KENLEY BONES POV
Kenley placed the carte-de-visite in his hands down on the table and leaned back against his chair, forcing it into a soft creak as he let out a glum reminiscing sigh. He then turned his head to his left toward the direction of his room's window which was completely covered by curtains.
Not a single ray of moonlight could make its way past the curtains, and that allowed the darkness of night to be the dominant force about that place, since the fickle light from the oil lamp before him on the table could do nothing to reach that sort of distance and purge it away.
But Kenley didn't care. He found peace in the darkness—he had grown to notice that quite early on in his life—but because of that his mind was able to bring back fragments of his letter interactions with J.H., one he was not quite pleased to recall.
He had been the one to start it all—that was after he had successfully made and delivered fifty essence elixirs to J.H. through the ever changing delivery boys that had always come to pick it up.
Back then he had both been staying at the North-east borough and did not mind that the location of J.H. was being kept secret to him. After all, he had been living the most luxuriously he had ever lived since the unfortunate incident with his parents.
He had been the landlord of a multifaceted two-storey building in the North-east borough, a place which was swarmed by denizens of the middle class. And he had been receiving a quarterly pay of five hundred mints from four tenants, which had brought him to a quarterly income of a thousand mints once he'd subtracted the fee for the cleaning of the apartment's small garden, the water and its treatment fee, drainage fee, and gas fee for the house lamps.
A stable income it was, and he had always been glad when he'd sat down to calculate what he'd made.
But sending out fifty elixirs in a month had struck him as a bit too much, therefore causing him to wonder fervently on what his handiworks were being used for.
Kenley had thought of the possibility of J.H. selling it to those who wanted to become Ascenders, but that reasoning made no sense to him. And it was because of the obvious fact that J.H. would have been spending too much on him without making any gain from the sales of the elixirs, since he couldn't raise the price because buyers would simply just move on to purchase it directly from an Alchemist instead. And if he reduced the price he would be on a loss.
The latter had even made no sense.
Kenley had been unable to see any reason why J.H. would reduce the price and plunge his account into red? Unless… he was a money squandering noble, or a child of one?
It had been either that or J.H. had been giving the elixirs out for free to his peers to grant their wishes of becoming Ascenders.
Although, seeing as he was a rich enough man to be able to nonchalantly lease out a whole apartment in a street for middle class people to a complete stranger, then that would mean his peers were of a somewhat same status. In order words, they would have been able to afford an essence elixir themselves.
No one had had to tell Kenley that no matter what theory he came up with, they would never be able to quell his questions. So he had done the only possible thing he could.
When a delivery boy—one different from the last—came to pick up the essence elixir Kenley had agreed to give to his employer in return for earning a stable income from landlording, he made none and instead had the boy deliver a letter which had been of the words: "What are the elixirs being used for?"
It had not taken long for him to receive a reply. He could not recall perfectly, but it had been a day later or two. What he did remember was that the reply was not what he had wanted. In fact, it was not something he had ever expected to behold.
Granted, he had known it would prove hard to get J.H. to let loose on its use, but when the reply written on the letter were sly words that had given off the impression of his death looming if he ever asked about the use of the elixirs again, he could not help but feel fear instantly.
He had thought of going to the police immediately, but the words had faded away an hour later, causing his evidence to be completely lost.
It was then that he knew, due to the little knowledge of the supernatural which he had been bestowed with by the Church's college, that he had joined cohorts with a person well deep into otherworldly affairs.
His life was at stake!
Owing to the fact that he wanted to live long, and one day lose his virginity as well as have a child, or even children, Kenley had picked himself up and readied his things without wasting time.
He had prepared one last essence elixir, and arranged the signed agreements of he and the current tenants of the apartment he really didn't want to abandon, and packaged them neatly into a paper bag. He had also added a letter to J.H. stating that he no longer wanted to be in alliance with them, and that they should never contact him again.
It took a few days, but the next time his doorbell rang, he handed the package to the delivery boy that had come at once, before instantly evacuating the luxurious cottage which he had been living in.
It had hurt him to leave, but he loved his life so much that he was not hoping to die.
Granted, all he'd had to do was never ask again, but he'd had a feeling something sinister was going on with his elixirs, and he did not want to have any hand in it.
Having already prepared himself fully during his few days of wait for J.H.'s delivery boy, Kenley moved back to the Backwaters where he had used up more than eighty percent of what money he'd had to purchase one of the apartments the Bones family had once overseen.
It had been abandoned—the apartment. It was like no one had wanted to rent it, but Kenley had known that was not the case.
Nobles with lands in the Backwaters hated associating themselves with such a place. Little to no money came from there after all, so to them the slums were benefiting them in no way.
In light of that, what they usually did to rid themselves of the burden that was the Backwaters was that they looked for a person and appointed them landlord of whatever apartments they had there, giving them strict instructions to find a buyer that would rid them of the disgusting slums.
And Kenley had been glad to do just that.
It had always been something he had wanted to do, considering his parents had been one of the few nobles to have actually cared about their lands in the Backwaters. He wanted to live up to their expectations even though that kindness had been the cause of their demise.
Bearing no zeal to know which exact noble had been given his parent's lands, Kenley took the only apartment he could afford, apartment 15 in Tooth and Nails street, cleaned it up as much as his money could, furnished it mildly, and put up notices on the walls around Tooth and Nails for 'a room to let'.
Obviously, it had not gone well.
He had barely found anyone searching for a room, and even when he did they had bargained at ridiculous prices.
Knowing fully well that it was the Backwaters, and that he could not price a room of his apartment at the slums the same as that which he had once overseen at the North-east borough, Kenley had put his fee for a room to be at fifty mints. But still people asked to pay fifty pence, complaining that his rooms were too expensive.
It had shocked him.
He had been living on Mice street before he had left for college, and then he had been paying a hundred and fifty mints for his room.
That as well was the Backwaters, and even though it was less dirty and downcasted than Tooth and Nails, why was the price range so different?
Kenley remained stubborn for a whole year, but when he finally noticed that no one would pay such an amount for a room in Tooth and Nails, he came to a decision.
He took out all the furnishings he had done for the rooms. The chairs, gas lamps, everything, even the water heater stabilizer that he had installed, and left only a bunk and a table as well as a matchbox and a candle, then set the price at a measly one mint.
It was at that moment that he finally got tenants—in swarms, mind you.
For twenty two years he had lived as a landlord of an apartment in Tooth and Nails street, making an income of one mint note per tenant quarterly.
Living off twelve or so mint notes a year for all those years could have never worked; that was why he had used his wits to convince a quack doctor, who had had the patients and connections, to take him in as an assistant.
His proposal had been that he would treat the patients, and they would split the fee seventy-thirty, he with the lesser percentage.
Since he was the one who had the actual experience, that was unjust, but that had been the only way to get the job, and it had been what had kept him alive and earning.
Until… the letter came.
He had collided with a delivery boy on that fateful day, one who had then proceeded to hand him a letter saying it was from an old friend.
It had been more than twenty years so Kenley had completely forgotten about the unseen person that was J.H. But the words of the letter he had received had not hesitated to jog his memories and fill him with dread.
I see you, Kenley Bones. From J.H.
That was all the letter had borne, and a couple of seconds later the words had vanished, leaving only a pure white paper in Kenley's shaking hands.
Recalling the threat of death he had received prior to his newest letter, Kenley glanced across the street at that moment, searching for someone without knowing who he was searching for.
The tension that had cloaked his body then helped him come to the realization that his life had been ruined.
There was no way he could walk on the streets without looking over his shoulders. He was a man being hunted—a prey. And there was only one way for a prey to survive.
Kenley moved to a different room in Tooth and Nails street, and from that day onward he made sure not to leave the coverage of his walls.
He tried his best to survive on twelve mint notes a year, as well as keep himself hidden from everyone and everything that could bring him recognition.
But he'd known that that would be impossible for long since he'd need to purchase items and also put up advertisements for his apartment, which was his only way to earn. So he had employed a newsie boy, the first one that he had found.
The boy would come every weekend to hear his request and carry it out, causing Kenley to be able to settle down within his home, though still wary of the arrival of anyone who might be J.H.
He had also given up on making elixirs, although he could never bring himself to discard the materials. But he chose never to touch them again to prevent anyone from knowing he was an Alchemist. The elixirs were anything but good. The supernatural as a whole was. And he no longer wanted any hand in it.
That was until the arrival of Levi, and after which the arrival of Elmer.
…
Kenley sighed as he closed the book of his reminiscing thoughts, his mind stopping its drifting upon the pained expression his tenant had had on the night the boy had become an Ascender.
"This is why I didn't want to do it," Kenley mumbled, the back of his head placed on his chair's top rail. "The results are anything but good. Tch… I wonder how that Levi found out I am an Alchemist. He's the cause of it all." Kenley shook his head immediately, though weakly. "No. No. I chose to do it myself. I could have chased the boy away even after all he said. Don't blame someone else, yer rascal!"
He took in a deep breath as he turned to his table and dragged the small leather bound tome he had shifted to the side back to the center of his view. But he suddenly froze before he could read its contents.
A great deal of unease was tugging at him.
He rose to his feet without wasting a second, the sound of the drizzles of rain falling outside making their way into his ears as he wiped his sweaty palm on his unbuttoned brown vest.
"I wonder why I'm unable to get this boy out of my head," Kenley spoke to himself, questioning the decision he was about to make only for a moment. "Can he really join the Pathway of Time? This week marks the end of this month." He breathed out dejectedly. "Maybe I should go to his room to check up on him. He's my tenant after all. Isn't that right, mother? Isn't that what you would do?"
It seemed he had inherited something from her after all, even though it was not related to looks.
Making up his mind to be a good landlord to his tenant, Kenley Bones approached his door of his own volition for once. But just when he turned its knob and pulled it open—as wide as an agape mouth—a figure at his doorstep appeared forebodingly before his eyes, startling him into a second's shudder.
It was the obvious one of a man; although, his visage had been obscured by the darkness of night despite the irregular flashes of lightning.
The person was in a half top hat and a thick black coat that seemed to play the part of a shield against the rain. He was standing stiff with his hands inside his coat's pocket, almost giving off the feeling that he was a statue.
Kenley's brows caved in at the sight, somewhat of the thought that the man must have missed his way and wandered here mistakenly or something.
"Who's yer?" he resolved himself to ask with a stern tone and expression after sizing up the person before his door.
The man did not say anything for a few seconds, then he replied by bringing out his hands from his pocket.
Both were clothed in black woolen gloves, if only for a moment, seeing as the man gently took off the one which had been bestowed to his right hand, and in return exposed the rough, wrinkled skin that went from his wrist down to his fingers as a flash of lightning appeared both suddenly and ominously.
At that moment Kenley instantly felt his bones being blanketed by a grim cold. And even though his instinct was telling him to quickly move back into his room at once and shut the door, he found his body unmoving, his steps frozen, and his lips quivering.
Of he and the person across from him, he had become the statue.
All he could do on this occasion, as his heart galloped wildly in dread, was watch and listen, hoping that the person standing before him was simply a lost passerby as he had thought, and not in any way related to what his mind was beckoning at him.
In that instant, obviously indifferent to Kenley's blanched expression, the uncanny man raised his creased hand, showing to Kenley the abhorrent and nauseating nature of his palm while finally letting his voice loose with a single word…
"J.H."