With the key in hand, Jenkins wasted no time. He snatched up the girl, whose shriek was so piercing it threatened to burst his eardrums. Spinning around, he jammed the key into the lock, turned it, and yanked the door open, revealing an endless expanse of white light.
"How is this possible? You already agreed to the conditions here! How could you not abide by them?"
The old beggar shot to his feet in astonishment, but he was too late. One of Jenkins's feet had already crossed into the light.
Mrs. Kopole screamed, but she herself had been seized by the corpses.
Jenkins turned back, wanting to pull her through the door as well, but it was too late. The woman reached a hand toward Jenkins and the child in his arms, her face filled with a serene smile. In that instant, all traces of the malevolent spirit vanished from the middle-aged woman. She was, indeed, human.
The undead resentfully tossed the woman aside and lunged for Jenkins, who was already halfway into the white light. The man could only fall backward, disappearing completely into the pure brilliance.
In the final moment before his vision faded, he saw Mrs. Kopole being disintegrated by a torrent of black energy, saw the terrified faces of the corpses in the room as they rushed toward him, saw the apocalyptic scene outside the building's windows, and saw feathers dancing through the air from a torn pillow on the sofa...
"Why? What's causing that terrifying scene outside?"
The question formed in his mind at the very moment of transition between reality and illusion. A stroke of inspiration hit him, perhaps a sudden burst of insight. It was as if he were in a deified state of omniscience, and the answer simply and naturally appeared in his mind.
It felt as though Jenkins had grasped the rules, or perhaps his soul had touched a higher plane of existence. But whatever the reason, just as surely as the sun rises in the east, as you cannot grow a cat in a box, as Papa Oliver would always worry about Jenkins's marriage prospects, the answer simply appeared:
Once a Mysterious Realm concludes, it does not necessarily collapse on its own. Only those Realms whose rules have been broken will.
"Hmm? Who's answering me?"
A feather drifted into the white light as a massive amount of Spirit flooded into Jenkins's body. And in the skies of the material world, a purple star began to shine with ever greater intensity.
(Chocolate is currently playing with its tail...)
His body slammed heavily onto the floor, a jolt of pain shooting through every joint. He lifted his head and saw a woman's floral dress, but it was Miss Bevanna, and her skirt was quite long. Even from his reclined angle, there was nothing to see.
"So what was I hoping to see... Dammit, what am I thinking?"
He blamed the strange thought on the lingering influence of the Mysterious Realm. He instinctively shifted his head, no longer looking up but to the side, only to see a cat's paw growing larger and larger until, before he could dodge, it was planted squarely on his face.
He cried out, pushing himself up from the floor. The cat immediately took another step closer, then affectionately rubbed against his arm.
Only Miss Bevanna was in Room Two at the moment, but the entire building was filled with clamorous sounds, suggesting the Scribes of the Sage Church had already arrived. Miss Bevanna did not help Jenkins up. Instead, she pointed a finger beside him, and the girl's soul immediately materialized from thin air.
She was still completely devoid of reason, looking just as she had in the Mysterious Realm, though her aggression and power had been greatly diminished. She flailed her hands forward, a fine black powder drifting from her skin into the air, but due to Miss Bevanna's restraint, she was unable to harm anyone.
Jenkins hadn't actually been certain he could bring her out; he had just been "giving it a try." He still understood only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the rules of the Mysterious Realm. That terrifying, bizarre place concealed even greater secrets.
Now, with a single gesture from Miss Bevanna, the fearsome soul was frozen in place. Jenkins had gotten to his feet on his own. Cradling Chocolate with one arm, he used his free hand to try and pry a beautiful feather from the cat's mouth, which it had gotten from who knows where.
The feather was white, longer than Jenkins's palm, and continuously shed a soft, white luminescence into the air. Chocolate's jaw was surprisingly strong; Jenkins couldn't pull it out no matter how hard he tugged.
"Is this your reward? C-01-5-8222, the Angel's Resurrection Feather?"
Miss Bevanna asked, though her gaze was not on the feather but on the girl's soul, which she observed with great interest.
"Resurrection? Oh, we can talk about that later." Follow current novᴇls on N0v3l.Fiɾe.net
Now that he knew this was his reward, he casually reabsorbed the feather from the cat's mouth into his body. The cat immediately looked annoyed, letting out a kittenish "roar" at Jenkins.
"Can this soul still be purified? Her mother helped me. Oh, she was..."
Jenkins gestured toward the girl's soul. Mrs. Kopole had been a great help, and he wanted the girl to be able to "move on" as a human.
"I know. When Chocolate led us here, it had already pointed out the diary to me. I am very sorry for what happened here, but the Church will handle the aftermath."
Miss Bevanna said, her fingers waving gently in the air as she attempted to make direct contact with the soul.
"That's good to hear."
Just then, Jenkins saw staff outside the door carrying out the bodies from the woven bags, and a wave of sadness washed over him. He turned his head again to look at the little girl's soul. Mrs. Kopole had three children, and this was the only soul that remained.
He truly hoped that the other two souls had "moved on" rather than being absorbed and crushed by the Mysterious Realm. But it was a hope that would receive no answer.
The incident required a more thorough investigation, and Miss Bevanna possessed information Jenkins did not. The most crucial point was the whereabouts of the occupants of the four second-floor rooms. The family in Room One had been wiped out, the journalist from Room Three had entered the Mysterious Realm, and Room Four belonged to that depraved murderer.
And the occupant of Room Two, Link, where the entrance to the realm had been, hadn't died but had suffered some mental breakdown. Jenkins knew the man; he was the serial killer who had attacked him that night.
KalFax Field hadn't discovered this residence of his before, but the Church, using the descriptions in the journalist's diary, had connected the dots and easily confirmed their suspicions.
If that was the case, the killer was not as simple as they had imagined—why was he the only resident of the second floor to have gotten completely clear of this place?
All of this required further investigation. And after that Wednesday night's combat class, the Church had already captured the pervert from Room Four.
That part had not been difficult. After all, he was just an ordinary man.