Inside the small kitchen, Hathaway rambled on about [The Player], her explanation a jumble of words that failed to address Jenkins's most pressing question—what exactly did the ability do?
The information he had managed to glean was alarming enough, for the ability was sohow connected to the God of Music.
A cold sweat broke out across Jenkins's back. The drop of divinity from the cetery in Shire City had already planted a seed of suspicion: that the supposedly gentle God of Music was weaving so complex, hidden conspiracy around him. Now, discovering that this new, inexplicable ability was also linked, Jenkins was nearly certain. The appearance of [The Player] had to be the god's handiwork.
Of course, he was wrong.
"No matter what, I have to get back to Shire City within the month," he resolved. "I need to see that tomb again, and the corpse inside it!"
He steeled his resolve, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of unseen eyes watching him. The hairs on his neck prickled, and the longer the sensation lingered, the more he grasped the terrifying nature of the one who was watching.
He turned around with trepidation, only to find the source of his unease was Chocolate, perched on the second shelf of the cupboard and staring at him with a thoroughly displeased expression. He had no idea when the cat had gotten up there.
"What's wrong?"
Seeing the troubled look on Jenkins's face, Hathaway asked with concern.
"Nothing."
Jenkins shook his head sharply. The young woman before him was a devout follower of the God of Music; he couldn't possibly voice his suspicions to her.
"So, what exactly does [The Player] do?"
He had no intention of converting to the God of Music just for the title of Saint—after all, he already was one. Hathaway, however, seed to be entertaining the thought, though she was too shy to say it aloud. The Jenkins of today had a limitless future, and his faith already lay with a Righteous God.
"A Benefactor with [The Player] gains a special aptitude for music."
It was a simple explanation, and it made perfect sense why the ability was so important to followers of the God of Music. But for Jenkins, it was utterly useless, doing nothing more than occupying one of his valuable ability slots.
"Speaking of which, did I forget to apply to learn the [Blessing of Books]?"
The thought surfaced for a mont before Hathaway pulled him back into their conversation.
"I know it might seem useless to you, Jenkins, but I hope you won't think of getting rid of it."
As she spoke, Hathaway rose, circled the table to his side, and, to his utter confusion, knelt on one knee before him.
A gentle morning breeze slipped through a crack in the window, stirring the curtains in the pale dawn light and making the dust motes dance. The red-haired young woman knelt before the golden-haired young man, lifted her head, and, taking his right hand, pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.
Jenkins felt his breath catch in his throat.
"[The Player] is sothing I've dread of since the day I first stepped onto the path of an Enchanter. I'm not asking you to keep it for my sake, but Jenkins... for , [The Player] is almost a matter of faith. It's sothing every Enchanter who follows the path of music aspires to. I can't bear to see you cast it aside like rubbish, even if it truly is of no use to you..."
"I..."
"Hush, Jenkins. Please, just listen."
She clasped his hand, her gaze turned upward to et his. Far from seeming subservient, the gesture held an inexplicable sanctity.
Her form was backlit by the dawn, making her seem to glow. Jenkins, anwhile, remained on high alert for another surprise kiss—it was exactly the kind of thing the young won in his life were prone to do.
"I won't be so selfish as to demand you keep it. Just listen. The most unique quality of [The Player] lies in the legend of its connection to the very origin of music. The story isn't widely known, but nearly everyone who hears it believes it to be true."
"Legend and ti imbue concepts with power; thought and perception grant the mundane a touch of the extraordinary. It is through this principle that [The Player] gained the ability to accumulate spirit. As long as you engage in any activity related to music, the ability will continuously build your spirit."
She paused, lowering her head to press her forehead against the back of his hand, sensing the slight tremor that ran through him.
"I'm begging you, don't discard this ability. This may not be the path you would have chosen, but I will spend my life guiding you through all the mysteries of music, until you truly grow tired of it... or of . Please, promise , Jenkins Redemptor Williams."
They were supposed to be talking about an ability, but it felt dangerously close to a marriage proposal. Jenkins's breath hitched, and his thoughts seized up as if his brain had rusted shut, leaving him unable to find a way out of the situation.
He tried to pull his hand free, but her grip was firm, unyielding.
"I—I understand," he stamred. "Yes, I won't get rid of it. My ntor advised the sa thing. He thinks the way this ability appeared is highly suspicious, and that it's best to hold onto it until we uncover the truth. I..."
He decided to reveal a part of the truth, hoping it would be enough to escape his current predicant.
"The truth is, I'm already a level four Enchanter, so I have plenty of ability slots to spare. If [The Player] is truly as useful as you say, I won't get rid of it. Besides, the [River Styx Water], B-12-4-4432, is incredibly difficult to acquire. I couldn't discard the ability even if I wanted to."
When they first t, the gap between their levels had been enormous. Now, they were equals. Hathaway could still recall Mr. Candle's initial assessnt of Jenkins:
"Just a level one Benefactor."
"You're already level four?"
She looked up at him again, just as he glanced down. Their eyes t, and a jolt like an electric current shot through her heart.
She flinched and tried to stand, but having knelt for so long, her leg had gone numb. She stumbled, nearly pitching forward.
Fortunately, Jenkins's constant state of high alert against unwanted kisses paid off. He caught her the instant she stumbled, steadying her and successfully averting any accidental lip-locking.
"You..."
"I know what you're thinking," he said quickly. "I haven't used any questionable thods to increase my spirit. I'm well aware that those shortcuts can cause permanent ntal damage, or even drive an Enchanter insane."
He had read the unspoken warning in her eyes. As he spoke, he gently guided her back to sit on her chair.
"I really don't know what to say, Jenkins."
The red-haired girl repeated the sentint, but this ti, she was the one who released his hand.
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