London, One Week After the Death of Jack the Ripper
News of Jack the Ripper had begun to fade. People slowly dared to leave their homes again without glancing over their shoulders every five steps. The fog still hung low, the rain still fell like a habit the old city refused to break—but now, fear was being replaced by curiosity, and the faintest flicker of hope.
Charles sat in his study when a rapid knock broke the silence.
"Charlie!"
The door burst open, and Hugo entered, half out of breath.
"We've been summoned to the palace. Today."
"Charlie… did something happen?"
Charles turned to him, eyes calm but icy. "I don't know. We'll find out soon enough."
Hugo crossed his arms. "I doubt it's just an invitation for tea."
---
The Queen's Palace
A grand room adorned with golden carvings and deep violet tapestries. The walls bore paintings of triumphs and the crest of the crown. Charles walked in with a composed grace, in stark contrast to Hugo's nervous steps.
At the far end of the hall stood the Queen—elegant and cold, like a statue carved from living marble.
"Milverton. Ravensword," she said, her voice calm, yet sharp as a blade. "I have a task for you."
Hugo bowed stiffly. Charles offered only a slight nod.
"With many noble families now dead, several regions have been left in chaos. No laws. No leaders. I want you two to fill that void."
"Y-Your Majesty," Hugo stammered. "We're far too young to—"
"Do you think this city has the luxury of time?" she interrupted.
Charles answered before Hugo could speak again. "We accept."
---
The Next Morning
The air was still damp, last night's rain lingering in the grass. Hugo arrived at Charles' estate with a rolled-up map in hand.
"I've checked. There's a district at the edge of the city—filthy, riddled with disease, even the officials won't go near it."
"That slum... the one no one dares to touch. I'll take it," Charles replied with unwavering confidence.
Hugo narrowed his eyes. "Why choose a place that wretched, Charlie?"
"Because there, I will build a kingdom of my own."
Hugo stared deeply, as if trying to reach the boy he once knew. "...You're drifting further away from me."
Charles simply smiled. "I'm leaving now."
---
Three Days Later – The Slums
Crumbling buildings. The stench of piss and old blood. The ground was thick with mud that never seemed to dry. Charles walked slowly, his white cloak trailing behind him like the silhouette of a fallen angel lost in hell.
"A noble?! Here?!" cried a frail old man with a brittle cane.
"Bastard! You only come now, after abandoning us for years!"
But Charles did not flinch. He stepped closer.
"Calm yourself, sir. I'm not that kind of noble. I've come to feed you all," he said, voice composed.
The old man fell silent. His gaze trembled, as if witnessing something impossible. From the shadows behind Charles, Vespera watched without a word.
"Is this really the boy I saved…?" she thought. "He's beginning to look like… a man. If only there were a place where we could live together…"
---
The Days That Followed
Charles taught the people how to plant crops, how to trade, how to read.
On a sweltering afternoon, he knelt beside the children, teaching them how to write their own names.
"This is the letter A," he said gently, guiding a boy's trembling hand.
"Mister… I'm stupid," the child mumbled.
"You're not stupid. You just haven't been given a chance."
At night, Charles gathered the young men.
"This world is cruel. I won't let you be its victims anymore," he said, unrolling a cloth filled with weapons.
He taught them how to fight. How to survive. How to kill. Vespera watched from the shadows, her violet eyes narrowing.
"He's… building an army?" she whispered. "With your charisma, that won't be difficult at all."
---
Three Days Later
Charles sat quietly in front of his home, sipping cold tea. His breathing was calm.
From the corner of an alleyway, a pair of small eyes peeked out.
A little girl. Her hair matted, clothes torn and filthy. Her frail body looked ready to collapse at any moment.
Charles noticed her.
"Who is that child…? I've never seen her before."
As he stepped forward, she fled.
But she returned that afternoon.
Charles was teaching the townspeople how to bake bread. The girl watched from a distance.
"Do you know her?" Charles asked a woman beside him.
"Oh… that's Lily. Poor thing. Her parents were killed by a noble just for being late on their taxes. Since then… she hasn't spoken a word."
"She used to be so bright... before that nightmare stole everything."
Charles looked at her.
In her eyes, he saw the reflection of his own childhood.
He decided then—he would protect this girl.
---
That Night
"Don't worry… the water's warm." Charles gently poured water over Lily's head.
The girl clung to his sleeve without saying a word.
"You can stay here. I won't chase you away."
At dinner, she chewed slowly, occasionally glancing at him.
"Is it good?"
Lily gave a small nod. Then, finally, she spoke. "Thank you…"
Charles stared at her silently.
Vespera appeared at the doorway.
"Master… who is she?"
Lily instantly hid behind Charles.
"She's Lily. A child like me. One who lost everything."
Vespera gave a faint, bitter smile. "So… you do have a heart, after all."
"O-of course I have a heart!" Charles snapped, cheeks flushed.
Lily smiled. And for the first time, Charles smiled back—genuinely.
Vespera was stunned by the beauty of that smile.
"So you can make that face, my lord…"
---
In the Days That Followed
Charles and Lily planted flowers in the garden.
"What are these? Sunflowers?" she asked curiously.
"Yes. Beautiful, aren't they? They always face the light. Just like you."
Lily giggled softly. "But I live in a dark place."
Charles ruffled her hair. "Then you're the light in that darkness."
They strolled through the market, Lily clinging tightly to his hand.
"Can I call you… Papa?"
Charles froze.
Lily lowered her head. "Sorry… I just wanted to know what it felt like."
Charles slowly knelt down and looked into her eyes.
"If you want to… yes. You can."
Vespera watched from afar.
"My lord… I think I might fall for you."
But behind her smile, her heart screamed.
If Charles's soul softened too much…
…it would no longer taste good.
---