Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 978

Once the girl had secured the money, Jenkins added:

“Alright, you hold on to that. And remember, don't let anyone know you have so much. If your family isn't kind to you, don't tell them either. You can hide it in a little jar, bury it somewhere out of the way... that should be simple enough for you.”

He rambled on, offering a stream of advice that seemed quite out of place for a man of his standing, before finally leaving the alley with a smile.

The young flower seller remained shrouded in the building's shadow. She lowered her head to look at the neat stack of bills in her basket, and for some reason, suddenly felt the urge to cry.

Having done something so satisfying, Jenkins felt a premonition that the rest of his day would be a lucky one. He was well aware that his recent act stemmed from a sort of psychological compulsion, but it wasn't a malicious one. It did no harm to anyone, aside from his own wallet. Jenkins was happy to indulge it, taking this feeling as a sign of the good fortune to come.

Behind the Byron Gallery was a courtyard for deliveries. Jenkins took a nearby alley and slipped in through the back gate. A horse-drawn carriage, laden with goods, had already entered through the main gate next to the gallery. As Jenkins approached with his cat and the flower he'd bought, the driver was in conversation with the elderly gentleman who had purchased the shipment.

The inspection of the goods followed. Since Papa Oliver was no swindler and Baron Tarak was no cheat, everything went off without a hitch. A total of six porcelain vases, three old paintings, two sets of antique tables and chairs, and an old statue of unknown origin were quickly carried inside the gallery. Once the final payment was settled and the receipt handed over, Jenkins prepared to depart.

“Oh, excuse me, could you wait just a moment?”

Baron Tarak asked. Jenkins paused, taken aback for a second. Seeing the earnest look on the old gentleman's face, he decided against getting up from the sofa. He simply nodded and went back to folding the receipt.

the old man inquired politely, apparently having finally discovered Jenkins's identity.

“Everyone in the kingdom knows of your impending promotion. Your contributions during the Fabry fraud were irreplaceable.”

Although he also held a title, the old gentleman was only a baron—and the kind without political influence or large factories to his name.

Such a title didn't carry much weight; it was likely just an inherited formality. He was only a small step above the fallen gentry who secretly collected monthly stipends from city hall. Thus, his polite, almost deferential, attitude toward Jenkins was perfectly understandable. Jenkins held value in both secular and religious circles. Furthermore, rumor had it that the convalescing Queen had taken a great liking to the young author's work, having her servants read her passages from his "Stranger's Story Collection" or "The Snow Queen's Tale" daily.

“The Fabry fraud? Oh, that was nothing, really. It was the Sage who granted me wisdom. Now, was there something I can help you with? I have to get back to the antique shop to polish the floors soon... And please, keep my place of work a secret. You understand, it would bring me some unwanted attention.”

Jenkins affected a troubled look, and the old gentleman immediately responded with an understanding expression. He hesitated for a moment, then said slowly:

“This is rather forward of me, and it's quite a last-minute thought, so I hope I'm not bothering you... Tomorrow is the first day of the exhibition. I've invited a number of notable guests for a private opening ceremony, but I find myself still lacking a true guest of honor... I was wondering if you might be available?”

Jenkins murmured. He actually already had tickets, a gift from the old painter, Grant, who was planning to exhibit the illustrations he had created for Jenkins's "Stranger's Story Collection."

But Jenkins hadn't planned on wasting several hours of his weekend here. He was incredibly busy with his recent "advancement" to the fourth level, and Papa Oliver was piling on an extraordinary amount of academic pressure.

He was about to refuse and was just trying to formulate a polite excuse when the old man slid a long, narrow sheet across the table. It was parchment, a material seldom seen nowadays.

“I realize my request is highly unorthodox, but your attendance would bring a unique distinction to the exhibition. This is a list from my private collection. Please, choose any two items as a token of my gratitude. I think you'll find it... compelling.”

Jenkins hesitated for only a second before taking the sheet. Judging by the size and flourishing strokes of the letters, the list appeared to have been written with a quill. It wasn't long, describing just twenty-three items in total. Jenkins's eyes were immediately drawn to the very last line.

“Excuse me, what is this... ‘thousand-year-old lightning-struck peach wood’?”

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if the old man across from him hailed from the same homeland as he did.

“Ah, that's quite a special piece. Five years ago, I was visiting an old friend in a country village. There were no carriages, so I had to hike through the woods to get to the nearest town. As I was passing through a peach grove, a sudden downpour started. I was with two locals, and we took shelter under the largest tree in the grove—I have never, in all my life, seen a peach tree so immense.”

After saying this, he shook his head:

“Perhaps our presence brought it bad luck, because soon after, a bolt of lightning struck it directly. Miraculously, we were unharmed. When the storm passed, I contacted the owner of the land, bought the tree, and had a master woodcarver turn it into a large statue. I believe it brings me good fortune.”

Jenkins nodded. If it had been carved into a statue, that meant the heartwood must have been intact, not rotted or hollowed out. The piece didn't seem nearly as valuable as the other items on the list, but it happened to be exactly what he was looking for.

He paused, pretending to scan the list one more time. After a long moment, he let out a soft sigh and set the parchment down.

“When do you need me there?”

“The opening ceremony is at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, and it should last no more than half an hour. It's a short affair, but I am certain your presence will make it a much more brilliant event. All you would need to do is prepare a brief speech on the value of art, perhaps sharing a few of your thoughts on oil painting.”

A smile spread across the old gentleman's face.

“I suppose that will be fine.”

Jenkins nodded, took a fountain pen from his pocket, and made a checkmark next to an item near the top of the list: “Sterling Silver Noble Crest of the Corant Family, Hicali Empire Era.” After a long moment of hesitation, he added another checkmark next to the very last item.

“I hope this brings me some luck as well,”