After seeing off Mr. Bro, Jenkins returned to the first floor to continue today's study. The old man was wearing a monocle, carefully observing the red bullet/bullet in his hand that seemed to be dripping blood.
There was a strong smell of blood constantly emitting from that thing, but it was within two meters of it. Just can't smell anything.
"What's this?"
Jenkins held his nose and asked, Chocolate stood on the stairs on the second floor and refused to come down.
"I don't know, it was sent by the church just now, let me check it. It should not be an item of the ABC series, it may be blessed through some strange ceremony."
Father answered softly, and then asked:
"How did the talk go?"
"It can be considered that the promotion plan has been initially reached, and I may be about to make a fortune."
"Is this little money considered rich?"
The old man lifted the lens of his right eye disdainfully. There was a very faint red light in Jenkins' eyes. It should be a temporary item blessed by the ceremony, but the old man's monocle is indeed genuine [Supernatural]!
"Mr. Bro gave me more than two thousand pounds this time. It's a good thing he dared to come here with so much cash."
"What is more than two thousand pounds? Have you bought the star fragments? That thing is worth 3,000 pounds!"
Jenkins happened to have 3,000 pounds on hand, so he might be able to buy that spar from Miss Magic at the next Mr. Hood's party.
He's going to be poor again.
"The men in black who passed by the door just now..."
"You can smell the dampness of the tomb from a long distance away, probably people from [Death and the End] Church."
Dad said indifferently.
"When the Broken Isles snatched that weird thing, all five churches sought help from outside the diocese, but for various reasons, only our church came from the capital because of the big events in the city. This probably It’s the grave guard team who believe in [End of Death], don’t worry, it has nothing to do with us.”
Jenkins nodded and stopped thinking about it.
After bidding farewell to his father in the evening, Jenkins came to the intermediary on Sheftier Boulevard, and it was the fat woman who received him.
She had now found the right person, thirty-seven-year-old Mrs. Mahart.
This is a haggard woman with a vicissitudes of life. Her husband has just passed away and she has no children to rely on, so she must rely on herself to survive.
Jenkins doesn't care about her age or appearance, as long as her hands and feet are clean. It took half an hour to discuss, and finally decided to be her.
Every evening, Mrs. Mahart buys groceries in advance and waits outside the door when Jenkins comes home, and then cooks dinner while Jenkins washes up, teases the cat, and handles documents. Leave before eight o'clock.
Not having to clean up saves Jenkins a lot of time, and although he's spending an extra 10s. 5p a week, it's well worth it.
"Occasionally, I also dream of having a young maid who can stop in time and whose real identity is the midnight serial killer."
He walked back to the street with the cat in his arms, thinking about things that only he could understand.
"Maybe we can write a book on this topic?"
The Frozen story was in big/trouble before it even got written—Jenkins never saw the movie in its entirety by any means because he didn't have the money.
But in the era of advanced information, even if you don't take the initiative to understand information, those things will come to you. So, Jenkins was able to roughly piece together the short story,
"Write a more complex story."
He sat at his desk, holding a pen and looking at the manuscript paper under the candle. This candle is made of a special fragrance, which can refresh the mind when burned and assist in certain complex rituals. Jenkins bought it after seeing it on the black market, and gritted his teeth to use it when he was writing or learning knowledge.
"The palace story is very popular, and it is best to involve the grievances of two generations, no, three generations. This world cannot easily mention the name of the gods, so the power of the princess can be inherited from the ancient blood..."
Leaning over the desk and writing seriously, Jenkins, after confirming the general direction of the story, reasonably mixed in the bloody plot he could think of. Of course, a qualified writer would add some private goods to the story. He set the belief of the princesses and sisters as inheriting the sage, and the enlightenment of the sage guides the awakening of power.
Because he wanted his book to reach a broad audience, and not just a chivalrous sentimental novel loathed by writers, Jenkins created a worldview on a grand scale.
It's similar to this world, but it's a little different. Under the righteous god system, the mage profession of the DND system is added because of the belief in sages. Of course, the book talks about magic priests.
As far as he knows, there is no such storybook with a rigorous setting in another world on the market.
Jenkins hopes to be recognized by the market with a wonderful story and a touching relationship between characters.
At the same time, relying on the huge world view implicitly mentioned in the background, it has been recognized by professional writers.
Mentioning and praising the sages is not just to show one's loyalty. You must know that most of the beliefs of writers and critics are also inherited sages.
As for the hidden mention of the complex relationship between the two princesses of Arendelle, this is one of the few bad tastes of Jenkins.
The peaceful life lasted for a week, and a small section of the Nolan Daily reported the news that the fairy tale book by the writer in this city had aroused great repercussions within the kingdom. I don't know if it's a coincidence, but the same position on the next page of the newspaper is a reward for a certain mysterious man in black.
The weather is getting colder, and [God of War and the Moon of Falling Leaves] has also entered the second half of the month. The city is still shrouded in smog, but the smell of autumn is even stronger.
The gentlemen on the road put wool shirts under their formal suits, and the ladies abandoned their beautiful and bright summer dresses, and began to inquire about the fashion trends of this autumn from magazines.
Even the coachman put on gloves, and the morning and night in the city were already a bit cold.
Dad often wears a red woolen vest in the shop recently, the style is very old-fashioned, but he seems to like this thing very much.
On Monday evening, Jenkins took the cat home first, and then waited for Miss Hesha at the corner of the alley.
He deliberately changed into an inconspicuous windbreaker to wrap around his body, and on his head was a top hat with a wide brim.
As for the cane, some paint was done and it is now painted black.
"The newspapers seem to say that the parliamentary discussion on the final enactment time of the environmental management bill is not going well."
Looking at the thin smog in front of him, Jenkins suspected that according to the current trend, this place could really win the title of Fog City in a few years.