Viscount Augustus was dying.
Despite receiving a potent redy from Jenkins on Tuesday night, the old steward had unfortunately passed away. The viscount himself caught a severe cold during his outing that evening, and the shock of his steward's death only worsened his condition. He was soon confined to his bed, growing weaker with each passing day during the ti Jenkins lay unconscious.
By the ti Jenkins received word, the viscount was already fading. A servant had been dispatched to the city to find Jenkins, who was at his club, deep in conversation with a group of ladies. It never occurred to him that another person he knew was about to leave this world.
He was the last of the Augustus bloodline, with not even a distant relative to be found who could inherit his title. As Jenkins leaped from the carriage and rushed into the manor behind the servant, he found the viscount's bedroom cold and still. The windows were sealed, and the air was thick with the strange scent of dicinal herbs. Only a grieving old servant and a lawyer stood inside.
The lawyer, Jenkins presud, was there to witness and record the viscount's last will and testant. Even without friends or family, a man's estate required proper handling after his passing.
Upon Jenkins's arrival, the servant struggled to prop up the viscount, who was dressed in his nightclothes. Once he was sitting up, the servant withdrew. The lawyer offered Jenkins a polite nod, waited for the viscount to sign a docunt, and then he too departed.
He was stunned to find himself suddenly alone in the room.
"Mr. Williams, thank you for coming to see ."
"It's no trouble at all."
He was at a loss for words, still uncertain why the viscount had summoned him. He simply removed his hat, pulled up a wooden chair, and sat by the bedside.
"You'll get better..."
"Don't try to comfort . I'm well aware of my own condition."
A faint smile touched the viscount's pallid face:
"Ever since I was a child, I knew I would not live a long life. To be honest, I am quite satisfied to have reached this age. I have never had many friends, Mr. Williams, and I would count you as one of the few I hold in high regard."
"Then you are truly..."
Jenkins only thought it, his expression remaining one of sorrow:
"A lot has happened recently."
He spoke softly, "I, too, have co to understand many things. All n must die—it is rely a matter of when. But what matters is that this brief life is lived with aning. We cannot add to the length of our lives, but we can add to their depth. I know it's morbid to speak this way, but I don't take you for a man who would shy away from death."
"Indeed."
The viscount gazed into Jenkins's eyes, and an emotion in their depths sent a chill down Jenkins's spine. Unsure of the source of this unsettling feeling, he instinctively began to tap his boot against the floorboards, as if to ward it off.
"Though the House of Augustus has declined, my life has been a privileged one since childhood."
He seed to be reminiscing, so Jenkins leaned forward, adopting a posture of listening.
"Ah, Mr. Williams, back when I was a boy... even with my frail health, as the scion of a noble house destined to inherit a title, I was more fortunate than most. I still dream of the lavender fields in the Nolan countryside, of the golden wheat fields in autumn, of the little pony I called Pete..."
His voice was laced with a sorrowful nostalgia, and his gaze seed to pierce through the veil of ti, returning to those bygone days.
And yet, his long recollection of a lifeti lasted little more than an hour. A tragic thought.
"I wish to ask you to oversee the execution of my will. Of all the gentlen I know, you are the most upright."
At last, he revealed why he had summoned Jenkins.
"That won't be a problem."
Jenkins would not refuse such a request, even if it might prove troubleso. After a mont's thought, he offered a suggestion:
"Perhaps you might consider donating a portion of your estate, or establishing a foundation to help the poor. That way, even if you do... pass on... there will be people who rember you forever."
The viscount looked at Jenkins with surprise, then slowly nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "You are quite right."
With a surprising burst of strength in his frail voice, he called out. The door was pushed open, and the lawyer entered once more.
The viscount introduced Jenkins to the lawyer and anded a portion of his will. The lawyer then departed again.
Viscount Augustus's room was on the second floor of the manor, with a window overlooking a barren plain. Co the new year, however, one would surely be able to see it covered in blooming flowers.
"Mr. Williams, I would like to ask you a question."
His voice was growing weaker.
"Please, go on."
"Do you believe that there is a wider world beyond this one? My father and uncle often used to say that we are different from others. That the people of our family do not truly die, but instead embark on a grander journey."
"I..."
He hesitated. Nothing in his knowledge as an Enchanter suggested that the souls of a particular family were destined for a special place.
"My father even told that that place is called the 'Undying Underworld,' and it is a..."
His voice grew quieter, and then faded away entirely. His head lolled to the side against the wooden headboard, his eyes closed. A faint smile remained on his lips—the sa expression he wore when rembering his father.
"Mr. Augustus?"
He whispered, rising to check if the man was still breathing.
He let out a long sigh. It seed he had been dealing with death far too much lately.
Suddenly, Chocolate began to squirm violently inside his coat. Jenkins had no choice but to unbutton his overcoat and let the creature poke its head out. When he looked up again, he was shocked to see Mr. Augustus sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at the body of Mr. Augustus on the mattress.
Yes, the Augustus sitting on the bed was clearly much younger, his face alight with a vibrant smile. His body, however, was transparent.
He smiled and placed a finger to his lips, signaling for Jenkins to be silent. Then he gave him a slight nod, stood up, and walked toward the door.
At so point, the wooden door had transford into an old, dilapidated iron gate. As Augustus approached, the gate swung open slowly.
"Oh, gods!"
Jenkins only glanced at the darkness beyond the door and felt as if his head had been struck by a heavy blow. He quickly averted his gaze and made the sign of the holy symbol over his heart.
Looking up, he saw Mr. Augustus pause, leaning against the doorfra. He waved at Jenkins, and then walked through.
The door closed silently.
The tallic quality rapidly faded, and soon it was just a wooden door again.
"Doesn't that door look a bit familiar?"
Dumbfounded, Jenkins stood frozen for a long mont before rembering to soothe the bristling Chocolate.
"Oh, the first ti I went to the Pet Administration Center, the cat spirits seed to float out of this very door. The last ti I was there, the door had vanished."
He stood up and walked to the door.
"Could this be the 'Gate to the Realm of the Dead' that the professor ntioned?"
He placed his hand on the cold doorknob and pulled the door open. On the other side, the lawyer and several grieving servants were waiting for him.
"A mortal descendant of the Great Lord—the Ancient God of Death—can die after all?"
(End of Volu)
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