"This is a disaster," she muttered. "The material was already rare, and now it's just... gone. Where am I supposed to find a replacent?"
Magic Miss muttered to herself, her voice laced with frustration. Hidden in a nearby thicket, Jenkins held his breath, pretending he hadn't seen or heard a thing.
"Miss Windsor only wants a ritual that simulates death. Surely you have other options?"
Silver Flute Miss inquired, her gaze still sweeping the surroundings.
"I do," Magic Miss replied, "but only the ritual requiring the Ghostwood would inflict the most exquisite suffering on the subject during their feigned death. The others are just a peaceful slumber."
Magic Miss said, clearly vexed.
"You still haven't let go of what happened last ti?"
"How could I forget? That woman sabotaged my plans! If it weren't for Mr. Candle's help, the Heart of the Ocean might have ended up in soone else's hands."
Magic Miss answered through gritted teeth, prompting a wry smile from Silver Flute Miss.
"To be fair, even if Miss Windsor hadn't intervened, I doubt you would have had an easy ti wrestling the Heart of the Ocean away from Femishue..."
"Regardless, she and I have a score to settle. Even though she's hired for now, that doesn't change a thing. But since the wood is gone, I'll let it go. The alternative will have to do. It's just a sha I can't teach her a little lesson."
Their voices faded as they spoke, walking away from the cetery. Jenkins, still concealed in the bushes, wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He made a ntal note: never, ever cross a petty woman.
Once he was certain Magic Miss and Silver Flute Miss weren't coming back, Jenkins peeled a small piece of bark from the tree trunk and tucked it into his pocket—a nto of the task completed. He then slipped away from the cetery in the opposite direction. To avoid any chance of bumping into them on his way back, he took a long, circuitous route toward the city.
He soon found himself on the verge of getting lost, deep within the thick ring of fog that shrouded the city's outskirts. The stars and moons were completely obscured, and every street looked identical. Unsure of which way to go, he pulled the cat curled up in his pocket and asked it to find the way ho.
But the mont the cat erged and took a breath while cradled in his palms, it let out a series of kittenish coughs, clearly choked by the strange odor in the air. It pawed at him with a soft, unthreatening ow before slipping through his fingers like liquid and burrowing back into his pocket.
"Alright then," Jenkins sighed. "I'll have a look myself."
He wasn't heading ho anyway, so he activated his Eye of Reality, scanning the area for supernatural auras as he walked. For so reason, tonight was different. Before he'd even gone two blocks, an unusual aura flared up from a three-story brick apartnt building that looked like it had seen better days.
Jenkins approached the building and stopped to observe. Through the thick night fog, he couldn't see any light in the street-facing windows. It was still early, only around eight o'clock. He hesitated for a mont before walking up to the entrance, intending to knock. It was then he noticed the door was barricaded with three long wooden planks. Judging by the weathered state of the wood, the place had been abandoned for a very long ti.
"Interesting," he mused. "An abandoned three-story apartnt on the city outskirts. Perfect material for a horror story."
He had no desire to break down the door in the dead of night. For one, it would be a hassle, and for another, it would be far too conspicuous. If a neighbor happened to step out or return ho and saw the entrance to the abandoned building gaping open, it might give them the fright of their lives.
He stepped back to get a better look at the building's structure, then patted the cat on his chest, signaling for it to hold on tight. He began to scale the steam pipes on the adjacent building, ascending to the second floor. From there, he took a running leap, grabbing hold of the windowsill on the abandoned apartnt. With a grunt of effort, he hauled himself up, reached through the glassless pane to undo the latch from the inside, then pushed the window open and slipped into the room.
The room was filled with a thick, musty odor, even more suffocating than the fog outside.
Jenkins covered his mouth, stifling the urge to cough. He waved a hand in front of his face, and the air cleared just enough for him to breathe a little easier.
The unusual aura was coming from the attic. He managed to push open the trapdoor, only to find that the ladder connecting the third floor to the loft was gone. Jenkins took a leap, his fingers catching the edge of the opening. He twisted, pulling himself up until he could hook one leg over the edge of the attic floor. With a final heave, he clambered the rest of the way up, letting out a breath of relief.
He summoned the miner's lamp from his [chanical Light] ability. Its shimring blue glow illuminated an easel at the far end of the attic, and upon it, a vividly colored oil painting.
It was a woman's portrait. She wore a headscarf and was seated in a white chair, seemingly on the second floor of this very house. A serene smile graced her lips, her hands were clasped in her lap, and her gaze was directed sowhere beyond the canvas.
The aura was emanating from this painting. It was faint, but definitely supernatural. Jenkins tentatively prodded the canvas with his cane. Nothing happened. He then cautiously touched the surface with a finger, but still, there was no reaction.
"I should take this painting down to the spot on the second floor where it was painted," he thought. "Perhaps I'll find sothing."
With that thought, he removed the canvas from the easel, rolled it up, and jumped back down to the third floor. Just then, another Enchanter appeared outside. The newcor paused at the front door for a mont before taking nearly the exact sa route as Jenkins: scaling the adjacent building to the second floor, swinging over to the window, and clambering nimbly inside.
Professor Burns had been wondering why the second-floor window was conveniently open. The mont he climbed through, he found his answer: a figure was standing in the doorway, watching him.
If he hadn't already been inside, the shock might have sent him tumbling back out the window. He took a mont to steady his nerves and then, finally, recognized the figure. It was Jenkins.
"Jenkins? What are you doing here? Oh, by the Sage... you gave quite a scare!"
The professor patted his chest and turned to shut the window. His movents had been even more agile than Jenkins's, who had been using [Cat's Grace]. He hadn't even managed to get a speck of dust from the sill on his clothes.
Jenkins hadn't visited the professor since returning to Nolan, mostly because the man was even busier than he was. It was June, the height of the sumr graduation season. Many of the professor's students were about to graduate, and between his university duties and church affairs, he was nearly impossible to track down.
"I... ca to take care of sothing," Jenkins stamred.
Unsure how to explain, Jenkins simply summoned his green Soul Emblem to identify himself while vaguely gesturing to the rolled-up oil painting in his hand to indicate his purpose.
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