Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 563

Since the topic of abilities had come up, Miss Bevanna was willing to elaborate. She gestured for Jenkins to continue with his exercises, then said:

"A smaller number of comprehensive enhancement abilities were developed by humans in ancient times. By observing and learning the habits and fighting techniques of common animals, they gradually grasped their true essence. In the modern era, however, various spell-type abilities are the mainstream. Apart from the Benefactors of the Church of All Things and Nature, one rarely hears of anyone still capable of this."

For some reason, the term "Druid" came to mind.

"So, you're saying 'Cat's Grace' is a very rare ability?"

Jenkins pushed the strange thought aside and continued his inquiry.

He was currently holding a peculiar posture, though he felt it closely resembled what he remembered as 'five points to the heavens'—a mere coincidence, surely. Ever since the night of the blood moon, when he had realized that the distinction between reality and illusion was unimportant and that the world's truth resided within himself, he had rarely bothered with such pointless questions as the existence of past and present.

"In this era, at least, abilities like 'Cat's Grace' are indeed very rare."

Miss Bevanna nodded, pressing her cool palm against the back of Jenkins's neck. She gently pushed, causing his body to bend backward in a way that seemed to defy human anatomy. Her hands were soft, and Jenkins had rarely—no, never—had such intimate contact with a woman other than his mother. A faint blush crept onto his face.

"But 'Cat's Grace' isn't uncommon in the historical records. After all, cats have always had a good relationship with humans. If you're interested in exploring this ability's potential, you can read the records we have here in the Nolan diocese. And if you ask, I imagine the Holy See wouldn't be stingy about shipping those yellowed scrolls from its library archives directly to us."

Tuesday morning was still shrouded in a thick fog. Lately, the newspapers had been completely silent about the Air Protection Act, as if no new regulations were set to be implemented next month. Jenkins felt a flicker of anxiety, suspecting it was a sign of the kingdom's growing internal conflicts.

Business at the antique shop was as slow as ever. The first to step through the door that day was a group of young students, fundraising for the poor.

It was around nine in the morning. Having finished transcribing the tadpole-like text, Jenkins was sitting behind the counter helping Papa Oliver with the ledgers. The old man was in his rocking chair by the fireplace, reading the day's paper. Chocolate, meanwhile, was wrestling with the metal block, looking quite vexed.

The shop was quiet, each of them occupied. Jenkins chewed nervously on the end of his pencil. Although his mental arithmetic was strong, he was still struggling with such a large volume of calculations.

There were no calculating tools to speak of in this era, and even if Jenkins could project an abacus, he had little idea how to use it.

"I remember the invention of the difference engine was set against the backdrop of the steam revolution..."

The shop door swung open. Two men and a cat looked up in unison, none of them expecting a customer at this hour.

"Welcome to Pops Antique Shop. How may I help you?"

Jenkins spoke out of habit, but he immediately realized that the young people who had just walked in were probably not here to buy anything.

An auburn-haired boy and several girls—one with black hair, one with blonde—entered, all dressed in a uniform of yellow jackets over short, charcoal-gray vests. The boy held a small, red-painted cardboard box with the word "Donation" neatly written in black ink on the front.

"Good morning, gentlemen!"

The most striking of the girls addressed Jenkins and Papa Oliver, her face lit with a brilliant smile.

"We're terribly sorry to bother you. We're students from Belah Public School."

Belah Public School was a true institution for the nobility. The young people who studied there were almost certain to inherit titles or become public officials for the kingdom. The school was located near a racecourse on the eastern outskirts of the city, a world that had, until now, never intersected with Jenkins's own. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ NoveI-Fire.ɴet

"We are currently fundraising for the poor of Nolan City. All funds collected will be distributed to those in need under the supervision of city hall officials."

Before Jenkins or Papa Oliver could respond, she stepped back, and another young woman stepped forward. Spreading her arms wide, she presented a large white poster covered in black-and-white photos and newspaper clippings to the two men in the shop.

"Gentlemen, please look. These are photographs we took in the south of the city. This is a poor..."

She spoke at length, describing the dire living conditions of Nolan's lower classes. Then, using the newspaper articles, she criticized the inaction of Nolan's city hall before once again appealing to capable citizens—like shopkeepers—to to these unfortunate souls.

Papa Oliver had been running his antique shop on this street for quite some time. He had told Jenkins that fundraisers happened every winter. Young students or other charitable organizations would start at one end of the street and visit every shop, asking the owners for donations.

It was a common sight on Nolan's main shopping streets.

The money collected, after a certain percentage was skimmed off the top, did indeed reach those who needed it, but each fundraising group's "cut" was different. Relatively speaking, donating to the students of Belah Public School, who hardly needed the money themselves, was considered more trustworthy.

Jenkins glanced at Papa Oliver, signaling for him to say something. The writer himself had no intention of taking bills from his own wallet to drop into the box. He already made a habit of putting money in the donation box at the church; contributing through the church was his preferred way of being charitable.

"Belah Public School, is it? You're a bit late this year. I remember last year you came during the first week of the Month of End and Snowfall."

He stood up from his fireside chair, folded the newspaper, and set it on the seat.

"Of course, last year was nothing like twelve years ago. The first snow came exceptionally early that winter, so you all started your activities in the middle of the Month of Travelers and Frost."

The three students were taken aback, clearly not expecting a shopkeeper to recall their predecessors from over a decade ago. For a moment, they were at a loss for words.

"Alright, alright, don't just stand there. It's not easy coming out this early. Jenkins, Pops Antique Shop will ... one pound."

"Sir, you are incredibly generous!"

The boy holding the box immediately recovered, striding toward Jenkins at the counter while praising the old man loudly.

For an ordinary shopkeeper, it was indeed a substantial sum. Given the price of goods in Nolan during the winter, it was more than a poor family could earn in an entire season.

After receiving the donation, the young people gave Jenkins and Papa Oliver two pieces of candy as a token of thanks. It was merely a formality, of course; one shouldn't expect a reward for a charitable act.

As Jenkins watched them leave the shop and turn left toward Mrs. Lisa's store next door, he squeezed the candy in his hand and noticed it was wrapped in colorful paper.

"These must be expensive, right?"

He unwrapped the candy, and the cat at his side immediately trotted over.

"Remind me to get some more change ready," Papa Oliver said. "Since the Belah Public School students have come by, the other fundraisers will be along soon. It's that time of year again."

The old man settled back into his rocking chair, casually placing his candy by the copper kettle on the mantelpiece. Chocolate padded over to Jenkins's side, pawing at the hand that held the candy.

"Can cats eat hard candy?"