"Don't worry, your master is safe. He's simply encountering this knowledge for the first ti. Those phrases will make him aware of the existence of the Dominators, but it will leave no lingering issues, nor will he glimpse any great entities. His soul is quite strong—it's not a burden for him."
Miss Audrey reached out to pet Chocolate, but the kitten dodged away.
"ow~"
She remained hostile, but Miss Audrey seed unperturbed. She picked up Jenkins's pen and paper from the table, jotted down her address, and offered the adorable cat a small smile. Then, she put the white mask back on her face, restoring the disguise she'd worn upon entering, and walked straight out the door.
When Jenkins awoke, the first thing he did was glance at the pocket watch he'd set aside. Only ten minutes had passed.
Miss Audrey was gone. Chocolate stood anxiously by his head, and upon seeing him open his eyes, she owed softly and nudged his arm with her soft face.
"You're the only one who's good to . The prettier a woman is, the more..."
He sat up as he spoke and picked up the note from the table, committing the address to mory.
"Dominators of the Mysterious Realms? That's exactly what the conductor in the realm said... But why do I have this feeling that the Dominators are grander than even the Righteous Gods? Seventeen Dominators, seventeen kinds of Sin Coins, seventeen bygone Epochs... If Pseudo-Gods correspond to the heavens and Righteous Gods to the months, do the Dominators correspond to the Epochs? If so, what is the great cataclysm at the end of each Epoch? Is it connected to them?"
Jenkins felt he was on the verge of uncovering one of the world's greatest secrets. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how intricate and airtight its rules were. Yet, the deeper he tried to probe for the truth, the more he sensed a profound, unsettling strangeness lurking just beneath the surface.
Summoning his enchanted candle, he burned the note to ash. Jenkins sighed. It was clear Miss Audrey was confident he would co looking for her again.
Before lunch, Jenkins worked on his book for a while and did little else. The brief blackout had left no lasting effects, but he made a ntal note to investigate this arcane language when he had the chance.
Now that he had the [Psychography] ability, writing his book should have been much easier. To his dismay, however, Jenkins discovered that he simply couldn't brainstorm the plot unless he had a pen in hand. In other words, he was too accustod to the physical act of writing, and his hopes of speeding up the process went up in smoke.
He took a short nap after lunch, then hailed a carriage and went to the church with Chocolate.
The streets were quiet on this autumn afternoon. Judging by the clothes people were wearing, the city's residents were already feeling the season's chill. Aside from children playing in the alleys, hardly anyone was still dressed in light sumr clothes. Even the poorest families had dug out their thick, heavily patched winter garnts from the bottoms of their chests.
For families like these, after all, falling ill was a far more terrifying prospect than the cold itself.
The autumn heating season was about to begin, and the smog hanging over the city was growing thicker. The air was always cleanest in the sumr, but this year's clearest days were now a thing of the past.
He walked through the main gates, quietly greeting the guards he knew and the priests who passed by. Then he found a seat on a bench in the back row of the sermon hall, joining the other worshippers to listen to the priest at the pulpit. ℞Ά₦ȱβЕ𝘴
After a few minutes, Jenkins felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Bishop Parrold, who shook his head slightly, motioning for him to stay seated. The bishop then sat down beside him, and they listened to the sermon together.
As the sermon drew to a close, the two of them quietly slipped out of the hall. They passed through a corridor and into the rear courtyard, and only then did Chocolate, who had been perfectly silent, begin to ow.
"That was a remarkable sermon."
Jenkins was the first to speak, and he ant it. The young priest was remarkably eloquent, and he had chosen one of the church's oldest legends as his the. A good story was always more captivating than dry doctrine.
"Indeed. The young people today are quite impressive," the bishop agreed. "I have sothing to discuss with you."
Before Jenkins could ask about the donation, the bishop launched right into the matter at hand.
"Please, go on."
Jenkins set Chocolate down, letting her scamper about the courtyard. A few passing nuns spotted her and cooed, beckoning the kitten over.
Just as they had before, the two n walked as they talked. The bishop gestured towards the library in the distance.
"Jenkins, first, let's discuss your education. By my count, it's been nearly two months since you joined us, and it's ti for you to begin your supplentary studies—etiquette, horsemanship, geography, and the like. You're our only new recruit for the second half of the year, so there won't be a formal class. Instead, we were planning to arrange for so private tutors. They are all trustworthy, naturally, and devout believers. What are your thoughts on this?"
"That sounds excellent."
It wasn't an offer he would refuse. His grammar and arithtic were passable, but in other areas, he was likely—no, *definitely*—still lagging behind his younger brother, John.
"The lessons should start next month; Papa Oliver will inform you of the details. These subjects may seem mundane, but they are all crucial. The church places great importance on you, Jenkins. To bear greater responsibility, you must develop greater ability... But I'm sure you understand all this without having to say it."
"Yes, sir. I intend to make a habit of lifelong learning. One is never too old to learn, after all."
He gave a serious nod, though privately he was just wondering if the lessons would be any fun.
"That's an attitude I very much appreciate."
The old man bead, clearly pleased, and led Jenkins toward another sprawling building across the courtyard.
"The second matter. A local publisher, a Mr. Buro, contacted us. I took the ti to speak with him, and he inford that so foreign booksellers wish to publish your book abroad. I think this is an excellent thing. Not only for you, but for the church as well."
"That is good news. Though, I imagine my book would be subject to strict censorship in other countries, just as foreign books are here."
"That will not be a problem."
As they started up a staircase, a young man coming down saw the bishop and quickly moved aside to let them pass.
"The church will take care of the matter. Now, co with ."
Instead of continuing up, they entered a large room on the second floor through a rear door. It resembled a tiered lecture hall. At the front, a burly, middle-aged man stood before a blackboard, speaking in a loud voice to the students seated before him.
After listening for a mont, Jenkins realized the man was teaching basic grammar. Progress seed slow, however, judging by the blank expressions on most of the students' faces.
The two of them stepped back out of the classroom and resud their conversation.
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