Chapter 464: Chapter 464
A morgue drawer slid open on its own, its piercing shriek echoing through the spacious room. The Corpse Gentleman then sat bolt upright, his gaze sweeping over each of the standing figures.
“Welcome, everyone. I’m glad to see you again. Our city has seen quite a lot of action recently, has it not?”
The words, which should have been delivered with a touch of humor, were utterly devoid of inflection. Jenkins noticed the black-robed figure to his left give a sudden shiver.
The Corpse Gentleman was still wearing the same striped hospital gown, the brown stain on the collar unchanged from when Jenkins had first come here months ago. Sometimes, Jenkins wondered if the man simply lay here between gatherings, but how could that be possible? Surely he couldn’t have his followers handle everything.
The morgue fell silent for a few minutes before a burly man—at least, his voice suggested he was a man—was the first to step forward.
“Gentlemen, I know someone in the city has been selling the potion, Witch’s Kiss. If any of you can get me in contact with that alchemist, I’ll pay a ten-pound finder’s fee. I need to concoct some... troublesome things.”
“This offer stands indefinitely. If you wish to contact me, leave a message in the hollow of the dead tree at the eastern end of Chihanke Village, south of the city.”
With that, he retreated to the wall. Jenkins was slightly taken aback.
He wasn’t surprised that someone was looking for him; he had anticipated as much ever since learning how rare alchemists were. What truly astonished him was the realization that when the Corpse Gentleman spoke, no mist formed before his lips.
That should have been impossible. Given the current temperature and humidity in the morgue, anyone speaking should have had their breath turn white, just like the burly man’s.
“Can he control his body temperature? Or does he have some undead, blue-type heteromorphic ability? Don’t tell me he’s actually a corpse...”
His mind raced with wild speculation as he felt Chocolate’s tiny paws scratch at his chest.
Compared to the erratic nature of the Hooded Man’s gatherings, the Corpse Gentleman’s were almost always held once a month. The "Medical Outlook on Tropical Diseases" was the only way to determine the date, and the Corpse Gentleman never seemed worried that the journal might expose his whereabouts.
The attendees were just as wealthy as Jenkins remembered. He finally found an opportunity to offload the three portions of bone ash he had, and a man with an unusually shrill voice bought them for a handsome fifty-one pounds without so much as haggling.
The material was rare but had limited uses, so the price was quite fair.
Quite a few people were inquiring about the New God Cultists, offering very tempting prices. Unfortunately for them, the New God had no followers to speak of.
The recent turmoil in Nolan City had also roiled the market for supernatural materials. To put it simply, it seemed everything had shot up in price overnight. Jenkins clearly remembered that at the last gathering, someone had traded a mere seven pounds for an entire four-ounce chunk of dragon dung. This time, the price had soared to twelve pounds.
Yet, the price fluctuations did nothing to dampen people’s desire to buy. On the contrary, the Enchanters with their keen inspiration all sensed this was a prelude to a great storm. Most were trading their colorful paper money for practical, tangible items.
Beyond simple trade, many were also exchanging information. Besides the hottest topic of the New God Cultists, people were generally concerned with the various rumors circulating about the city.
It seemed news of the approaching End of the Era had become common knowledge, and Nolan City’s special status was also widely discussed. From the various questions and commissions, Jenkins learned of a creature suspected to be a pure-blood dragon appearing in the mountains behind Little Hangedon Village, east of the city. He also heard that a new urban legend about a “Mirror World” had started circulating this month.
All sorts of strange organizations were popping up on the city's outskirts, and both the Orthodox and pseudo-god churches were becoming increasingly active. Jenkins could truly feel a storm gathering on the horizon. He just wondered how many people would be able to seize an opportunity that came only once in several millennia.
The Professor was at the gathering seeking to purchase stone tablets from ancient ruins, regardless of their content. He wasn’t just throwing money away; he intended to use the tablets as materials for a ritual to trace the ruins back to their origin.
He possessed many rituals related to time and history, all gifts from the strange entity in his dreams. The Church had never demanded he surrender them, and he, in turn, never revealed this knowledge to another soul.
The Professor always told Jenkins, “Fate’s gifts always come with a price tag. I am quietly waiting for the day of repayment... and it won’t be long.”
It was because of this belief that Professor Burns always considered Jenkins’s luck to be true fortune, for his misfortune and good luck were perfectly balanced—a fact he found truly astonishing.
The most valuable transaction of this gathering took place between a strange woman and the Corpse Gentleman himself.
The woman begged the Corpse Gentleman to help her find a missing relative. She brazenly informed him that the disappearance was related to Gizmo A-06-03-3117, the Black Haunted House.
“And what price can you pay?”
The icy voice emanated from the open morgue drawer.
“I have a large estate in Dullin, the capital of the Cheslan Kingdom. The house and the land are mine. I can trade them.” ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel⸺fire.net
The woman lifted her head, her voice tinged with fear as she replied.
“Acceptable. I will have an answer for you within a month. However, you must pay one thousand pounds even if the commission fails.”
“Yes! Thank you, sir!”
The Corpse Gentleman’s power once again reshaped Jenkins’s understanding of him. He knew that even Miss Bevanna would never willingly provoke a Gizmo.
Moreover, their conversation hadn’t been private; everyone present had heard the location of the estate.
“The woman can go into hiding after getting rid of the estate, but isn’t the Corpse Gentleman worried that someone might deduce his identity from the estate’s new owner?”
Though the thought crossed his mind, Jenkins wasn’t arrogant enough to investigate it himself. Besides, he had no friends in the Cheslan Kingdom and wouldn’t know where to even begin.
At the end of the gathering, as was custom, someone sought guidance from the Corpse Gentleman. In these moments, he played the part of a prophet, for his words, it seemed, were never wrong.