Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 684

The key keeper and Jenkins's group finally cornered each other on the second floor of the manor, and a gunfight erupted. It all ended when a bullet Jenkins had intended for his opponent's arm unexpectedly lodged itself in the man's forehead.

In addition to the key keeper, a servant accompanying Jenkins and the butler had also tragically died in the confrontation, making him the seventh servant to perish since the tour group's arrival. The keeper's motive for killing the doctor remained a mystery. They could only speculate that the doctor had perhaps uncovered something incriminating, and the old man had struck preemptively to prevent him from being interrogated upon waking.

But this was all conjecture. With the revelation that the doctor wasn't the sole murderer, Jenkins had grown paranoid, suspecting a third killer might be lurking in the manor. At the very least, he still had no idea who had saved Miss Mikhail, or which of the two—the doctor or the key keeper—had killed Franklin Quake.

He had once suspected that Quake was silenced for seeing something he shouldn't have, but there was still no evidence to support this theory.

And while the key keeper certainly deserved his fate, he was, in the end, just an ordinary man. It was still unknown if he was the one who had made a pact with the dream demon; Jenkins certainly hadn't detected the scent of sulfur in his small house.

The bodies of the deceased were now stored together in the innermost room on the ground floor. Although plagues were not a concern in the winter, it was still wise to be cautious.

Staring at the neat rows of corpses, Jenkins had a strange premonition that the body count would continue to rise before the police could arrive.

He trusted his intuition implicitly, so he didn't let his guard down just because the key keeper was dead. He reminded the others in the manor to be vigilant, fearing someone else might be picked off if they were caught alone.

The rest of the day passed without incident. After dinner, everyone retired to their rooms.

"It's all right, Butler. As for Jenkins..."

She shot Jenkins a deliberately ambiguous glance, leaving him utterly baffled.

"Jenkins's room is very close to ours. He'll be coming over to chat with us tonight."

The butler understood instantly. Face stern, he gave Jenkins a stiff nod, then turned and walked away briskly.

"What was that about?"

He truly hadn't grasped the "implication" behind her words.

But neither Miss Mikhail nor Hathaway seemed inclined to explain. "Don't ask."

The blonde girl spoke to Jenkins, her eyes on his innocent face. Then, as if against her will, she added, "Of course, if you really do want to come over and chat tonight..."

She was halfway through the sentence before she caught herself, realizing what she was saying.

This wasn't a sudden bout of madness; the cause was Jenkins himself. Though he couldn't yet be called a true god, he already possessed a certain divine essence. To ordinary people, his level of existence was entirely different, and thus he had certain traits a mortal shouldn't possess—such as "Human Charm."

This trait wasn't very obvious yet and would only affect mentally exhausted individuals who already held him in high regard. Therefore, if anyone was to be blamed for Miss Mikhail's words, it should have been Jenkins.

The moment she spoke, Hathaway shot her a look as if she were insane. The blonde girl's face instantly flushed crimson. She knew any explanation would only make her previous words sound worse, so she fought down her embarrassment and continued speaking to Jenkins:

"If you're worried something might happen tonight, you can come to our room. We can have a servant bring up the sofa from the lounge. I imagine you can make do with that. Hathaway did say you've been spending your nights in your own living room all winter."

She avoided looking at Hathaway's expression, turning her head toward Jenkins instead, even trying to use that last sentence to make her suggestion sound more natural. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel[f]ire.net

But even Jenkins could sense that something was off about the atmosphere. He looked at Hathaway, hoping she would say something. But Hathaway was staring intently at Miss Mikhail's profile, as if trying to read letters on her fair cheek.

For a moment, all three of them were looking at different people. The only one who witnessed this tense scene was the cat, perched on the windowsill.

It stood up, arched its back, and stretched out its front paws, letting out a soft cry. The man and two women subconsciously averted their gazes, staring at the surrounding walls. Jenkins felt his heart pounding but didn't understand why.

"Are they asking me to... room with them?"

His heart beat even faster. He replied, "All right then. I'll arrange for a servant to move the sofa."

With that, he ignored the reactions of the two women behind him, scooped up the cat, and hurried toward the stairs.

This time, Jenkins didn't refuse with excuses about "a man's and a woman's reputation." It wasn't because he had any particular intentions, but because he, like Hathaway, felt a faint, lingering threat. His intuition was much stronger than hers, his premonition of danger more acute. He hadn't forgotten the door he'd encountered on his first night here; the vibration of his pocket watch chain then had been the most intense it had ever been since he'd acquired the item.

Staying in the same bedroom as the young ladies might not be entirely proper, but it was far better than someone dying silently in the night.

"Briny, what are you doing? I'm not Jenkins, so don't try to fob me off with those ridiculous excuses!"

The girls' argument only began after Jenkins's figure had completely disappeared down the stairs. It was rare for Hathaway to use such a tone with Miss Mikhail. She wasn't a fool like Jenkins; she understood the true meaning behind that unfinished sentence perfectly well.

With Jenkins gone, Miss Mikhail no longer felt the need to hold back. She opened her arms and hugged Hathaway.

"If you think this will make me forget about it, I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen."

Despite her words, her tone had softened considerably. Seeing that the blonde girl wasn't going to argue, she asked in an even gentler voice:

"Can you tell me what's really going on? You were never before. I've noticed you've been acting a little strange lately. Come on, tell me. There are no secrets between us. Do you remember the grasslands we visited when we were sixteen? It was beautiful, so beautiful..."

Her cadence was seventy percent similar to the melody of "Lullaby (Yellow Spell)," a simple form of hypnosis that only a Benefactor as proficient in musical abilities as Hathaway could perform.