks from the carpet and collapsed onto her bed, her expression a mask of confusion.

She had no idea who was watching her, nor could she fathom who she might have provoked recently. With the string of major incidents that had plagued Nolan City since the beginning of the month, she didn't dare make contact with any unfamiliar Enchanters.

From the strange phenomenon on October 31st, visible to Enchanters across half the continent, to the bizarre plague just a few days ago, every supernatural person in the city had decided to lie low for a while—at least until the Orthodox Church apprehended the culprit.

"Then again, it's not as if I haven't met any strangers," she mused.

She rolled over in bed, her gaze fixed on the curtains that shrouded the window in darkness:

"Someone's been peddling Witch's Kiss in the city recently. The merchant was an Enchanter, too, albeit a low-level one, but we have no quarrel. Could it be because I bargained the price down too much? But a hundred pounds a bottle... that should have been more than enough..."

If Jenkins knew that a middleman was involved—and making such an exorbitant profit—he would surely lose his mind.

Ever since she'd used her deity's power to banish that disgusting crawler on Monday night, the feeling of being watched had vanished. She remained vigilant, but nothing else out of the ordinary occurred.

On Wednesday evening, the red-haired young woman attended a small gathering outside the city at the invitation of a friend she hadn't seen in some time. When the party concluded, she declined an offer to stay the night at the manor and instead hurried back toward the city in her carriage.

She had important business to attend to this evening. A special plant in the garden of her residence on the west bank of the Westminster River was expected to bloom around midnight. She had been anticipating this for a long time, as it was key to learning a new ability, and she could not afford to be careless.

The city avenues were just as dark as the country lanes, the only constant being the tedious, monotonous clip-clop of hooves and the rumble of wheels. Leaning against the window, she gazed idly at the passing streetscape and recalled an article in yesterday's morning paper: Nolan City was finally going to install streetlights in the Docklands and along the main thoroughfares.

"That should be a good thing," she thought. "It will be safer to travel at night..."

The thought about nighttime safety had barely formed when the carriage gave a violent lurch, followed by the terrified, unnatural shriek of the horse.

She snapped her fingers in an instant. A concussive blast, like an invisible cannonball, shot through the air, shattering the carriage wall with a loud bang.

But there was nothing outside. Nothing but the dead horse and the slain coachman. The cause of death was easy to surmise—a gaping wound in the coachman's neck was still gushing blood.

Hathaway's expression darkened. Perhaps influenced by her friend, Miss Mikhail, she had always detested involving ordinary people in the feuds of Enchanters.

Standing warily inside the wrecked carriage, she scanned her surroundings. A silver-thread bracelet with a tiny golden bell was visible on her lowered left wrist.

The silver threads trembled faintly, as if plucked by unseen fingers. A sound like a violin emanated from them, playing a melody that was both chilling and deeply unsettling.

Ever since the silver threads had absorbed the Extraordinary item B-10-5-7722, "The Perfect Accompaniment," the bracelet had gained all of the item's original abilities—a testament to their excellent compatibility. Hathaway had gradually learned that she could discern the presence of danger from the melody it played, and judge its proximity by the volume of the music.

Right now, the music told her that danger was perilously close.

Her sensitivity to sound made her react instantly. She dodged to the side just as a fist, glowing with red light, smashed through the remaining half of the carriage.

With another thunderous crash, the fist slammed into a transparent film protecting the red-haired woman's body. She used the force of the blow to stumble out of the carriage. A sound like a popping soap bubble signaled that her protective barrier was now temporarily disabled.

The man confronting Hathaway in the moonlight was a bald giant, built like an iron tower. His face was so vicious that he would look perfectly at home being questioned by the police on any street corner.

"First, I need to be sure," Hathaway said, her voice steady. "Are you certain I'm the one you're looking for?"