Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 558

"These tickets are expensive, aren't they?"

The pair tore their eyes away from Mr. Liverpool and continued up the stairs. Soon, the Lawrence family disappeared from view as well.

Jenkins had been to the opera twice, and neither time had he bought the tickets himself.

"They are very expensive. The direction they went should be the general audience seating, and the price is roughly..."

Hathaway trailed off, realizing she didn't actually know. Whenever she came with Miss Mikhail, they always booked a private box.

"This season, a general admission ticket costs one pound, three shillings, and ten pence."

The attendant leading them answered.

Jenkins didn't know what to make of Liverpool's behavior, but he figured such methods of pursuit had a slim chance of success.

Once inside the private box with Hathaway, they both took a curious turn with the brass opera glasses on the table, scanning the seats below for Miss Lawrence and Mr. Liverpool. They spotted them soon enough; their seats were quite close. However, since Mr. Liverpool was positioned slightly behind the Lawrence family, they hadn't noticed him.

Jenkins advised, taking off his hat and hanging it on the hook behind the door.

"You're right, but it seems Mr. Liverpool is truly smitten with Jennifer."

She answered from the sofa, reaching out to stroke Chocolate as he ambled past, but the cat deftly dodged her touch yet again.

Jenkins had dozed off midway through his last opera, "Mr. Potter's Eternal 31st," but tonight's performance, "The Eternal Stage," was far more captivating.

The story followed a group of young women chasing their artistic dreams, all competing—and fighting—for the "Stage of Destiny" promised by a deity.

The performers' singing was exceptional, and their fight choreography was remarkably professional. Jenkins was, of course, not drawn in by the spectacle of beautiful young women battling one another. Still, he at least managed to stay awake this time. After all, with someone other than his cat in the box, dozing off would have been terribly rude.

Throughout the performance, Hathaway provided a running commentary, explaining the plot developments, the singers' techniques, and the origins of the musical score. Jenkins, naturally, understood none of it, but he remembered to smile and nod along, feigning rapt attention.

But in stark contrast to the musically challenged author, his cat seemed to adore the opera. Aside from occasionally batting at the apples and oranges on the table, Chocolate spent most of the performance intently focused on the stage below. Had Jenkins been more observant, he might have even noticed the cat nodding or shaking its head in time with Hathaway's commentary.

No ordinary cat would take an interest in opera, but Chocolate was no ordinary cat. Thus, even if Jenkins had noticed his pet's peculiar behavior, he would have simply chalked it up to the creature's ongoing mutation.

The opera ran for a full four hours, concluding to thunderous applause. The lead actresses had to return for three curtain calls before the audience's enthusiasm at the performance—and their disappointment at its end—was satisfied.

This put Jenkins under considerable pressure; he worried that the libretto he was about to write wouldn't be good enough. After all, the performers had been nothing short of perfect.

It was late by the time they left the opera house. The carriage the Church had sent for Jenkins was waiting right at the entrance, and with the holy emblem painted on its side, no one dared cause any trouble. Newest update provıded by novel_fіre.net

A cobblestone street ran before the opera house, already lined with new lampposts. Atop each metal pole, three gas lamps with round glass shades hung at staggered heights, resembling lantern flowers. They were not yet in use; according to the papers, the mayor planned to invite the city's high society and nobility to a ceremony next week, where he would personally light Nolan's very first streetlamp.

It was to be a momentous occasion in Nolan's history, heralding the city's entrance into an age of illuminated nights.

Being a gentleman, Jenkins naturally had to see Hathaway home first. Just as their carriage began to roll forward, a commotion erupted outside.

Jenkins drew back the curtain and leaned his head slightly out the window. Not far ahead, he saw the Lawrence family standing with Mr. Liverpool. The young man looked utterly mortified, his head bowed in silence.

"Sir, shall I go and sort it out?"

the coachman asked in a low voice.

"No, that won't be necessary."

Jenkins shook his head. Seeing that Hathaway offered no opinion, he added:

"It's none of our concern."

The moonlight was lovely tonight. In fact, ever since the night the blood moon had dominated the sky, the moon had seemed exceptionally bright.

Nolan settled back into its characteristic nighttime stillness, but the peace was only a veneer, hiding a truth that was anything but tranquil.

After seeing Hathaway home, Jenkins returned to the church to get some rest. He washed up, then schemed for a way to trick Chocolate into the washbasin, but the cat easily saw through his ruse.

Just as man and cat were locked in a standoff at the bathroom door, a knock sounded on his room door.

"Don't you leave this washroom! I'll be right back!"

He warned the cat, but the moment he turned his back, Chocolate slinked out along the wall.

It was Professor Burns at the door. Jenkins hadn't seen him since the Corpse Gentleman's gathering last month.

"Good evening, Professor Burns. Is there something I can help you with?"

He stepped away from the door as he spoke, gesturing for the professor to come in and talk.

"No, it's nothing too important."

The professor waved a dismissive hand, pulling an envelope from his overcoat pocket and handing it to Jenkins. It was sealed with red wax and stamped with numerous blue seals.

"Jenkins, it's about this," the professor began. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but Nolan has a University Association, an organization under the purview of the Kingdom's Ministry of Education. Given that you've won the Ritter Prize—and you're the first Nolan resident ever to receive such a prestigious literary award—the Association would like to invite you to give a public lecture. Many young students will be in attendance."

The letter was indeed an official document, formally worded, and it stated quite plainly that the lecture would be compensated—to the tune of one hundred pounds.

"Normally, the Association's secretarial department would have delivered this to you personally. However, since you're residing in the church, it's not proper for them, as official representatives of the Kingdom, to enter. So, they asked me to deliver it instead."

The professor had previously invited Jenkins to visit the university where he taught, so it was common knowledge that the two were on good terms.

He flipped to the last page of the letter. "In three weeks? Yes, that's just after exam season and before the Year-End Festival. The timing is good enough. But I'm not sure if I should accept. Professor, I'd appreciate your advice."