Jenkins took a few steps back, his face slightly flushed, only then realizing that his leg had just been pressed against a rather... intimate spot.
"A man in his twenties, and you've never had your first kiss? Hasn't any lady ever pursued you?"
The young red-haired woman sneered, but her hands, clasped behind her back, twisted together unconsciously. She, too, was unsettled by the kiss with a man she barely knew.
"I... I... of course not!"
This was a matter of dignity. Lying about it wasn't shaful; he could still consider himself an upstanding gentleman.
"I understand, Mr. Williams."
She chuckled softly, then raised a finger to emphasize her point:
"Don't ask any questions. This has nothing to do with you. Tonight, you just shared a passionate kiss with an enthusiastic fan. Understand?"
The girl's lips curved into a smile, her expression as captivating as her fiery red hair.
"Understood, understood."
Jenkins nodded repeatedly, covering his mouth. He noticed a strange taste in his mouth.
"This world is far more complicated than you think... You wouldn't understand."
She clapped her hands together and turned to leave, but stopped again, turning back to look Jenkins in the eye with a serious warning:
"If you tell Briny about this, I'll make sure you die a miserable death!"
With that, she hitched up her trousers and hurried away, disappearing down the alley.
Jenkins stood stunned for a long while before bending down to pick up his cane, wiping the dust from it with a handkerchief from his pocket. Gazing in the direction the girl had vanished, he gently stroked Chocolate's fur. In all his years, across two bodies, this was the first ti he had engaged in such an intimate act with soone his own age.
"Life is truly strange."
Jenkins murmured in wonder again. The cat licked his fingers.
"Wait, how was she so skilled at that?"
Chocolate must have licked a small fleck of dark blue ink on Jenkins's hand. It squird in displeasure and started swatting his face with its tail.
He made it back to St. George Street without incident. A carriage was waiting at the corner, and Mr. and Mrs. Williams—dressed in a formal black suit with a white shirt and a blue evening gown with high heels, respectively—were waiting for him at his front door. Robert wore a gold watch on his wrist, his most expensive one, while Mary had a string of necklaces around her neck. Jenkins had never seen it before; it must have been a recent purchase.
Jenkins gave his shoulders a slight shrug, and Chocolate leaped down. It deftly scaled the white wooden fence of the yard and slipped into the house through the small cat door at the bottom of the main door.
"Jenkins, you need a license to keep a cat in the city. Otherwise, if it gets killed or captured, the police won't even take the case."
Robert gave him a warm hug before issuing the warning.
"Is that so?"
Jenkins scratched his head, then turned to hug Mary Williams. "I'll make a trip to City Hall soon, then."
The couple had co to see how Jenkins was faring living on his own. Jenkins had intended to invite them in for a bit, but they declined.
"We're on our way to the National Opera House to see an opera. It's the sort of event that high-society gentlen and ladies are expected to attend regularly."
A smile spread across Robert's handso face. He gestured to his own attire. "If we were just here to visit you, we wouldn't have dressed so formally."
"So you were just stopping by on your way."
Jenkins replied with a smile, but Mary handed him a stack of letters. "Actually, we were just stopping by to deliver your mail. These are letters from your fans; the publisher forwarded them to the house. There's also a thank-you letter from that young lady who sent the misaddressed letter. Rember to change your address with the publisher. Oh, look at you, our little Williams is a great author now."
Mary looked incredibly proud, and her voice grew a little louder. Jenkins couldn't be sure if it was because a neighbor had just been passing by.
Waving goodbye to the carriage carrying his parents, Jenkins sighed and walked into his house with the stack of mail.
"Go to the post office and subscribe to the newspapers—both the usual ones and 'Prospects in Tropical dicine' for the Corpse Gentleman's gathering. Go to the dairy to order milk for Chocolate and myself for the mornings. Get Chocolate registered. Visit the neighbors. Ask an agency about a trustworthy cleaning lady. Replace the old furniture... Goddess above, I'm going to be busy."
Living alone, he naturally had to make his own dinner. Jenkins was a decent cook, so he whipped up so at congee. Chocolate's food was a premium cat food. While it wasn't the most expensive brand in the store, it was the most expensive Jenkins could afford.
If he was going to have a cat, he had to take responsibility for it.
Sitting at the dining table, he held a wooden spoon in one hand and read the letters with the other. His "Stranger's Story Collection" could be found in all the major bookstores in Nolan City, but its publication elsewhere hadn't been fully rolled out yet. So these were just letters from enthusiastic local readers, expressing their praise for his stories and their anticipation for more.
He was sowhat surprised to find that very few of the letters were from children. The majority were from young won, and the plot points they gushed about in their letters were all related to princes and princesses.
"They're fairy tales, not love stories!"
Jenkins had never imagined this outco when he was writing the book.
Given the price of the book and the dismal literacy rate of the era, the letter-writers were certainly girls from middle-class families, or even the so-called upper class. So of the sentences were quite odd:
"Your talent shines as brightly as the morning star. If you are willing, I would be honored to choose a suitable ti and place to admire the stars with you..."
"Dear Mr. Williams, your stories made my heart pound. Not even a blooming crimson rose could express my feelings. I hope to receive a reply from you, and I would offer you my blooming rose in return."
...
There were many similar lines, but Jenkins had no interest in stargazing, nor did he care for roses. The shadow of the Young Flower Seller still haunted him. So he only picked out a few letters that seriously discussed the stories, intending to write back and thank them for their support.
"So I'm a famous author now."
Chocolate couldn't be bothered to respond to his dense master.
The last letter was the reply from the Miss Mary of the "pen pal incident," the one who had misaddressed her mail. Jenkins had all but forgotten about the whole affair. He hadn't expected a reply.
To receive a letter from the northernmost part of the continent so quickly, however, ant that this Miss Mary must have used the most expensive form of postage.
He carefully brought the letter to his nose. The fragrance of expensive stationery wafted up to him. It was said that this type of "snow paper" was made by soaking the raw materials in a special perfu, allowing the finished product to exude a pleasant scent. It seed to be true. Miss Mary must be a very wealthy lady.
Unfolding the letter, he saw the sa elegant handwriting as before.
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