"Sothing's not right."
Jenkins turned to look at the empty dining room, seeming to speak to himself, but he was actually addressing Magic Miss. She nodded in acknowledgnt, took a pinch of powder from her small pouch, and, as the three of them stood in silence by the table, cast it into the air.
The powder did nothing while airborne, but once it settled on the floor at her feet, several incomplete lines of blue phosphorescence appeared on the dining room's reflective tiles.
From his angle, Jenkins couldn't see the floor at her feet, but he saw the sudden, drastic change in Magic Miss's expression. She imdiately dropped all pretense of stealth, discarding the silencing charm and shouting at them:
"Run!"
But it was too late. A spiritual light traced the lines, flooding the entire dining room. Just monts before, Jenkins had seen nothing, but as the spirit now flowed through the patterns, he could clearly perceive the blue lines etched into the walls, floor, and ceiling.
The lines possessed a bizarre, orderly quality, forming dense, indecipherable symbols as they covered every surface. They all converged at the center of the dining table. Forgetting all etiquette, Jenkins ripped away the white tablecloth, revealing dried, blackish-red blood that ford a terrible symbol at the heart of the ritual's base array.
"Don't look."
He raised a hand to cover Miss Windsor's eyes. Magic Miss and Hooded Man, no longer bothering to hide, rushed over. Magic Miss was the first to decipher the symbol's aning:
"This is an ancient rune from the fish-n half-breed tribes of the 16th Epoch's southern continent. It signifies imprisonnt, torture, and invocation."
"Invocation?"
Jenkins asked, puzzled.
"To call upon sothing... unfriendly."
Magic Miss explained simply. All three of them then turned to look out the french doors. The sunset that had been there just monts ago was gone, and the sky was now shrouded in dark clouds.
"The outside is actually still the sa. What we see through the window now isn't the real world."
She explained.
"So we can't leave this place?"
Hooded Man asked.
"That's right. Until the ritual is broken, this place is essentially a temporarily sealed space."
Hearing this, Hooded Man grabbed a nearby chair with his left hand and hurled it at the glass. But upon impact, the wooden chair simply shattered, leaving the glass completely unscathed.
"What is going on?"
Jenkins demanded, turning to the only person still seated—Queen Isabella. The atmosphere in the dining room had turned ominous. A layer of gray washed over his vision. It wasn't fog in the room; the very color of the space had changed. If Jenkins had to describe it, it was as if a vibrant oil painting had faded to black and white.
He tried to reach forward but felt his movents beco stiff. A large shadow suddenly appeared at his feet, only to vanish again before he could strike.
He looked at the others in the room. Large, dark shadows were appearing at everyone's feet, accompanied by the foul stench of rotten eggs. In the corner, a strange, black shadow began to coalesce.
"May the Sage protect , and may the light of knowledge illuminate my path."
He whispered. The divine power he invoked caused him to emit a faint glow in the grayscale world. The light quickly dispersed the shadows and the thing forming in the corner, but it did nothing to dispel the oppressive, cold, and eerie atmosphere of the dining room.
Everything around them was shades of gray. Once he could move normally again, Jenkins pulled Miss Windsor close to Magic Miss and Hooded Man. The three of them ford a protective circle around the only ordinary person among them, while Magic Miss placed a hand on her shoulder.
"It's ."
She said softly, using her real voice. Miss Windsor started, then recognized the voice of the occult consultant she had hired.
"How are you here?"
Miss Windsor started to ask more, but Magic Miss gestured for her to be quiet.
"Don't tell this is another test to see if I'm an Enchanter."
Jenkins turned to face Queen Isabella. The shadows did not approach her, repelled by an accessory on her chest that glowed with a powerful green spiritual light.
"No, this is more than a test. In fact, while I have no proof, I was already quite certain you are an Enchanter."
Her expression was not one of panic, as if she couldn't see any of what was happening around her.
"The arrangents here were originally intended for a few days from now, after Jessica's 'blood exchange.' I was going to invite you to dine with alone. Then, I would die here, and you would be the only person present..."
Jenkins understood imdiately. They would have even blad the previous poisoning on him. With him out of the picture, Miss Windsor, who had been supporting his bid for the throne from the very beginning, would naturally beco the most viable heir.
"So why activate the ritual now? Miss Windsor is still here."
He pointed out. He noticed Miss Windsor was clutching his hand tightly, no doubt out of fear and tension. After all, she was just an ordinary person unaccustod to such bizarre events.
"I didn't activate it."
The old woman said in a low voice. She struggled to lift her head to look at Jenkins, and then, under the watchful eyes of the four of them, she coughed up a mouthful of blood, its color distorted by the grayscale space. The blood stained the portion of the tablecloth that hadn't been fully removed, and the Queen collapsed onto the table, her face plunging deep into a bowl of mashed potatoes.
Miss Windsor let out a choked cry and tried to rush forward to check on Queen Isabella, but Jenkins held her back.
Signaling for Magic Miss and Hooded Man to protect Miss Windsor, Jenkins moved along the side of the table toward the old woman. He made no sound as he walked, not because he was deliberately tiptoeing, but because this world had lost not only its color but also part of its sound.
"She's not dead."
He propped the old woman up to prevent her from suffocating in the mashed potatoes, felt for a pulse in her neck, then checked for breath. Finally, he placed his fingers on her forehead. Jenkins wasn't going to kill her, but he would make damn sure she received the punishnt she deserved. He certainly wouldn't allow her to just dump this ss in his lap.
"Seems like severe ntal damage... what's happening?"
"It's likely related to the ritual's activation. It seems she was the nexus for it, but since she didn't trigger it willingly, there was bound to be a backlash. Without that pendant on her chest, she probably wouldn't have even been able to finish her sentence."
The ritual-savvy Magic Miss explained, then made introductions.
"Mr. Williatte, this is Hooded Man, a friend of Mr. Candle."
"Hello. He just told about the situation. Thank you both for your help."
Jenkins nodded as a greeting.
"Hello, Viscount."
Hooded Man was rather reserved, clearly not recognizing his friend.
"So what do we do now? Will Mr. Candle get us out of here from the outside?"
Hooded Man asked again. He'd witnessed Mr. Candle's power during Hathaway's dice ga.
"We won't need to trouble him. I can handle it."
Jenkins said, gently laying Queen Isabella back down on the table before turning to face the others. He strode to the door, twisted the handle—which, of course, didn't turn—and then drew out the black iron key with its cylindrical teeth, which was already steeped in his spirit.
This was the Bestowal he had found thanks to a clue from Magic Miss. So far, its only known use was breaking seals.
With his back to the others, he pressed the key against the door and slowly turned it counterclockwise. Though it was moving through empty air, Jenkins felt a distinct resistance, as if the key in his hand was connected to an unseen, intricate chanical lock. The slight drag was real.
As he turned it, the four conscious people in the dining room heard a distinct click. With that sound, the ambient noise of the outside world—the footsteps of servants, the chirping of sumr cicadas—flooded back in.
The gray faded from their vision, revealing the colorful world hidden beneath. Jenkins put the key away, grasped the doorknob, and with a gentle turn, opened the door.
Hearing Magic Miss and Hooded Man let out a collective sigh of relief, Jenkins allowed a small smile to form on his face. But he imdiately activated his Eye of Reality, scanning the area for the Enchanter who had triggered the ritual. There was no one.
"He must be gone. There's been enough ti for him to get far away since the ritual was activated,"
Magic Miss said.
Jenkins nodded. This confird his suspicion: the Tree House had a spy planted very close to the Queen. Otherwise, there was no way they could have tid the activation of a pre-arranged ritual so perfectly.
"For the ti being, you and Silver Flute Miss need to protect Miss Windsor."
He whispered, then turned to the sowhat bewildered Hooded Man.
"Thank you for your help. Mr. Candle's friends are as reliable as they say."
He paused, wanting to tell them that Mr. Candle had already killed the Enchanter who'd been talking with the Queen in the carriage and had summoned the Orthodox Church to track down the Tree House, which ant they needed to leave as soon as possible.
But just then, a deafening roar rumbled from the distant city. The long dining table behind them began to vibrate violently, sending silver cutlery clattering to the floor. In that instant, they all realized it was an earthquake.
Jenkins was about to call for Magic Miss and Hooded Man to help him get Miss Windsor and Queen Isabella out of the house when Magic Miss shouted his na.
"Look!"
She pointed out through the french doors.
Jenkins, forcing himself to remain calm amidst the shaking ground, propped up Queen Isabella and lted the glass of the french doors with a burst of fla. The group hurried outside, and Jenkins motioned for the panicked servants to stay calm.
He handed the old woman over to a maid who had also run out of the house, then stood on the garden lawn with Hooded Man and Magic Miss, looking up at the sky.
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