When explaining why the great serpent had been hunting him, Jenkins didn't hide the matter of the Dark Soul from Magic Miss. As it turned out, she wasn't particularly concerned. She had, of course, heard the legends of the Four King Souls. Had it not been tied to the abilities of this epoch's Savior, she might have shown so interest. But since it was entangled with the whims of fate, Magic Miss had no intention of getting involved.
After settling things with Miss Windsor and offering a few words of comfort, promising he would get her out of this place, Jenkins turned to face the bald old man.
He had remained curled up on his high stool throughout their few minutes of conversation, never once interrupting.
"Thank you for taking care of that serpent."
"No thanks are necessary," the bald, three-handed man declared. "It trespassed on my domain. It was only natural that I banish it." Jenkins didn't press for details about the serpent's fate; it was clear they wouldn't be seeing it again for several centuries.
"So, shall we begin?" Jenkins asked. "What are the rules here? How do we get out?"
"It's quite simple. Beyond your world, there are countless corridors such as this one, each symbolizing a possible future. However, the material world's tiline is singular; it cannot split into parallel universes. Therefore, these infinite, impossible futures manifest as illusions, contained within different corridors. Each corridor represents a variable, and the variable here is 'What if you never existed?'"
"What do you an?"
Magic Miss asked, though unlike Jenkins, she didn't look up to et the creature's gaze. While Jenkins appeared unconcerned, the oppressive presence of a being from a Mysterious Realm was a tangible weight upon the living.
Mysterious Realms that involved ti and fate, while typically not perilous, were exceptionally bewildering. She knew her companion possessed formidable martial strength, but brute force was useless in a place like this.
"It's simple," the old man continued. "The illusory world behind each door is missing one of you. Since there are three of you, you must enter the worlds behind three doors. Behind each door lies a story... yes, a story... in which one of you is absent. Once you have experienced all three, you will naturally find the way back."
"What does it an to 'experience' them?" Jenkins pressed. "And how do we get out once we're inside?"
"Within each door is a story fragnt. Though it represents a world of infinite possibility, it is brief. I can assure you, the longest will last no more than a single day. As long as you discover a sufficient number of differences between that world of possibility and your own material reality, you will naturally be able to exit. As for how many is 'sufficient'... you will have to find that out for yourselves."
As he spoke, the dark hand behind his back elongated, slithering like the serpent he had just seized. It drifted toward the door to their left, gripped the handle, and wrenched it open with a sound that set their teeth on edge.
Jenkins narrowed his eyes. Through the doorway lay a familiar Nolan street—Fifth Queen's Avenue, to be precise. He could even see Pops Antique Shop. It was clearly a rainy day, but the light drizzle had kept most pedestrians off the streets. It looked like any other ordinary day.
"Do we all have to go in?" he asked. "Or does just one person experience each story?"
"All of you must enter all three doors," the old man curled on the high stool replied.
Jenkins nodded and glanced at his companions. Magic Miss spoke at once:
"I understand the rules. This Mysterious Realm sounds relatively straightforward. I'll follow your lead completely from here on out. And you needn't worry about being affected by what we might see. I'm well aware of the difference between reality and illusion."
Miss Windsor, however, was at a loss. She didn't grasp the concept of a "Mysterious Realm" as quickly as Jenkins had when he first arrived. After all, even though Jenkins had been new to this world, the fiction from his original world had described far stranger things.
"Just stick with us," Jenkins told her gently. "And rember, everything we're about to see is sothing that could never happen. Parallel universes don't exist in this world. It's all an illusion."
"Parallel universes?"
Magic Miss echoed, puzzled.
"What does that phrase an? The... creature ntioned it as well."
"It doesn't matter. Just rember one thing—"
He stepped through the doorway first, into the rain. After confirming that no one was around, he turned back to face the two won, spreading his arms wide. Behind him was the gloomy, rain-slicked street of Nolan:
"Let put it this way: In this place, everything is an illusion."
Once all three had stepped through, the door vanished behind them. Though the scene before them looked identical to the real Nolan City, a closer look revealed subtle differences.
With his Eye of Reality, Jenkins could even perceive strange auras shimring throughout the space, all of which confird that this was not the real world.
Of course, since they were uncertain which of them was missing from this world, all three used charms provided by Magic Miss to temporarily alter their appearances. It was a precaution against running into the "versions" of themselves that might exist here.
After that, however, they were left with no idea where to go. None of the Mysterious Realms they had experienced before had been on such a massive scale. There were no instructions, and the so-called "story" didn't imdiately unfold before them. Their next move was entirely up to them.
"Why don't we head over there?"
After changing their appearances in an alleyway, they returned to Fifth Queen's Avenue. Jenkins pointed to Pops Antique Shop just down the street. Magic Miss didn't imdiately connect the location to Jenkins Williams's identity, but Miss Windsor seed to grasp his aning.
The three of them dashed through the rain and into Pops Antique Shop. Following the familiar jingle of the bell above the door, a voice spoke up:
"Welco to Pops Antique Shop. How may I help you?"
It wasn't Jenkins, the shop apprentice, welcoming them—it was Papa Oliver himself. After speaking, he furrowed his brow, likely sensing that the trio didn't look like custors.
"Sir, it's raining outside and we don't have an umbrella," Jenkins asked, knowing full well there were no shops selling umbrellas nearby. "Might we take shelter here for a mont?"
Their clothes were soaked through, making it impossible to tell how long they'd been out in the downpour. Perhaps because all three appeared to be young, or perhaps because of Jenkins's polite deanor, Papa Oliver hesitated for only a mont before nodding his assent.
"You may," he grunted. "I'm open late, but I don't offer lodging."
"Rest assured, sir. I've already sent my man to fetch our umbrellas from ho. He'll be back shortly."
Jenkins, who knew Papa Oliver's personality well, spoke up before the old man could start probing:
"I am Viscount Saviour Redemptor," he announced, then gestured to the won. "And these are my... friends."
The calculated hesitation was designed to let Papa Oliver's own imagination fill in the blanks, drawing his attention away from other matters.
Magic Miss's lips twitched nonetheless. The alias Jenkins had chosen for himself was audacious, to say the least.
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