Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 698

Her trembling voice extended a bold invitation, but the sly moonlight kept her eyes in shadow, hiding them from Jenkins's view. He desperately wanted to peer into those beautiful depths and understand what she was truly thinking.

And yet, his sense for deception remained utterly silent, a clear sign that every word she had spoken was the truth.

He shook his head, his gaze slowly tracing her form from her feet upward, searing the image into his memory. He stepped quickly into the room, gathered the clothes from the floor, and draped them over her shoulders.

The train's whistle blew once more as they stood face to face, their eyes locked. Inhaling her familiar perfume, Jenkins saw a mix of uncertainty and resolve. Breathing in his scent, Briny saw both hesitation and conviction.

"Your eyes are beautiful, Briny. They tell me that what's happening tonight isn't just because of love."

"Don't judge me, Jenkins."

"I may be a star in your night sky, but you have your own moon, don't you? That moon is a star to me as well, and you... you are also one of my stars. My own sky is dim enough as it is; I don't want to lose what little light I have."

"Oh, Jenkins..." ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel•fire.net

She reached out and embraced him. Jenkins held his breath, fighting to keep his ragged breathing from giving him away.

Still holding his breath, he gently pushed her away and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I'm Jenkins Williams. The Jenkins you know. And I think if I accepted your invitation, I wouldn't be your star anymore."

Briny fought back tears. Her decision tonight had been spurred in small part by her father's wishes, but mostly by her own courage. She had thought about the consequences, but she never imagined Jenkins would be the one to cover her again with her clothes.

In all her twenty years, he was the most extraordinary man she had ever met.

"Nothing happened tonight. Sleep well!"

"You too," she echoed.

The woman replied in kind.

As he turned to leave, moonlight once again flooded the corridor. Clutching the collar of the garment he'd given her, she felt that this star named Jenkins Williams was shining with a light that rivaled the moon itself—

—just like the violet star hanging in the night sky.

He hurried back to his cabin, not even sparing a glance for his cat. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, his body began to tremble uncontrollably, as if seized by a sudden illness. The past few minutes had stretched into what felt like years, and he wasn't sure if he could face that choice again and come to the same conclusion.

"Oh, blessed Sage..."

He groaned softly, burying his face in his hands, unable to still the tremors running through his limbs. He couldn't tell if he was shaking from excitement or fear—perhaps it was a bit of both. A maelstrom of indescribable emotions churned within him; in neither of his lives had he ever faced a situation .

The image of the blonde woman bathed in moonlight flashed before his eyes again, and this time, his very heart began to shudder.

He had come so close to giving in. Only his formidable self-control had saved him at the last second. Otherwise, he certainly wouldn't be spending the rest of the night in his own cabin.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a long while, trying to compose himself, but he couldn't stop replaying the scene in his mind. A soft touch on his knee drew his attention. He looked down to see Chocolate's tail swishing back and forth.

"I can't just sit here. I need to find something to do."

A part of him regretted his refusal, yet he knew he'd done the right thing. He was still a man of principle. Realizing sleep would be impossible tonight, he decided to pay a visit to a friend.

He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. In an instant, his consciousness was in far-off Ruen. The room was dark and strangely empty. Though the servants cleaned it daily, it was clear that Alexia still hadn't returned.

"Where on earth did she go? She couldn't have run into trouble, could she?"

Jenkins wondered, a knot of unease tightening in his chest.

Carrying Chocolate in his arms, he opened the door, slipped past the patrolling servants, and stepped out into the city. Snow was still falling on Ruen. According to Princess Dolores, winter here wouldn't release its grip until the end of April at the earliest.

The biting wind helped to soothe his agitated mind. The steam train he was on was still about three hours from Nolan Station. Until then, he planned to wander the capital of the northern kingdom for a while, putting some distance between himself and... troublesome women.

Alexia had once given him a detailed description of the city. Exotic atmosphere aside, it was remarkably similar to Nolan. Taverns stayed open late, drunks puked on the sidewalks, and if you were bold enough to wander down its darkest alleys, your odds of running into a mugger were about the same as finding a prostitute.

She had even shown him the city's black market for Enchanters, but Jenkins wasn't in the mood for that sort of excitement tonight. He felt on edge and just wanted to find a quiet place to kill some time.

Alexia always kept some local currency in her bedroom drawer for him to use whenever he visited. Neither of them ever fussed about money; Jenkins knew his friend was obscenely wealthy, and Alexia knew he was sitting on a massive treasure hoard near Bel Diran.

With money in his pocket, a tavern seemed like a fine place to pass the time. Of course, there was a certain art to choosing one. The establishments near the main thoroughfares were generally reputable and free of uncivilized or illicit characters—after all, even the patrolling constables might stop in for a pint off-duty. But if one was looking for smugglers, dealers in contraband, or a beautiful woman's company for a modest price, one needed not only luck but also the courage to venture into the city's deeper, darker corners.

With his feline companion in tow, Jenkins couldn't very well enter a place that reeked. He crunched through the snow for a while before finding a tavern still open for business, tucked away at the very end of a narrow alley off a commercial street called Singer Avenue.

The tavern's name was The Alarsa, a word that had no meaning in the modern vernacular and seemed like a random jumble of letters. Jenkins figured the owner had simply misspelled something and expected the interior to be just as crude. To his surprise, when he stepped inside, he found it decorated like a cozy forest cabin.

It felt surprisingly like coming home, and his spirits lifted slightly.

The tavern was nearly empty, but the lighting was warm and the temperature was pleasant. The prices, he guessed, were probably steep. This time, however, the famously frugal author didn't care about the cost. All he wanted was a refuge from the thoughts he was desperate to avoid.