Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 632

Jenkins murmured, unfolding the yellowed letter. After scanning a few lines, he realized it was the bishop's university acceptance letter from his youth. Back then, literacy rates and the number of universities were nothing like they are today. Getting into a university was practically a golden ticket into the upper class.

Of course, the bishop's family background had also been a great help.

"Is he encouraging me to continue my studies?"

He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, so he slid the letter back into its envelope and tucked it away in the back of his desk drawer.

The small knife from Papa Oliver was more decorative than practical, and while the photo frame from the professor was certainly useful, Jenkins hadn't intentionally had a picture taken of himself since becoming... Jenkins—the ones in the newspapers and the photograph of Alexia's unicorn didn't count.

"How about we go get a picture taken? We have plenty of time lately, after all."

He posed the question to his cat, but Chocolate was busy sniffing at the other boxes.

Unfortunately, it wasn't customary for people to give food as gifts, so the cat's hopes were dashed. Still, many of the presents were a pleasant surprise to Jenkins. Alexia, for instance, had sent him a deep blue glass sphere, the size of his palm, filled with tiny, twinkling points of light.

Paired perfectly with the sphere was a gift from Miss Stuart: a pure gold ornament shaped like a crown. It was designed to hold the sphere right at its peak, and the two looked as if they were made for each other.

he marveled after drawing the curtains and extinguishing the gas lamp. He turned his head and was momentarily startled by the sight of his cat's glowing eyes.

His family had sent practical, everyday items. Miss Audrey had sent a book, and Miss Bevanna's gift was also a book. The former, however, was a forbidden text titled "The Abyss of Sin: Exploring Ancient Divination," with a note warning against casual circulation. The latter was a collection of poetry, a genre Jenkins had never cared for.

Miss Bevanna probably thought he already had everything he needed, which was why she sent something of that nature.

Hathaway's gift was wrapped in dark, colorful paper and felt quite heavy. Tearing away the wrapping, he found a brass statue of a cat.

Chocolate stretched out a paw, trying to knock the statue from Jenkins's grasp, but he easily dodged the attempt.

"Does she really think I'm that obsessed with cats?"

Jenkins couldn't help but laugh. Seeing Chocolate was still eager to try again, he placed the statue back in its box to deal with later.

Miss Mikhail had sent Jenkins a long, brown scarf. It was definitely made from real animal fur, not synthetic yarn; otherwise, it wouldn't have been so incredibly soft. He draped the scarf over Chocolate and, before the cat could react, wrapped it up snugly.

The cat let out a tragic screech, which startled Jenkins into immediately letting it go. It instantly returned to normal, however, leaping onto the nearby nightstand and playfully swiping its paws at him.

Friends from the church and many readers he had never met had also sent gifts. The latter had been delivered by his publisher via carriage that morning and were now piled high in the corners of his room.

"This is what a peaceful life feels like."

He sighed, lying back on his bed. The cat, finally seeing a chance for revenge, immediately pounced.

The peace didn't last long—not even a single night. On Wednesday, just as Jenkins had fallen asleep, he was jolted awake by a violent tremor.

He felt like he had shouted those words before, but this was a real earthquake. He scooped up his cat, snatched his coat from the rack by the door on his way out, and bolted from the room.

The church's buildings were solidly constructed and could be trusted. Despite the continuous aftershocks, none of the structures collapsed. The "monster emerging from the ground" that Jenkins had worried about never appeared; it seemed to be nothing more than a common geological event.

The next morning at breakfast, he heard priests and clergy discussing the night's earthquake. While not a common occurrence in the city, an occasional tremor didn't seem to be a major problem.

After breakfast, Mr. Brol, the publisher, met with Jenkins at the church.

Back in December, he had promised Jenkins that the first printing of "A Tale of Ice and Snow" would be in bookstores by the end of the year. Unfortunately, that hadn't happened, but it was due to a complete accident, not a lack of effort on his part.

"I am so sorry. I never expected the factory district to be completely sealed off for rectification. You know how it is, the Kingdom's Air Protection Act..."

he explained, wiping sweat from his brow.

The factories Mr. Brol had chosen happened to be the very ones occupied by the Evil God Scion. Jenkins certainly couldn't blame him for that, and the scion responsible was long gone.

"I promise, as soon as the factories reopen, I will push them to rush the order. My sincerest apologies, truly." For more chapters visıt Novᴇl_Fire(.)net

He was exceedingly humble, perhaps because Bishop Parrold happened to be listening in on their conversation.

Afterward, as Jenkins was about to head to his club, he ran into a worried-looking Captain Bincy. They nearly collided at a corner in the hallway.

The papers in Captain Bincy's hands scattered to the floor. Jenkins immediately bent down to help him pick them up. In the process, he couldn't avoid seeing the words on the page—it was a discovery report for a child's corpse.

"It's nothing major. The number of accidents from people falling through the collapsing river ice this winter is three times higher than usual. The body of one of the drowned children was somehow discovered out at sea, and it had clear human bite marks on it. We're concerned something strange has made its way into the city's rivers and are trying to investigate."

He offered a hurried explanation, then gathered the papers and rushed off. Jenkins stood there for a moment, a frown creasing his brow, before continuing on his way with his cat.

Papa Oliver had sent a letter from Bel Diran that morning. He had arrived safely and told Jenkins not to worry. He expected to finish his business there and return to Nolan within a week, reminding Jenkins not to forget to clean the antique shop every two days and to hang the "Temporarily Closed" sign on the door.

Thus, before heading to the club, Jenkins took a detour to Fifth Queen's Avenue. He had the spare key to the antique shop. Standing under the eaves, he unlocked the door. Just as he pulled it open, Chocolate slipped through the crack. While Jenkins was fumbling for the wooden sign behind the door, the cat had already leaped onto the counter and curled up.