Chapter 70: Chapter 70

After a wickedly long pause, Jenkins chuckled. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs N0velFire.ɴet

"But luckily, the stalker at his bedside didn't touch Mr. Hardy. As the sound of her footsteps—thump, thump, thump—faded into the distance, the petrified Mr. Hardy was certain she was gone.

He summoned what little courage he had left, squeezed his eyes shut, and turned his face away from the space beneath the bed. But the instant he opened them again, a chilling realization struck him. He had made a terrible mistake."

A brief silence followed.

"Ghastly white eyes bored into his. The woman was hanging upside down."

A terrifying silence descended upon the living room. Even though Miss Hersha had retracted her ability, a palpable sense of dread still hung in the air.

"But there's one more question."

Jenkins added, much to everyone's surprise:

"If poor Mr. Hardy is dead... then who told me the end of his story?"

The orange-yellow earring was, of course, his. No one could argue that his tale wasn't the most "brilliant" horror story of the night. The gathering broke up rather hastily after he finished, leaving Jenkins to wonder if these young nobles were simply too faint of heart.

Some of the girls still hadn't shaken off the eerie terror even as they were leaving. Several invited Jenkins to escort them home, hoping his presence would soothe their frayed nerves, but he declined.

"They have their own guards and servants."

That was Jenkins's reasoning.

"The August nights in Nolan are already growing a bit chilly."

As the guests were leaving the apartment and bidding each other farewell, Jenkins mused aloud, and the smiles on everyone's faces froze solid.

The host of the party was young Wellington himself, and as was proper, he stood outside the door to see his guests off.

Just as the last of the carriages departed, an elegant black-and-white kitten emerged from the shadows. It first shot a hostile meow at young Wellington, arching its back, before darting after Jenkins's carriage as it vanished into the night.

Dismissing his servants to tidy up, young Wellington remained alone on the empty street. He bent at the waist, offering a respectful bow to the departing kitten. When he straightened, his eyes flickered with black flames, his thoughts impossible to discern.

The words were not spoken in the common tongue of the Kingdom.

"You have a cruel streak."

Miss Mikhail said, teasing Jenkins with a laugh as they rode in the carriage.

Since it was late at night, a man riding with two young ladies could easily invite gossip, so a uniformed maid sat beside Jenkins to act as a chaperone.

The carriage rattled along a dimly lit avenue toward Maidenhaven Road; the ladies were dropping Jenkins home first.

"Some people are just insufferable. A little lesson now and then does no harm."

"But my friends were all scared."

"I do apologize for that. Should I write letters of apology to the young ladies?"

Miss Mikhail raised her eyebrows.

"An apology isn't necessary. But why did you refuse when they asked you to escort them home? That's not very gentlemanly."

"Don't they have their own guards? Besides, it's so late. People would talk."

Jenkins replied, voicing his honest thoughts.

"Is that really what you think?"

Miss Mikhail asked, a smile playing on her lips, but Jenkins sensed an underlying meaning in her words.

An expression of pity immediately appeared on Miss Mikhail's face.

"That Mr. Wellington, does he have some sort of conflict with me?"

He asked, surprisingly direct.

Miss Mikhail shook her head, an apologetic look on her face.

"Everyone has their friends and their rivals. Daniel Wellington, for all his handsome looks and prestigious family, is no exception. There will always be those who take a dislike to him."

Jenkins nodded knowingly. It was an old story.

"I didn't expect him to pull such petty tricks in front of so many friends. I'm truly sorry."

In a gap in their conversation, a trembling female voice suddenly spoke up.

"Mr. Williams, excuse me, but was that story you just told... real?"

It was Miss Hersha, who had been silent since they'd entered the carriage. She asked the question in a soft voice, and Jenkins couldn't quite tell if she was acting or if she was genuinely terrified.

"It's fake, I swear to the Goddess it's fake!"

He wasn't so cruel as to terrify a young woman he knew for no reason.

"Hathaway is very timid."

Miss Mikhail affectionately ran her fingers through her companion's long red hair, prompting a sharp cough from the maid beside Jenkins.

"It's alright. I don't think Mr. Williams is such an old-fashioned person."

She chuckled lightly, while Jenkins turned his head to look at the dim street outside the carriage, offering no comment.

Covering her mouth with her hand, she laughed again and continued, "Hathaway gets frightened by even the oldest tales of devils and demons. That's just the way she is."

Jenkins heard the familiar word again. He searched the original owner's memories and recalled the myriad strange tales that circulated in this world, many of which involved demons. Much like the world he'd left behind, this one held the common wisdom that one should never, under any circumstances, make a pact with a demon or a devil. Countless bedtime stories served as cautionary tales.

For instance, there was the one about the brave young man during a famine who, to save his younger siblings, sought out a demon and sold his soul in exchange for their lifelong happiness. The outcome, naturally, was...

He froze for a moment, his train of thought completely derailed. He gazed out at the streetscape, where the city had fallen into a deep slumber. Suddenly, Jenkins spoke.

"Please let me out here. I'd like to take a walk. It's been a long time since I've seen Nolan at night."

"But we're still quite a ways from Maidenhaven Road..."

Jenkins shook his head. He narrowed his eyes, his right hand tightening around the Spirit Striking Cane.

Since Jenkins was insistent, Miss Mikhail could only agree. The maid instructed the coachman to stop at once, and Jenkins nodded to the two young noblewomen as he prepared to alight.

"Mr. Williams, thank you so much for attending our gathering."

Miss Mikhail said to him.

"Then I hope we'll have another chance to discuss literature. Your perspective on tragicomedy is quite unique."

"I would be honored. Miss Mikhail, Miss Hersha, tonight's gathering was very interesting. Thank you for the invitation. Farewell."

Jenkins tipped his hat and gave the two young ladies a bow. He then watched as the carriage set off, its creaking wheels a final sound before it vanished into the darkness.

The August nights in Nolan were indeed a bit chilly.