Jenkins's fake address at the black market bar was actually known to quite a few people. To account for the occasional letter, he made a point of checking his mail every so often. This ti, in addition to a letter from the Hooded Man, he had indeed received others.
A letter had arrived from the musicians of the Music Sect, addressed to the leader of the Believers of Lies. They were delighted to inform him that they, along with the allies they had recently won over, had found even more friends interested in supporting the Believers of Lies and fighting for a place for the pseudo-god cults.
Jenkins was quite pleased himself. Without lifting a finger, soone else had handled such a troubleso matter for him. Still, a small voice in the back of his mind wondered if this didn't smack of freeloading.
"I'm rely using the power of lies," he reasoned. "Besides, I won't let anyone get the short end of the stick. At worst, I'll use my identity as Jenkins to drop a hint to Miss Stevel and the Church. I'll tempt the sects willing to help the cause of Lies with the promise of 'greater freedom to proselytize,' inducing them to turn on us at the very end. That way, the Believers of Lies, which I represent, can suffer a more natural defeat, and everyone else will get what they want. In a true sense, it would be an outco with no losers."
As the thought crossed his mind, a smile unconsciously touched his lips, and he felt a flicker of pride in his ingenious plan.
Because things had gone so smoothly, he arrived at the church with more than half an hour to spare before dinner. Jenkins didn't waste the ti. He sought out Bishop Parrold to once again discuss his bid for the throne, explaining the preparations he could currently muster.
Their conversation didn't last long, however. A nun hurried in and called the bishop away. The bishop was anything but idle; he was even busier than Jenkins.
Captain Bincy wasn't at the church, and it was Miss Bevanna's turn for the night watch at the black tal tower, so she wasn't around either. Unable to find any other acquaintances, Jenkins decided to look for Fini and ask how she'd been, just to pass the remaining ti before the evening al.
To his surprise, Fini wasn't at the church either. Upon asking, he learned that the little girl had taken her allowance and requested to go out just a few dozen minutes earlier—right when Jenkins had been in the bishop's office.
The children in the choir were generally not allowed to wander off on their own, but Fini was one of the older ones and had been accustod to running about the streets. Coupled with her promise to be back in twenty minutes, the nun matron had allowed her to go, telling her to be quick.
"Fini went to the bakery two streets over to buy so sweets," the old nun lanted to Jenkins. "Young girls these days, they certainly have a sweet tooth."
With nothing else to do, Jenkins, accompanied by his cat—who was visibly thrilled at the ntion of a "sweet shop"—went to find Fini. Just as he arrived, he saw her walking out of the bakery, clutching a very large paper bag.
She wore a simple, sowhat grayish dress, her hair tied back and covered with a square scarf. Dressed like that, she looked more like an old woman from the countryside coming into the city.
Jenkins walked over to et her and took the paper bag. Fini looked up and saw him and the cat.
"Good afternoon, sir!" she said imdiately. "There's a small cake in here for Chocolate."
As soon as he heard the "permission," Chocolate shot forward along Jenkins's outstretched arm, ready to pounce excitedly on the large paper bag at the end of it. But he was caught even more swiftly by Jenkins's other hand, which nabbed him by the scruff of the neck. The cat let out a "piteous" wail as his four little paws flailed wildly in the air.
Although Chocolate was black and white, the fur on his four little paws was pure white. As Jenkins held him, the writer could see from the side the white fluff on his paws and the tender pink of his pads. He was certain his cat was the kind that could get by on looks alone.
"Why did you buy so much bread?" Jenkins asked, holding the bag.
"It's sumr now. If you buy this much, it'll spoil if you leave it out for too long. Do you need to make you so ice? And you can't always be eating sweets like this; it's terrible for your teeth."
Jenkins nagged, though these were words he really wanted to say to Chocolate. He just wasn't sure if that cunning cat couldn't understand or was rely pretending not to.
He turned, intending to walk back to the church with Fini, but as he took a step, he realized she hadn't followed. Turning back, he saw her standing with her hands behind her back, head lowered, kicking at a small stone on the road. She looked like she wanted to say sothing but couldn't bring herself to.
"What is it? You didn't co out just to buy bread, did you? Besides, you can't possibly eat all this by yourself," Jenkins said with a smile.
Fini lifted her head and looked at him, a little embarrassed. Her hands fidgeted together, betraying her inner turmoil.
"You're right, sir. I lied to the nun matron."
"Lying is not a good thing," the current God of Lies declared righteously.
"Children shouldn't lie so easily. Lying is wrong, you must rember that. So, if you want to go out by yourself next ti, you can write a letter, and I'll lie for you."
He said it with great seriousness. Fini nodded with a guilty expression, promising she wouldn't do it again.
She had, of course, asked for leave from the church to see her friends.
Before she t Jenkins, Fini's circle of friends extended beyond Louise, who had since beco a little angel. Adding the friends she made while selling flowers with the other choir children in the sumr, she had far more friends than Jenkins did.
Even though her life had changed and she was no longer an orphan who had to struggle every day just to survive, Fini hadn't forgotten her friends. She had previously asked Jenkins to look after them and had later written to them to ask about the fire they had experienced.
Through their exchange of letters, the idea of eting her friends in person began to grow in Fini's mind. On one hand, she couldn't forget her past experiences and cherished her friendships deeply. On the other, she rembered Jenkins ntioning that he hoped she could unite the flower sellers, so she had been actively keeping in touch with them.
Jenkins carried the heavy paper bag for Fini. They walked and talked, but not in the direction of the church.
Fini had arranged to et her friends in an alley one block away from the church. It was close enough that she had planned to run there and back without overstaying the ti she'd promised the nun matron. But now, with Jenkins accompanying her, she could stay out a little longer without any worry, so her steps were no longer as rushed.
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