Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 656

The note said exactly what they had discussed yesterday, so Jenkins wasn't surprised after reading it. He placed Chocolate on the tabletop, and the cat deftly trotted over to its personal cushion. It stepped up elegantly, intending to curl up, but the pad was evidently not soft enough after so long without use. It hopped back down, patted the center of the cushion with its paws, and only then settled down with a look of satisfaction.

Even with Old Dad away, Jenkins stuck to his routine, fetching fresh water to clean the shop. He could no longer rely on transcribing that tadpole-like writing to accumulate Spirit, however, not since he had advanced to the fourth level. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel★fire.net

The good news, though, was that he now possessed five empty bubbles for new abilities. Jenkins had already planned to apply to the Church to learn the "Blessing of Knowledge" upon his return from his trip. Learning a divine art required complex conditions, but that was hardly a problem for a major diocese like Nolan City's.

Thinking about abilities naturally brought his mind to the "Real Illusion." During the month-long turmoil, every faction had seemed to be on the verge of claiming it, yet when the dust finally settled, no one had actually obtained it.

Perhaps the Star Spirit was right: those who deliberately pursued it would end up with nothing. Fate had already designated its owner; everything else everyone did was in vain.

"But either way, at least that ability won't be a headache for me anymore," Jenkins thought. "After all, I'm leaving on my trip tomorrow, and there are less than sixteen hours left in the day."

Jenkins currently knew a few things—for instance, that he needed the help of a god with a specific divine domain, and that he needed the Unshadowed Lamp—but this information wasn't enough to trigger The Unknown Path to point the way.

He had brought the lamp with him when he left the house, intending to take it to the church for safekeeping later. There was no sense in letting it take up space in his luggage on a long journey, yet he didn't feel comfortable leaving it at home.

"What is this lamp even for?" he mused. "Don't tell me the secret is just written on the bottom of the base."

The cat, who had been batting a Life Pearl back and forth, paused to glance at Jenkins's busy back. But its gaze quickly shifted from the man to the painting on the counter.

"Speaking of which," Jenkins muttered to himself, "I think I forgot to ask if the manor's chef will prepare cat food."

At the sound of his voice, Chocolate's attention immediately snapped away from the inedible painting.

Mrs. Scorett arrived at the antique shop shortly before nine. She had come on foot, not by carriage. The moment she pushed open the door and saw the painting on the counter, sorrowful tears welled up in her eyes.

Jenkins assumed she was thinking of her husband, who had passed away ten years ago, so he found her reaction unsurprising.

"Good morning. Old Dad had to step out for a bit, but he asked me to give you the painting. Thank you for your trust in our shop. This painting has helped us a great deal over the past ten years."

"It was nothing. And thank you, Mr. Oliver, for taking such wonderful care of it."

As she spoke, she walked to the counter and rested her hand on the canvas. Her melancholy and grief were so palpable they nearly infected Jenkins, who stood nearby.

"Still so in love after ten years," Jenkins thought. "They must have been a deeply devoted couple."

Jenkins admired such enduring love.

Before finalizing the handover, he needed the woman to check the oil painting one last time for any damage. As he pulled away the canvas cover, Jenkins saw that the painting depicted a man sitting on a chair.

He appeared utterly dejected. Though his clothes were neat and his hair impeccably styled, the artist had, with masterful skill, given him a pair of lifeless, world-weary, pale blue eyes. Those eyes elevated the painting's artistic value to an astonishing level, which was why Old Dad had considered it the shop's crowning treasure.

The man in the portrait looked to be about Mrs. Scorett's current age, but he was certainly not her late husband. The painting was nearly a century old; the man belonged to a much earlier era.

But the most unusual aspect of the work was that, apart from the man, the entire canvas was painted black. It was as if he existed in a cramped, sunless space, a detail that served to better accentuate his vacant eyes.

Jenkins couldn't be sure if it was a trick of the light, but for a fleeting moment, he could have sworn he saw the man sigh.

He marveled at the artist's incredible skill, but unfortunately, the painter had not signed the work. Even Old Dad didn't know who the creator was. Logically, an artist capable of such a masterpiece should not have been so easily lost to the tides of history.

"There are no issues. This is indeed my painting. You've preserved it wonderfully. Mr. Oliver is a very trustworthy man."

Mrs. Scorett said in a low voice, reaching out a nostalgic hand to touch the face of the man in the painting.

But with the frame in the way, her fingers only met the cold glass. Jenkins suddenly felt a sense of unease. Something about the woman's demeanor just wasn't right.

The last time she'd visited, he had confirmed she was an ordinary person, but out of caution, Jenkins activated his Eye of Reality once more.

The result startled him. Both the painting and the woman were bathed in the spiritual glow of a divine art, and the light from both sources was identical in brightness.

Before he could react, the grieving woman pulled her hand away from the frame and asked softly,

"May I take it with me now?"

The moment her hand left the painting, the glow on the woman vanished, though the light on the painting remained.

"Um... oh, please wait just a moment. Old Dad said that as a thank you for your years of trust, he wanted to give you a gift. I'll go get it for you now."

"Oh, did he? That's very kind of Mr. Oliver. Thank you."

She thanked him quietly, her fingers once again reaching out to touch the man in the painting. Just as he expected, the spiritual glow reappeared on her body.

"What is going on here?"

Jenkins still couldn't figure out what was happening.

His excuse, of course, had been a lie, a simple tactic to buy time while he unraveled the woman's secret. He hadn't sensed anything amiss from Mrs. Scorett before this; she had seemed perfectly ordinary.

With that in mind, he stood on his tiptoes to pull at a cardboard box on a high shelf, hoping to find something he could give away. But his luck was out. The box he pulled down was filled with old year-end festival ornaments. Old Dad had clearly stored them here. Jenkins had thought it might contain some dinner plates.

Just as Jenkins was debating whether to use the power of his lies, the woman, who had been watching his every move, spoke up.

"You're an Enchanter, aren't you?"

"Hm? Oh? I mean... what's an Enchanter?"

He turned around with an awkward laugh, deliberately putting on a clumsy act.