Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 678

The investigation into the murder had made no new progress by nightfall. Everyone had meticulously searched the guest room where the doctor was held, but they found no sign of the suspected secret passage. Jenkins even considered tearing down all the non-load-bearing walls, but the butler promptly stopped him.

"Mr. Williams, we cannot disturb the scene. When the police arrive, they will need it to bring the deceased justice."

The butler's reasoning was sound, and it dispelled Jenkins's somewhat frantic impulse.

He suddenly felt that his current state of mind was deeply unsettled; the normal Jenkins was an exceptionally calm person.

"Have I lost my composure because I no longer have the convenience of my Eye of Reality? Or am I just overly worried about Hathaway and Miss Mikhail?"

He couldn't find a suitable reason.

For safety, the sleeping arrangements were reassigned. The workers who tended the boiler in the small cabin outside the manor would now share a room with the stubborn key keeper. Everyone had tried to persuade the old man to stay inside the main villa, but he had adamantly refused.

"Do you have any idea what you're saying? I've worked here for nearly thirty years and never once spent the night in the villa! It's just some cowardly murderer, isn't it? If he dares show his face, I'll teach him a lesson with this old shotgun of mine!"

As he spoke, he brandished the old-fashioned hunting rifle in his hands. The butler immediately backed away, fearing the old man might accidentally pull the trigger in his agitation.

Miss Mikhail's bedroom window was broken, making it uninhabitable. Since she refused to be separated from Hathaway, the two decided to room together. This meant Miss Lawrence had to move into Miss Rick's bedroom, although she argued that it would be safest for all four of them to stay together.

Jenkins was supposed to move in with Garcia, in the room directly across from the young women. However, Chocolate would absolutely refuse to sleep in a room with a stranger. Before it could use its powers to do away with Allen Garcia, Garcia, as if by divine intervention, decided to move to the first floor and stay with the servants.

"It's safer this way, isn't it? And it's closer to the kitchen. I have a habit of eating late-night snacks. Maybe I'll be able to wander around a bit at midnight and run into someone else who's bored."

As he spoke, he nodded toward Miss Rick, who blushed and looked away.

Hathaway's expression was full of meaning.

Regardless, the sleeping arrangements were settled. Soon, amidst a swirl of complex emotions, the residents of the villa drifted off to sleep.

There was no moonlight on this snowy night; dark clouds blanketed the land. What awaited them was anything but a peaceful night.

After washing up, Jenkins didn't go to sleep immediately. He wanted to read another chapter of "The Investigator's Case Files," a fascinating semi-biographical novel that had captivated him.

Only the oil lamp on his bedside table was still lit, with a cup of hot tea and some snacks placed beside it. The rustle of the turning pages became the best lullaby. Chocolate, who had originally intended to get a share of the snacks, soon couldn't keep its eyes open and drifted off.

Noticing the cat's even breathing, Jenkins carefully pulled a small blanket over its body. Most of the time, Chocolate looked incredibly adorable—the few exceptions being bathtime and mealtime.

He licked his right index finger and turned to the next page. It was ten-forty at night. Jenkins decided to read two more pages before sleeping. He hummed softly and shifted his neck to find a more comfortable position, feeling the day's fatigue melt away in this brief moment of rest.

"I hope the blizzard stops by tomorrow."

He thought, gazing out the window, before closing the book. After another glance at the cat sleeping soundly by his pillow, he extinguished the lamp and slipped under the covers.

(Chocolate is dreaming...)

"Jenkins! Jenkins! Wake up!"

He groggily heard a woman calling his name. Jenkins was startled; he hadn't realized he'd fallen into such a deep sleep.

He opened his eyes and saw Miss Mikhail leaning over his bed, her face filled with panic. She was wearing a floral, beige nightgown, and her long golden hair was unbound, draping across Jenkins's face as she bent down.

The top two buttons of her nightgown were undone. Jenkins's unintentional downward glance revealed a glimpse of skin through the open collar. His face immediately flushed, and he scrambled to sit up, turning his head to look out the window.

The curtains were still drawn, blocking out any light. He reached for the lady's pocket watch on the nightstand. It was only three in the morning.

"Miss Mikhail, is something wrong?"

He asked, craning his neck to see behind her. The bedroom door was wide open, but the dark hallway was empty.

"Why did you come here alone? Even though our rooms are close, I told you not to go anywhere by yourself."

"Oh, Jenkins, I was so scared."

She suddenly threw her arms around him, her warm body pressing against his. Jenkins took a deep breath, inhaling the floral scent of her hair. It was the fragrance of the soap the manor's servants had prepared for the young women; Hathaway's fiery red hair carried the same scent.

"Something isn't right."

For the past few days of their trip, Miss Mikhail had been using the bottle of perfume Jenkins had given her as a solstice gift. Although the fragrance was faint, it had a surprising ability to mask any other scent. Hathaway was also quite fond of it.

But now, Jenkins couldn't detect any trace of that perfume. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel✶fire.net

Though his body reacted honestly, his mind remained clear. He gently pushed Miss Mikhail away. She gave him a pitiful look, like a wounded animal, her eyes shimmering with tears.

The feeling of wrongness intensified. He glanced down at Chocolate, who was still sleeping soundly under its blanket.

"I see," he murmured softly. "This is a dream. Someone is controlling my dream."

The dream-weaver was an amateur. The perfume was one mistake, but what truly confirmed his suspicions was the cat's behavior. Chocolate was normally a lighter sleeper than Jenkins himself and often roamed about at night for reasons beyond comprehension.

Sometimes Jenkins would jolt awake from a dream only to be startled by Chocolate's glowing eyes. For it to be sleeping so soundly now was highly abnormal. Even if Jenkins hadn't heard the door open, there was no way Chocolate wouldn't have.

He asked the woman—or rather, the being of unknown gender—before him.