Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 989

The future B-07-1-6233 had shown Jenkins was certainly fascinating. Unfortunately, he was completely oblivious to its meaning; otherwise, he might have been able to discern some clues from the hymn the girl had sung.

Upon waking again, the writer finally lost the battle with his stomach and threw up. Even for a god, the foul odor of breakfast mixed with stomach acid was unavoidable. This caused a minor commotion, and the event's host, Baron Tarak, finally noticed the disturbance. Deeply concerned, he offered to fetch a doctor for Jenkins, but was once again refused.

Just then, the old painter, Grant, returned from fetching a carriage, but he had to squeeze through the crowd to reach Jenkins. With the baron and the old painter coordinating, Jenkins was helped into the carriage. Grant and Baron Tarak climbed in as well to see him off. They headed straight for Pops Antique Shop, where Jenkins's wretched state gave Papa Oliver quite a shock.

Fortunately, the effects of B-07-1-6233 seemed to have finally ended. The drowsiness that had plagued him didn't return after he last awoke. By the time they arrived at the antique shop, even the nausea had subsided, leaving only a throbbing headache to torment him.

Papa Oliver assured the painter and the baron that he would take care of Jenkins from here. As soon as they departed, he whisked Jenkins away to the church. A series of examinations lasted all the way until noon. Jenkins, weak, was lying in bed when he saw Miss Bevanna enter the room, followed by nuns pushing a food trolley.

"What did you eat for breakfast? The test results show you're perfectly healthy. The vomiting was likely a case of acute gastroenteritis, but your body has already healed itself naturally."

She inquired gently, then gestured for the nuns to serve his lunch.

"I ate some fried eggs from the day before yesterday, drank some water that was boiled last week, had a bit of leftover meat porridge from last night, and ate a raw, sprouted potato."

Jenkins muttered, when in reality, he had eaten a breakfast he'd simply drawn into existence.

Miss Bevanna cautioned, looking torn between exasperation and amusement.

Since there were no serious issues, a little rest was all he needed. Papa Oliver stopped by to check on Jenkins, and after a brief chat, he headed back to the antique shop alone. Jenkins planned to stay through lunch, a decision cemented when Bishop Parrold walked in just after Miss Bevanna had left and ordered him to stay in bed without moving.

Had Jenkins not vehemently refused, the bishop would have even arranged for someone to feed him. It was a humiliating prospect. Jenkins loudly protested and swore to the Legacy Sage that he was perfectly fine, finally earning the privilege of holding his own meal tray and eating by himself in bed.

His decision not to speak about the incident was the result of careful deliberation. As he ate, Jenkins found himself thinking that the future he had witnessed actually seemed quite appealing. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs Nove1Fire.net

After lunch, he chatted with the bishop for a while. Ever since Jenkins had "over-treated" him, the bishop's hair had even shown signs of returning to its original black. For the past few years, the bishop had gradually ceased his monthly trips to the countryside, but this year he had begun accompanying the missionary group twice a month.

They discussed the aftermath of the incident at the opera house last week, and Jenkins cautiously inquired about the Church's position on the impending war.

"No one likes war, save for those who profit directly from it," the bishop explained. "The Inherited Sage Church does not support a full-scale conflict. However, the Twelve Orthodox Churches have decided not to interfere with the Fidektri Kingdom's retaliation against Cheslan, unless it shows signs of escalating into an all-out war."

War was truly on the horizon. That morning's newspapers reported that the great powers in Bel Diran were holding meetings, while major publications in the Kingdom of Cheslan had printed defiant responses.

Although the affair was indeed Duke Antak's fault, the Kingdom of Cheslan was certainly not foolish enough to simply back down. The animosity between the two nations was now seeping into every sphere, while the Hamparvo Kingdom, a mere spectator, had yet to issue an official statement.

The conversation shifted from the political climate to the matter of espionage. The bishop noted that during the undead assault last week, an unknown group had managed to infiltrate City Hall and steal several documents. Based on the evidence left behind, the intruders were ordinary people. This baffled the Church; aside from Duke Antak's personal guard, who were protecting the clock tower, who else possessed a way to shield normal humans from the effects of A-06-1-6269, "Goodnight, My Child"?

Jenkins pretended not to hear a thing. It seemed Dolores's people had been busy with more than he'd realized. But of course, that had nothing to do with a certain writer who had been peacefully sequestered in the Evergreen Forest the entire time.

He didn't return to the antique shop until around two o'clock, where Papa Oliver greeted him with a bit of gentle ribbing about causing a scene over a simple stomachache. Jenkins couldn't argue, muttering under his breath about how Chocolate hadn't gotten sick from the same food. Papa Oliver, overhearing, offered an explanation:

"That cat of yours can eat just about anything," he said. "Haven't you noticed? Chocolate has eaten plenty of things no ordinary cat should."

That, too, was impossible to deny.

That evening, the old painter stopped by the antique shop with a gift of fruit to check on Jenkins. He truly regarded Jenkins as a friend, and his tone was much more relaxed.

"I suspect those dreadful reporters managed to snap a picture of you looking ill today," Grant said. "There will likely be some unpleasant stories in tomorrow's papers, Jenkins. I think you ought to be prepared."

Jenkins had already considered that possibility, but he wasn't worried. The bishop would handle any problems that arose.

The painter left after his visit, and he was followed by Baron Tarak, who had come to deliver something for Jenkins. Papa Oliver was quite interested in the sculpture Jenkins had asked for—one carved from thousand-year-old, lightning-struck peach wood. When he learned that Jenkins was searching for a thousand-year-old wood heart for an experiment, he chuckled and said:

"Haven't you realized? Your cane is carved from a single piece of wood heart."

"What? You mean this one?"

Jenkins pointed to the cane leaning against the coat rack—his Spirit Striking Cane.

"Yes, that's the one."

"I don't know what you need a wood heart for, but I must warn you. While Series B items are nearly indestructible, a consumptive experiment could damage its Extraordinary properties. I'll keep an eye out for any thousand-year-old wood hearts that come on the market, so it would be best if you didn't experiment on that cane."

Papa Oliver had a point. The next full moon was still some time away, so Jenkins was in no rush to prepare the elven potion. When he returned home that evening, he extracted the wood heart from the sculpture and stored it in the basement alongside the piece he had acquired from Miss Silver Flute.

He spent the rest of the evening reading and planning his new book. Aside from a small incident where Chocolate knocked over an inkwell during a bout of play and stained half the desk, it was a truly peaceful night.