Fog swirled through the cetery. The pianist, dressed in a black suit, was dabbing at his sweaty face with a handkerchief, his expression tense as he spoke to soone.
From Jenkins's vantage point, the other person was hidden from view. All he could make out was a black sleeve, peeking out from behind a tree trunk, flickering in and out of sight through the swirling mist.
"He's sweating this much in weather like this?"
He subconsciously touched his own cheek. He considered waving a greeting but decided against it, feeling it would be impolite to interrupt their conversation. Instead, he simply started walking toward them openly.
To his surprise, before he could even get close, Mr. Kevin gave a flustered nod to the person behind the tree and hurried off in the opposite direction.
Jenkins was a little taken aback but refrained from calling out his na, not wanting to disturb the slumbering souls in their eternal rest.
Seeing Mr. Kevin depart, Jenkins turned to leave as well, only to be stopped by a voice.
"Jenkins R. Williams?"
He spun around, startled that soone knew his full na. His eyes fell upon a man dressed head to toe in black—a black suit, black trousers, black leather shoes, and a black hat. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he blinked involuntarily.
He was a middle-aged man with coarse skin, leaning against a dead tree, his face a mask of indifference. His gaze was fixed on Jenkins, yet his eyes were devoid of any emotion. The longer Jenkins looked, the more he felt an unnerving, terrifying emptiness within them.
"A body bathed in a yellow aura. Oh, so it's not a Cursed Item. What in the world is my luck?"
Sotis he truly wondered if he was cursed by fate itself. Then again, the fact that he was still alive and relatively safe made him grateful for the blessings of the Hermit of Fate.
"Is there sothing you need?"
Since it wasn't a Cursed Item, there was less to fear. Still, his tone was cautious, and he took a step back as he spoke. He was in no mood to get involved with sothing like this.
Earlier that morning, he'd been so preoccupied with asking Papa Oliver about funeral-related Cursed Items that he'd completely forgotten about the possibility of encountering a Series B Extraordinary Item.
"You needn't be so wary of , Mr. Williams."
The man shrugged, though his expression remained perfectly blank.
"I'm rely a rchant. A rchant who sells life. Oh, and what a long life you have. I imagine my services won't be of interest to you."
Compared to the humanoid Cursed Items he'd t in the past, this humanoid Extraordinary Item was surprisingly talkative. Jenkins found it difficult to maintain his guard in its presence. After backing away to a safe distance, he stopped and asked:
"How do you know my na?"
"That is my gift. I can see the na and lifespan of any person. For a rchant of life, it's a fundantal skill."
Jenkins nodded, his right hand slipping into his pocket to fiddle with the Sin Coins sewn into the lining. This particular currency could be created, but the yield was incredibly low. He currently possessed only five whole coins, most of which were spoils from the demon incident. Mortals, be they ordinary people or Enchanters, produced a pitifully small amount.
"That gentleman from just now..."
"My apologies," he stated. "As a rchant, I have professional ethics to uphold."
He said this.
"Let ask a different question, then. Your business interests . If one were to trade for more life, what is the price?"
The damp, earthy scent of the graveyard filled his nostrils with each breath, and a shiver ran through him from the cold. But a silent, unseen fla flickered into existence around him, shielding him from the damnable weather.
"It's quite simple. I accept souls after death, strands of one's fate, organs, emotions, valuable and unique items... I take it all."
As he spoke, he pulled back the left side of his black jacket, revealing a dizzying array of tiny bottles nestled in countless pockets sewn into the lining.
"Do you accept Sin Coins?"
"Oh?"
The man was visibly taken aback. He rubbed his nose. "Such a generous custor? Of course, I accept them. How much life do you require? Lifespan itself isn't particularly valuable, you see. And since you're the first custor in this Epoch to offer a Sin Coin, I can give you a better price. How does thirty years of life for a single coin sound? It's an incredible offer!"
Thirty years was far beyond what Jenkins had imagined; he would have guessed ten at most. But the value of Sin Coins was undeniable, and it wasn't as if he were on death's door. For the mont, he had no intention of trading them for a longer life.
"If I may ask, what use do you have for Sin Coins?"
A faint smile finally cracked the rchant's stiff expression, but he clearly had no intention of answering.
"Two Blasphemy Seeds, in exchange for your answer."
Still, he remained silent.
Jenkins could only shake his head with a sigh. Of course, the answer wouldn't co that easily.
"Besides life, do you sell anything else? I imagine you have plenty of other rare items."
"Sir, I specialize in the trade of life. I sell nothing else."
Jenkins gave a slight nod and took a few steps toward the man in black, a silent admission that he was lowering his guard.
"Do you sell abilities?"
He was reminded of the Black Sacred series of abilities sold by the conductor in the train-thed Mysterious Realm.
"What ability are you looking to purchase?"
So it was possible.
He mulled it over. He currently had two empty ability bubbles. One was already reserved for [Protection of Books]—an ability he'd been anticipating for a long ti. That left a single slot he could fill by buying from this Series B humanoid. After all, so opportunities, once missed, might never co again.
"The ability to see a person's true na."
"Ten Sin Coins. Any type will suffice."
The rchant held up both hands, showing Jenkins ten fingers.
Jenkins's expression froze for a mont. He gave an embarrassed chuckle and rubbed his chin.
"How about the ability to see a person's lifespan?"
"Ten. But I'll only accept Blood Coins for that one."
"Even without factoring in Gold Pounds, I'm still a poor man."
As the thought crossed his mind, he pulled the five whole, green coins from his pocket and showed them to the rchant.
"I know that your actions in the material world are constrained by certain rules. See? This is all I have. What can you sell for this?"
"Five coins? It seems you're quite wealthy indeed. However, my need is for Blood Coins. As for Blasphemy Seeds..."
That single sentence revealed a great deal: different supernatural entities required different types of Sin Coins.
"I can't sell you a complete ability for that price, but an incomplete one is no problem. Go ahead, make your request. I've mastered most abilities related to life."
"Life?"
His brow furrowed as an idea struck him.
"[Undying Man]."
"Ah, that interesting one. Which version of the [Undying Man] ability do you require?"
The late autumn wind was cool, but the damp air of the cetery made it feel bone-chilling. The fog was growing thicker now, no doubt fed by the sprawling factories on the city's outskirts.
Jenkins felt he was onto sothing. An incredible possibility blood in his mind.
"The Savior's ability, for the end of the Epoch."
His heart pounded in his chest as he spoke the words.
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