Jenkins was quite sure his cat understood they wouldn't be staying at the antique shop for long. The only reason it flopped onto the counter was its inherent laziness, a preemptive move to secure a good napping spot before Jenkins could ask it to do anything.
The fireplace in the shop was unlit, making the interior feel even colder than the bustling street outside. Since they would be leaving soon, Jenkins decided not to waste any charcoal. He rolled up his sleeves, fetched a basin of water, and was just about to dampen a rag to clean the display window when, unexpectedly, the shop door creaked open.
A tall woman entered, wearing a black veil and a small, white pillbox hat. Her top was a mud-yellow uniform, styled like a man's formal suit, paired with a long skirt whose hem nearly swept the floor. The skirt was simple and unadorned.
"I'm sorry, madam, but we're not open for business today."
He set down what he was holding and said apologetically. He had already hung the "Closed" sign on the handle outside; this custor must not have seen it.
"No, I'm not here to buy anything. I'm looking for Mr. Oliver."
Only those who knew him well called him "Papa Oliver"; everyone else generally referred to him as "Mr. Oliver."
"Oh, hello. Pops had to go to Bel Diran on business. He should be back in about a week. If it's urgent, you can tell —I'm his apprentice, Jenkins Williams. I can send him a letter."
As he spoke, he blinked once. Before him stood an ordinary person...
"My eyes have only ever been mistaken when it cos to gods, but this woman is certainly no deity. I don't get any strange feeling from her at all."
After the incident that night, he had reflected on his past oversights. He didn't believe his eyes had limitations, but rather that his own level was too low, preventing him from seeing the truest inner nature of things.
"Williams, you say?"
She must have heard his na before, but because of her veil, Jenkins couldn't read her expression.
"If it's convenient, please inform Pops when he returns that I've co to collect the item we agreed upon ten years ago. Ask him to have it ready. I'll be back next week."
"Of course."
Jenkins nodded hesitantly. The woman said nothing more, turned, and left.
"How strange."
Muttering to himself, he jotted down a note about the visit and hung it on the nail behind the counter.
"Could this be one of Pops's old flas?"
He slandered him jokingly, perfectly able to imagine the old man's grumpy face if he heard such a thing.
The libretto for *Murder on the Steam Express* had been finished before the new year. The text itself was quite short; the tricky part was coordinating it with the musical composition. Jenkins had already sent the manuscript to the opera troupe. All that remained was for Hathaway to compose the score. After the troupe had so ti to rehearse, it would be ready for the stage.
Hathaway was thrilled about the project. Though she loved music, she'd never had the chance to perform in public or see one of her own compositions staged. This was an excellent opportunity for her, and her excitent was so palpable even Jenkins could see it.
Jenkins knew very little about music, and Miss Mikhail couldn't be of much help either. So, for most of the day, the two of them chatted idly while Hathaway worked so distance away, humming to herself as she composed.
"My father works for a mining company, and he's very familiar with the mining business around Nolan. That's why I knew right away there was sothing seriously wrong with Miss Fabry's investnt."
The most popular topic of conversation right now was that astonishing scam. Whether they knew the details or not, everyone was eager to offer their opinion, just to show they were keeping up with the tis.
"Miss Mikhail, I'm sure you understand that I'm a very cautious person. When I started hearing about this matter frequently from various sources over a certain period, I knew sothing had to be wrong. Even though the whole thing originated in distant Aediran, a little investigation was enough to reveal that the backstory for 'Miss Fabry' was a complete ss. That was the biggest red flag."
"So you concluded it was a scam?"
Miss Mikhail asked.
"It wasn't that difficult. You just have to keep your greed in check to see it clearly. I'm sure there were plenty of clever people among the investors, and so of them probably figured out the truth long ago. They just believed they could earn enough profit to cover their initial investnt before Miss Fabry was exposed. As for what happened to everyone else, that was none of their concern."
"But not everyone can remain as clear-headed as you."
It was a small complint from the young woman.
"You're too kind."
Jenkins shook his head. He knew it was all nonsense; aside from the final, unexpected turn of events, the entire affair had never been outside his control.
The fallout from the Fabry fraud continued to spread. Most discerning individuals could see in it a terrifying and efficient virtual weapon. Rumor had it the Kingdom's Ministry of Finance had already convened an ergency eting, and the Travelers' Bank was discussing implenting reforms in the near future.
The only party that had truly profited from the affair was the Travelers' Bank. Over the past six months, they had gained a massive number of verified custors because of Miss Fabry. After the scam was exposed, even more common folk beca aware of the financial institution. Despite the account maintenance fees, many were now considering whether they should open an account of their own.
"Now is the perfect opportunity for banking reform. The way to do it is to eliminate account fees and, instead, pay interest to depositors."
"Hmm?"
Miss Mikhail failed to grasp the logic behind Jenkins's statent. To her, it sounded like madness—as insane as a gatekeeper paying his own master.
The only person who would have understood was Alexia. Jenkins had only needed to give her a small hint the previous night, and she had imdiately seen the imnse potential of the banking industry.
After his public lecture on December 31st, Jenkins had received a string of other speaking invitations. They were for both literary and financial topics, and not just limited to Nolan City. But he turned them all down, not only because of the money, but also because he wasn't ready to be so conspicuous yet.
Miss Mikhail's invitation for a winter trip had been moved up to next Wednesday, the ninth of January. Pops should be back by then, and Jenkins needed to get his own affairs in order. With the death of the Evil God's Scion, the blockade on St. George Avenue would soon be lifted. He not only had to find soone to clean his house but also had to move his many belongings from the antique shop and the church back ho. It was going to be a lot of trouble.
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