"He's not here? Sage, that's terrible! Oh, here's what happened. Around noon today, Papa Oliver got a message..."
Jenkins quickly explained what had happened, though of course, he had to leave out certain details. For instance, he didn't mention a companion named Mr. Black Cat, nor that after leaving that strange world, he hadn't gone through any intermediary stop but had returned directly to the material world. Furthermore, his method of return had been a flash of inspiration from the ancient and wise elf, Mr. Saramanda.
While this might mislead any future Enchanters who accidentally wandered into that realm, Jenkins could only, with a guilty conscience, tell Miss Bevanna that the key to escaping was the talking parrot. He couldn't explain the origin of the Sin Coins, so this was his only option.
He would still have to write and submit a formal report on the matter, but the priority right now was finding any trace of Papa Oliver.
After hearing the situation, Miss Bevanna immediately summoned the two nearest combat squads and personally followed Jenkins back to the alley they had visited that afternoon.
Just as he'd said, the old bookstore across from the new wall was gone. In its place stood a two-story white Western-style house that had been burned down half a year ago and was now under renovation. But that wasn't the focus right now.
The Church moved with impressive efficiency. Having already notified KalFax Field, Miss Bevanna unhesitatingly ordered a slender Scribe to simply push the wall down.
It was now past midnight, and not a single gas light was burning in the homes on either side of the alley. Jenkins repeated the address once more and was about to step into the alley when Miss Bevanna raised a hand to stop him.
Although it had the appearance of a place full of life, Jenkins also sensed that something was wrong...
He voiced his assessment in a low voice: "A bit... lifeless."
Yes, even in winter when there were no chirping insects, there should have been some sound from these poorly insulated houses. It was impossible that every single person living in this alley was a silent sleeper.
"Jenkins, your inspiration is sharp, and you're right..."
She glanced around, puzzled, then led the group into the house closest to the newly-demolished wall.
Though the door was locked from the inside, a simple piece of iron was no obstacle for this group.
Once inside, the Scribes fanned out to inspect the premises. The two-bedroom house wasn't very large, so they quickly discovered two desiccated corpses hidden in a closet.
"They're dead. Preliminary cause of death is excessive blood loss..."
The man reporting spoke in a hoarse voice, hesitating as if wanting to add more. Jenkins, covering his nose, also moved closer, and his expression mirrored Miss Bevanna's shock.
"In fact, I have an ability that allows me to control blood, but I can't sense any blood at all in these two bodies."
What lay before them were, indeed, completely desiccated corpses. No other word could describe their condition. The bodies of the man and woman were entirely shriveled, and through the gaps in their clothing, the skeletal structure was clearly visible beneath the skin. Only their heads, supported by the skulls, hadn't shrunk as much, which gave the corpses an unsettling resemblance to bobblehead dolls.
A strange mix of morbid humor and disgust rose in Jenkins's chest. He had to look away and focus his attention elsewhere in the room. As a result, he didn't notice his cat, perched on his shoulder, sniffing the air intently.
"Miss Bevanna, it's the same situation with the other houses nearby."
Another person reported, stepping in from outside.
They proceeded down the alley, checking each house in turn. With the exception of a few lucky souls who happened to be out, every resident had been turned into a desiccated corpse.
The Stress family, owners of the antique vase, were among the lucky ones. When the group broke down the door, they found the house empty. A supernatural scan revealed a set of strange footprints on the already dusty floor, indicating that the suspected murderer had been here too but hadn't found their target.
"I remember looking with my Eye of Reality back then, and there was no aura at all... Wait, that's not right. We weren't in the real world. Oh, how stupid of me!"
Realizing his mistake, Jenkins blinked and activated his other sight. He started walking toward the entrance of the house, scanning his surroundings, but the dense cluster of auras from his companions was obstructing his view.
He stopped abruptly when he reached the landing of the staircase leading to the second floor. The landing between the first and second floors had no window, just a wall covered in strange drawings, vulgar words, and peeling paint. Papa Oliver's aura was right there, and considering that behind the wall was nothing but empty air...
"So Papa Oliver is in the wall?"
The astonishing thought struck him. He lunged forward, wanting to pull Papa Oliver out, but stopped himself short.
"I need to find a good excuse."
His head turned slightly, his gaze falling upon the cat resting on his shoulder. "Chocolate, go over there!"
He whispered. The cat flicked its tail twice, reluctantly, before leaping from Jenkins's shoulder.
If Jenkins had been tasked with Chocolate's role, he would have first strolled theatrically around the room, constantly distracting the working Scribes to draw their attention. Then, when the time was right, he would have lowered his head, pretending to catch a strange scent. After a few false attempts, he would have finally "discovered" the wall he'd already seen.
But Chocolate's intellect was clearly no match for Jenkins's. After jumping down, it simply hopped down the stairs, stopped in front of the wall, and looked back up at the man on the landing.
So, Jenkins had no choice but to call out deliberately, "Chocolate, don't run off! Ah, this is a dangerous place, don't disturb everyone's work!"
As he spoke, he hurried down the steps. Ears pricked, he heard someone approaching to see what the commotion was. He quickly scooped Chocolate up into his arms and said, "What are you doing pawing at that wall? Stop running around, or I'll leave you at home next time!"
His ploy worked perfectly. The people who came to investigate also noticed the wall. Most of the Scribes knew that the pet cat Jenkins kept was a supernatural creature, so the more cautious among them began to suspect there was something wrong with the wall.