A wave of relief washed over Jenkins as Hathaway finally let go. A smile touched his lips, and he picked up his knife and fork once more. But in his relaxed state, a rather inappropriate remark slipped out.
“No, no, you don’t have to say a thing. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
The word echoed in her mind. As she looked at Jenkins’s smiling face, a sudden, fierce urge to land a punch squarely on his handsome features welled up inside her.
Perched atop the cupboard, the cat stifled a chuckle. The scene that had just unfolded was simply too amusing. In its long life, it had witnessed countless mortal dramas; joy and sorrow, partings and reunions, were all common sights. Yet, the events surrounding Jenkins never failed to entertain it.
But... if Jenkins actually married some mortal woman, that would mean it would have to...
The realization struck the cat with sudden force. It would never permit anyone to encroach upon its personal space.
After breakfast, Jenkins walked Hathaway to the corner of St. George Street and saw her into a carriage. As they were saying their goodbyes, they ran into their neighbor, Mr. Goodman, on his way to work. He watched, wide-eyed, as Jenkins and an unfamiliar red-haired young lady emerged from the house together in the early morning.
The middle-aged man gave Jenkins a knowing wink. Jenkins, confused, simply blinked in return. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ NovєlFіre.net
A sudden tap on his shoulder broke his reverie. He turned to find Papa Oliver standing behind him.
“What’s on your mind?”
With that, he started walking toward Jenkins’s house. “I called out to you a couple of times, but you didn’t seem to hear.”
“Oh, I was just seeing Hathaway off. We were talking about going to the preview on Sunday.”
He offered a simple excuse as he pushed open the gate to let Papa Oliver in.
It was a regular workday, and Papa Oliver had come for a specific reason: to take Jenkins with him to the warehouse district in the eastern part of the city.
Nolan City had two major warehouse districts. One was situated near the docks, handling cargo from sea freight, while the other was located near the train station in the east, storing goods that arrived by land.
Jenkins recalled how, late last year, Papa Oliver had asked if he was willing to travel to the northern Hamparvo Kingdom to handle a shipment. He hadn't wanted to leave Nolan back then and had declined. Now, the final installment of that very shipment, which had been arriving in batches, had at last reached the city.
The reason Papa Oliver wanted Jenkins to accompany him was that the shipment contained a particularly important statue. Instead of leaving it in storage, he wanted Jenkins to take it directly back to the church.
The steam train carrying the cargo was scheduled to arrive at Nolan Station at nine in the morning for a three-hour stopover. Its designation, C-TP-0933, indicated that it ran along the continent's western coast. The towering Scottel mountain range divided the Hamparvo Kingdom from the Fidektri Kingdom, but since the mountains didn't reach the coastline, it provided merchants with a third option besides sea freight or a long journey circumnavigating half the continent.
Trains were notoriously unreliable, so Papa Oliver and Jenkins waited another half hour on St. George Street before finally setting off by carriage.
In truth, Papa Oliver had also seen Hathaway leaving Jenkins's house when he'd first arrived. He didn't ask any questions, however. He knew the relationships of young people were complicated, and some matters were best left for them to sort out on their own.
Their predictions about the train and the weather proved equally accurate. The train, unsurprisingly, was late, and the sky was just as gloomy. Unwilling to stand waiting in the biting wind, Jenkins and Papa Oliver paid a young boy to keep watch for them while they ducked into a nearby coffee shop.
In this era, coffee shops were a symbol of middle-class elegance—much like in his own time, Jenkins mused. With their steep prices and unsatisfying fare, they were destined to remain unpopular with the common folk.
Jenkins had never been to the establishment, named "Little Choc's Coffee Shop," but it offered a surprisingly wide selection of beverages. Having just eaten breakfast, neither he nor Papa Oliver was hungry, so they each ordered a drink. Papa Oliver chose a coffee with milk, and Jenkins, a hot chocolate.
His choice was meant as a playful jab at his cat, but he quickly realized the feline's intellect probably wouldn't grasp the subtlety of the joke.
While they waited, the two fell into idle conversation.
“When cocoa beans were first discovered on a remote island off the continent, chocolate was an expensive beverage reserved exclusively for royalty.”
“I know,” Jenkins said, nodding. “The book ‘A Botanical Exploration: The History of Common Edible Plants’ mentions that because chocolate improves circulation, nobles in the early days used it as an aphrodisiac.” These interesting tidbits were one of the reasons he enjoyed reading otherwise tedious books.
“Legend says that Emperor Correll III of the ancient Sicari Kingdom could drink thirty cups of hot chocolate a day. But I imagine there's some exaggeration in that account. After all, early chocolate didn't taste very good.”
As he spoke, a waiter brought their drinks. Jenkins handed him two penny coins as a tip, a custom he still found awkward but knew was required.
“As cocoa beans began to be cultivated widely across the continent, the price of chocolate fell,” Papa Oliver continued. He watched as the cat stretched its neck to sniff at Jenkins's cup, then, losing interest, trotted off to bat at the tablecloth. “But even today, a good number of people still think of it as an aphrodisiac. That’s why exchanging chocolates between a man and a woman is considered quite a significant gesture.”
Jenkins took a sip and set his cup down. Their table was near the back wall, so he could only catch glimpses of the foggy street outside whenever someone opened the door.
Just then, the door swung open as another patron entered. Who it was didn't matter, but in that brief moment, Jenkins thought he saw a combat squad from the Church of Knowledge and Books hurrying down the street.
“It has nothing to do with us.”
So it wasn't a trick of the eye. He had recognized them. Papa Oliver rapped his knuckles on the table, cutting him off.
“If you’re that curious, you can ask about it at the church after work. But for now,” he said firmly, “this has absolutely nothing to do with us. Do you understand?”