Chapter 509: Chapter 509

Dark clouds obscured much of the blue and red moons. In the dim light, the writer braced himself against a wall, peeking out from the alley's shadows.

"Curiosity killed the cat!"

He muttered to himself, earning a sharp protest from Chocolate.

"That has nothing to do with me!"

Despite his words, he remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed curiously on the door.

"But just one look couldn't hurt, could it?"

With that excuse to placate himself, his hesitation vanished. Besides, lingering outside for too long in this weather was hardly a wise move.

He blinked, then looked up again. The sight of his Eye of Reality pierced through the building's walls to the second floor, where a brilliant blue aura flared into view.

From its shape, it appeared to be... a comb?

It wasn't the sight of a supernatural item without an Enchanter, or even the rare, non-human type of artifact, that surprised him. It was the fact that, this time, he could see the shape of the aura with breathtaking clarity.

After all, he was looking from across the street, and at an angle. Even if his Eye of Reality had evolved after leveling up, the effect shouldn't have been this sharp.

He felt a flicker of understanding. Closing his right eye—the one with the monocle—he looked again with only his left. The view transformed into a blurry mass of blue light, its shape indistinct.

"Just as I thought. This monocle enhances the effect of the Eye of Reality. Could all eyewear-type items have such an ability?"

At this thought, he couldn't help but wonder, "In that case, if my monocle were to devour a similar item, would the enhancement to my vision be even greater?"

He immediately recalled that Pops also owned a B-class item shaped like a monocle, one that aided his appraisal skills. But just as quickly, he dismissed the idea, feeling he must be losing his mind to even consider it.

"If I knew how to divine, I could just flip a coin and be done with it..."

He looked up again. The presence of a supernatural item without an Enchanter meant the risk was minimal. Yet, despite the low danger, his cautious nature still had him worrying about potential trouble.

"Chocolate, what do you think?"

The cat patted Jenkins's face with a paw, clearly having no intention of humoring him.

When the chain of Miss Miller's pocket watch remained still, he took a deep breath and stamped his foot, torn.

"Alright then," he decided. "Time to test my luck!"

With that, he reached inside his collar and pulled out the luck-altering necklace Miss Audrey had given him before his trip to Bel Diran.

A shell-shaped pendant hung from the end of the necklace. Jenkins tossed it high into the air, then snatched it back with his eyes closed.

"If it lands face-up in my palm, I'll go take a look. If it's face-down, I'm going home to bed!"

His mind made up, he opened his palm, glanced at the result, and nodded. He slipped on his black robe, then reached out and tapped the little cat's head. It obediently transformed into a calico.

His new form was that of a young man, medium in build but remarkably tall. Judging by his attire, he was clearly a man of meager means, his clothes bearing some resemblance to Liverpool's.

Uncertain of the situation upstairs, he simply crossed the street and positioned himself in the shadows cast by the new shop's sign. Without deliberate observation, it would have been difficult to spot him.

He didn't have to wait long. Thirteen minutes later, by his pocket watch, he heard the grating shriek of an iron door scraping against the floor above, followed by the rapid clatter of footsteps descending the stairs.

Liverpool walked past, his brow furrowed and his mind clearly elsewhere. He passed right in front of the armed Jenkins without even noticing him, much to Jenkins's embarrassment.

Jenkins had no choice but to emerge from the shadows and follow. He waited until the man turned into a narrow alley, took a few deep, steadying breaths, then closed the distance in a few quick strides and pressed the gun's muzzle into the small of the young man's back.

Liverpool's reaction was far quicker than Jenkins had anticipated. The man's hands shot into the air with surprising speed.

He quickly reached into his pocket with his right hand and held out a meager-looking wallet to Jenkins.

But robbery wasn't Jenkins's true intention. He knew, deep down, that he was a good person. Googlᴇ search NoveI[F]ire.net

"Is this it?" Jenkins sneered. "Hmph. Did you leave all your money with the girls at the pleasure dens, mister? Let me guess... Aunt Mariette over on Chimney Alley?"

Jenkins had no idea who he was talking about, but fortunately, neither did Liverpool.

"No, I just... don't have any money."

The man's tone was thick with embarrassment, reminding Jenkins of his own days of empty pockets. He decided to wrap this up quickly and let the man go.

He tossed the small, earth-colored, string-tied purse to the ground with a crisp slap—it had landed on a pile of old newspapers.

"Then tell me where the money is."

"Oh, sir, I really don't have any money."

"I know that. I can tell by those shabby clothes of yours. So tell me where you just were. And don't you dare say you came out this late for a breath of fresh air!"

"No, oh, of course not, oh, sir... I beg you."

Adopting a menacing tone, Jenkins was surprised to find how well it suited him.

"I'll talk, I'll talk! I just came from 431 Queen's Avenue!"

"That new shop? Are you a thief casing the joint?"

"No, no! How could I... I mean, sorry... I went to the second floor. To Miss Samo's Emotional Counseling Office!"

His voice was trembling. Jenkins could imagine the terror on his face.

Mentally apologizing once more, Jenkins pressed on:

"Emotional Counseling Office? Heh. Open in the middle of the night? And you're telling me it's not a pleasure den?"

"It really isn't, sir, please listen to me. I've been pursuing a girl recently..."

For an ordinary person, the threat of a gun was all it took. The story came tumbling out of Liverpool, just as Jenkins had expected. He'd long suspected he would eventually run into a case of an ordinary person misusing an Extraordinary item.

As Liverpool told it, the proprietor of "Miss Samo's Emotional Counseling Office" was a woman as large as a hog. This was Miss Samo herself, and she claimed to possess a "magical comb." If anyone wound a strand of their own hair and a strand from their desired partner around its teeth, the two would fall hopelessly in love.

The effect's duration depended on how long the hair remained on the comb—a fact Miss Samo used to rake in a fortune. As for why Liverpool was visiting so late at night, his purpose was not difficult to surmise.