The gas lamps on the living room wall illuminated Jenkins, dressed in a black formal suit, and the young woman in a beautiful dress. In response to Jenkins’s question, Briny gave a slight nod.
“Alright then,” Jenkins nodded lightly, oblivious to his cat’s pout. “Since Hathaway will be there, so will I.” The next mont, a knock sounded at the door. The two of them shot apart as if shocked, moving in opposite directions. Briny hurried deeper into the living room, while Jenkins scooped up his cat, pretending he’d just been grooming its fur, and strode toward the entryway.
Mr. Nelly’s ntion of inviting an important figure tonight was evidently true. The carriage carrying the three of them—and one cat—hadn’t even neared the Royal Opera House before Jenkins saw a procession of lavishly decorated private carriages lining the road.
The expense of a private carriage went far beyond the simple purchase of a horse and vehicle. The various taxes, maintenance fees, feed costs, and staff salaries were enough to bankrupt a typical middle-class family in short order.
Considering this, Jenkins was surprised to see so many private carriages tonight. It ant the significance of this performance was far greater than he had imagined.
“Father ntioned he was supposed to co as well,” Hathaway whispered from the side. “But he has military duties tonight, so he had to give the invitation to my brother. He said he’s invited a lovely young woman, but he won’t tell who.”
“Yes, my father received an invitation too.”
The blonde girl was far less composed than Hathaway as she said this, the reason being, of course, the “two choices” the Marquis had left her with before last winter.
“He’ll be at the opera house tonight as well, but in a box seat. He’s going with Mother.”
“What a coincidence,” Jenkins remarked, still failing to grasp the full aning of the situation.
“Don’t you understand yet, Jenkins?”
Briny prompted him in a low voice:
“Such a major incident just occurred in the city, and an epidemic is on the verge of breaking out. At a ti like this, why would the city’s nobles and rchants all gather in one place?”
“......”
Jenkins fell silent for a mont.
“The mayor will be there tonight?”
“Yes, tonight is about more than just the opera. I don’t know why the Church of the Sage didn’t tell you, but this evening is very important for most people. The mayor will give a short speech before the opera begins, partly to reassure the public, and partly to...”
“To clarify the matter concerning Duke Antak. The war is about to begin.”
Jenkins didn't look at the girls, his gaze fixed on the nightscape outside the window. He understood all the reasoning; he just couldn’t accept how quickly it was all happening.
“So you understood all along.”
Briny murmured.
Hathaway raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“How could I not?”
Jenkins stared blankly at the brightly lit building in the distance, where elegantly dressed gentlen and ladies entered the grand, opulent hall in pairs. The path to the opera house was ablaze with light, and the air buzzed with greetings in various accents, startling the birds in the nearby woods.
The distant horizon was a stretch of darkness, but this backdrop was cast in a golden hue by the brilliance of the opera house.
The scene was imprinted in Jenkins’s eyes like an oil painting. Yet at the sa ti, he also saw this very place a hundred years in the future—desolate, a field of skeletons and tombs burying its once-respectable people.
It was as if a deafening bell tolled in his ears. The Observer suddenly flared with a purple light. For a fleeting mont, Jenkins felt he had touched so secret, unknown realm where everything before him moved with the clockwork precision of actors on a stage.
But the sensation faded as quickly as it ca. The carriage had reached its destination; it was ti to get out.
Since he was escorting two young ladies to the opera, Jenkins had to display his gentlemanly manners. He stepped down from the carriage first, then extended a hand to help the girls in their gowns.
The cat remained in the carriage, watching Jenkins. It could have easily jumped down on its own. So Jenkins reached in, lifted it out, and placed it on his shoulder. Though Chocolate ended up without a pretty bow or a delicate little bell, the cat’s black-and-white fur was a surprisingly good match for Jenkins’s black suit.
The suit had been a gift from Robert during last year’s holiday festival. Jenkins had never worn it, leaving it to gather dust in his closet. He had only taken it to be dry-cleaned and pressed after returning from Shire a few days ago, and it fit him surprisingly well.
Jenkins’s sense of style was, in fact, quite old-fashioned. Although a black formal suit was perfectly appropriate for such an occasion, as he walked up the red carpet on the stone steps of the opera house, he noticed that the n around him were dressed in a far more fashionable manner.
As for Jenkins, the most fashionable part of his attire was probably his black leather shoes. They were a rare lace-up style, and when he had first seen them, he suspected the shoemaker was pulling his leg.
“I can never accept n wearing silk stockings.”
He whispered to his companions on either side. Though n escorting ladies would typically link arms, Jenkins’s situation was unique, so they simply walked a little closer together.
“It’s not so bad...”
Briny glanced at a man walking ahead of them, then looked around.
“I don’t mind n’s stockings, but maybe growing a beard would make you seem more mature. Right now, you look even... younger than we do.”
In truth, “childish” would have been an equally fitting word. Jenkins’s face made him look far younger than his actual age, giving him the appearance of a sixteen-year-old boy. Paired with this suit, however, he could just about pass for a handso young man.
Of course, his youthful appearance was also influenced by psychological factors. While the age of his soul was similar to that of his body, the man was clearly not yet mature enough.
“A beard.”
He stroked his chin. He’d had the sa idea last autumn but had abandoned it because Chocolate was against it. The cat despised it when he grew a beard. Though Chocolate couldn’t speak, Jenkins just knew.
It seed many people recognized Jenkins, greeting him politely as they passed. He didn’t know most of them, but fortunately, Briny did. Whenever soone hailed “Viscount Williatte,” she would tell Jenkins who they were in a perfectly pitched voice.
In order to relay this information, Briny had to move a little closer to Jenkins. Beside them, the red-haired girl maintained a constant smile, inwardly calculating just how far the other two’s relationship had progressed.
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