"Do you have a letter to mail?"
From behind his back, the stranger produced a tattered gray satchel and slung it over his shoulder, though there was clearly nowhere he could have been concealing it.
Refusing the offer or accepting it could both lead to trouble. Jenkins remained silent, looking instead to Papa Oliver. Sure enough, the old man wore a look of grim recognition.
The postman's uniform, combined with the question about mailing a letter—these two features were unmistakable. It was clear Papa Oliver knew what they were dealing with.
"Do you rember that Young Flower Seller you once t?"
Papa Oliver asked.
"Of course. I rember it vividly."
In a way, that experience had changed Jenkins.
"This one is similar to her. It's A-11-2-3822, 'The Cheap Postman.' It can help people deliver any item they wish to the intended recipient."
"So, Papa Oliver, what's the price?"
"The price depends on what you're mailing. Different items have different costs. For instance, sending a letter will cost you a third of your soul. Sending food will cost you the permanent loss of your five senses, replaced by a sixth that perceives terrifying illusions... And refusing to send anything will infuriate this creature."
Cursed Items weren't completely invincible or immortal; most had a ceiling on their combat strength. The danger they posed, however, lay not in their power but in their properties. Take the Young Flower Seller, for example. Her own strength was rely at the demigod level, yet the combination of her identity and her basket made her virtually unbeatable.
This was especially true for "rule-based" Cursed Items; precisely because their combat strength was limited, their properties were all the more binding. Neither Jenkins nor Papa Oliver considered using force to resolve the situation. Jenkins whispered:
"So what do we do? Leave it to chance? I'd really rather not."
He noticed a rainbow-colored arc flash across the distant sky for a split second before vanishing. He had no idea what was happening over there.
"I don't like it either."
Papa Oliver said, his face grim. Then he asked:
"Do you have any paper on you? For a letter."
"I do."
He reached into his coat, pushed aside Chocolate's paw, and conjured a sheet of paper. The whole thing looked suspicious—who carries a single, uncreased sheet of paper inside their coat?—but Papa Oliver couldn't be bothered to ask.
"'The Cheap Postman' is a little different from the Young Flower Seller. It has no physical body of its own; it can only manifest by possessing an actual humanoid. Certain very large-scale exorcism rituals can temporarily banish it, but there's no way the two of us could pull that off.
"Beyond that, the only safe and reliable thod is to send the item to a place the postman can't reach. If it can't be delivered, it can't collect its price. And since the postman would be the one failing to deliver, not us refusing to send, there would be no repercussions for us."
"So, could we write an outlandish recipient?"
"I know what you're thinking, Jenkins. Of course not. The recipient must be a mortal, and they have to be alive. Furthermore, the sender must have personally t them, not just heard of them."
Papa Oliver added, which ruled out options like the young fortune-teller (who wasn't mortal) or Mason Pisco (whose life status was uncertain).
"But how could anyone who ets those conditions live sowhere the postman can't reach?"
"If it were that easy to find such a person, this postman's danger rating wouldn't be so high."
Papa Oliver took the paper from Jenkins and pulled a pen from his own pocket. He was resolved not to let Jenkins write the letter; whatever the consequences, he would face them himself.
Jenkins and Papa Oliver had taken too long to confer. The postman spoke again:
"Do you have a letter to mail?"
"Papa Oliver, I don't think he's going to wait much longer."
"It's fine. We're safe until he asks for the third ti."
Papa Oliver shoved his own umbrella into Jenkins's hands, then held the pen in one hand and the paper in the other, preparing to write.
"Papa Oliver, I think I see another Enchanter in that building across the street. It can't be a coincidence. I rember that staggering man from a mont ago ca from that direction."
"Releasing a Cursed Item like this can't be done remotely. This situation is different from our encounter with the dancer. It's no surprise those cultists are nearby. It's just... we can't break away to catch them."
"No, Papa Oliver, what I an is, can we get them over here? Make them mail the letter?"
It was a good idea, but unfortunately, neither he nor Jenkins could move until a letter was mailed. Papa Oliver was still painstakingly writing, and Jenkins held the umbrella for him, shielding the paper from the rain.
"Papa Oliver, did the Church anticipate us running into a Cursed Item?"
"Yes, although we thought the probability was slim. But rest assured, I have a boat ticket here that can at least get you away safely. Now stop distracting , I'm trying to write."
"Papa Oliver..."
"Honestly, Jenkins, I told you not to bother . And... why don't you look nervous at all?"
Only then did Papa Oliver notice Jenkins looking all around them.
"Nervous?"
He asked in return:
"Why should I be nervous?"
"Do you have a letter to mail?"
"Damn it!"
Papa Oliver let out a cry, his pen flying across the page. The third question ca faster than he had anticipated, forcing him to rush the letter to a close. But before he could finish writing the address, Jenkins shifted his grip on the umbrella, holding it over them both with one hand as he reached into his coat.
Once again, he batted away Chocolate's inquisitive little paw from inside his coat and produced an envelope. It was already filled out with all the necessary information, right down to the stamp.
"I have a letter to mail."
He spoke before Papa Oliver could, who looked on in horror. But Jenkins just shook his head, signaling that everything was fine.
"This letter is for my fiancée, Briny Mikhail. You don't need to place it in her hands. I want it delivered to her bedroom and placed on the left side of her pillow."
He held the envelope between two fingers and tapped the address with a third.
"It has to be delivered to this exact spot."
Jenkins's request t all the conditions Papa Oliver had described. Briny was a mortal, she was currently alive, she existed in the material world, and the address Jenkins provided was real.
But the postman didn't take the letter. It simply stared at Jenkins with its solid black eyes. Jenkins t its gaze unflinchingly.
"That's right. Please deliver this letter to the Fidektri Kingdom, Nolan City, St. George Avenue, the Williams residence. Second floor, third bedroom on the left from the top of the stairs."
The problem was, a Cursed Item could not enter Jenkins's ho without permission.
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