The driver sheepishly ran a hand through his relatively tidy hair, then stooped to pull a thrice-folded newspaper from a large pocket in his patched coat.
"Of course, no problem."
Jenkins took the newspaper and saw a black-and-white photograph of a stout man waving in front of Nolan Station. It was Mr. Saks Luto, the current mayor of Nolan City.
"Mr. Clark hasn't shown up since the day the lockdown started," the driver explained. "So now us poor folk can't find anyone to read the news to us."
He explained, a little abashed.
Mr. Clark was a kind-hearted teacher who would read the paper to the drivers every day on his way to work.
Jenkins didn't reply, instead focusing on the short article accompanying the photograph.
"'Nolan-Pasadena Joint Railway Company Fundraising a Resounding Success! The mayor plans to build a brand new rail line directly to Bel Diran within three years. When complete, citizens will be able to reach the royal capital directly after a three-day, two-night journey...'"
"That's wonderful," the driver murmured. "Life is bound to get better."
After stepping out of the carriage, Jenkins walked for five minutes along a path of neat flagstones winding through the woods. As he rounded a bend, a hospital with white walls ca into view. The cross-shaped ornant atop the tallest building appeared to be the holy symbol of the Church of All Things and Nature.
The entire hospital was enclosed by an iron fence, its bars topped with sharp spikes. The guards at the double gates didn't let Jenkins in imdiately. After inquiring about the purpose of his visit, one of them hurried off toward the main building.
Holding the fruit basket, Jenkins waited for a mont, only to realize with a start that Chocolate was perched on his shoulder.
"You've been awfully quiet. When did you get up here?"
Jenkins curled a finger and scratched the kitten under its chin. It narrowed its eyes and let out a contented purr.
The person who ca out to greet Jenkins was Hathaway Hersha.
"It's been a while."
She offered the greeting in a low voice.
No, we just saw each other last night, Jenkins thought. And that thing you sold is a huge problem.
"Can I bring Chocolate inside?"
Jenkins asked politely, indicating the cat.
"Of course. Isn't it a very well-behaved cat?"
"No, I was thinking about hygiene... but never mind."
This wasn't that era anymore.
The hospital was quiet, its environnt far superior to that of Nolan Public Hospital No. 5. The corridor walls were painted a clean white, adorned with neatly arranged portraits from different eras.
Occasionally, ladies and gentlen would erge from the rooms, all dressed in somber, respectable attire. They walked with their chests out and heads held high, their faces betraying neither joy nor sorrow.
"Good afternoon, Baron Williatte."
She greeted him with a smile, putting a clear emphasis on the word "Baron."
"Please, don't call that. Papa Oliver told an honorary baron doesn't really count as nobility."
He responded sheepishly.
"But compared to ... never mind that. Congratulations, Jenkins. Still, according to proper social etiquette, one should bring a bouquet of flowers when visiting the sick, not fruit in an ugly basket. Though I must admit, you arranged it beautifully."
They chatted as they walked, but Hathaway steadfastly avoided his gaze.
"Miss Her—"
"Ahem."
"Hathaway," he corrected himself. "I'm allergic to flowers. Yes, a... spiritual allergy. I was going to bring so eggs and milk, but the old woman selling them said I was daft. The driver told that if I couldn't bring flowers, fruit would be fine."
"Eggs and milk?"
The red-haired girl covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. "I'm starting to believe you've never spent ti with any girls your age. Otherwise, you'd at least know so basic social etiquette."
They continued down the long corridor until Hathaway pushed open the wooden door nearest the staircase, and Jenkins walked straight inside.
"Good afternoon, Mikh—"
It was a storage room.
Hathaway closed the door behind him, and since there were no windows, the room was instantly plunged into darkness.
"What are you doing?"
he asked, a note of panic in his voice.
"We need to talk."
She bent down and pulled a brand-new oil lamp from behind a stack of broken hospital beds. With a few twists of the knob, it flickered to life. She'd clearly planned this.
"Thank you again for saving that night."
She stared into Jenkins's eyes as she spoke, her cheeks faintly flushed in the pale yellow glow of the lamp.
"You don't have to thank . You're my friend."
He set the fruit basket on the floor and sat on a chair with a broken back, cradling Chocolate in his arms.
"But I have to warn you, that friend of yours in the black robe is no saint. He's still on the wanted list."
"I know. But he's my friend, too."
They both fell silent. Jenkins, it seed, had a real talent for killing a conversation.
Hathaway's gaze drifted to the cat snuggling in Jenkins's arms. "You know," she added, "the Saint also appeared that night. And he has a cat, too—a pure black one. I heard it looks a lot like Chocolate."
"Is that so? Well, Chocolate isn't a particularly rare breed, so it wouldn't be surprising if they looked similar."
He chuckled.
"Jenkins, could you please be serious? This is important. You're really not suited to be an Enchanter. How could soone so... guileless handle the true darkness of this world? The Sage should just protect you, make sure you never have to et anyone truly evil."
She was bringing it up again, but Jenkins found it impossible to be serious. He was, after all, that very Saint.
"Thank you. But being an Enchanter is my honor."
Hathaway turned her head, her eyes fixing on a broken iron caster on one of the beds.
"If you're ever in danger, I'll co save you, too."
Jenkins was normally quite clueless when it ca to won, but the confined space seed to have stopped his emotional intelligence from completely abandoning him. He could sense the atmosphere in the room had shifted.
"Thanks."
Apparently, it wasn't a very strong lock.
Hathaway gave him an odd look, then sighed and pulled a crystal from her dress, tossing it to him.
"It's yours."
The crystal was exquisitely clear and could have fetched a good price as a work of art alone. At its very center, a small black fla flickered silently.
"It's the seed of the demonic fla left behind after you killed that fiend that night."
"Wait, weren't we together the whole ti? How did you manage to collect this?"
The crystal was warm in his hand, though he couldn't tell if it was the stone's own property or residual warmth from her body.
"Never mind how. The point is, it's yours. I don't take what isn't mine."
In fact, when Jenkins had dealt with the first fiend behind the church, it had also dropped a black fla. But no one had paid it any attention at the ti, and he had no idea who might have ended up with it. Perhaps soone from the Church had collected it.
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