Miss Bevanna was taking Fini back to the church for a check-up, and Jenkins took the opportunity to ask what he should do now.
“What were you originally planning to do?”
Miss Bevanna asked.
Only then did he realize he was already late.
By the ti he rushed to the club through the snow, it was nearly ten in the morning. A doorman in a black suit and white gloves bowed slightly, opening the club’s grand entrance for him. The young won in the foyer heard his footsteps and turned to greet him.
He stamped his feet vigorously on the doormat to knock the snow from his boots, all while warmly returning the girls’ greetings. He strode toward the room Miss Mikhail usually frequented, a young maid from the club following close behind with a towel to brush the snowflakes from his shoulders.
“Sorry, I’m late,”
he announced as he pushed the door open, only to find three people in the room, much to his surprise.
Besides Miss Mikhail and Hathaway, there was another young woman he didn’t recognize. Jenkins had been a frequent visitor to the club recently, but he had never seen this lady before.
“Good morning, Jenkins. This is Miss Scringer, from Anjou County. She’s a childhood friend of mine. Grena, this is the Mr. Williams I’ve so often told you about.”
Miss Scringer was a tall young woman with brown, curly hair. She stood a bit taller than both Miss Mikhail and Hathaway and wore a simple floral dress. Her hands were folded gracefully in her lap, and she rose to her feet the mont Jenkins appeared.
Miss Mikhail was about to take Miss Scringer to et so other friends, so she left Hathaway and Jenkins to chat for a while, promising they would return before lunch.
It was the first ti this year that Jenkins had a chance to be alone with the red-haired young woman.
After Miss Mikhail’s maid closed the door, Jenkins stood quietly by the entrance, closing his eyes to listen for a mont. Confirming that no one was eavesdropping, he gave a slight nod.
“I thought Miss Mikhail would at least leave one of her maids behind. I’m surprised she took them all this ti.”
He spoke lightly as he left his hat and cane in the cloakroom behind the door, where the two young ladies’ coats were already hanging.
Hathaway gently shook her head, indicating that she was just as clueless about it. But that wasn’t important; she had sothing pressing to ask.
“About what happened on the last day of last year...”
“I heard about it. The Evil God’s Scion... to think a divine being would actually appear in our city. And I never expected the God of Music you believe in to descend personally. It’s truly astounding.”
He had intended to steer the conversation toward her mysterious “cousin,” but Hathaway’s conversational skills were clearly superior.
“I also heard that the blockade on St. George Avenue is deeply connected to that Evil God’s Scion.”
The newly ascended God of Lies had been involved in the Scion affair, so his followers couldn't possibly be ignorant of it, and Jenkins was on good terms with them. Hathaway therefore deduced that his earlier claim of knowing nothing about St. George Avenue had been a complete lie.
“St. George Avenue is indeed related to the Scion...”
He sat down, gripping the armrests of his chair, and placed Chocolate on his lap, slowly stroking the cat’s back.
“And... in fact, the Scion was born on that very street.”
“What?”
The woman’s brow furrowed.
“And... right next door to .”
“What?”
She shot up from her seat in astonishnt.
“And... I just so happened to be at ho when it all went down.”
Hathaway abandoned her exclamations. She lunged forward and grabbed Jenkins by the shoulders.
“That’s not what you said last ti.”
Standing, she was naturally taller than the seated Jenkins. As she leaned down to look at him, the ends of her hair inevitably brushed against his cheek.
“But it had nothing to do with . I only kept the truth from you because I was afraid you’d worry.”
“And this doesn’t make worry?”
He could hear the anger in her voice, which he chalked up to concern. He knew lying had been the wrong thing to do.
The two of them were entirely too close; even Jenkins could feel how strange the situation had beco.
He pressed himself back into his chair as hard as he could to keep their faces from touching. The woman evidently noticed as well. She snorted through her nose and took a step back of her own accord.
“I know lying is wrong... but I really didn’t want you to worry too much,”
he repeated.
“It’s good that you know soone worries about you,”
Hathaway said, a hint of lancholy in her voice. Jenkins couldn’t decipher the aning in her flickering eyes.
It was clear the Enchanters of Nolan City were all aware of what had transpired on the last night of the year. Hathaway could even pinpoint the location as an abandoned church outside the city.
But she didn't reveal the identity of her "cousin." When Jenkins "casually" brought the woman up, Hathaway just vaguely sidestepped the question. What Jenkins was most curious about was how the four pseudo-gods had managed to prepare their saintly vessels in Nolan with such precision and timing, but he figured no one could answer that question.
Hathaway thanked Jenkins for his year-end festival gift but, as always, warned him not to get too close to the followers of the God of Lies. In her view, since Jenkins was practically confird to inherit Bishop Parrold’s position, the proper path was to focus on advancing his career within the church.
“Perhaps you think being a bishop in an Orthodox Church is rely a mortal position, not worth an Enchanter’s effort. But in truth, having such a status ans you’re almost guaranteed to be left alone by any illegal Enchanters. They simply wouldn’t have the nerve.”
Hathaway was right. If not for the temptation of godhood dangling before him, becoming the bishop of a major diocese was indeed the brightest future Jenkins could hope for.
Lately, Jenkins had been hearing people discuss the Fabry fraud sche in various settings. Even the Sage's Church had recognized the brilliance of the thod. Since no one could find Miss Fabry to get a deeper analysis of the scam, they had no choice but to consult Williams, the man who had exposed it.
The young won at the club were equally fascinated by the topic; in fact, almost everyone was eager to talk about it now. After all, the elusive Miss Fabry had managed to deceive tens of thousands of people relying on nothing more than “words.” So believed Miss Fabry truly existed, while others thought she was nothing more than a real illusion.
And it all hinged on Jenkins’s account. People were now less interested in his status as a writer and more concerned with his views on this new form of deception.
In the afternoon, Jenkins briefly left the club to visit City Hall. When he returned, he was a true young tycoon, holding a fortune. Despite his best efforts to conceal his emotions, Hathaway and Miss Mikhail could easily sense his excitent. But they understood the feeling—anyone who suddenly ca into more than ten thousand gold pounds would hardly behave any better than Jenkins.
According to Miss Mikhail’s teasing remarks, Jenkins now checked all the boxes: “rich,” “young,” “single,” “handso,” and “successful,” making him a truly desirable prospect for young ladies to “get to know.” Jenkins himself didn’t react much to this, but the more sensitive Hathaway read an unusual aning in the words.
After returning to the church that evening, Jenkins first went to see Fini. The girl appeared to be in good spirits, and according to Miss Bevanna, they had found no unusual curses on her, which was a profound relief.
However, the morning’s events also ant that, aside from the missing George Liverpool, the little girl was truly alone in the world. Jenkins had no idea how to comfort her, so he spent the entire evening sitting with her in the courtyard cloister, watching the snow fall.
The way she pursed her lips and clutched the corner of his coat was heart-wrenching, but Jenkins was hopelessly inept at offering comfort. They simply sat there in the cold wind for nearly two hours until it was ti to go to bed.
“Sir, thank you,”
Fini said suddenly, just before they parted at the corner.
“No, it’s nothing. If you ever run into trouble, you can always co find .”
Jenkins shook his head and patted the girl on the head—a bad habit he’d picked up from raising a cat—then turned and walked away.
The girl stood there, watching Jenkins’s retreating figure. She lowered her head and made the holy symbol of the Sage over her chest. After she was done, she hesitated for a mont, then clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and bowed her head slightly.
“Sir, your kindness protects , and your strength is what allowed to survive. You are the embodint of benevolence, an immortal and great man.”
Her education was limited, so most of her words of praise ca directly from the church’s scriptures. Thus, it was understandable that she would utter such “blasphemous” words while praying for Jenkins. Fortunately, there was no one else around to hear.
This was a very good start, because even an improper prayer was still a prayer. The divine domain lay dormant within Jenkins, and this tiny, faint flicker of faith ant little for now.
As per Jenkins’s request, Mr. Augustus’s entire inheritance had been paid to him in cash. After he bid the ladies at the club farewell that evening, the church even provided an escort to see him safely back. By the ti Jenkins parted ways with Fini, several boxes of banknotes were lying quietly in the corner of his room, waiting for their owner to open and inspect them again and again.
“There is nothing more exciting than having a huge pile of cash stored in your bedroom.”
Such were the current thoughts of the still-maturing Jenkins.
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