The carriage departed from St. George Avenue, heading toward the opera house on the outskirts of the city. The atmosphere inside the carriage seed friendly. Yes, very friendly.
Hathaway showed no reaction to Briny's overt enthusiasm, maintaining a placid expression. She would occasionally discuss a plot point from a story with Jenkins, but it was clear she was rely humoring Briny, never offering her own opinions. Jenkins, for his part, was quite eager to hear Hathaway’s thoughts on his new book, but that would have to wait for a mont when Briny wasn't around.
"So the book must be a success. My publisher sends letters every day, and if the numbers he's providing are accurate, then I'd say the situation is very promising."
"Of course it is. This is absolutely the most romantic book of the century, Jenkins, you have to understand that."
"Romantic?"
Jenkins had no idea how Briny had reached that conclusion, but he wasn't foolish enough to argue. He reached out and stroked the cat dozing beside him. Chocolate’s back twitched in response.
"So, do you have any plans for your next book?"
Briny asked, trying to take Jenkins's hand, but he deftly avoided her touch.
"No, not yet."
Jenkins shook his head and scooped the cat onto his lap, stroking it with both hands. Now, no woman would have an excuse to take his hand.
They soon arrived at the Royal Opera House, where a servant dispatched by Mr. Nelly greeted the three of them at the entrance. Though it was a weekend evening, when the opera house should have been at its most bustling, it was unusually quiet, having cleared its schedule for the troupe’s new production.
Jenkins, sitting by the door, was the first to step down from the carriage. Briny moved to follow, but Hathaway caught her hand.
"Sothing's off about you today."
The red-haired young woman's voice was gentle as she cautioned her. "Briny, what exactly happened between you and Jenkins?"
"It's nothing."
The blonde girl shook her head, refusing to et the eyes of the woman behind her. "Nothing at all. I was just astonished by his talent."
The mont the words left her mouth, she realized how foolish the answer sounded, but she had no better alternative.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
After a mont of silence, the two of them stepped out of the carriage as if nothing had happened. Jenkins was already waiting for them.
In the past, whenever he ca here, it had been a sea of people, a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd of gentlen and ladies in their finest formal wear, discussing "elegant" topics as they filed in. This ti, ascending the steps to the opera house with only servants and friends beside him felt deeply strange.
Perhaps because there was no audience, both the grand lobby and the seating area below the stage felt vast and empty. Briny marveled at it as well.
"I never knew this place was so big."
It was only after they had disembarked that Jenkins noticed both his companions were wearing high heels. As they walked through the slightly cavernous hall, the sharp tapping of their heels on the floor echoed crisply, carrying far in the soft light.
On stage, the actors were nervously running through a final check. Backstage, crew mbers in casual attire stood alongside perforrs in extravagant costus, creating a rather comical scene.
In contrast to the lively stage, the area below was not quiet either. The portly Mr. Nelly was already waiting for them. His face was glowing as he strode forward to shake Jenkins's hand.
"You've finally arrived."
All Jenkins had to do today was sit in the audience, watch the entire performance, and then offer his guidance and opinions.
It was only then that he finally understood why his companions had taken such care with their makeup and attire. Besides the three of them, a number of invited critics and newspaper reporters were also present. Jenkins even spotted a cara being set up, a young man beside it struggling with a bucket of water he was carrying from backstage.
It was a piece of "firefighting equipnt," prepared to prevent any accidents. The flash from an old-fashioned cara could easily start a fire, a risk that required extra caution in a building filled with so much wood.
"Mr. Williams!"
He heard soone call his na but pretended he hadn't, feigning deep conversation with Mr. Nelly. With all the various events that had transpired recently, the newspapers had sent him more than a few interview requests, but he'd tossed all those letters into the fireplace like rubbish.
Playing dumb was not enough, however. In the end, Hathaway dragged him over to exchange a few words with the reporters. It was incredibly tedious. All their questions were about the Fabry Fraud. They had, of course, heard that the Legacy Sage Church was planning another public lecture on the matter, but no one who wasn't a believer had been invited.
After a period of this clamor, Jenkins was growing weary. Fortunately, the opera troupe's deputy director, Mr. Dolok Hardix, erged from backstage just in ti to announce that the performance was about to begin. At last, everyone quieted down and found their seats.
Jenkins and his friends sat in the second row; the first row in front of them was empty. He was flanked by the two young won, with his cat resting on his lap. He had thought Hathaway would want to sit with Briny, but sohow, they had ended up in this arrangent.
The actors took their places, the audience settled in, and as the bright lights overhead dimd, a spotlight pierced the darkness, illuminating the young detective who made the first entrance.
The opera had begun.
Even though he had written it himself, Jenkins still felt a sense of boredom. In the dark auditorium, small movents would go unnoticed by those nearby, so his hand strayed mischievously downward and gently flicked Chocolate's tail.
Amidst the sudden swell of dramatic music—representing the train's departure—the cat lifted its head and glared at Jenkins, its eyes flashing with a nacing light.
Seeing that Chocolate was not to be trifled with, he gave up on teasing it and turned to observe Hathaway, only to be reminded of their last awkward encounter. She had knelt on one knee on his kitchen floor, asking him to let her guide him onto the path of music.
Jenkins hadn't given a clear answer at the ti, which was essentially a refusal. Now, he worried the opera might remind her of that mont, so he dismissed the idea of whispering to her.
He then turned to look at Miss Mikhail...
"Forget it, I'll just watch the opera."
He thought to himself, sitting up straight and placing his hands on the cat's back, intending to dutifully fulfill his purpose for being there. Suddenly, a hand reached over from his right and took his.
"Briny..."
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