The won's choice of a famous evil spirit was a bold, yet ultimately safe, move.
Sure enough, the eight girls sat huddled around the Ouija board, calling out for so ti, but the planchette their fingers rested upon remained utterly still.
Jenkins shook his head and remarked to the musician beside him:
“To be honest, I’ve always believed that aside from the great Righteous Gods, no other supernatural powers truly exist in this world.”
Since only the area around the seance table was illuminated, no one noticed the two n conversing.
“That’s quite an old-fashioned way of thinking. My apologies, I don’t an to criticize it.”
Seeing that Jenkins didn’t take offense, the musician continued, “Spirits, ghosts... I can’t say for certain whether these things exist. I’ll always maintain a healthy skepticism, since I can neither prove nor disprove their existence. But I will always hold a sense of reverence—reverence for things that are more powerful and hidden than myself.”
“That’s a very sound philosophy.”
Jenkins offered his praise. “A pity my companion doesn’t quite grasp that.”
“Miss Mikhail, you an? I’ve also heard about the esteed lady’s obsession with the occult. It’s difficult to say what to make of it.”
The musician shrugged at Jenkins. “But since she enjoys such activities, you ought to show her where you stand, whatever your stance may be. After all, you two are lovers, are you not?”
Jenkins paused. “?”
Chocolate tilted his head. “ow?”
“No, no, Miss Mikhail and I are just ordinary friends.”
He quickly denied it. Where on earth did that idea co from?
“Is that so?”
Mr. Kevin didn't seem particularly bothered. “Nolan City is only so big, and everyone’s circle of friends is relatively fixed. I’ve heard a few rumors about the young lady, so I just assud... My apologies.”
“It’s nothing.”
The gentleman ant no harm; he was simply passing the ti with idle chatter, so Jenkins felt no anger. The conversation topics for n often revolved around the won they knew, but Jenkins simply couldn’t imagine himself getting entangled with Miss Mikhail in any way.
The conversation with Mr. Kevin was quite pleasant. The man was worldly and exceptionally well-inford. The two exchanged contact information, agreeing to connect again when they had the ti.
anwhile, the won had begun their second attempt at the seance. This ti, they introduced a new prop: a bowl of blood. Each of the young won dabbed so of it on her own forehead.
Miss Lindsay announced that it was human blood purchased from a hospital, which made Jenkins feel a bit uneasy. Who knew what diseases the donors might have had? There were no regulations for blood donation in this era; even the hospital had to buy its supply. The narrow worldview of the age made people terrified of losing any part of their bodies, so those who sold their blood were usually desperate gamblers, scoundrels, or prostitutes.
Although applying it externally was probably harmless, he still offered a well-intentioned warning about their actions.
“I’ve heard that certain bacteria present in blood can cause permanent damage to the skin on your face. Oh, have you heard of allergies? It could be sothing like your face breaking out in pitted, pockmarked acne...”
They imdiately ceased their actions and shot Jenkins a collective, unfriendly glare.
Placing the bowl of blood to one side of the table, Miss Lindsay had soone extinguish the fire in the hearth, then lit candles at the corners of the table.
She also dispatched a servant to search for an intact tombstone in the cetery outside. They had to brush away layers of snow to decipher the mottled engravings, finally deciding to attempt to contact a woman nad Selu Halidi.
The remaining information indicated that the poor village woman had died in the year 1815 of the Universal Calendar—exactly fifty years ago. She was seventeen when her father buried her here.
The part of the epitaph detailing the cause of death had been destroyed, but the date of her death remained, and it happened to be this very day.
Jenkins patted Chocolate, shifting him from his lap to his shoulder. Mr. Kevin glanced over with curiosity.
“Mr. Williams, do you feel that? The temperature seems to have dropped a bit.”
“Yes, I believe Miss Lindsay’s decision to extinguish the fireplace was not a wise one.”
Through his Eye of Reality, Jenkins saw a faint white mist that had filled the entire room, seeping out from the unsealed windows, the cracks in the door, and the large hole in the roof.
According to what Jenkins knew, attempting a seance on the anniversary of a death, even for ordinary people, had a slim chance of success. That chance was significantly higher now that they were using a genuine enchanted item.
The faint mist was a Spiritual Mist, an ability unique to ghost-type creatures, but this one was far weaker than the one Jenkins had encountered at the hospital. Aside from lowering the temperature, it had no other power.
The real question was this: Papa Oliver had said that under normal circumstances, a living creature’s soul would not linger in the mortal world, let alone for fifty years. So where did this ghost co from?
The won were still chanting in unison, their near-whispers creating a terrifying, buzzing drone. The candlelight illuminated only them, and under its flickering glow, the Ouija board shimred with a strange black luster. The clusters of tombstones and the bizarrely stylized smiling and crying faces on its surface looked chillingly real.
The scene was not unlike a ritual perford by a cult.
Jenkins didn't need to intervene; the three Enchanters outside had already noticed that sothing was amiss. One was a level 4, the other two level 3. While the combination of their ability types wasn't ideal, they should have been more than capable of handling a ghost with no special powers.
All three began to reposition themselves. Jenkins and Chocolate stared intently at the wall, though in truth they were observing the situation outside.
The ghost's spiritual aura was too faint for Jenkins to see through the wall, but just as the Enchanters' auras flared to life, a woman's terrifying scream suddenly shattered the night's silence.
Inside the room, everyone froze and fell silent.
“What was that?” one of the ladies asked, her voice trembling.
“I’ll go and see.”
Before anyone else could react, Jenkins pushed the door open and stepped outside. He had positioned himself closest to the door when they first ca in, just in case.
He heard footsteps behind him, the creak of boots on the wooden floorboards. It seed he wasn't the only one who had gone out. But Jenkins paid it no mind. After confirming that ordinary people couldn't see the malevolent spirit, he looked toward the three Enchanters.
One of them was in a sorry state, having fallen into the snow in a comical pose. The other two n were staring in terror at the empty space between them.
A Fear Spell. Most spiritual entities possessed such an ability. It looked like these two had the misfortune of being its targets.
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