The man spat out the blade of grass he had been chewing, removed his hat, and gave Jenkins a slight nod by way of greeting. It was reserved, yet polite.
Is Miss Mikhail here as well?
Jenkins wondered, returning the driver's nod. Then he climbed the steps, passed through a rusty iron gate, and turned into the building.
The stray pets they took in seed to be kept in the backyard, so the air inside was surprisingly fresh.
He was dressed maturely today, and with his cat, Chocolate, looking so well-grood, the receptionist politely directed him to the correct office.
Having generously paid the city's pet managent fee, the registration process for Chocolate went smoothly. However, the cat refused to wear the collar bearing Jenkins's address, even scratching his hand in the process of trying to escape.
"Forget it, then."
Jenkins tossed the collar aside, tucked the registration papers into his overcoat pocket, and hurried downstairs after the cat, cane in hand.
The little cat hadn't run far. Jenkins found him on the second floor, waiting by a closed iron door.
"No collar, fine. But don't you dare get lost and not find your way ho."
He said to the cat, and only then did Chocolate leap back into his master's arms.
"You're just too smart."
He mused. If he couldn't see any spiritual aura on the cat, Jenkins would have suspected it was a creature of exceedingly high intelligence.
"Hm?"
The air seed to turn chilly. Jenkins raised an eyebrow, tapped his temple, and saw a faint, cat-shaped spiritual entity drift out from behind the iron door just a step away.
Although Jenkins had slain the malevolent spirit at the hospital and taken the Mysterious Object, the lesser spirits born from their influence still lingered in Nolan City. The Church's recently returned combat unit would likely be busy for a while. Of course, this one could have also ford naturally.
With a light swing of his cane, the spirit dissipated into smoke, and the temperature imdiately returned to normal.
"Pathetically weak."
Cradling Chocolate, he headed for the exit, brushing past a young woman in a long dress who was holding a pure white cat. When no one was looking, Jenkins pressed his hand over the scratch from Chocolate, healing the shallow mark. ȒåΝＯ𐌱ƐS
Just as he descended the front steps, he looked up and saw Briny Mikhail and Hathaway Hersha walking side by side. A few servants followed behind them, having just co around from the back of the building.
Both won were dressed in fitted, pale yellow blouses with lace trim. A continuous red pattern was embroidered at the collar, and the cuffs were turned up slightly to reveal their fair wrists. Miss Mikhail held a parasol, shielding them both from the gentle sun. It was an outfit well-suited for a stroll.
When Hathaway saw Jenkins, she clearly faltered for a mont.
"Miss Mikhail, Miss Hersha."
Since he'd run into them, it was only natural to greet them.
"Mr. Williams, what a coincidence."
Briny Mikhail chuckled. "I heard you've moved to St. George Avenue. How are you settling in?"
"Thank you for the recomndation. Baron Leonard's house is very comfortable. I don't know how I can ever thank you for your help."
"It was nothing."
The three of them started walking away from the center, though of course, Jenkins, ever the gentleman, couldn't walk as close to them as they did to each other.
"There's no need for thanks," she said. "Just let know if Papa Oliver gets his hands on anything interesting. That would be thanks enough."
She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, because Hathaway hadn't said a word since seeing Jenkins.
"Papa Oliver must have told you about my little hobby of collecting occult items."
"Of course."
Jenkins nodded, and Miss Mikhail gently nudged her companion's arm with her elbow. Her eyes swept over to Jenkins's cane.
"Is that a spirit dium's cane? I saw it last ti I invited you to a gathering, but I can't believe I didn't recognize it."
"Is that so? It was a gift from Papa Oliver. He said that as an antique shop apprentice, I should have a cane that befits my station."
"What a pity. I've asked Papa Oliver about it so many tis, but he never agreed to sell it to . It's the cane used by the late, famous spirit dium, Jeff Pav. It might even possess so mystical abilities."
"Pardon for being blunt, but I still don't believe any miraculous power exists outside of the great Righteous Gods. Only the gods..."
He rambled on about the greatness of the gods, like a preacher in a black robe. Miss Mikhail looked rather displeased, and it was only then that Hathaway seed to rember to speak.
"I was wondering, Mr. Williams, what brings you here today?"
Her tone was a little unnatural. Was she still worried about what happened last evening?
"Oh, it was for my cat, Chocolate."
"He's very cute."
Hathaway nodded. "But you must watch him carefully. Kittens can be mischievous, and if you're not careful, they can get lost..."
Miss Mikhail nudged her, interrupting the red-haired girl's words, and gave Jenkins an apologetic smile.
"I do apologize. We just saw the poor cats in the back, the ones abandoned by their owners. Hathaway was quite moved."
"Does the center care for a lot of stray cats?"
"Yes, they're so pitiful. So my friends and I donated so gold pounds and asked the center to look after them."
Her expression turned slightly wistful. "Even so, there are still so many uncared-for pets in the city. I've been thinking about persuading my father to establish a dedicated office within Nolan's municipal governnt to manage them. Hopefully, it could improve the lives of these cats."
Jenkins tried his best to keep the disdain from showing on his face. He hadn't forgotten his conversation with the carriage driver.
"You think I'm just so naive young lady, don't you?"
Miss Mikhail stopped and asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jenkins pressed his lips together and shook his head.
"Believe , Mr. Williams, I see far more than you might think. Cats need attention, and so do people. But we can only manage our own affairs."
The words seed to carry a hidden aning. Recalling the complicated family stories he'd heard from Papa Oliver about the marquis's household, Jenkins understood at once.
She was a daughter who couldn't inherit the title, yet her older brother was still wary of any potential threats she might pose. So, she could pour her compassion into managing cats, but she absolutely could not ddle in other matters.
He nodded in understanding. At that, Miss Hersha finally returned to her usual gentle deanor and praised Jenkins with a light laugh:
"It seems Mr. Williams understands. You must be one of those geniuses our elders talk about—the kind who grasps things in an instant."
"You flatter , you flatter ."
He waved his hands hastily.
The three continued their conversation, but tactfully avoided the rather sensitive topic that had just co up.
"I was wondering, Mr. Williams, do you have any plans for your next book?"
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