Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 664

This was not their first trip here, so carriages were already waiting for the travelers outside the station. Three coaches quickly whisked the young nobles, their servants, and their luggage into the small town. But before Jenkins had a chance to properly observe the rustic life of the era, the carriages rounded a corner and began to pull away from the town center.

At the end of a bumpy lane, an old manor house stood waiting for them.

The manor, situated just outside of town, belonged to a local "magnate"—though the term was relative, considering the wealth of the young travelers. He had significant business dealings with Miss Lawrence's father and had graciously agreed to lend them the estate for their stay.

The merchant was currently in a neighboring country attending to business, so the only person to greet them was an old butler who moved with a zombie's sluggish gait. Still, one had to admit the dinner provided was exquisite. Even those feeling unwell after the long train ride found themselves savoring the exceptional flavors.

The manor itself was not particularly large, consisting of just two floors. The guest rooms were all on the second floor, and since they were staying for only one night, there was no need to formally assign them. The seven travelers each picked a small bedroom for themselves, with a staircase separating the gentlemen's quarters from the ladies'.

Jenkins's only travel companion was his cat, Chocolate, who usually slept by his pillow. The guest room, however, had clearly been unoccupied for a long while and carried an unpleasant, damp odor. This displeased Chocolate and his sensitive nose, so Jenkins had no choice but to find a clean blanket, prop it up with a spoon on the other side of the double bed, and fashion a small tent for him to snuggle into.

Although the train journey hadn't been particularly draining, the group turned in early to ensure they could get an early start the next morning. Jenkins and Chocolate did the same, but the cat, likely unsettled by the unfamiliar environment, kept pawing at Jenkins's face, preventing him from falling asleep.

"Go on, get some sleep," he murmured. "No matter what happens, sleep is the most important thing."

With those words, the cat immediately quieted down.

He groggily returned to consciousness, his feet, which had slipped out from under the covers, already stiff with cold. Something was wriggling under the blankets on his chest—it was undoubtedly Chocolate, who had burrowed his way in to escape the biting chill.

"What's going on?" he muttered. "Did the heating break?"

He rubbed his face, sat up, and scooped the cat into his arms. Slipping on his house shoes, he padded over to the gas lamp by the door and tried the switch, but no matter how many times he flicked it, the lamp refused to light.

Jenkins frowned. He brought out his monocle to scan his surroundings, then lit a candlestick on the table with a flicker of flame from his fingertip. Yawning, he stepped out into the hallway.

Garcia, his next-door neighbor, emerged at the same time, looking rather strange with a heavy overcoat thrown on over his pajamas.

"Did the pipes break? I realized the steam heating and the gas lamps are both out."

Jenkins remarked, and together he and Garcia knocked on Quake's door. A few minutes later, the duo in the hallway had become a trio.

Soon, noises echoed from the ladies' corridor as well. Once everyone had gathered, they decided to go look for the servants to find out what was happening. Among the dozen or so people now milling about, only Jenkins was still in his thin pajamas. Miss Rick suggested he go and put on something warmer, which delayed the group for a few more minutes.

There were few servants in the sprawling manor, and the old butler shouldered most of the duties. The group encountered him at the foot of the main staircase on the first floor, just as the old man was heading outside with a candlestick in hand.

"It must be an issue with the town's main gas line," he explained. "Look over there—not a single light is on." ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel⚑fire.net

The manor was situated on high ground, offering a partial view of the town below. At this moment, the town was plunged in total darkness—an unbelievable sight, even in the dead of night.

As for the heating, a brief inspection revealed that the steam engine in the courtyard had apparently broken down. Seeing as it was now one in the morning, the butler regretfully announced that they would simply have to endure the cold until daylight.

Encountering such a mishap on the very first day of their trip was certainly unpleasant, but there was little anyone could do about it. After hearing the explanation, the travelers could only ask the old butler for extra blankets and hope that the freezing temperatures wouldn't leave them with a cold.

Ten minutes after everyone had returned to their rooms, Jenkins slipped silently out of his door, Chocolate padding along behind him. Down in the first-floor hall, he tilted his head back, staring up at an oil painting shrouded in darkness. A few minutes later, Hathaway appeared from the floor above.

As she drew near, Jenkins raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. Then, together, they slipped out the front door.

With all the gas lamps out of commission, the grounds were plunged into pitch-black darkness. Only when he was certain no one could overhear them did Jenkins finally speak.

"Follow me," he said. "I noticed something strange a moment ago."

"A suspicious-looking patch of... something."

They circled around to the back of the manor, where Jenkins produced a crowbar and pried up a large flagstone set in the ground, revealing an underground steam valve. They hadn't inspected the pipes from this spot before, yet somehow, Jenkins knew exactly where to look.

he warned, lowering the candle to illuminate the narrow space below. There, on the rust-spotted and mud-caked pipe, a clump of what looked like wild weeds clung tightly to the surface. At first, Jenkins thought it was just some sort of rampant moss, but he quickly realized its shape perfectly matched the spiritual aura he'd seen.

he asked Hathaway. Unsurprisingly, this was the culprit responsible for shutting down the manor's heating.

"I've read about this plant before," she replied. "It's a species that feeds on heat, and it mostly grows in frigid climates. It automatically latches onto the warmest thing in its vicinity. If it attaches to a person, it causes rapid hypothermia and death. I believe it's called... Frost-Serpent Weed."

The steam pipe is far hotter than a human body, which explains why it's here now. But after discovering the "damage," the old butler ordered the servants to stop feeding fuel to the engine. Once the pipe cools down enough, that weed is bound to go after the people inside the house.

"But why would it be here?" Jenkins asked again. "I mean, it clearly only showed up tonight. The pipes were working perfectly when we first got here."

Jenkins pressed, but Hathaway had no answer.