Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 561

Jenkins hadn't been sleeping well lately. The nightly disturbances were becoming a real headache.

When he was startled awake at half-past one in the morning, his first instinct was to brace for an attack. Then he remembered: he was living in the church now. No enemy could possibly get in.

Chocolate breathed evenly, a black-and-white ball of fur curled up by his pillow. Jenkins sat up cautiously, a strange sensation washing over him—his spirit was slowly draining away.

He instinctively looked north. Only then did he recall the contract he'd made with Miss Miller on that final thirty-first, an agreement to lend her his power.

"Has something happened in Ruen?"

He wondered, tiptoeing across the floor to retrieve the painting and the lodestone. Lying back down, he projected himself to the royal capital of the far north.

Chocolate cracked open an eye, glanced at the man now unconscious on the bed, let out a soft meow, and promptly went back to sleep.

Jenkins was immensely grateful he'd had the foresight to put on his heaviest coat before projecting from Nolan. When he materialized, he found Miss Miller and Miss Stuart standing in the snow, watching a group of men handle several bodies.

The blizzard was fierce, but neither woman seemed to pay it any mind.

he asked, his teeth chattering. Flames seeped from his pores, enveloping his body in a welcome layer of warmth.

Beside him, Dolores couldn't help but feel a sense of déja vu.

"A friend of ours was ambushed. I happened to foresee the event with my divination, so I rushed over..."

This was clearly a meticulously planned ambush. It had taken Miss Stuart nearly half a year, using her own channels, just to learn the details of this transaction.

Miss Miller had held back when using her [Twin Demons], so the attacker, a Mrs. Wisdel, was still alive. The interrogation hadn't even begun, but from what Julia had explained, it was all too clear this was another conspiracy tied to the royal succession.

Miss Stuart looked disheartened, but she still thanked Jenkins and Miss Miller profusely, arranging a carriage to take them back.

It wasn't until they were back indoors, with the certainty that no one was listening, that Jenkins stood before the fireplace. He crossed his arms and asked:

"Was it really as dangerous as it looked today? I was terrified before I got here."

"My apologies, Jenkins."

Miss Miller moved to Jenkins's side with a natural grace, standing shoulder to shoulder with him as they both gazed into the hearth.

"In truth, my [Mathematical Principles] ability was never suppressed. But the celestial anomaly on October 31st was visible even here in Ruen. I had to be cautious."

He was worried about the implications of the attack:

"But this incident with Miss Stuart won't be resolved so easily. I'm sure you can imagine what people will do for that crown. They'll stop at nothing."

"But rather than worrying about our friend, perhaps you should worry about yourself. Jenkins, haven't you noticed? The events unfolding around you are far more perilous than anything Dolores is facing."

She met his gaze directly. "I'm worried about you."

Jenkins felt his ears grow hot, and he quickly looked away:

"I've been staying at the Sage's Church lately. I think I'm quite safe there. Besides, the Church has already found some leads regarding the Evil God Scion. You don't need to worry about me, Miller... Alexia."

It was the first time he had called her by her first name. Under the circumstances, it felt like the right thing to do.

A faint smile touched Miss Miller's lips, but she concealed it well, not wanting the dense man to notice:

"If you ever need me, I can be in Nolan at a moment's notice. I may not be a demigod yet, but I can still offer what little strength I have to help you." Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novｅlfire.net

Jenkins offered no verbal thanks; their profound friendship needed none. He watched the crackling flames in the hearth, the light dancing in his eyes.

Miss Miller stood just behind him. She started to raise her hand, intending to rest it on his shoulder, but then let it fall back to her side.

She tilted her head, her expression softening as she gazed at his silhouette.

On the far side of the room, their long shadows merged into one, flickering with the dancing flames.

The third week of the final month of 1865 began, and the overcast sky that had lingered for days showed no sign of clearing.

On Monday morning, a small commotion broke out at the church entrance. It wasn't that someone was bold enough to cause trouble at the doorstep of an Orthodox Church; rather, an elderly woman who had come to pray had unfortunately collapsed on the front steps due to a heart condition.

The guards at the church gate rushed to carry her inside and called for Jenkins, who was in the middle of brushing his teeth. It was almost too late; the church's physician could barely detect the worshiper's heartbeat, but Jenkins managed to forcibly revive her.

Within half an hour, the story had spread like wildfire among the faithful, hailed as a "miracle." After all, to see her collapse on the steps, anyone would have sworn she was already dead. The Legacy Sage Church made no move to refute the rumors, allowing them to circulate freely.

And in a way, it truly was a miracle.

When he arrived at the antique shop, Jenkins sifted through an enormous pile of fan mail and found an official-looking envelope forwarded from his home on St. George Avenue. It was an invitation from City Hall.

The city's mayor, Saks Luto, was inviting distinguished members of society to attend the ceremonial lighting of Nolan's first gas streetlight on Wednesday evening.

The guest list was likely extensive; the invitation had the distinct, impersonal feel of a form letter.

"Papa, do you think I should go?"

He was undecided, so he sought the advice of the more worldly Papa Oliver.

"Do you have other plans for Wednesday evening?"

Papa Oliver asked, looking up from the book he was reading at the counter. It was an exceptionally thick tome, nearly twice the size of the shop's old ledgers.

"I have to teach my class at the church on Wednesday night. We're covering simple multiplication this week... but the two don't conflict. The lighting ceremony starts at six in the evening."

"Then you should go. You can leave the shop a little early that day."

Papa Oliver was always very supportive of Jenkins participating in proper social events.

"Alright. I just hope the ceremony ends quickly, or I'll miss dinner at the church."

He muttered under his breath, leaving the invitation on the counter before turning to straighten the antiques on the shelves.

A certain cat, lounging near the invitation, rose lazily to its feet. It batted the envelope with a paw a few times, seemed to find it uninteresting, and promptly lay back down on its cushion.

With Papa Oliver watching, Jenkins couldn't very well give the metal block to his cat to play with, so its only toy for now was the Life Pearl. The old man looked up from his book and saw Chocolate, with a lazy expression, batting the pearl back and forth between its paws. He couldn't help but chuckle.