Chapter 71: Chapter 71
The evening wind swept across the ground, blowing a discarded newspaper into a corner by the wall. A faint commotion echoed from the distance, sounding like a drunkard causing trouble.
"Come out. I can see you."
Jenkins called out into the darkness.
Ever since returning from the castle, he'd had the nagging feeling of being followed. The very essence of spirit was to bring an Enchanter closer to the world and the world closer to them. As their level rose and their spirit accumulated, an Enchanter’s sixth sense would grow ever sharper.
A moment ago in the carriage, that nagging suspicion had intensified to an unbearable degree. He didn’t want to drag the two young women into this, even if one of them might prove a capable ally, which was why he’d asked to be let out.
He stood silently on the street, gripping his red cane.
A moment later, a tall figure emerged from a nearby alley.
He wore a black, high-collared overcoat, the collar turned up so high it nearly covered his ears. His face was concealed by a heavily smeared mask, its original design completely obscured.
"Ten light specks, two bubbles... a level-six Enchanter? Do I really warrant this kind of attention?"
The man remained silent, his mask shimmering with an eerie luster under the twin red and blue moons.
Jenkins didn’t dare make the first move. He wasn’t carrying much—just a few talismans he’d made over the past few days, and most of those were designed for dealing with spiritual entities.
"If I'd known, I would've asked Pops for a gun."
He was already regretting his lack of preparation when the man across from him suddenly moved.
He removed the black top hat from his head, grasped the brim with both hands, and with a deft flick, a mirror as tall as a man materialized before Jenkins.
The mirror blocked most of Jenkins's vision, reflecting his own tense expression and the cane in his hand.
He froze. The smooth surface of the mirror suddenly dimmed as if coated in dust. His reflection vanished, and a ghastly pale hand stretched out from inside the glass.
Jenkins swung the cane in his left hand. *Whoosh!* The cane cut through the air and struck the reaching hand.
"It didn't work! It's not a spiritual entity!"
He backed away quickly, but the strange, faceless humanoid that had emerged from the mirror accelerated, closing the distance.
He clenched his right fist, pulling his arm back as he channeled spirit into it. He thrust it forward. Frost Punch!
The air temperature seemed to drop several degrees. With a solid thud, his fist, wreathed in an icy aura, slammed into the ghastly white figure.
The impact felt soft, like striking a pudding at afternoon tea.
The humanoid flew backward as frost spread rapidly from the point of contact. It hit the ground, trembled for a moment, then shattered into pieces before dissolving into a black, viscous sludge that seeped into the shadows.
"Am I really that strong?"
Jenkins could hardly believe the power of his own punch. He took a few steps back, scanning his surroundings warily, but found that everything seemed like a dream.
The mirror was gone. The man was gone. He was alone again on the quiet street, under the twin moons.
The sudden attack had ended as bizarrely as it began. He stood stunned on the street for a moment, until another carriage with a kerosene lamp hurried past. Its driver gave him a curious glance, which finally snapped Jenkins back to his senses.
He frowned, scanned the area one last time, then shook his head and began walking home, staying close to the edge of the street.
The rest of the way was uneventful. Just as he reached the tidy intersection of Maidenhaven Road, he spotted a conspicuous cardboard box placed next to a steam valve, sitting directly in the bright moonlight.
"Meow~ Meow~" ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel⦿fire.net
A soft, kittenish mewling came from the box. Jenkins hesitated by the roadside for a moment, then pulled a small metal talisman from an inner pocket of his black suit and tossed it toward the box.
The soul-soothing talisman landed smoothly inside the box. He waited for a moment, but nothing unusual happened.
Only then did Jenkins walk over to the shabby cardboard box. Inside, on a careless pile of old, mud-stained clothes, lay a tiny black-and-white kitten. It stared up at him, trembling pitifully.
It let out a weak mewl and tried to stand, but after a few wobbles, it collapsed back onto the clothes and curled into a tiny ball of fur.
"My family doesn't allow pets."
Jenkins told the kitten helplessly, then immediately felt foolish for talking to it.
The kitten made a sound like a whimper, its tiny body trembling.
Jenkins reached down and lifted it out of the box. The kitten must have been famished, because it only gave his hand a few weak scratches, putting up no real resistance.
"I'm going to hide you in my coat. You have to be quiet, and I'll get you some milk, alright?"
He whispered, looking up toward his house, and so he missed the kitten starting to nod before it caught itself and hastily stopped.
Jenkins had never owned a pet in either of his two lives, because in both, he’d been dirt poor. Relying on the feline dietary knowledge he’d gleaned from cartoons about a cat and mouse, he greeted Mary and Robert before carrying two glasses of warm milk back to his room.
The kitten, it turned out, did drink milk. It was surprisingly well-behaved, hopping onto his desk instead of his bed. It glanced around curiously as it began to gently lap up the milky liquid.
Seeing the kitten so docile, Jenkins felt relieved. He considered his options. He definitely couldn't keep a cat at home, but he didn't think Pops had any pets. Taking it there would be a good idea; it could catch mice in the warehouse out back.
He pulled a cardboard box from under his bed, tore off a few pieces of brown paper used for book covers, folded them into a makeshift saucer, and poured the milk into it for the kitten. With the little creature occupied, Jenkins took the earring from his pocket.
Chained abilities, while demanding, were incredibly powerful and thus wouldn't come cheap. If he wanted to trade with Miss Bailing, he first had to figure out what this thing actually did.
Jenkins activated his Eye of Reality, slowly channeling his spirit into the object in his hand. Nothing happened.
He glanced over at the kitten, which was intently lapping up the milk. There was no aura around it either.
"I'm just being paranoid."
He shook his head with a smile. It seemed this was another item he couldn't identify. Feeling the day's exhaustion, Jenkins hid the earring under his bed with his other things. He then fetched a clean towel and, ignoring the kitten’s protests, gave it a thorough wipe-down. After making a small nest for it in the cardboard box, he finally climbed into bed and fell asleep.
Another peaceful night settled in. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating Jenkins’s furrowed brow as he slept.
In the small mirror hanging by his desk, the reflection of a young woman with a bloody head suddenly appeared. She reached out, her fingers gripping the edge of the glass as she tried to pull herself out. But the kitten, which had appeared on the desk at some unknown moment, swatted at the image with a single paw, and the woman dissolved into a wisp of smoke.