In the center of the room, a single candle burned steadily on the filthy floor. Its light was excessively bright, far more so than a household gas lamp, illuminating one side of the room where a gurney on casters stood against a yellowed wall. From its dilapidated state, it was clear the gurney hadn't been moved in a very long ti. The other side of the room was lined with a bank of lockers set flush against the wall.
Jenkins was not so naive as to think they were for storage.
Three other participants, dressed in the sa manner, had already arrived. They paid no mind to the two newcors, standing silently against the wall.
Jenkins and the professor found a place to stand as well. About twenty minutes later, another eight hurried strangers filed into the room.
“That’s about everyone. Let us begin.”
The voice ca unexpectedly from one of the lockers, clear and distinct, not muffled at all despite the tal barrier.
The second locker from the top, fifth from the left, slowly slid open as if pulled by an unseen hand. A human-shaped figure covered in a sallow-yellow linen sheet twitched a few tis, then sat up.
Now Jenkins understood the origin of the ghoulish na "Corpse Gentleman."
It was a middle-aged man who showed his true face, which was dotted with a few freckles. His body was unnaturally swollen.
The skin exposed beyond his striped hospital gown was an unnatural, deathly pale, and his eyes were lifeless within their deeply sunken sockets.
And yet, those two eyes seed far too bright, so much so that Jenkins felt as if all of the creature's life force had been gathered there.
“It seems we have a new guest.”
The Corpse Gentleman's head turned stiffly toward Jenkins, but no one, not even Professor Burns, said a word.
“I welco any participant who can abide by the rules. So, regardless of who brought you here, please do not break them:
First, criminals are not welco here. Any gentlen or ladies wanted by the Church or the police should not bring their troubles to others.
Second, you are forbidden from inquiring about the identities of others. Otherwise, I will have you stay behind to keep company. There are still many empty beds here.
Third, fair trades are welco, even slightly unequal ones. But this is not a marketplace. Do not attempt to take advantage of others.”
His words carried an old-fashioned, gentlemanly air, and his accent suggested he was not a local.
Jenkins’s hooded head bobbed up and down a few tis in a gesture of agreent. The Corpse Gentleman seed to lose interest and turned his attention elsewhere.
“He trusts just like that?”
He thought in disbelief. His eyes flickered down to the floor, then darted furtively upward. The candle in the center of the room was emitting a strong yellow glow, and in front of the Corpse Gentleman were fourteen points of light and one bubble. Two of those points were green! ṜА𝐍O͍𝖇Ëš
“Goddess above, a level 8 Enchanter?”
Jenkins subconsciously started to trace a sacred emblem over his chest but suppressed the urge with a sharp dose of reason.
“And that candle isn't a normal item either. What is that? What kind of godforsaken place have I stumbled into?”
But there was no ti for regret. The gathering had already begun.
“The plant you asked to find last ti is ready. It’s in number 12.”
The Corpse Gentleman addressed another black-robed figure. Even though everyone wore identical clothing, he could still distinguish each person’s identity.
“Is it an ability?”
Jenkins wondered. The first locker from the top, second from the left, slowly opened. A black-robed figure stepped forward, stood on tiptoe to retrieve a package from within, and then placed sothing else inside.
From his angle, Jenkins couldn’t see clearly what was exchanged.
“Very well. You may now begin your own exchanges.”
The mont he finished speaking, a tall, black-robed figure near the door took the first step forward.
“I’m buying dragon blood at a high price! Any type will do, but the bloodline concentration must be over fifty percent!”
The corner of Jenkins’s mouth twitched. The blood of various magical creatures was, of course, a common material for rituals and potions. Pure-blooded dragons, along with other mythological races, had long since vanished into the mists of history. The existing draconic creatures, like wyverns and fla-tailed steeds, were all hybrids with diluted dragon blood. But even if a material’s na just contained the word “dragon,” its price would multiply tenfold.
While selecting abilities at the Church, Jenkins had once seen a powerful white ability: Minor Dragon Blood Enhancent. It could dramatically improve one’s physical attributes, pushing them beyond human limits. But Papa Oliver had warned him that the ritual required at least twenty pints of dragon blood with a purity of over seventy percent, which the Church would not provide. Even if Jenkins sold off his entire family’s fortune, he couldn’t afford even a thousandth of that amount.
After hearing about the so-called bloodline conversion ability chain, Jenkins had speculated that this might be one of its links.
The dim morgue fell silent. Just as Jenkins thought the deal would fall through, the black-robed figure next to him unexpectedly spoke up.
“Blood of a Red-Eyed Magma Lizard. Five pints. Red dragon bloodline concentration of 52.3%. What are you offering in exchange?”
“Shares. I have so anonymous shares in a forestry company in the northern forests of the Cheslan Kingdom.”
After a brief exchange, the deal was struck. With the Corpse Gentleman as a witness, they exchanged a leather waterskin and a docunt pouch. From what little Jenkins knew, the value of those shares had to exceed 30,000 pounds!
Among Jenkins’s acquaintances, probably only Miss Mikhail and Papa Oliver possessed that kind of wealth.
As the silent figures began to speak one by one, several more deals were completed.
Jenkins gradually ca to understand. Compared to the gatherings organized by Mr. Hood, this one revolved entirely around the Corpse Gentleman. Everyone completely trusted his reputation and believed he could judge the fairness of any transaction impartially. In Mr. Hood’s gatherings, all participants were equals, and trades depended entirely on their own judgnt.
Still, Jenkins preferred Mr. Hood's gatherings. Not only were the people there of a lower level and thus less of a threat to him, but the way they interacted felt more like they were among friends.
Considering he would receive his first paynt for the fairy tales from Mr. Brol tomorrow, Jenkins had brought all his savings with him tonight.
He still wanted to purchase a Star Shard crystal, but no one had one. The Corpse Gentleman did accept commissions, but since this was Jenkins’s first ti, he decided to be cautious and said nothing.
As the gathering neared its end, a black-robed figure suddenly asked the Corpse Gentleman:
“Sir, the city has been experiencing frequent hauntings lately. I’ve even seen a few weak spirits myself. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
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