In the replica shop he had encountered before, a puppet had also exchanged goods for stories.
"Mr. Prankster? Oh, an old friend. But that fellow can be truly infuriating sotis. I have no connection to the replica shop. The puppets used here, I assure you, are of the highest quality."
Seeing that the statent was true, Jenkins didn't dwell on it. Unsure if the puppet wanted a story that had never appeared in this world, he decided against picking one from his "Stranger's Story Collection." Instead, he recounted the tale of the woodcutter who watched a ga between immortals.
The tal puppet was quite pleased with the story—at least, that was Jenkins's impression. After he finished, the puppet even asked him a question:
"If you were to leave this place and discover that a thousand years had passed in the real world, what would you do?"
"I would observe nothing, to prevent history from solidifying through my perception. Then I would perform a ritual to summon a ti paradoxist, make a deal with the master of ti, and have them send back a thousand years."
Jenkins answered without a mont's hesitation.
"You've actually thought about this before?"
"Of course. This world is a wondrous place, after all... Now, may I choose my tickets? I don't have much ti."
"Certainly. I was only going to give you a portion of the tickets, but for the sake of such a fine story, you may choose as you wish."
It handed all the tickets to Jenkins and remarked:
"That truly was an excellent story."
This tal puppet was different from the tal man-faced serpent and the tal skeleton he had faced before. The difference wasn't in their shape, but in their attitude toward him.
Their tallic nature indicated that all three had been corrupted by the Difference Engine's power and should therefore harbor imnse malice toward Jenkins. The first two had demonstrated this perfectly: the tal man-faced serpent had sacrificed itself to awaken a dormant earthfire worm, and the tal skeleton had violated the basic rules of a Mysterious Realm's host by attacking him without provocation.
The tal puppet before him, however, seed to lack that sa malice. This wasn't just a random guess; as a god and a high-level Enchanter, Jenkins was extrely sensitive to ill intent. He didn't need to wait for an attack to know soone's disposition.
While the puppet before him wasn't exactly friendly, its ill will was limited, much like the entities he had encountered in past Mysterious Realms. In fact, after he told the story of the woodcutter, that malice had even diminished.
This led him to suspect that this particular Mysterious Realm hadn't been heavily corrupted by the Difference Engine's power. When the machine had tampered with these nine realms, it couldn't have been a true Beast of Calamity yet, which ant it couldn't completely remake them. The degree of corruption likely varied from one realm to the next.
And this third Mysterious Realm was probably one where the Difference Engine's influence was minimal.
With that in mind, he didn't look down at the slippery, strangely textured tickets. Instead, he asked the tal puppet:
"By the way, am I the only mber of the audience here?"
He was asking if there were any other outsiders—specifically, any of the Beast of Calamity's forces.
"Of course, it's just you. We are dedicated to serving only one guest at a ti. Please do not doubt our commitnt."
"I'm not doubting you... Are you certain that, aside from myself, everything else here is a creature that has long existed within this theater?"
"I don't know how you define 'creature,' but I can guarantee that, apart from you and that pile of rubbish you brought with you..."
It must have been referring to his backpack and the two tal cocoons.
"...every entity here, both physical and non-physical, has long been a part of this place."
These words were also true, which made Jenkins wonder if the Difference Engine had even placed a Beast of Calamity in this realm at all. It wasn't impossible; after all, no one had ever said that every level had to contain one of the beast's manifestations.
If his guess was correct, it would be wonderful. If the third level was clear, perhaps the fourth, fifth, and sixth would be as well. That was likely the best news he'd had all day.
At the tal puppet's urging, Jenkins finally looked down to select his tickets. They were about the size of a typical ticket for an opera or a concert hall, but they definitely weren't made of paper. He morbidly wondered if they were made of human skin, but they didn't feel like leather, either.
The back of each ticket was black, stamped with three silver, unidentifiable ancient runes. The front was written in the common tongue, introducing the performance each ticket represented.
"The Doll Under the Bed, The at and Wine of the Banquet, The Flycatcher, The Girl in the Black Forest, The Pleasure of Flesh and Blood, The Celestial Chi..."
He quietly read the nas of the puppet shows aloud. Every single one sounded dangerous, as if he should choose none of them.
Of course, he couldn't actually just pick any three he wanted. Each ticket was printed with a "performance ti," indicating the show's session.
There were thirteen tickets for the first session, from which he had to choose one. For the second session, there were eight tickets, aning an eight-to-one choice. The third session had the most, a full twenty-nine.
"Can I select the tickets for the other sessions during the first performance?"
He looked up and asked. The tal puppet replied:
"Certainly. But you would do well to respect the actors performing for you. Try not to get distracted during the show."
Jenkins nodded. Besides the text, the tickets were identical. He could only go by the descriptions and pick the one that seed the least threatening. After a mont's hesitation, he drew one out and handed it to the puppet.
"Then for the first performance, please arrange this play."
The puppet accepted his choice. After reading the ticket, the red points of light in its eye sockets suddenly flared.
"A perfect choice."
it praised. The ticket read: "The Magic Girl."
Without any further ti-wasting chatter, the tal puppet folded the chosen ticket, tucked it away, and the curtains parted once more.
This ti, the stage background was again an oil painting, this one depicting an ordinary family bedroom. In the center was a four-poster bed with a canopy, flanked by a dressing table, a table with a vase, and other furniture. A door was painted on the far left and a window on the far right. A birdcage sat on the windowsill, but it held no bird—only a few scattered white feathers.
The bedroom's decor was unremarkable, and judging by the gas lamp and the style of so tal items, the setting was from an era similar to the current one in the material world. This made Jenkins wonder if this third Mysterious Realm, like the previous two, was also connected to reality.
The painting was done in a childlike style, which, in this setting, lent it a strange and sowhat horrifying quality.
Jenkins let out a long breath and leaned back into the soft seat, waiting for the show to begin. He didn't know what to expect, but this Mysterious Realm had been far too peaceful so far. While he wouldn't let his guard down, his suspicion that the Difference Engine's influence here was minimal still brought him a fleeting mont of relief.
But that relief vanished as soon as the play began.
The "puppet" starring in the performance descended onto the stage from above, just as the other one had. It looked identical to the puppet that had explained the rules, differing only in its clothing and face paint. In other words, they were the sa model.
Cheerful music drifted from backstage as the puppet, dressed in a skirt, began to sing in a woman's voice. The music itself was fine, but the singing was so harsh it was hard not to picture an old witch.
It wasn't rely unpleasant; the voice contained a power capable of twisting an ordinary person's mind. Jenkins had learned about the combat styles of the believers of music from Hathaway, so he was quite familiar with sonic attacks.
"Good thing I didn't bring Chocolate."
He endured the sound, silently congratulating himself. Chocolate's ears were very sensitive; the cat would never have been able to tolerate such a noise.
"A beautiful day begins with a fine breakfast! And today, I'm even more lovely than yesterday!"
The puppet sang as it spun across the stage, finally stopping in front of the dressing table in the painting. But it didn't face the painted mirror with its back to Jenkins. Instead, it faced Jenkins with its back to the mirror.
"Mirror, oh mirror, am I the prettiest girl in the world?"
The puppet looked at Jenkins as it asked. He didn't react at first, only realizing that the stage and audience were ant to interact when the music continued but the puppet remained silent.
"Weren't I told I couldn't make any noise during the performance?"
He turned to look at the tal puppet sitting beside him. It rotated its head ninety degrees to face him, a grotesque smile spreading across its features.
"Mirror, oh mirror, am I the prettiest girl in the world?"
The puppet on stage sang again, following the lody, but this ti its tone was clearly impatient. Jenkins knew he couldn't afford to delay. If the puppet show stalled because of him, he had a strong suspicion the tal puppet in the next seat would pull out a dagger and stab him.
He found the rhythm of the music and, matching the lody, began to sing. Jenkins wasn't a good singer. He hadn't been in his past life, and neither he nor the body's original owner was skilled in this one. Even though Hathaway had tried to teach him a few techniques—like proper breathing and the difference between singing from the throat versus the diaphragm—he had never gotten the hang of it.
Fortunately, there was no one he knew here, so it didn't matter if he sang poorly.
"Oh, yes. You shine as brightly as the stars and are as lovely as the flowers of early spring."
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