"Is it gone?"
Stiff with tension, Jenkins stared at the flickering flas in the hearth and let out a soft sigh. The mont his intense focus broke, a tidal wave of exhaustion crashed over him.
He didn't even have ti to check on Chocolate. After extinguishing the fire in the hearth, his head drooped, and he succumbed to sleep.
A few seconds later, Chocolate rose, padded over to the window, and glanced outside. Dozens of carriages from various churches were speeding around the street corner. Satisfied, the cat returned to the sofa, curled up comfortably on Jenkins's lap, and let out a wide, toothy yawn.
The lamplight from the street filtered through the window, casting a soft, gentle sheen on Chocolate's beautiful fur.
When consciousness returned, Jenkins kept his eyes closed. He'd developed a cautious habit since arriving in this world: whenever he awoke from sleep or unconsciousness, his first instinct was to ticulously recall the events that had transpired right before he blacked out.
For soone living on a knife's edge, such caution was not just a habit—it was essential for survival.
"Ah, that's right," he thought. "The terrifying entity next door... it retreated on its own."
With that thought, he opened his eyes, and the first thing to greet his ears was Papa Oliver's voice:
"An unfamiliar ceiling."
It was clearly payback for the last ti.
He had woken up at noon the next day—Monday. And the ceiling was not at all unfamiliar; Jenkins had woken up beneath it many tis before.
Only Papa Oliver and Chocolate were in the room. Upon seeing Jenkins stir, the cat stood up from its spot beside the pillow, let out a soft ow, and leaped onto the windowsill before slipping out of the room.
The two didn't imdiately launch into a discussion. Instead, they had the nuns bring in lunch. Throughout the al, Jenkins remained silent. He appeared to be weighed down by a heavy heart, but in reality, he was busy weaving a new web of lies.
"So, how much do you rember about last night?"
After lunch, Miss Bevanna entered the room, accompanied by a Keeper of Secrets. The latter, however, showed no intention of joining the conversation, simply taking a seat at a nearby table with a fountain pen in hand, poised to act as a scribe.
"When I woke up yesterday, it was already noon..."
Soft winter sunlight stread through the window, illuminating the side of Jenkins's face. The weather was pleasant today, perfect for an outing. After a long stretch of foggy days, the temperature had even ward slightly. A gentle breeze brushed against his skin, creating the faint, tickling sensation of an itch.
His account began from the mont he awoke the previous day, detailing his eting with John and even the dinner party at Earl Hersha's estate.
When he ntioned John, Miss Bevanna looked as if she wanted to interrupt, but Papa Oliver stopped her with a subtle gesture. And while the agreent with the Earl was unrelated to the night's events, everyone listened intently nonetheless.
The crucial part of his story began after he returned ho. Jenkins instinctively lowered his gaze, his eyes becoming unreadable pools that betrayed no emotion:
"After I got ho, I played with Chocolate for a while, then sat on the sofa to prepare for next Wednesday's evening class. Then..."
He forced a look of bewildernt onto his face. "I felt... I sensed sothing vast, bizarre, and terrifying suddenly appear outside the window behind . When I say vast, I don't an in physical size, but in so... indescribable presence. I can't explain what it was; I didn't even dare try to perceive it with my spirit. It was like... like the instinctual, overwhelming dread a person feels when staring into an abyss. Yes, that's exactly it!"
Miss Bevanna glanced at Papa Oliver, but his face was an impassive mask.
"I was frozen in place, afraid to even breathe, and the entity behind seed just as stationary. We remained like that for what felt like ten minutes—forgive , I lost all track of ti. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone. The relief was too much, and I lost consciousness."
"The Church detected the anomaly and dispatched a large number of Enchanters," Miss Bevanna explained. "I believe that is why It departed."
"It?"
That pronoun was reserved for indescribable entities—beings that could be gods, or monsters whose very nas were forbidden.
"Yes. The Evil God's Child from New Truman City... you rember, don't you?" Miss Bevanna asked.
"Yes."
It was just as Jenkins had suspected.
"After we found you, we searched the house next door," Miss Bevanna continued. "We detected intense and chaotic energy fluctuations inside. In a second-floor bedroom, we discovered a woman... her abdon had been sliced open."
"Was it Mrs. Margaret?" Jenkins asked quietly.
"Yes. If our records are correct, she was indeed your neighbor. And, of course, a mber of the Witch's House. Two knights from the Church of Sun and Justice have confird it, so there is no mistake."
The room fell silent. Jenkins gazed out the window, his eyes fixed on the thick columns of black smoke still visible in the distance. The gray, somber sky would soon return.
"So, the scion of the pseudo-god, the Void Eye Demon, was born into this world through a witch's womb?"
"Yes."
Miss Bevanna nodded in agreent. She glanced out the window before continuing in a hushed tone:
"Our current theory is that the witches hoped to receive a revelation on achieving godhood through this... thod. I trust you haven't forgotten what, exactly, they worship."
Jenkins drew in a sharp breath. He would never have imagined those won possessed such terrifying audacity.
"We also found this."
As she spoke, Miss Bevanna picked up an object from the table behind her. It was a dagger in a leather sheath, resting on a white cloth. The sheath was inlaid with a beautiful red gemstone, which was frad by a hexagonal pattern traced in fine gold wire.
"This is B-02-2-9032, the Decomposer's Scalpel," she stated. "The very one that went missing from Shelley Howell."
Miss Bevanna didn't unsheathe the dagger, as everyone in the room could feel the strange aura emanating from it. Though it was a perfectly ford weapon, a trick of the eye made it seem like a chaotic, shifting pattern, inducing a visceral feeling of unease.
Jenkins was all too familiar with that chaotic, maddening sensation. His neighbor's house had been saturated with the very sa aura last night.
"The sheath is also an Extraordinary item," Miss Bevanna explained. "We borrowed it from the Church of Starry Sky and Equilibrium. It's B-03-5-2931, the Sealer's Sheath, designed specifically to contain bladed Extraordinary items. We believe the dagger was used to cut the umbilical cord. It was contaminated by the blood of the Evil God's Child and has undergone its own transformation—an ominous one."
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