Summary: You’re a normal person with the unfortunate position of having him as your soulmate. You’ve never met the guy, but you’ve been hearing his inner thoughts most of your life, and he should absolutely be locked up.
There were a lot of ways to discover your soulmate in this world. Some people got matching marks. Others shared pain, memories, and dreams. You? You got an internal monologue. And he is deranged.
Taglist- join Here:
HERE IS HOW THE COSMIC JOKE WORKS!
Characters are chosen by poll & the author's choice. All are welcome to ask for a character not below, but please check on my search page to see if I’ve already replied. You’re also welcome to send ideas, and I’ll credit you if I use them; however, this is not a certainty. I try to cycle through popular and less popular characters.
Finished Characters:
'Firefist' Ace D. Portgas Extra
'Heavenly Demon' Donquixote Doflamingo: One, Two, Three Extra, Ep One & Two
'Hawk-Eyes' Dracule Mihawk : One, Two
Trebol: One, Two
Buggy the Clown: One, Two, Three
Rosinante Donquixote: One, Two Bad Ending
Charlotte Katakuri: One, Two, Three, Four
Donquixote Mjosgard
Shakuyaku "Shakky"
Gol D. Roger Extra Alt Ending
'Surgeon of Death' Trafalgar D. Water Law: One, Two, Three Extra
'Black Leg' Sanji : One, Two, Three
Kaido, King of the Beasts: One, Two, Extra
'Mountain-Eater' Scopper Gaban Extra
'Demon Child' Nico Robin
Marco the Phoenix: One, Two
'The Supersonic' Van Auger: One, Two
Rob Lucci: One, Two Extra
'Kizaru' Borsalino: One, Two
'Dark King' Silvers Rayleigh: One, Two, Three, Four Five Extra
Edward ‘Whitebeard’ Newgate: One, Two AU Rescue, Ex
Shiryu of the Rain Epilogue
'Gold Emperor' Gild Tersoro: One, Two
'Sharpshooter' Benn Beckman: One Two Three Four Five
Coming Soon:
Shachi & Penguin for @thisloserhere
'First Son of the sea' Jinbe for @physics-of-one-piece
'4th Commander' Thatch for @ocean-mochi
Flame Emperor Sabo for @sourberrey
Yamato for @redpool
Eustess 'Captain' Kid for @peachycheekz
Izou for @izouizouletdownyourhair
The List:
'Red Dog' Sakazuki Akainu for @murdermorder
'Green Bull' Aramaki for @blue-batty-coco
Massacre 'Soldier' Killer for @thisloserhere @thatanonymouschocolate
Denjiro for @echosact
Paulie for @sam-aint-here & @oatslove12
‘White Hunter’ Smoker for @trouble-sistar
Kaku for @heartclock-20
Basil Hawkins for @sbratsbrat
Koby the Hero for @liqura
King the Conflagration for @physics-of-one-piece
'Demon Sheriff' Laffitte for @mort-alicious
Magellan for @05102021
Perospero for @spiced-apple
Limejuice for @pango-rango
Iceburg for sorasails
Hongo for @hajangaworthy
Caesar Clown for @catchingsumzzzz
Shephard Sommers for ????
Rimoshifu Killingham for @doodledeerest
'Supreme Ruler' Imu for @kosavak & @physics-of-op-main
Charlotte Perospero for @spiced-apple
Charlotte Cracker
'Hero of the Marine's' Monkey D. Garp for @pastaparker @thatanonymouschocolate
Sengoku the Buddha
'Pirate Mercenary' Hadjurin for @www-c4sper
Cavendish of the White Horse
'Champion of the Arena' Diamante for Guitar Anon
Vinsmoke siblings
X Drake for @ES0
Enel the "God" of Skypiea for @zephyrneko
Bartolomeo the Cannibal for @emeraldbriarwritings
Spandam for @wontknowbetter
'Iron Man' Franky for @wontknowbetter & @whirlybirdjnr
'Soul King' Brooks for @whirlybirdjnr
Gecko Mora for @boowiththewind
'Rebellious' Dragon for @imactuallylosing it & thesmolestsage
Rocks D. Xebec for @imactuallylosingitt
'Red-Leg' Zeff for ???
Lucky Roux for @theivorywriter
Yasopp for @kezibear
Kikunojo for @forbiddenshamblerknight
Bogard for @ari-chan18
Specials:
Garling Figarland for @chocolina99
Kuzan Aokiji for MYSELF
Monkey D Luffy for @thatchickwithfoodintheback
'Blackbeard' Mashall D. Teach for @directioncomet
Red-Haired Shanks for @la-dee-dumb
Sir Crocodile for Clarence98 & @oatslove12
Shamrock Figarland for @the-tiniest-breakfast & @mooniekins
You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think?
Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?
2. Villain System vs World || Riddle Rosehearts
You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading as the villainess, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life
So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.
3. I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad || Lilia Vanrouge
When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse as the heroine, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too.
Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey it looks like he likes you too.
4. Accidentally Falling for a Fae Prince || Malleus Draconia
When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, as the heroine herself, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.
5. Not Another Royal Mess || Azul Ashengrotto
As a proofreader who gets isekai’d into a cringeworthy novel as the villainess, you decide to take revenge on the heroine and male lead for their awful story. With Azul—who just wanted to sell you a magic rock—pulled into your chaos.
6. Love Triangles and Royal Rumbles || Leona Kingscholar
When you get isekai'd as the male lead in the novel where your favorite character, Leona Kingscholar is the second male lead, all that's left to do is rewrite the romance!
7. I Want To Retire! || Idia Shroud
You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it.
Now, as the villainess, you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.
8. Stealing the Plot for Drama || Jamil Viper
The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it as the villainess.
So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport with the help of your fiancé, Jamil Viper.
9. Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire || Kalim Al-Asim
You lose everything you've worked for after a freak accident and end up getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager.
As the villainess. It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.
10. My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy || Floyd Leech
You get isekai'd into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, 15 weird consorts, a traitor and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving your problems.
11. Get Me Out of Here || Rook Hunt
You’re isekai’d into a trashy novel and stuck as a tragic side knight character. All you want is survival, but your boss is Rook Hunt—a poetic, eccentric duke.
Now you’re caught in his chaos and, worse, you kinda don’t mind.
12. How to Ruin a Plot || Jade Leech
When you end up as the villainess in a story that's hellbent on making her suffer for no reason, you decide to make the main characters suffer just for catharsis.
Good thing that your fiancé, Jade Leech seems to like chaos as much as you.
13. I Want a Refund || Trey Clover
When the universe dunks you into a dumpster fire of a novel as the villainess, survival is key.
Except your husband, Trey Clover, turns out to be such a green flag that it gets a little harder to function.
14. I Don't Want the Heroine || Ruggie Bucchi
You get isekai’d into what could only be described as an affront to literature, as the second male lead.
So you decide to cut all ties with the heroine and live a peaceful (wealthy) life with your secretary, Ruggie Bucchi. Except life doesn't go as planned as you get more chaos than you signed up for.
15. My Knight is Too Loyal || Sebek Zigvolt
You wake up as the villainess in a novel that had to be written as a joke. The heroine is trying to ruin your life, but if you refuse to acknowledge her, then it’s not happening. Right? …Right??
It doesn't help that your knight, Sebek, is annoyingly endearing.
16. How to Escape a Kingdom || Silver
You get isekai’d as the heroine in a bad novel. The prince is awful. The villainess is worse. The only thing keeping you going is your gorgeous, tired fiancé, Silver.
17. Speedrunning Marriage Fraud || Ace Trappola
You get isekai’d as the heroine in a romance novel, but instead of dreamy suitors, you’re stuck with a yandere cryptid, a billionaire with no impulse control, and a knight who thinks he's in a Shakespearean tragedy (and more).
Your solution? Commit marriage fraud with your best friend, Ace Trappola, and hope no one asks for a marriage certificate.
18. Gaslight, Gatekeep, Get Married || Deuce Spade
You get isekai’d into a garbage novel as the villain, so you take it as a sign that morality is optional now. So, you do what any reasonable person would: you set the world on fire (metaphorically… mostly) and somehow bag your knight, Deuce Spade in the process.
19. Accidentally Wooed the Crown Prince || Cater Diamond
You get isekai’d into a terrible rofan as the soon-to-be betrayed fiancée of the Fifth Prince—so you hijack the plot, swerve hard, and end up fake-engaged to his chaotic crown prince brother, Cater.
Now you're stuck juggling palace scandals, dramatic in-laws, and your growing crush on your emotional support fake fiancé.
BOUND BY FATE: The Tyrant’s Reluctant Wife . _ . MASTERLIST!!
pairings: Gojo Satoru / Reader
genre: enemies to lovers, angst with a happy ending, this is going to be a mouthful but.., childhood friends to strangers to enemies to lovers, TRUST THE PROCESS, Countess Reader, Arranged Marriage, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Unreliable Narrator, Gojo Satoru Is WHIPPED.
notes: references from every single isekai/historical manwha i’ve read are included in this novel.. I couldn't help it TT
status: WORK IN PROGRESS
prologue:
How did it come to this? You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be her. Your life—your real life—had been nothing special. Twenty-eight years as a contract worker, with no family waiting for you and no friends to keep you grounded.
When your last job ended, you had finally decided that would be it. Your plans had been straightforward: step out onto the bustling streets of Seoul and fade away quietly. No one would miss you.
But fate had other ideas.
It started with a little girl tugging on your sleeve, her big, scared eyes silently asking for help crossing the street. You hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t thought twice. After all, what was one more minute when you had nothing to lose? But that single act of kindness had turned into chaos where you were lying on the ground, bleeding out. The girl’s tear-streaked face had been the last thing you saw before the world went dark.
You thought it was over then. It should’ve been over.
Yet instead of finding peace, you woke up thrown into the pages of a trashy romance novel you’d read years ago. A novel so poorly written it was laughable—except you weren’t laughing now.
The name Gojo Satoru had burned itself into your memory long before you arrived. He was the male lead, the man with impossible looks and power to match. He was arrogant, manipulative, and utterly indifferent to anyone who didn’t amuse him. And now, somehow, you were his bride. The woman who, according to the book, would suffer for the crime of being tied to him.
Her second chance felt like a prison over her life. Determined to escape her fate, you devise meticulous plans to finish the job by ending your life in your own terms. However, Gojo Satoru, your newlywed husband turns out to not just be a notorious tyrant but also obsessively… protective??
Not to mention the fact that the said ‘wicked’ tyrant was extremely clingy? So what exactly was she to do except find a way to be rid of her husband's curse before she met her fate?
yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai
A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.
00 — prologue
01 — a living miracle
02 — taking precautions
03 — swinging like a champ
04 — mr. two-faced
05 — the protagonist's arrival
06 — and so it begins
07 — stranger danger
08 — unexpected kinships
09 — not a partygoer
10 — awfully persistent
11 — trying a new approach
12 — top of the class
13 — swords and scones
14 — insatiable appetite
15 — an unwanted partner
16 — too close for comfrot
17 — academic distinguishment
18 — never ask for directions
19 — royally screwed
20 — call it payback
21 — stay disciplined
22 — tavern shenanigans
23 — pricked by a rose
24 — concerning weakness
25 — on school grounds
26 — knights tourney
27 — unpleasant discussion
28 — taking chances
29 — heavy heart
30 — library brainstorming session
31 — a friend's duty
32 — intoxication
33 — the aftermath
34 — dancing without a care
35 — personality shift
36 — clean slate
37 — worst date ever
38 — threatened
39 — feelings awry
40 — happiness
41 — a taste so sweet
42 — in denial
43 — revelation
44 — endless dream
45 — bereaved
46 — a hidden smile
47 — going to be okay
48 — thief's penance
49 — enraged
50 — hope and despair
51 — a sickening arrangement
52 — in theory
53 — to challenge fate
-ˋˏ ༻ Special Chapters༺ ˎˊ-
✿ halloween! 🎃
✿ christmas! 🎄
✿ valentine's day scenarios
✿ what could have been
⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰
Part 14 is here. Feel free to check out the rest of the TTAU masterlist here. My complete MASTERLIST is here.
His eyes open to the sound of commotion.
“It’s him. It’s him! He’s back!”
He sees the white ceiling first, and once they’ve adjusted to the light, his eyes slowly flick from one wall to the next, until finally landing on the nurses talking in hushed tones.
“He’s back… but what has he returned to? His grandmother is gone, his uncle is dead and his wife? Missing. He’s returned to an empty home.”
“You say missing, I say she ran off with someone else. She probably knew that Mr FitzGeorge would’ve caught her and thrown her in an asylum the moment he returned and caught her with all those men!”
“Beth, I think they were just her employees or friends. She couldn’t be having an affair with all of them.”
“Oh you don’t know deviant women like her; they’d stoop to any level of depravity if it got them what they wanted.” Beth huffed. “And what can you say about her character if she’s seen hanging around at the wretched club! Thank heavens it burned down before corrupting all of London!”
Silas closed his eyes before letting out a loud exhale, catching their attention as they gasp and rush to him.
“M-Mr FitzGeorge! You’re awake!” The other nurse said. “I’ll get the doctor!” She ran out of the room, leaving Beth with him, who was fretting over him, hands finding ways to be useful as they offered him water, then went to adjust his pillows, then his blanket.
Silas ignored her. Perhaps she was trying to cover up for the fact that she’d been caught badmouthing his wife.
The doctor came in with the nurse, along with two police officers. After the initial check up was done, the officers began their questioning.
“Where is your wife, Mr FitzGeorge?” Flashbacks from the night appeared before his eyes.
I was buried alive in a coffin.
You slapped him across the face, making him snap out of it. “SILAS!! This is not your fucking grave! GET THE FUCK UP!”
You pulled him out of the grave.
He felt a throbbing ache in his back.
He was struck by a metal rod, making him fall. “Silas!” You dove towards him and shoved the man away from him, his uncle William.
“No!” You shielded Silas with your arms as he struck again, hitting you. “Stop! You’ll kill him!” You jumped over Silas to shield him as his uncle began raining down strike after strike, not stopping until you screamed in pain.
You blacked out and a figure came up behind his uncle, grabbed him by the neck, choked him and then slashed his throat.
He took in a sharp inhale as he recalled the tall figure turning to him, knelt down down and picked you up.
“If you don’t sacrifice for what you want,
What you want becomes the sacrifice.”
He looked back at Silas.
“You’ll never see her again.”
“The Ripper.” Silas whispered. “The Ripper has taken her.”
The officers shared an alarmed look, whispering something to each other before turning back to him.
“Lets start from the beginning. Where were you for the past 4 months?”
Silas took a deep breath as he began.
It started the day when Y/n had sent over the divorce papers. He remembers standing by the window of his study and seeing a figure out in the snow-covered backyard, near the trees. He went to investigate, taking the papers with him but when he reached there, he found a snowman dressed in a coat and hat, clearly disguised as a man to draw him out and the next he knew was being struck on the head and blacking out.
When he woke up, he found himself in a cell, dimly lit by a torch outside the bars. The walls were made of thick concrete, and there were no windows.
For days, he didn’t have any human contact. Food would be thrown into his cell, often a stale piece of bread. The person who would do this would be wearing a robe with a hood that covered his face and Silas made no attempts to talk to him. He wasn’t about to give into their satisfaction of initiating negotiations. Aristocratic ego.
Finally, after who knows how long, a masked figure came. He was wearing a golden ring that glimmered in the dim light. The mask was black with golden patterns on it, and the man was well-dressed in a three-piece suit, paired with a top hat. It was all well-tailored enough to let Silas know that the man didn’t dress cheaply.
As the man walked into his cell, his hands folded behind his back, Silas didn’t need a introduction to know that London’s most notorious killer stood only a few feet away from him.
Keeping calm, almost to the point of looking unamused, Silas spoke first. “Is this your plan? To keep me in solitary confinement to drive me insane? To kill me? To get my money?”
Jack the Ripper tilts his head a little, and speaks for the first time.
“What is your worth?”
“Ah, right to it.” Silas chuckles, standing up, the chain around his ankle clinking. “I suppose… 50 thousand quid, would be sufficient?” When the killer didn’t say a word, Silas sighed. “A million pounds, then?” JTR still didn’t respond, and so Silas kept increasing the ransom money.
“100 million pounds!” Suddenly, before Silas could react, the Ripper pushed him against the wall, had pulled out a knife and held it against his cheek. “Do you think a 100 million pounds could stop me from killing you?” Silas narrowed his eyes. “If you want a single pound of my money, you wouldn’t dare to hurt-” He sliced his cheek slowly, drawing out blood as Silas gritted his teeth. “You’re not worth a single penny.”
Slighted, a fire burned in Silas’s eyes. “If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it long ago. So why don’t you stop playing your pathetic intimidation tactics and get to what you want.” JTR stares at him for a while before letting him go, turning around as he walked away from him.
Silas thought he was going to leave him to rot in the cell again when the Ripper turned around and pulled black leather gloves from his coat, putting them on, he made his way back to Silas and began beating him black and blue. Due to being chained, Silas couldn’t defend himself all too well, but he doubts he would’ve been able to even if they weren’t there.
Finally, the Ripper only stopped when Silas was lying on the ground about to pass out. Thats when the Ripper knelt down and spoke to him.
“I am going to take everything away from you. I will strip every delusion you have about yourself. By the time I’m finished, you will know exactly what you are worth- down to the last, excruciating detail.” He pulled off his now bloody gloves. “Whether by revelation or by ruin, you will learn. The choice I’m afraid, is no longer yours.”
For the next few months, the Ripper found different ways of torturing Silas, starting from physical methods that ranged from getting beaten up regularly, to being forced to lie on ice blocks for hours on end, and the worst was the waterboarding. He absolutely loathed that one.
But he remained resilient, he didn’t break down, simply suffering in silence. He knows very well that its highly likely he’ll be killed by the Ripper, but he wont give him the satisfaction of breaking down.
That is, until his grandmother died.
The Ripper had come to his cell and informed him of Sarah’s passing and he didn’t really believe it until he showed him the newspapers. Still, he was doubtful, as he continued to inspect the paper’s authenticity. “She was a lovely woman, did her very best raising you but you… such a disappointment.” The Ripper tutted. “I met her.” Silas stopped flipping through the papers for a moment, his eyes catching sight of the pattern on his gold ring- a snake eating its own tail.
“You’re lying.” He muttered. Yes, this is all a lie. Another tactic to get him to break.
“I visited her in Edinburgh, at the cottage she and her late husband used to meet at. We had a pleasent conversation.” Silas felt his blood run cold. That cottage, very few people knew of its existence, and he was sure that he was the only one to know of its history.
“You’re lying-” But the Ripper cut off his meek denial. “We talked about you, about Daisy and how you let your uncles send her away to the asylum, about the night your mother died. Your grandmother always blamed herself for not being able to help you heal from that night. But we both know that you only have yourself to blame.” Silas’s lips parted in shock. How did he know-?
“You thought no one knew that you were the one hiding in that closet and how you watched your mother be murdered while your coward self watched through the slit of the cupboard. Have you lied to yourself that you weren’t the very reason of her demise?”
“I- I was a child-” “You led the killer to her. Your mother had warned you many times to stay in your room at night, but you had to go to the library, didn’t you? You just had to take another book to read? And when you heard footsteps, you ran towards the nearest bedroom, hiding in the closet, not realising that you’d mistaken the killer’s footsteps for your mother’s. But your mother knew that those heavy footsteps were not yours, were not familiar and she came to get you, to protect you. But she was murdered instead. All because of you.”
All these years, all this time that Silas spent running away from the truth, trying to bury the traumatic memories from that night, had suddenly been resurfaced. They were slapped in his face, by none other than London’s ruthless killer.
Silas stood up, the paper dropping from his hands. In that moment, he realised that everything the Ripper knew about him, about the details of his family would only be possible if- if he was the one who’d killed them all.
Blinded with rage, Silas lunged at the man, barely landing a jab before he was struck down again and beaten to unconsciousness.
When he woke up, he was lying on the ground as Ripper cleaned his bloody hands.
“It was a wonderful funeral. Sarah would’ve been proud.” The Ripper stated. Silas stared at him, his chest hurting so much, he was sure he’d broken a few ribs. The killer only folded his arms across his chest. “You should be grateful. I attended it on your behalf. Your wife did an amazing job arranging everything on such a short notice.”
Wife.
Y/n.
Silas hadn’t realised it until now that he’d completely forgotten about you. You had not once crossed his mind since he his time in captivity.
“Will you finally kill me, now that you’ve taken away everyone I cared about?” Silas asked through jagged breaths. The Ripper looked over his shoulder. “Not everyone.”
Once he was left alone, Silas sat up and grabbed the paper again, going over the details.
Y/n. He supposed that he always thought you’d have left him and run off with someone, perhaps with Henry. Maybe now that the Ripper has him, you’d probably have taken his money and left London.
Not everyone. Those words echoed in the back of his mind.
The Ripper wasn’t done with him though. Far from it, really. Silas thought he’d already been through the worst of his abuse, but he was in a whole new world of pain when the psychological torture began.
It started with the classic “Betrayal Manipulation”, where Silas would be informed for hours on end, everyday, that he’s been abandoned by everyone, that no one is looking for him, no one cares about him. Silas didn’t have a hard time believing it, seeing as his grandmother was perhaps the last person who would’ve truly looked for him, his cousins probably would’ve sent a search party if they weren’t under his uncles influence, who he already knew couldn’t care less about him. He didn’t have any real friends, and perhaps Cadbury might’ve been one to alert the authorities of his absence, but then again, what chance did a butler stand against the Ripper?
Were you looking for him? He doesn’t think so. Silas doubts you even knew he went missing. You were probably out of London the day you sent the divorce papers via your friend.
Would you have looked for him, if you knew he’d gone missing? Even after that fallout with him? After he screamed all those awful things at you, would you have still put your bruised pride aside to find him?
He really doesn’t know the answer… after all, how much did he really know you? You did call it a sham marriage, but then again… you weren’t soulless like most people in his life.
Once the Ripper was tired of telling how no one will come for him, he would have Silas be taken to a cold cellar by his minions (robed and masked), where he would be tied down to a chair with a bucket of water placed over his head. He would be blindfolded, and they’d leave him there as water dripped out of the bucket onto his scalp, one drop at a time, at a slow pace he couldn’t predict. He remembers reading about it-“Chinese Water Torture.”
You would think that this was better than waterboarding, but it wasn’t. The pattern of the drops was irregular, and the cold sensation is jarring, which caused him anxiety as he tried to anticipate the next drip. It was mentally painful, instilling fear and causing mental deterioration.
Had the pattern been regular, he could’ve used the periodicity to meditate. But the ominous dread of not being able to predict the next drip, it was going to drive him into insanity. Silas remembers actually flinching when the water drops hit his head, and even today, he could pinpoint the exact spot on his scalp where the droplets hit. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve assumed that there was depression on his scalp at that site.
But the worst was still yet to come. The Ripper could see that Silas was falling to pieces, he was near his breaking point. And thats when it was time for his final tactic- “the Silent Companion”, with the Ripper’s own sick twist. You see, in method, dummy boards, also sometimes called “silent companions", are life-size flat wooden figures that were a popular room decoration in the 17th century. Painted and cut to resemble soldiers, children, loved ones, and were put in places that they’d be usually found in. A sweet way to remember them by.
But the Ripper decided to use it a way to shatter Silas.
Silas would wake up to the sound of screams coming from a cell at the end of the hallway. It was a woman screaming, begging, pleading for mercy. It would go on for days until she was put into a burlap sack and then thrown into Silas’s cell. The woman’s screams now were muffled, clearly gagged, and she would be thrashing in her sack until the robed men began to beat her into submission or unconsciousness. Silas couldn’t help her even if he wanted to, he had chains holding him down and he was far too emotionally drained to care.
But then the Ripper would come, folding his arms over his chest. “It seems like everyone has to pay on your behalf.” Silas was confused, but he still didn’t look up from the ground. The Ripper continued, not caring about his lack of response. “Everyone who ever cared about your worthless self has had to suffer. Every woman who ever gave a crap for you had to die. Your mother, your sister, your grandmother, your…” He trailed off, and Silas’s eyes finally snapped up. Your? His wife? “Y/N! Don’t kill her!”Silas leapt forward, before being yanked back down by his chain. He was on his knees, reaching out for you. “Dont kill her! Stay away!” The Ripper pulled out a knife and as soon as he’d touched the burlap, you began thrashing again. The men grabbed the body, while the Ripper cooed only, gently petting the sack as if calming an animal before it was ready for slaughter. “She shouldn’t have announced to everyone that she was your wife. She shouldn’t have lied about how much you loved her. She shouldn’t have associated herself with you.”
Silas leapt forward again, trying to break through the chains. “Take me then. Leave her. She has no part in this. Kill me!”
The Ripper looked up at him. “Why? Its not because you love her. I know that much. Do you think that if you save her, you can be absolved from the murder of all the other women in your life?” And with that, Ripper stabbed you multiple times until you stopped thrashing, while Silas screamed.
Silas stared at the lifeless form in front of him as the Ripper stood up to leave.
“Y/n is not your salvation. She is your ruining.”
Silas doesn’t know how long he was left alone in that cell with you, gasping for breath, tears he didn’t even know had stained his cheeks, until he mustered up the courage to go near and reach for the bloody burlap sack with a trembling hand, dragging it down your face.
It wasn’t you.
It was some… woman. He didn’t know her.
“She claimed to be your wife. I think it was to get fame, or your money.” Ripper’s voice cut through the room. He was standing outside the cell. “I’ll get to your real wife too. And I’ll dispose of anyone who associates themselves with you too.”
And thats how Silas was broken. Every week, a different woman would be subjected to the same torture and he’d be lead to believe that it was you. And everytime he lifted off the sack, he always thought that his eyes saw your face for a second. He was hallucinating you now.
During one of these live killings, the Ripper even tried to get him to sign the divorce papers. The papers he thought he’d lost the day he was taken. “Sign these, Silas. Sign the divorce and free your wife, hm? Let that be the last good thing you do before you die.” But no matter how much he was beaten, broken, tortured, Silas refused to sign the papers, fearing that if he did, you wont have access to his money or influence and become an easy target for the Ripper.
After months of inhumane torture, Silas had finally broken down. The Ripper walks to the malnourished man chained to the ground, hollowness in his eyes as he didn’t even flinch anymore. Kneeling down to his level, he asks him the first question he did when he was first brought here.
“What is your worth?”
Silas remained silent. The Ripper didn’t think he would answer, perhaps he had dissociated from reality-
“Nothing.”
The Ripper’s body relaxed. He raised a hand to pet Silas’s head.
Silas doesn’t fight it when he gives a glass to drink. He hoped it was poison, but it was only to put him to sleep.
When he wakes up next time, he was lying in a coffin, his body stiff and unable to move. He saw Ripper standing over his head, as someone places the lid over his coffin. He was being buried alive.
“Goodbye, Silas.” The Ripper says, and Silas closes his eyes as a tear slips out, grateful for finally being put out of his misery. As he heard the dirt being thrown over his coffin, memories of his life flashed across his mind.
I’m sorry, mom.
I’m sorry, Daisy.
I’m sorry, grandma.
I’m sorry, Y/n.
No one will come to visit him. No one will know where he is. No one cares. No one.
He is truly worth nothing. No one will come for him. No one-
“Silas!” A distant voice calls out. Is this the afterlife calling out to him?
“SILAS!” He hears that voice again, dirt being shifted and before he knew it, it was pounding against his coffin.
“SILAS!” Next thing he knew, a fist comes through, splintering the wood and oxygen floods inside. As the wooden panels are pulled apart, his vision clears as he sees your crying face.
Y/n? You’re his afterlife?
I’m in hell?
Silas only stares at you in disbelief as you try to drag him out of the coffin.
Why are you- how? Is he really in hel-?
You slap him across the face, making him snap out of it. “SILAS!! This is not your fucking grave! GET THE FUCK UP!”
It’s really you. You didn’t give up on him. You were looking for him.You saved him from being buried alive. You broke his coffin with your bare hands. You saved him from his uncle killing him. You took the beating. And you- you were taken by the Ripper.
You were taken by the Ripper.
This is all his fault.
-
The first few weeks after waking up was spent mostly at his manor recovering while the coppers came to question him again and again. It was during this period that Cadbury, who after crying tears of joy (something which shocked Silas since he hadn’t ever seen him show much emotions), filled him in on everything, specifically you.
How you kept searching for him, how you fought against everyone, how you found out about Daisy, how you stood against his uncles and stopped the from stealing his wealth and from slandering him, how hard you fought to keep his and his family’s reputation intact and how you went to the royal family to have them help you find him, how you were threatened and ambushed many times. And when he summoned Collin, who then informed him how you started your own newspaper company to raise awareness against the Ripper under the guise of finding him, how you singlehandedly strong-armed the monarchy into actually helping by threatening to expose their dirty secrets.
And when you finally had the world aware of Silas being missing, you had to stand alone and face being labelled as the “gold-digger”, fight the accusation of being “hysterical” and he was sure if you didn’t have his money, you would’ve been thrown into an asylum by his own uncles.
You stood against them all- the royal family, his uncles, Henry Blackwood, the public, everyone. All for him.
He stood up from his desk where you had laid out all the leads you had on finding him, walking over to the same window where he stood the last time before he was taken.
Why?
Why did you do this? Were you in love? Was it simply out of duty? As a wife? Or because you didn’t want to look like a suspect?
Was it because of curiosity?
Silas’s hand crumpled into a fist.
It doesnt matter, does it? Even if you had ulterior motives, many would’ve given up long ago the moment they were threatened. And if not then, you could’ve- you should’ve ran away the moment you saw the Ripper. He wouldn’t have blamed you. He’s lost himself to the killer, he wouldn’t have blamed you for leaving at the sight of him.
But you stayed, you fought, you broke your own hands to pull him out of his coffin, shielded him from his uncle.
You. Cared.
And thats enough reason for Silas to find you. He will return the favour. He will not give up on you. You didnt, even when you didn’t know whether he’d left you or gone missing, you looked for him, even when you had every reason not to.
I’ll find you Y/n. I’ll find you and I’ll avenge you, for every attempt on your life, every threat, every accusation, every tear- I’ll make everyone pay.
I wont rest until I find you. I wont let you suffer the same fate as the other FitzGeorge women.
-
True to his word, Silas did start searching for you. He created his own search party, knowing that the detectives and police alone wouldn’t be able to find you, he hired the best private investigators and paid good money to shady men who didn’t have any qualms using unethical ways. Next, he mapped out all the potential suspects that could either be the Ripper, or at least have helped him. His enemies, and anyone who held even the slightest bit of malice towards you, everyone was a suspect. At the top of his list, was the royal family, Henry Blackwood and Lady Scarlet (both of whom had vanished at around the same time of your disappearance).
Silas decided to take down the monarchy first. Not only because of what they did to you, but also because he had been long planning to avenge what they did to him and his grandmother, for treating his family as outcasts.
He went to Westminster Palace, where the British Parliament sat. As the Duke of Westminster, a title specially created for him by the Queen when she thought he would soon be her son-in-law, his connection to it is indirect, primarily through his role as a prominent member of the aristocracy. He didn’t really own the palace.
Until this morning.
Silas sat at the back of the room, quietly watching the dominoes of his plan fall as a fight broke out. The reason?
“The royal family’s long history of mental illness and life-threatening ailments.”
Ah yes, Silas had used the information you had gathered on the royal family tree and used your paper to publish it. Now the whole world knows, and as the parliament begins arguing over the legitimacy and security of the monarchs, he silently watches.
By the time he returns to the London Post, he already knows who is waiting for him in your office.
Prince Albert.
“My king, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Silas asked monotonously, sitting in his chair a bit too casually in front of the king, who was still standing, barely contained rage in his eyes.
“What is the meaning of this, Silas?” Prince Albert grits out as he throws the paper on his desk. “Why are you slandering royalty?”
“Slandering?” Silas asked, blinking at him unamused. “It is not slander if its true.”
“Whatever issues you have with us could’ve been sorted out privately.” The king said. “This is uncalled for.”
Silas snorts and Prince Albert has never felt so insulted before. “This isn’t anything personal. Its just the truth and the public has the right to know who rules their kingdom.” Silas rests his cheek on his palm and stares up at him with an evil glint. “Besides, you’ll know when I make it personal.” At the king’s confusion, Silas pulls out a document from his drawer and pushes it towards him. “This is currently being printed and published. Half of London has already gotten their hands on it, I’m sure by tomorrow, all of Britain will know too.”
Prince Albert’s eyes widened in horror at the headline.
“FUTURE KING OF ENGLAND FOUND IN THE ARMS OF A CROSS-DRESSER AT DEVIANT CLUB!”
His hands crumpled the paper. “This is not true!” “Yelling will get you nowhere, your highness.” Silas cut him off, standing up as he buttoned his coat. “And we both now, you are in no position to make any threats or demands.”
Prince Alberts face turned red with rage. “What are you going to do with this? Make people lose confidence in the monarchy? No one will believe this nonsense! Not me, not the people, and not the Parliament. And don’t try denying you weren’t there today.”
“I am not denying anything.” Silas let out a bored exhale. “As Duke of Westminster, it is my right to be there.”
“Right? You do not own Westminster Palace, Silas! It still belongs to the crown!”
“I dont own the Westminster Palace, your highness.” Silas’s gaze sharpened. “But I do own more than half of the Parliament. As of today, I have the leading party in my pocket, ready to obey my orders and even tear down the monarchy a new one if I say so.”
“SILAS-!” “Keep your voice down. You don’t want to sound hysterical and confirm the rumours about mental illnesses running in the royal family, hm?” Silas didn’t even smirk as he cut the king at his knees in the most brutal manner, only telling him to see where his son, the future heir was currently at.
As the king left in a hurry, the door to the office was suddenly slammed open and Benjamin barged in with Colin trying to pull him back by his shoulder.
“YOU!” Benjamin yelled, yanking his arm out of Colin’s grip. “YOU’RE THE REASON SHE’S GONE!”
Silas kept his calm, merely lifting his chin. “I know. I’m going to find her.”
“She should’ve never gone missing. Its all because of you! You should’ve died! You and your pathetic little self should’ve died! She’s in trouble because of you!” Benjamin accused, barely resisting the urge to not beat him to a pulp. “And to have the nerve to call me here, in her office where you sit! How dare you!?”
Silas only stared at him with a neutral expression, even if his heart was heavy with guilt. He nodded at Colin to leave them alone, and he reluctantly left.
“I called you because I need your help to find Y/n. You can hate me all you want, take a swing at me if it’ll make you feel better, but we both want the same thing.” He watched Benjamin take fast breaths, trying to reel himself in. “You were the last person she was in contact with before she found me. You were fighting some assailants that were after her, and you mentioned them wearing masks?” Silas didn’t wait for him to confirm the information. He already read the police report Benjamin had filed. “More than likely, it was the Ripper’s men after her. Now, if we want to find Y/n soon, you need to tell me the truth, Benjamin.” Silas stood up, pouring two drinks, one for himself and one for Benjamin. “My sources tell me Y/n had been in an apartment that belonged to Lady Scarlet, and that you were seen leaving that place just moments earlier.” He set the crystal glass in front of the barber. “What were you doing there? And what do you know about Lady Scarlet and Henry Blackwood?”
Benjamin stared at him, and Silas could see he was trying to come up with a lie that would explain his presence.
“There’s no need to lie. I just need to find Y/n. Please.” Silas didn’t need to plead. He could easily have this information wrung out of him, but you trusted Benjamin enough to help find him, so he’ll return the courtesy of not resorting to unsavoury means. For now.
The blonde’s shoulders sagged. “I worked for Mr Blackwood. I’d only met him once, but every task he needed me to do would be given to me through Lady Scarlet. She was his right-hand man. He’d been paying me to spy on you. I did it because… because I didn’t trust you with Y/n, and when you two had that rushed wedding, I just knew something was going to go wrong. I just wanted to keep Y/n safe.”
And financial gain too. Silas kept the comment to himself. Benjamin continued. “When Y/n started to investigate the murders of his employees, Mr Blackwood didn’t like that. He told her many times to stop, told her that the Ripper was just a myth, and that its bad for business. He didn’t want her meddling. But when she didn’t stop, Mr Blackwood wanted me to do something about it. He wanted me to keep tabs of her every moment, so that he could stop thwart her plans.”
Silas’s fists clenched under his desks. “What happened at the club that night?”
“I went to the club to confront Henry and tell him I want out, and I want him to stop bothering Y/n too. I didn’t know Y/n was there too. Lady Scarlet found me before I could find him, and she pulled me into Mr Blackwood’s office, telling me to not worry because “Y/n had been dealt with.” And when the fire broke out downstairs, we left the office, but she told me that Y/n was hiding inside, so I went back in and pulled her out of there. Since that night, I haven’t seen Mr Blackwood. Rumour has it, he left town. Or perhaps the Ripper got to him.” Or maybe he is the Ripper. Silas took a sip of his drink as the man continued. “After weeks, I was finally able to track Lady Scarlet down. It was the night you were found. I wanted to know where Henry was. If there was some unfinished business left… she said everything here had been concluded. I think she was planning on leaving soon too. I haven’t heard from her since, and her place is empty too.”
Y/n is missing. Henry and Lady Scarlet left town too. The Ripper targeted Henry’s employees.
If I’m able to find Henry, I might be able to find Y/n too.
Silas grabbed his coat and left the office, making his way to police station.
He needs to have the employees murder cases re-opened. There has to be a reason why the Ripper was targeting them, and Silas has a feeling that its not because they were “prostitutes”.
-
“I’m afraid the cases cannot be re-opened, Silas.” The chief of the department, his friend, informed him as the two sat in his office.
“And why not, Tobias?” Silas took a sip of his tea. “Whats the point of having a copper friend then?”
Tobias chuckled. “I wish I could help you out, but I really cant-” Silas set the cup down and pulled out his cheque book. “How much?”
“Silas-”
“How much, Tobias?”
“Its not about money!” Tobias exclaimed, feeling insulted. Silas’s grey eyes watched him run a hand over his face exasperatedly. “I cant open the case because its already been dealt with it. The murderer has been caught and awaiting trial.”
Silas studied him. “But… but its not the man who did it, hm?” Tobias’s eyes flicked up and he felt Silas see right through him. “I cant prove it but… the man we caught… I think he’s just a fall guy.”
“Henry paid him off, didn’t he?” Tobias jaw ticked, as he gave a stiff nod.
The two men remained quiet for a few moments before Silas spoke again.
“I’d like to examine the victims bodies.” Tobias shook his head, but Silas cut him off. “This isn’t a request, Tobias. We both know I can do this without you as well, but I need to find Y/n before time runs out.”
The police chief begrudgingly gave in to his demands and took Silas along with him to the morgue . “The earlier victims had been buried in the cemetery before the trial, but we still have the last victim here, waiting for the trial to be finished. I think after a few days, he’ll be laid to rest. We’re lucky that London is freezing now, slowing the decomposition of the dead.”
Tobias went to open the storage box that contained the last victim, only to find it empty.
“Where-?” He went to open other boxes, searched the entire room to find the victim, before going to ask the mortician.
“The mortician said that somebody came in with a permit from me saying to release the body, but I didnt- I didn’t sign any such documents! Oh god- someone stole a body from the morgue- someone stole from the police department!” While Tobias spiralled about his job being in trouble, Silas’s suspicions grew. He grabbed Tobias by the shoulders, shaking him. “Where are the other victims buried?!”
Tobias took him to the cemetery where they were laid to rest. “Silas, we need a warrant from the judge-” Just then, Cadbury came running in with a few men with him. The butler handed the warrant to Tobias, while Silas nodded at the men to start digging.
Silas’s suspicions were only confirmed when all the coffins were empty. All 7 graves, all belonging to Henry’s employees, were empty.
Tobias’s shock only grew. “No… how-? Who-?” “Someone’s getting rid of the evidence. But who would-?” Silas’s eyes widened. “We need to get to the the murderer right now.” Tobias looked confused. “The scapegoat? He’s in jail- oh!” He got what Silas was alluding to and the two reached the jail in no time. The guards stood up, not expecting to the chief today. “Sir-” “Where is the man we arrested in Blackwood case?!” “He was expecting bail today but no one came-” “Show me the cell!” Tobias yelled. The guards lead them to the cell, and Tobias let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the man lying under the covers. “Thompson! Wake up!” The guard banged his baton against the bar to rouse him from sleep, but when he didnt, they opened his cell and barged in to pull the covers off, freezing as they found the man with his throat slashed brutally from ear-to-ear.
Someone had killed the suspect today, right in his cell. In a jail. In front of hundreds of witnesses. Yet no one even heard even the slightest struggle. Only one person could be so skilled.
The Ripper.
-
A week later, Prince Albert had passed away. It is said that he had fallen sick, but his sources in the palace tell him that the king had left to see his son in Cambridge, and when he found him in a club with people engaging in all sorts of depravity, well, frankly the scandal was too much for the father to bare. They fought, Albert tried to convince his son to come home and that they’d find a nice girl for him to marry and all of this nonsense will be forgotten, evil be nipped in the bud.
Of course, Prince Edward could care less. As pompous idiots do, when it comes to being told what not to do, they do exactly that. When the king returned to the palace, he’d fallen sick with typhoid and days later, passed away surrounded by his loved ones.
The Queen was particularly affected by his death, so much so that she mourned him by wearing only black for the rest of her life. Deep in depression, she blamed Edward for his death because of the fallout the father-son had, and so the rest of the country mourned with her. Life slowed down, businesses were affected and this distracted everyone from Jack the Ripper, who apparently had also went on a break from his killing spree.
Silas saw the rest of his family, his cousins and his uncle Adolphus at the Prince Albert’s funeral. He’d avoided seeing them since his return, fearing that he just might lose control and kill his uncle for how they treated Daisy and Y/n. He had no doubts in his mind that Adolphus and William planned on killing him for a long while. He’ll deal with them, just not right now.
Silas could only hope so during such trying times as the local authorities failed to do their jobs.
But just because the police and the general public were not working actively on this, doesnt mean he didn’t hire outside help, which in his opinion, were more competent.
“Silas.” His cousins were first to approach him, and he could see how cautious they were being around him, as if he’d explode on them.
He wouldnt. It wasn’t their fault. They’re not smart enough to ever try anything against him.
His uncles, on the other hand, who did pass down the dense genes, were greedy enough to go cross him.
Silas made small talk before Adolphus ushered his sons to leave. “How are you, Silas? I’ve been meaning to talk to you ever since-” “I was almost killed by your brother? Or when you took the first chance you could to steal from me?”
Adolphus’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “Now listen, I didn’t have anything to do with what William-” Silas cut him off with a scoff. “Insulting your own dead brother by lying? Cant say he doesnt deserve it.”
“Silas, I just wanted to come here and tell you that I’m using my contacts for whatever information we could get to find Y/n.” Adolphus tried again, but Silas beat him to it again. “And I’m using my contacts to build a case against you and your dim-witted sons for your hand in my kidnapping and the death of my sister.”
His uncle’s mouth fell agape. “Silas, I didn’t do anything to you or Daisy-” “Dont you dare say her name, or I swear to God, I’ll have you and your offspring disappear from the face of the Earth before the sunset and I can promise you, you’ll be begging me for death by the time I’m done with you.” Silas walked away from him. The Ripper was right about many things, he’s come to realise that. He was right about the events of the night his mother was murdered, he was right about how he and Daisy were manipulated by the very people who were supposed to care for them, and he was right about every woman he loved about suffering because of him, and now Y/n-
He stopped. Loved? I love Y/n?
Silas stood in front of the casket to pay his respect. I love Y/n? No. I… I couldnt. I care about her, yes. But- no, no its no love.
It cant be.
Right?
The young aristocrat walked away from the casket, his feelings about you were the only on his mind.
Love Y/n? Certainly not. And I wouldn’t come to that realisation here, at the state funeral for the prince.
No.
-
It’s been over 6 months and Silas hasn’t been able to find you. He has turned London upside down, and he even expanded his search area beyond borders, from street corners to continents, a suspicion that the Ripper may have moved his operations to elsewhere. But he knew that it was unlikely, then again, the Ripper is not a predictable force.
He didn’t have much luck with finding either Henry or Lady Scarlet. As if they’d dropped from the face of the Earth. So, Silas focused his attention to your notes, when you were trying to find him. He has a feeling that the Ripper was in contact with you, he was baiting you.
But why?
If the Ripper wanted to hurt Silas, he could’ve just killed you. But he didn’t, or at least he hopes, he hasn’t. Why drive him to the point of insanity, then let him go and take you?
I admitted defeat. Silas recalled the night when he was in the coffin. I was ready to die. He could’ve killed us both. What sick game is he playing?
Silas traced all your steps over and over again, everywhere you went, he went. His first stop was the one place that he hadn’t visited in years.
Aveline’s asylum.
The staff rambled on to him for all the donations he gave, leading him towards the room his sister was lived in.
His hand didn’t tremble as it reached for the doorknob, but there was an ominous dread in his gut.
As the door swung open, the state of the room was just as he’d seen it the last time he was here. When Daisy had died, he was asked to collect her belongings, but he couldn’t bring himself to return to this place, so he’d paid the hospital to keep her room locked and unused.
Silas wasn’t allowed to visit Daisy very often, but he remembers Adolphus bringing him here when his grandmother had yelled at his uncle to take him there. Sarah knew how much he missed Daisy, even though Silas hadn’t said it aloud.
She always looked weaker than last time when he visited her. But despite how frail she’d turned, how pale her skin became, Daisy always welcomed him with a warm smile and a gentle hug.
Silas sat down on her bed, mind flashing back to the last time he saw her.
“Silas! You’re a sight for sore eyes!” She giggled, wrapping her thin arms around him. “How are you- oh, what did you bring for me?” Silas handed her the books she’d requested after she complained about being bored.
She pulled him and sat him down on her bed, before reaching under her pillow to pull out a handful of candies. As she extended her hand to him, he noticed the bruise on her wrist.
Silas’s eyes flicked to her face, then to her wrist again. But he didn’t say anything.
He never did. Not even when he saw her clothes looking too big on her, different coloured marks on her limbs, the bags under her eyes getting deeper, her hair looking greasier.
He never said anything. After all, why would he embarrass her? “She’s sick in the head.” His uncle had told him, when he asked about her concerning state.
She’s sick in the head. But she was the same as she’d always been.
Silas only took one candy. “You have the rest.” He’d urge her, worried she was skipping meals. Daisy shook her head, handing him a few more before popping one in her mouth. “I had to bribe the doctor for this!” She stood up and walked over to her closet to put away the books he’d brought. As she opened the closet, he saw a red book. “I thought they didn’t have any books for you to read.” Silas nodded towards the red book. She smiled. “I dont. This is my diary.”
Silas’s eyes snapped towards the dusty closet.
Diary.
The day you left his house, the day he lost his temper on you, you had come to his study with that diary. You’d dropped it on the floor before leaving and Silas had put it away in his desk.
But how did you find it? Silas never took anything from the asylum, unless-
Unless you came and took it.
-
Silas had rushed home and opened the red journal as soon as he found it. And his heart only sank further the more he read.
“I dont know why uncles have sent me to this awful? I do not believe I am sick, or if I am, I do not see any hope of ever getting better here. Only worse.”
“What good can ever come out of starving patients? Then again, I think the stale food they give us is only making me more ill.”
“Silas finally came to visit me! Oh, how I missed him. He’s grown up so handsomely. I am sure he will get me out of here one day.”
“The new doctor is the only one who is nice to me. The nurses talk very badly to me, and their hands hold me down so harshly. But the new doctor tended to my injuries with utmost care.”
“The new doctor listens to me when I talk. He smiles sometimes, and chuckles at my jokes too. He doesnt scold me or has me tied down when I tell him I’m not sick.”
“I bribed him with poems. He gave me the candies I’d asked for. I don’t like to be empty-handed when Silas visits me. I can see the concern in his eyes when he looks at me, but he never says anything for my sake. I wonder what I can get him for his birthday. Perhaps the gold ring the doctor wears. It has a snake eating its own tail. Very unique. Silas would like it.”
Silas’s blood ran cold. Golden ring. Snake eating its own tail. It couldn’t be him-
“The doctor hasn’t come to see me in a while. Perhaps he’s busy. I would’ve liked to say goodbye. Uncle Williams came today. He wanted me to sign some documents. But he wouldn’t let me read it so I didn’t. He was furious with me.”
“The nurses have been very unkind to me. They have taken away my meals because “bad girls don’t get fed.” I don’t understand what I’ve done.”
“Anytime I try to ask what I have done to warrant this treatment, they beat me. I demanded to see my family, to see Silas, to see my uncles, but they only locked me in the dark room, bound to my bed.”
“After many weeks, uncle Williams finally returned. I didn’t think I’d see him again after our last falling out. But he returned and apologised for his behaviour. He even brought sweets for me as peace offering. I am having them right now with my tea, they are a little too sweet for my taste. I am getting sleepy though, surprisingly earlier than my bedtime. I suppose the sweets have filled my belly and made me tired.”
That was the last entry in her diary.
Silas’s hands trembled. If only- if only he’d read this earlier. The ring. The Ripper being her doctor. Williams feeding her sweets- he killed Daisy. He killed her.
A shaky breath left him. Silas wished the Earth would split open and drag him, just so he didn’t have to face the harsh truth.
Daisy met the Ripper.
Daisy was murdered.
Daisy was never sick. His uncles put her there. Because?
He suspected why, but he still wants to hear it.
-
Adolphus woke up to a slap to the face. He let out a strangled noise, and he felt the rope on his arms and legs that tied to him to the chair.
“Awake?” A figure appeared from the shadows.
“S-silas? What is the meaning of this?! Untie me this instant!” He struggled against the ropes only to be punched, this time the other cheek.
“Behave, uncle. Tonight, you will die. How painful it will be, that will be decided by you.”
“Silas-!” Another punch, and thats when he heard the sound of a trolley creaking in. Cadbury wheeled the trolley in and Adolphus’s eyes went saucer wide at the contents laying on it. A variety of knives, a saw, a plier, and other tools he couldn’t name but they looked of the medical sort.
“Didnt you tell me that you served as a medic during the war, Cadbury?” The butler smiled, though it didn’t match the sinister glint in his eyes.
“Yes, sir. Army Medical Corps.” Cadbury picked up a scalpel, loading a sharp blade onto it. “I had to amputate many brave men, and I had to do it quickly to save them.” Cadbury then looked at Adolphus and shrugged. “I was pretty skilled back then but its been a few years, I might be a little out of practise.”
Adolphus was drenched in sweat, practically shaking in his chair. “Silas- Silas, listen to me- I didn’t do anything! It was all Williams! It was all him! I didnt- I tried to stop him! I did! I swear on my sons lives!”
“Sons? You’re going to damn your own sons by lying?” Silas sighed. “Oh well, I suppose they were already damned the moment I sent them to the asylum.”
“W-what?” Adolphus throat dried up.
Silas hummed. “Oh, I just sent your boys and Williams’s to the looney bin to rot. Just like you sent Daisy.” He walked up to his uncle and grabbed him by the neck, yanking him forward. “And when they lose their damn mind, when they cant remember their name, when their reduced to a vegetable, I’ll kill them. Just like you killed my sister. And I’ll make sure no one remembers you.”
“S-Silas! I- I didn’t kill Daisy! I- Yes- We- we did sent her to the asylum! Yes- but we didn’t kill her! We only wanted her to sign and give us the fortune your parents had left for you two! We never killed her! It wasn’t us- It was the other man! It has to be!”
“What other man?” The Ripper?
Adolphus hesitated for a second, but the moment Cadbury picked up the saw, he spilled.
“We- we were trying to join a society. Your- William and I, we- we needed to get in this secret society. It was run by a man unknown, but- but the society in essence- it was the inner circle. The most elite. The people who had the first hand at everything. If we got into the society, we’d be invincible. But- but to get in that society we needed a huge buy-in. We didn’t have the money- so- so we tried to get your and Daisy’s inheritance- we- I was going to pay you back! Always, you’re my nephew, Silas!” Silas only shook him harshly again.
“What do you mean by the other man who killed Daisy?”
“I- I dont know- I’ve never seen his face- he’d always wear a mask, or a hood! All I remember is that he’d wear a gold ring, with a snake on it! Only members of the secret society have it. But- but he- I’d seen him one time leaving Daisy’s room at the asylum! He- he must’ve killed her!”
“What was he doing in Daisy’s room?”
“I- I dont know, I never asked.” Of course, you didn’t you spineless cretin. “Thats all I know, SIlas. I swear I didn’t kill her!”
Silas shoved him away and turned around, giving only a nod to Cadbury. Make him talk.
Cadbury gleamed as he picked up an odd shaped instrument. “Back in the war days, I had to peel off a lot of dead skin and replace it with skin grafts, Mr Adolphus. Now, I know I said earlier that I’m out of practise, but I’ve peeled a lot of potatoes! I have a feeling, this wouldn’t be much different!”
Silas left the room as he heard his uncles screams echo. For now, he needs to find the secret society.
-
You wake up with a jolt, gasping for air as you tried to come out of the effects of the dream. As your eyes adjusted to your unfamiliar surroundings, flashbacks from last night came to your mind.
Silas!
I pulled him out of the coffin- he was buried alive! But I pulled him out- he was alive. He was alive! All this time!
As you realised the ache in your back, you remembered his crazy, money-hungry, fat uncle was beating you two with a metal rod! He kept striking again and again until someone pulled him off-
You gasped.
The Ripper!
The Ripper!
Your eyes frantically scanned the room, as if dreading to find him standing in the corner. But the dark Victorian interior showed nothing except for luxury. Dark brown, almost black wood was used around the room and the ceiling was high, with no windows in the room, the entire room was lit with candles and lanterns. You were lying on a canopy bed, with maroon velvet curtains tied to the posts. The walls had a few paintings, some antiques around the room but other than that, you were alone.
And you were brought here by the Ripper.
Right?
It has to be him. Who else? He was the one who hinted where he’d buried Silas- He buried Silas! Oh my god, am I going to be also buried alive? No, then I’d have woken up in the coffin. No, no. He brought me here to kill me like the rest of his victims. Brutally.
You threw the silk covers off you, ignoring the bandages covering your hands and leapt out of bed, stumbling a bit as the pain in your back made you curl up, before you gathered yourself and with a shaky breath, began making your way towards the door. Which wasn’t locked, as you turned the knob.
You peeked a look and when saw no one, you craned your neck out and saw a long corridor on either side, lined with stone blocks from floor to ceiling, a medieval contrast to the gothic room you were creeping out of now.
Using the light from the sconces on the wall, you decided to take the right and walk down the hall. You kept walking, taking one turn after the other with no logic and only hope to not get lost, or worse, be lead straight to the killer.
Your heart thundered against your ribs. Oh God, what if he finds me? What if he tortures me before he kills me-
No. You stopped walking, and rubbed a hand over your chest, pressing in deeply to calm the panic attack that was sure to come if you let your mind go on. No, think positively. He cant- he wont find me. I’ll find my way out of here and I’ll use my time machine and get home-
My Time Machine!
You frantically searched your clothes, panic setting in again.
Where is it- where the fuck is it?!
You recalled having taken it from Lady Scarlet, you had it on you when you were running from those masked men and when you crashed into Benny. You went into the cemetery to find a spot to use it and you were going to when-
Your heart dropped.
The Ripper. He has it. The machine dropped from your hands when you ran to dig Silas out of his grave.
The Ripper has my time machine.
You muffled the whimper that threatened to leave with your hand.
What have I done?
The machine- the time machine is- is in the hands of the notorious psychopath!
Maybe thats why no one has ever been able to catch him. Because my dumbass was the one who dropped the most powerful device on Earth in his lap! Fuckin-
You slapped your cheek.
No. No. No! Now is not the time to spiral. Now is not the time to lose my marbles!
You take a deep breath and clear your mind.
Whats the new plan?
Plan A: get out of here, save your life and build a new time machine and hope for the best that the Ripper has a weak immune system and dies of cholera or smallpox.
Plan B: stay in this psychopath’s lair, find the time machine, save the world from catastrophic changes in history and time, and get home!
If you were a hero with good morals, sure- Plan B. But you could really not be bothered to be the saviour if you’re dead at the hands of maniac!
You start walking down the hall again, spotting a set of stairs trailing down.
How about this- it’s plan B until I’m in danger, then we jump back to plan A? Yes.
As you descended the stone stairs, the interior finally changed to Victorian again, only more gothic.
The ceilings were high, with intricate gothic arches clawing at walls, illuminated faintly by the moonlight shining through the glass windows, though the fog outside was too thick to clue you in as to where you are. More lanterns guided you down the hall, your footsteps creaking against the wooden floor. You slowed your pace, not wanting to be spotted by anyone.
As you turned another corner, you immediately scurried back as you heard someone walking down the other end of the hallway.
You peeked, and only saw a figured robe walking down the hallway- the same hallway where you were hiding just at the other corner of it.
Fortunately, the figured robe turned to his right and opened a wooden door and entered the room, the door shutting behind him with a loud thud.
That must be the Ripper, so- you quietly crept down the hallway, your heart practically lurching out of your mouth as you made your way past the room the man had went in, praying to God he doesnt come out.
Finally, reaching the end of the hallway, you took another turn and faintly heard the sound of-
Piano? No, something more deep- was that pipe organ?
Great. This place keeps giving vampire castle, rather than a murderers lair.
Some hymn, perhaps dark church, was being played.
Wait- was the Ripper playing the organ? Huh. He could’ve made a good living out of this.
Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell him about switching careers. You rolled your eyes.
You walked down another corridor and this one had more rooms on either side of it. Granted most of them were closed.
Does he keep his victims here? Oh yeah, Y/n, the Ripper is hosting them all like this is hotel Transylvania. Get a grip.
He probably found this abandoned castle, and made his home here. Perfect place to kill and hide.
You heard footsteps again and you shuffled to hide again, but the hall was too long and you’d be spotted before you reached the end of it, so you took a risk and opened the double door, sneaking inside when you spotted no one inside and closing the door as quietly as you could, putting your ear against the door to listen to the footsteps walking away.
You stayed put before slowly backing away from the door, just in case the Ripper decided he wanted to come in here, whatever this room was.
Turning on your heel, you looked around the well lit room, with an altar made of white marble at the center and behind it, large maroon velvet curtains hung on the wall, with a pattern embroidered on it with golden thread. A snake eating its own tail, forming a perfect circle.
“What the hell…?” You whispered as you walked towards the altar.
Is this where he kills his victims? You looked around the marble, it was spotless. Not a drop of blood. Is he a clean freak? OCD perhaps-
Stop psychoanalysing the killer. You’re not an expert, Y/n.
You heard someone talking outside the door and dashed towards the corner to hide behind a pillar in the shadows.
The door opened and in walked- one, two- 6 robed figures wearing silver masks and hoods over their heads entered. They all began cleaning the room, one was replacing the melted candles with fresh ones, one was dusting the antiques lying in the other corner and another was using a broom to clean, two of them were cleaning the altar with what you assume was their version of Holy Water, or maybe it was just that. And the last one- he made his way towards the curtains, before pulling on its golden cord to draw the curtains apart.
Your eyes widened at the sight behind it.
There it was. There it fucking was.
The painting. Your painting. The one Baldwin commissioned of you. The one that followed you through all timelines. The one you had burned with your own hands.
And there it hung, unscathed, mocking you.
How-? How is this possible? I destroyed it- I burnt it to ashes! I did-
As soon as the robed figures left, you sauntered towards the painting, your hands trembling.
Am I hallucinating- no- there’s no way- I’m hallucinating.
You touched the painting. It was real. This is real.
How? How did it-?
You jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat.
It was another robed figure, this time with a white mask and pearly-white patterns on it, lips painted baby blue. The femininity of her mask and stature gave away that she was a girl.
“Lady Y/n.” She addressed you so politely. “He’s waiting for you.”
You didn’t have to guess who “He” was.
Spotting the robed figures from earlier behind her, you knew you were outnumbered, so with a shaky nod, you followed her, taking one last look at the damn painting before you left.
On the way, you saw many other robed figures, all wearing masks, you deduced different colours meant different ranks. Your gaze went back to girl in white who was leading you to your doom, fixating on the pearly patterns on her mask.
If you weren’t so shocked by the painting, you would’ve asked or rather, begged her not to take you to “him”. But your entire energy was now being focused on not crumbling down to your knees and crying yourself to into a catatonic state.
Eventually, a large door came into view and when the girl opened it, she lead you inside to a dining hall. A large table sat in the center with more than 20 or so seats. However, she didn’t make you sit there, instead she continued to walk and lead you to another door in the corner, and it revealed to be a smaller, more private dining area, with only a small rectangular table and two plush seats. On the right, there was a big window with stained glass, and on the left, the beige wall had two sconces along with different sized candles illuminating the room.
And at the other end of the table, just under the shadows, “he” stood.
As the girl left you two alone, your heart dropped when he stepped out of the shadows. Wearing a black mask with golden tendrils forming an intricate pattern, a black top hat and a stylish long coat over his suit that would make anyone tremble at the realisation of who it was.
“Lady Y/n.” You recognised the smooth voice. “I hope you slept well. How are your injuries?”
The Ripper was standing in front of you, barely 6 feet away.
You gulped the lump in your throat. “What do you want from me?” You croaked out, not realising your mouth had went dry.
He took a slow, cautious step in your direction as if approaching a prey he did not wish to scare.
“I will answer all your questions, but first, supper.” He motioned you to take a seat.
“I’m not hungry.” He stared at you and you felt the walls caving in when he walked up to you, until you could see into his eyes.
“I am hungry, and I do not enjoy eating alone.” He stated in a tone that didn’t leave room to argue. Stepping back, he pulled out a chair for you. “Please.” It wasnt a request.
You sat down, the hair on your arms rising as he pushed your seat in.
With a snap of his fingers, two robed figures came in with food. They set the plates in front of you and him, lifted the cloches to reveal a soup dish. They left you two alone and the Ripper began eating, while you contemplated if this was poisoned or not.
On one hand, if he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done so earlier, right?
On the other hand, this just might be one of the least painful ways to die from, perhaps?
With that, you began eating soup, eyes trailing to the man in front of you.
After entree and dessert were served, the dinner ended and you two sat from across each other in silence.
Is this what dinner with Hannibal Lecter feels like?
“What would you like to ask?” The Ripper finally broke the silence.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to see the truth.”
“And what is that?” He stood up and for a second you thought he got annoyed and was going to kill you.
“I suppose it would be better to show you.” You hesitated for a moment before standing. He walked out of the dining hall, you walked a step behind him (if only to have the upper hand if you need to attack him, or more realistically, run away.) but he slowed his pace to match yours.
He was reasonably taller than you, so it’d be understandable if he walked faster.
“Feel free to ask me more questions while we walk.” He offered.
Alright. “Are you going to kill me?” Your steps faltered, preparing yourself to bolt.
The seconds he took to answer felt like hours. “No. Next question.”
You followed him again. At the sight of more robed figures passing by, you asked him about this place.
“Where are we? What is this place?”
“We’re a secret society.” He turned his head to look at you. “You think of the Ripper as a single entity, but as you can see, we have many members.”
“Secret society? Do you mean cult?” You seem to have become a little more confident now that he’d stated he wasnt going to kill you. You forget “torture” is still on the table.
Yeah, he didn’t exactly “kill” Silas either.
He chuckled. “For some people, sure.”
“And what exactly is the society’s purpose?”
“We maintain balance. Stop threats. Keep the routine going.” Threats? Does he mean people he think corrupt society’s morals? Is that why he targeted the prostitutes and the club?
As you were both walking, he pointed towards the fireplace, specifically over the mantel where the same snake pattern was carved into the wood.
“That is the symbol of our society. Do you know what it means?” He allowed you to go and take a closer look.
You traced the wooden symbol with your fingers. A serpent eating its own tail. In a perfect circle. A loop.
“An eternal cycle.” You remembered seeing it while you were studying Egyptian mythology in college. “Renewal of life, death… rebirth?” You looked back at him, and he nodded for you to continue. “In some depictions, the snake would be looped into a horizontal figure-of-eight. Or sign of infinity. The symbol is seen in different theologies and religions, but is generally called as “Ouroboros”. In the Greek version, it means unity in duality—the merging of opposites such as life and death, heaven and earth, and the conscious and unconscious mind. In alchemy, the Ouroboros represents the process of transformation, the idea that destruction leads to creation. In Christian mysticism, the Ouroboros was sometimes used to symbolise eternity and the idea of God as the Alpha and Omega—the beginning and the end. The serpent devouring its own tail was interpreted as a symbol of God's infinite nature and the eternal life promised in Christian theology.
In essence, it is a balance between life and death, chaos and calm.”
“Smart girl.” You could sense he was smiling under the mask. You shrugged. “So what does it mean? You “cleanse” the society of impurities? Of what doesnt fit in your moral code? Just so that life… can continue on? Some order is maintained?”
“You say it like its a bad thing- to rid the society of impurity.” He turned on his heel and began walking, and you followed behind him. You resisted the urge to scoff. “Some would say murder is pretty immoral.” It was a risky thing to say, but the man chuckled. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Did you start this society?” You asked, passing another figured robe who was wearing a sharp three-piece suite, a short top-hat, and a golden mask. He looked at you and only then did you realise that none of the other figures looked in your way. It was only for a brief moment before he looked away and passed you two.
“Yes and no.” You looked at him. He was relaxed, as if in complete control of the situation. As if he cold anticipate any move, any ambush you throw his way. Like he could predict the unpredictable. “Do you know about the Knights Templar?” You nodded. Of course. The Knights Templar were a Catholic military order founded in the 12th century to protect Christians and the Holy Land during the crusades. They were a powerful organisation with significant wealth and influece, with the crown’s backing and funding. However, by the 14th century they were suppressed and disbanded.
He began explaining. “As history records- the Templars were disbanded centuries ago. But despite how brutally they were persecuted, the Templars still managed to survive all this time and went underground to operate from the shadows.”
“So, you’re the Templars?”
He shook his head. “We are a branch of the Templars. Our mission is the same- to protect the public from evil organisations and keep the balance of good and evil.” He directed you towards a door and opened it to reveal a huge room with many robed figures working quietly. There were different chalk-boards. There was a black board on which different names and math equations were written, then another on which different years were written with an event pinned to it. But you were only able to recognise a handful of the historical events, the rest were of them were just- you didn’t even know what they were. The events lined to the years were sentences like-
“She jumps into the water.” “He was lost in the carnival.” “The boy slept in.”
They didn’t make any sense.
The Ripper didn’t stop you from reading the boards. Instead, he continued to explain. “I started this society only after I had lost someone dear to me. To find them, I… I began searching for ways to connect to them. In afterlife.” He hummed. “Its ironic. I never believed in life after death, I’m still not particularly religious, you see. But I was desperate. I abandoned science and logic, and went after mediums who promised me that they will connect me to my loved ones. As you would know, that was a complete waste of time. But it did help me connect with some powerful people, who then tried to invoke my sense of Christianity. In reality, they just needed my money to fund their programs. One of which was the Templars.” You listened to him, while watching the robed figures work silently as they wrote on the chalk board, drawing lines, connecting dots. “They didn’t particularly need me to become a Templar, rather they needed my money and in return, they’d support any agenda I’d have. I, of course, demanded that- my wife may be brought back to me.” It was the first time he addressed who he’d been talking about. He continued on. “They obviously cant raise the dead. And they were fed up with me, so when I threatened to pull back my support, they told me to pray to God. Pray that He may be so gracious and merciful to send her back. That God is kind to His most devout servants. So, I changed. I really did become the perfect Christian. I abstained from all kinds of evils, I followed the light. I studied the Bible, all versions of it, and when that wasnt enough, I studied the history. And thats when I stumbled upon a story. About a king and his lover who went missing.” Your heart began to sink.
He began walking again, leading you out of the room and down another hallway. “You wouldn’t find this story that easily, you see, it was buried so deep into the books, only one manuscript was found and kept save by the Templars. And it was in Arabic.” As he turned, you saw a familiar corridor, and before you knew it, you were back in the room with the painting. “It almost sounded like a bedtime story. A sick king who was bound to die, is saved by a slave girl who seemed to appear out of no where. She saves him with a kiss, because apparently God had given her some divine powers. The king believed so, that she was angel gifted to him by God. And who is he to deny a divine gift?” Your eyes are focused on the painting, refusing to look at him. He doesnt- he cant know.
“Then as all great love stories end, she didn’t want to marry him, ran away from the altar and jumped into the sea, disappearing forever.” The Ripper’s steps echoed as he walked ahead of you, standing directly under the painting. “It is said that the the king was so devastated, he didn’t believe she was actually dead. They never found her body, or any remnant of her. He searched everywhere for her, he left his kingdom and travelled half the world for her. Apparently, he had become so depressed, that he would talk to the painting- this painting, he had commissioned of her, so much so, that his tears had smudged her beautiful face, the lower half of it. I imagined he kissed her right… there.” He pointed at lower half of the face on the painting that was smudged. “The king eventually died with a smile that now he’d finally be able to meet you again. The Templars, embarrassed by their king’s mental state, erased all traces of the girl and any story linked to her was destroyed, in order to maintain the nobility of a true Christian. The painting, however, wasnt found in the king’s castle. No, it was found centuries later with the Ottomans, and I think it was either stolen from the king or the king himself gave it away to be kept safe, perhaps to a dear friend.” He turned to face you, stalking towards you as you felt the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. “Do you know who wrote that manuscript?”
He said it was in Arabic. Salauddin?
“A mathematician called Abbas. The love story didn’t really interest me, nor did it feel true. It wasnt… even that good. But one thing that did intrigue was the device that this girl- slave girl was paying Abbas to make it. He wasnt able to recreate it again, nor did he ever understand what was its function. He did suspect that it may be the reason you were running, or were able to escape. After all, I researched quite a bit and while many parts of his story were true, I was never able to find the family of the girl who she claimed to be trying to find. So, perhaps… the device did indeed have something to do with her disappearance?”
He knows.
He fucking knows.
“Great story. What am I to do with it?” You managed to keep your poker face. He tilted his head at you, not in confusion, more in a “are you really keeping that act up?” manner. You tried to divert the focus from you. “It was just a story, like you said. Besides, you could have all the resources in the world and still not be able to find someone. The world is a big place, and there are more humans than you could ever count.”
“And yet I found you.” He said curtly, cutting off any attempts of diversion. “I found you, Y/n. You were the girl, and yes, I verified it. Directly from the man himself. King Baldwin IV.” Your eyes widened.
“I dont know what you’re talking about. And the king is dead-” He pulled something out of his pocket and you felt fear take over you.
The time machine.
“I- where- thats-” How- how does he know? How the fuck does he know?
“The time-travelling device? Yes, yes it is.” He fiddled with it. “Are you still going to deny everything?”
You took a step back, forcing the lump in your throat down. “Who- who are you?”
He sighed, stepping back a bit. “I suppose it would be better to show you.” And with that he removed his mask.
The room was illuminated well enough by the candles and sconce, yet it still took you a few seconds to recognise the man in front of you.
No. Fucking. Way.
-
“That girl was just someone pretending to be her.” Cadbury informed Silas. He’d just returned from yet another day of following up on leads claiming that they saw Y/n, or were Y/n. Its been three years since you’d been kidnapped by the Ripper. Three years since he’d been searching high and low for you. Silas had done everything he was supposed to do- influenced the police to keep your case open, bribed anyone and everyone for any leads, hired bounty hunters, used all his contacts and more on any news on you.
Cadbury sighed. “Another person impersonating Mrs FitzGeorge for money.” Mrs FitzGeorge. Only Cadbury addressed you like that now. Everyone else assumed you were dead. Most have already forgotten about you.
Silas downed the rest of his scotch before standing up. “I’ll be back late. Follow up on the other leads.” Cadbury didn’t have to ask where he was going. He knew.
Silas was going to a party. A private one. The kind where only the most exclusive members of high society meet to engage in any kind of activity. Nothing is off the table.
He’d figured that perhaps he’d be able to find someone there who could give him any clues on your whereabouts. Or the Rippers.
Upon reaching the mansion, he gave the secret code and was allowed entry. He recognised many of the guests there, William Gladstone, Thomas Hardy, Edison, Arthur Conan Doyle, etc.
Avoiding them expertly, he went upstairs to the room where a special event was happening.
“Mr FitzGeorge, glad you finally joined us.” A guest shook his hand, while he gave a nod of acknowledgement, eyes fixed on the stage ahead.
“Ladies and gentleman, we have a very special guest this evening, all the way from America! Please welcome- Harry Houdini!” The crowd erupted in applause. Harry Houdini was an up and coming magician whose fame had grown fast enough to be recognised globally.
But Silas didn’t exactly come for a magic show. No, he came to know if he can figure out a trick.
After the show was over, Silas came up to him, handing him a glass of champagne. “That was quite a show, Mr Houdini.” The magician’s face lit up in recognition, clinking his glass with Silas’s. “Mr FitzGeorge! I was expecting you!” “You were?” Harry nodded, pulling the man aside and leading him backstage. “Of course! I wanted to ask- was it true that you were buried alive?! How did you manage to keep your calm without running out of breath? How did you get yourself out of the coffin?” Silas’s grip tightened on his glass.
“My wife saved me.” He took a deep breath, setting his glass aside. “Thats what I came here for today. I need your help, Mr Houdini-” “Please. Call me Harry. I insist.” “-Harry. I’m trying to find her. She was taken by the Ripper. And while investigating, he managed to kill a potential lead while he was in the cell, without breaking in or being noticed.” Silas explained the case about the scapegoat who was killed in a cell, surrounded by inmates and coppers, without anyone seeing or hearing anything. He came to Houdini because he was an escape artist, an illusionist. If anyone had a chance of figuring this case, it would be him.
Harry tapped his chin in contemplation. “You’ll need to give me some time to crack this one.”
Silas nodded, pulling out his chequebook. “For which, I’m willing to compensate you.”
“Can I ask you something?” Silas gave a nod. “Have you considered that your wife may be dead?”
I have. “Yes.” The answer was curt. The “And?” Was silent.
Harry tried his best to be cautious in his wording. “And… you still want to find her?”
Why wouldn’t I? Silas has thought about the possibility of you not being alive anymore. Hell, part of him wishes that if you’ve not escaped the Ripper’s clutches, then at the very least, you’re dead. He doesnt want you to suffer the way he or Daisy did. His biggest fear was finding you in one of the asylums, bound and tortured to the point of becoming a vegetable. Every time he went into an asylum, everytime he opened a door, everytime he turned around poor girl, his blood would run cold. Is this it? Is this the time he’d find you? In this horrid place? In this miserable condition? In a state worse than death? Is this the outcome of all the women in his life? Was the Ripper right? Did they all suffer because of him?
“Yes.” Silas answered. Houdini studied him for a bit, before smiling. “Very well. I will keep you updated.” Silas left the party quickly after that. He’d done what he’d came for here, there’s no room for any entertainment in his life. Not until he finds you.
A few weeks later marked the fourth anniversary of your kidnapping. Silas sat on a bench by the river, across from Westminster palace. Every year since you were taken, he’d have the palace be lit up by lanterns. He’d do this on your birthday if he knew it. What kind of husband doesnt know his wife’s birthday? He could also have the palace lit up on his wedding anniversary. But then again, he doesnt think you’d celebrate this union if you were still here.
No. The palace would be lit up on the day of your disappearance. Not to mark it as a day of sorrow. No. It was a request. A beg. A prayer, that if you were able to see this, you’d return. That if you were not able to come out of hiding because of the Ripper, then find comfort in the thought that Silas has not forgotten about you. He never will. The world may have moved on, may have started addressing you in past tense, but he won’t. You’re still alive. You’re still out there. And he wont give up until he finds you. You didn’t give up on him.
Its not about returning the favour. No, Silas has realised that he’ll never be able to compete with you, he’ll always be in your debt. Because you found him when you didn’t have anything, when the whole world was against you, you still saved him. And now that he had everything, all the contacts, all the money, all hurdles removed, he still wasn’t able to find you.
Where are you, Y/n?
Silas won’t say he’s in love with you. He doesnt think he has the right to. Love? Isn’t that reserved for people who don’t hurt their beloved? Isn’t that reserved for people who aren’t cursed like him? If his love was true, if it was pure, wouldn’t he have been able to find you? What has he not done to still not be able to find a trace of you? Where has he lacked?
He’d expanded his search from all over the world. Silas even went to Muslim countries, perhaps you’d gone into hiding there? He even went to Saudi Arabia, performed pilgrimage in Mecca, just for the sight of you. On paper, he was still a muslim. He never changed it since the day of the Nikkah. He won’t lie and call himself a believer, no. But he did pray in front of the Kabbah, a silent prayer as it rained.
What have you reduced me to, Y/n? He mocked himself. You made me fall to my knees, made me beg to a deity I don’t believe in, call out to the higher power, not for forgiveness, not for killing my uncle and cousins, not to ask for peace for my family’s souls, but for you. Asked God, Allah- that He may reunite us?
Who are you? You’re only human, nothing in comparison to others, yet I, Silas Edmund FitzGeorge, begged on my knees, pressed my forehead to the ground, called upon God and believed, if only for a fleeting moment, that He returns you to me. That if He gave you back, I’ll be the best man to you, I’ll take care of you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that you never cry again.
Silas used to think it was the Ripper who made him realise his worth.
He was wrong.
You’re the one who has made him realise his value.
Absolutely nothing without you.
-
Silas sat in his office at the London Post when Benjamin barged in. He was the only one allowed to still act this way because - well, he was your friend. He cared for you when Silas didnt. Plus, he was still helping him in finding you.
“Benjamin. Any progress?” Silas closed the file on his desk and gave the blonde his full attention.
Benjamin’s eyes were sharp. He’d grown aggressive since your kidnapping, becoming more brash by the year. Silas had heard he was often seen passed out in bars and even high on snow these days. If this continued, Silas wont have any use for him. He’s no good to him indisposed.
“No. There’s no news on Henry Blackwood or Lady Scarlet. I’m guessing Lady Scarlet ran off and is hiding with Blackwood. Probably started another club someplace.” He moved to sit from across Silas , putting his feet up on his desk. Trying to spite him.
Silas ignored his antics. “What about his businesses? Any of them still running?”
“Nope. They all closed off one by one, all his partners pulled out when they heard about the Ripper targeting his employees.” He raised his brows. “Guess you’re the richest man in Britain now, eh? Feel big enough yet?”
Another attempt at slighting. Silas ignored it. “If thats all, you can go now.” He opened his file again, not looking up as he heard the blonde scoff and leave his office, slamming the door on his way out. Moments later, Colin entered, as he would whenever Benjamin left.
Silas pulled out a cheque and gave it to him. “He’s quit working at the barber shop, hasn’t he?” Colin nodded. “He’s committed himself to finding Y/n. Though as time passes, his grief deepens. He’s been drinking a lot now.”
Silas kept his eyes down. You would know about the drinking, wouldn’t you Colin? He never brought up that he knew how often Colin drank during office hours.
“Take care of him, Colin. If you need more money, let me know.” Silas dismissed him. He’d always give the cheque to Colin, knowing Benjamin would never accept any money from him.
When he was done with work and returned home, he wasn’t expecting Harry Houdini to be waiting for him there.
“After a whole month? I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.” Silas lead him to the parlour, offering him a drink.
Harry Houdini sat on the edge of his seat, gathering himself. “I must admit, I haven’t been able to crack the case you’d given me. I haven’t found any possible way for that man to have been murdered so brutally without anyone noticing.” He admitted defeat and pulled out the cheque Silas had given him.
He sighed. “Keep it. For your trouble.” Harry sensed the tone of finality. Silas wasn’t going to take back his cheque. Like he knew that Harry wasn’t going to be able to help him.
“You seem like a good man, Silas.” Harry stood up, downing his drink. “Perhaps, if you allow, we could try an unconventional way?”
I’m all ears. Silas gave a nod for him to continue.
“Do you believe in spirits-?” “No.” Silas finished his drink and poured himself another. “But go on.”
Harry smirked. He was desperate. “You see, I’m an escape artist. I do- magic. Illusions. But even I believe that sometimes, there is just another realm out there, invisible to us, doing things that cannot be explained by the human mind.” He paused, letting his words sink in. Silas’s face remained void of emotions. “I believe that the dead can talk. Or perhaps otherworldly beings. Call them spirits, ghost, supernatural beings, whatever. I believe they have answers to questions man cannot answer.”
“So?”
“So, if you’d like, you can join me for a private meeting tonight. Who knows, maybe the spirits can help us find where your wife is. Or if we’re unlucky, maybe she might be the one who talks to you directly. At least, you’ll have closure.”
What a load of bullshit.
“What do you say? Can I count you in?” Harry wiggled his brows. Pathetic.
“Sure.”
Desperate times calls for desperate measures.
Later that evening, Silas was sitting in the basement of an abandoned church. He wasn’t the only one there. Harry, along with 8 other people, all seemingly belonging from high society were also present.
It was a seance, or rather a ploy to scam grieving people of their money. They were divided into two groups. Silas watched the first group sit down on the table, a woman wearing garb, pretending to be a wise gypsy or perhaps a witch, rubbed her hands over a crystal ball.
Theatrics. He watched the woman hold hands with the others and mumble gibberish. This went on for 10 minutes until the candles suddenly flickered and they all gasped, one of them even started crying for their loved one.
Eventually, it was his turn. He sat down with the rest of his group, letting the others go first. Finally, it was his turn. The woman pulled out a lettered board, or as she called it “Ouija board, with the spirits using the planchette to spell out what they want to say.
“It helps the spirits talk to us.” Why? Cant you hear them?
“Who would you like to speak to?” The woman asked him.
“Y/n.” He didnt want to think about you being dead. He was just curious as to what answer the woman could come up.
She closed her eyes, muttered gibberish- it wasn’t Latin. He knew Latin.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “She isn’t available.”
“What does that mean? Is she dead? Does she just not want to talk to me?”
She looked him dead in the eye. “She isn’t available. Would you like to talk to someone else?”
Alright. “Um… Sarah FitzGeorge.” He didnt want to say Daisy’s name to these delusional people. She’s suffered enough.
The woman closed her eyes, did her routine, then exhaled. “Sarah is here with us. Everyone, please put your hands on the planchette and lets say “Hello, Sarah.” Silas placed his hands on the planchette with everyone.
“Hello, Sarah.” Everyone repeated.
“Sarah, Silas would like to talk to you. Would you like to talk to him?” The planchette moved to “YES”.
“Silas, you may ask what you want.” The woman gave him the reigns.
“Um… are you well?” The planchette moved.
“D” “E” “A” “D”
“Right. Sorry. Um, do you know where Y/n is?”
The planchette moved. “YES”.
Silas looked at the rest of them. He was skeptical. Who was moving the planchette?
“Is she in trouble?” The planchette moved.
“NO.” That was comforting. Even if this lady is moving the board to make him spend more money.
“Is she hiding?”
“YES.” Good. She must’ve escaped him.
“Does she hate me?”
“NO.”
“Is she-” the planchette moved before he could finish his question.
“M” “A” “D”
“Mad? Is she in an asylum?” His fear returned.
“NO.”
“Then? Has she gone mad?”
“NO.”
“Mad. Mad- is she mad at me?”
“YES.” Oh.
“Why?” The planchette doesnt move.
“Why is she mad at me?” When he got no answer, he changed his question. “Where is she? I need to apologise.” The moving planchette gave him hope.
“D” “E” “A” “D”
What?
“She’s dead?” He didnt register the hopelessness in his own voice.
“YES.”
No.
“Take your hands off the planchette. All of you.” He growled at the rest of them, and they immediately retreated. It was only Silas who was holding the planchette. The lady tried to intervene. “This isn’t how it works-”
“Is she dead? Is Y/n dead?” Silas repeated.
The planchette moved. “YES.”
He doesnt remember the rest of the events. The lady took charge over the board again and bid Sarah goodbye when Silas remained silent. He was in shock. It didnt feel real. You’re dead?
“I hope you got the closure you needed.” Harry patted him on the back as the two exited the church. “How did she move the planchette?”
“What?” Harry was confused.
“What trick did she use? I was the one holding the planchette. How did she move it?” Silas glared at him.
“Silas, this wasn’t a trick. It was the spirit of Sarah FitzGeorge.”
“Stop.” Harry did. Silas dragged a hand over his face. “This is sick. You shouldnt- she shouldn’t exploit people like that.” Before Harry could say another word, he left.
Silas returned a week later. He was going to figure out her trick. Lucky for him, the lady would hold as many seances as he’d like to pay for. So, now it would just be him, the lady and… sometimes Houdini.
What used to be monthly visits, turned to weekly, until they turned to daily seances, all held at his home now. He used the Ouija board to talk to Sarah, only her. He couldn’t face the rest of his family, and… you never wanted to talk to him.
Another two years passed.
You were still “mad” at him. He’d tried tracking down the Ripper, he’d gotten rid of anyone who hurt Sarah, but she still wasn’t able to help him find the killer. How could she, when she didnt even know who he was.
Even after five years, he still wasn’t able to find you. If he had to guess, the Ripper got rid of your body, just like the rest of his victims. He didnt have the courage to ask Sarah how you had died.
“How do I make her forgive me?” He asked Harry. Silas had developed a sort of friendship with him. He wasn’t close, except he was in ways Silas never has had any of his friends before. Then again, Silas didnt even want to share something like “spiritual communication” with someone at all. He’d be laughed at.
Harry sipped his drink and shrugged. “I don’t know… buy her flowers?” Silas gaze sharpened. Harry raised his hands in defence. “Sorry. Um, well- I mean, perhaps finding her would be a starting point?”
“How? How do I find her if she’s already dead?”
“Um, its a totally different dimension she exists in now.”
“Dimension?” “Yeah. Realm. After-life, you know? We’ll all get there one day, when our time’s up, so… hang in there, man.” Harry finished his drink.
His words echoed in Silas’s mind.
And so, two weeks later, Silas stood in front of her.
“Hello. Its been a while.” He greeted the tombstone- his grandmother. “Or, maybe not. I mean, you have been “talking” to me.” He shook his head. “I know. Its ridiculous for me to think that “spirits talk”, I know. I am quite self aware that I may have been fooling myself into thinking that I was communicating with the dead, but could you blame me? I was lonely, I had a lot of money, and I was nowhere near finding Y/n.” He looked at the flowers you’d planted besides her grave.
“You were right about her, you know? About her being perfect for me.” A small smile graced his lips. “I used to think she was bad for me. And there was a time when I thought she was good for me.” He took a deep breath. “I do not think of her as good or bad for me anymore. I just think of her as mine.” He shook his head. You’d pull my cheeks and coo if you were here, wouldn’t you?
“Goodbye, grandma.”
When he returned home, Cadbury stood nervously. “Have you done what I’d asked for, Cadbury?”
“Yes- yes. Um, I went to the London Post and gave Colin the papers. He’s officially been promoted to the owner of the company. He didnt believe me and he kept slapping himself to “wake him out of this dream.” He’s gone mad.” Silas laughed. “I’m sure he’ll recover soon.”
Silas removed his coat as he went into his study, Cadbury following behind. “And- and I sold most of your properties and gave the proceedings to charity- “The Daisy FitzGeorge Foundation”.
“Good.” Silas sighed, before pulling out a file from his desk. “You’re fired, Cadbury.” He handed him the file.
“I- what?” Silas began walking out of the study.
“You’re fired. Effective immediately.”
“What? Why?!” The butler was appalled. “I’ve been loyal to you all these years, your only friend too- dare I say, family?!”
“Cadbury, dont be ridiculous. You don’t work for me anymore.” Silas put on his coat.
“This- this is just-” he opened the file, his eyes widening. “What is this?”
“I’ve fired you, Cadbury. I cant just leave you empty headed. This is the rest of your paycheque.”
“Sir-” Cadbury couldn’t take his eyes off the file. “You cant- you can’t just give me the house! This is your estate!”
“You deserve it, Cadbury.” Silas smiled. “Like you said, you’re family.” He turned to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m moving.”
“Where?”
“I dont know.”
“Sir.” The urgency in his voice made Silas turn back to him. “Are you alright?”
Silas nodded. “I’ve never been better. Goodbye, Cadbury.” He held out his hand for Cadbury to shake. The butler looked down at it before pulling him into a hug.
“Dont be emotional, Cadbury. Someone will see your tears.” Silas patted his back, chuckling as the butler held on tighter.
By midnight, Silas reached his destination. The abandoned church.
He walked inside, and tonight the events were going to be held on the ground floor. Not the basement. The place was prepared well tonight, cleaned up and candles illuminated the place. It was packed in here tonight. He wasn’t expecting this many attendees, all of whom were wearing red robes, all staring at him with blank eyes.
He strolled in and was quickly greeted by Harry, who lead him up to the altar. The cross was removed, he’d noticed, replaced by a symbol he couldn’t bother to recognise.
What would it matter? It wont change what he came here for.
Upon reaching the altar, Harry began speaking, “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we’ll be witnessing and helping our dear friend to travel dimensions. Tonight, we will-” Silas didnt bother to hear the rest of it. His mind was telling him that this is just a cult gone crazy. That he’s being sacrificed for nothing. He doesnt believe anything these people believe in.
“Tonight, we will help Silas meet his wife! He’ll join her, in eternal life, where they wont be despaired. Where no sadness exist. He’ll be rewarded for his struggles, for all his pain, and he’ll be reunited with his true love.” What if you don’t want to meet him? What if you’re still mad at him?
Harry handed Silas a chalice. “This chalice belonged to our great saint-” How does he talk so much? Does he not hear himself and want to rip out his vocal cords? “It contains the ambrosia of eternal life, only given to the brave ones who are ready to take their final journey. And so the-” Ambrosia of eternal life? You mean, poison?
“Lets all pray for our friend’s safe journey to the other realm. Silas, you may drink.” With that, Harry and the rest of the attendees began chanting some gibberish, further cementing his belief that he’s being set up by a crazy cult. At least, they wont be able to get his money. He had Cadbury take care of all his assets, concluded all his businesses, tied all the lose ends. He’s solid.
So if he doesnt believe in anything the cult does, and he knows he’s just being killed for money, why does he continue to drink?
I don’t care anymore. He began drinking. It was sweet. Too sweet, probably to mask whatever they added in. I’m not even sure about the afterlife, if there’s one. And I’m not sure if I’ll meet you there. He’s sure you’re dead. Thats what his logic says. After 6 years, the probability of you still being alive is unlikely.
So, whats the point of it all if you’re not here anymore?
As he finishes the drink, he begins to feel dizzy. He’s laid down on the floor and he finally admits it to himself.
Silas FitzGeorge loves Y/n.
Memories of you begin to flash across his mind.
Silas FitzGeorge loves Y/n.
Your smile, your laughter- how did he ever forget that beautiful sound? The crinkle of your eyes, the mischievous glint in them, even the way your nostrils flared when you were angry.
Silas FitzGeorge loves Y/n.
You were the best thing that ever happened to him. You were his wife, his beautiful, precious wife.
Silas FitzGeorge loves Y/n.
You cried for him, you fought for him, you defeated Death for him, you sacrificed yourself for him.
Silas FitzGeroge loves Y/n.
He could hear you screaming his name faintly. You would be mad at him for going out this way, but you’d understand, right? Right?
Life began to drain out of him, his breathing shallowed.
Silas FitzGeorge loved Y/n.
Harry knelt down to check his breathing, then his pulse.
“He’s dead. Lets go.”
He left with the rest of the attendees. They all stood outside as one of them poured kerosene all over the church and then lit it up. They all watched it for hours until nothing but ash was left. Harry turned to them all, taking a quick bow. “You’ve all been very helpful. We will not forget Silas’s sacrifice. He has opened the door to the other world now. Your loved ones will now be absolved of their sins and be at peace!” The crowd erupted in cheers.
Harry returned to his house, where someone was waiting for him. “Its done. He’s dead.” He watched the man appear from the shadows. “You checked?” “Yes. Then burned down the place. Got rid of the body too.” Harry poured himself a drink and raised his glass.
“Welcome back, Mr Blackwood.”
Henry smirked. “Thank you. Your payment has already been sent to your account.”
“And the other favour?”
“Ah, yes. I’ve managed to arrange a meeting with the queen for you.” “Really?” Harry was surprised. “The mourning queen would see me?”
Henry nodded. “I sang praises of your talent. Who knows, she might be interested in the seances you set up.”
Harry chuckled. “So, how does it feel to be the most powerful man in Britain, now that your sole competitor is gone?”
“Its always good to be home.” Henry then left Harry’s place, all his dominoes were finally falling into place. With Silas gone, not only will he take the reigns over all his businesses, but also influence politics.
As he got into his carriage, he nodded at his two men, who quickly went upstairs to take care of Harry.
Like he would have introduced that idiot to the queen. What a tool.
His carriage began to move and he closed his eyes.
Once his business is concluded here, he’ll be back home to you.
-
You don’t know how much time has passed. You’re still trying to wrap your head around everything, about the Ripper’s identity. You’d never imagined it to be him.
How could it have been? You’ve been trying to match his story with everything, trying to see if you were truly so blind to have missed all the signs?
I didnt.
This- this isn’t possible. It shouldn’t be possible-
“Woah. Your brain’s going to fry if you keep thinking so hard.” You snapped at the sound of his voice. The robed figure with the black mask and top hat, wearing his three-piece suit sat down beside. He was the Ripper’s second-in-command. His right hand.
The first time he had removed his mask, you were shocked. How could- how could he be working with the Ripper?!
He took off his mask and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it before giving you a lazy smile. “What?” He asked when you stared at him.
“I just cant believe its you, Benny.” You tilted your head, devastated at the fact that he was the killer’s accomplice. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.” Benny could see you trying to link some traumatic backstory to who he is now. “I chose this. You don’t understand it now, but we’re the good guys. Even if our methods are unconventional.” He patted your head, letting his hand play with your hair. Like old times.
He wasn’t the Benny you thought you knew though.
“How can you just… trust him?” He smiled at your question. He truly felt like explaining something to a child. “I just do. He’s made me see the reality of everything, given me a true purpose. I know its hard to see the bigger picture, but you’ll trust him soon too. In fact, I think a part of you already has begun to. Isnt that why you’ve been going along with him everywhere?” He raised his brows at you, his eyes still so gentle.
Is this the face of a killer?
You looked away from him, the wheels in your head turning again.
Adorable. Benny thought, still playing with the ends of your hair. “May I braid it?” He didnt wait for an answer, already standing behind you.
“I’m still the same man, Y/n. You just didnt know this side of me then.” He reassured you gently, as if understanding that you may be blaming yourself for being stupid. “You weren’t supposed to know before time. Though I’m surprised you didnt get a little suspicious of me.”
“I was suspicious. I thought you were the Ripper.” You defended yourself.
“And yet you went around with me?”
I chose to ignore it. “I didnt want it to be true…” The way you said it made him think of a child who’d just discovered that Santa Claus wasn’t real.
He tied your braid with a ribbon and came around to face you. Cupping your cheeks, he said earnestly. “I’m still your Benny, Y/n. I still care about you. And I always will. I will never hurt you. I promise.”
You just stared at him, searching for the cracks in his poker face. There weren’t any.
He pulled back, nodding his head towards the door. “He’s waiting for you. Go on, now.”
You sighed before getting up.
Reaching the room with the damn painting, you found him waiting there. Taking a deep breath, preparing yourself for what he’d give you today, you walked unto him.
He smiled when he saw you, his dimples appearing.
The Ripper has dimples.
You peaked up at him from your lashes before looking back down at the ground. Its not that you’re shy, or scared. You- you just don’t know what to say.
“Something troubles you.” He lowered his head to meet your eyes. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart.
“It’s nothing.” You avoided his gaze, only for him to lift your chin. “It is something if it bothers you.” You pursed your lips. He wasn’t going to let it go.
“I just don’t understand how you’re the Ripper- how you even exist?”
He suppressed a smile. He didnt want to make you feel silly, but he couldn’t help but tease. “I’d figure that someone who came from the modern times and has your education would understand it better than others.”
“Silas.” He chuckled, apologising quickly.
Yes, Silas is the Ripper. London’s most notorious killer was Silas FitzGeorge.
But not your Silas, not the one you married. No, this is an older Silas, looked to be in his early forties, but he claimed to be 52. His hair had barely begun to grey, his eyes were still the same stormy color, and his dimples-
“Alright, I’ll explain this as many times as you’d like.” Silas took a deep breath. “I’m Silas FitzGeorge. I’m from another dimension, one where you also existed. And when similar events as of this timeline followed, my Y/n died. I looked all over the world for you, for about a decade, before deciding to join the Templars, where I was able to discover you and the concept of time travelling. Using the Templars, I started a society- or rather woke up a branch of the Templars, who also call them as “The Circle”, whose mission is to dedicate their lives to keeping the balance of time and events, and stop anyone trying to disrupt the timelines for sinister purposes.”
“And Benny?”
“Ah, Benjamin was already a Templar Knight. When he heard about “The Circle”, he was intrigued.”
“Did he- did he really kill all of those people?”
“Henry’s employees? Yes, yes he did.” He watched your face fell. “He was only trying to protect you.”
You didnt appreciate his attempt at consoling you. “Who killed me? In your dimension?”
“One of Henry’s men. It was presented as an accident. You died in a fire.”
“So, why are you here? You want me to replace her?” You asked cautiously. He smiled, shaking his head.
“Of course not. Even though you two share the same face and traits, there’s still something unique about her. She was my Y/n. We have shared many memories. No one can replace her, not even you.”
“So, why are you here?”
“To keep you safe. To prevent you from being killed. I wasn’t successful with other versions of you.”
“Other versions. You mean there are more dimensions?”
“There are infinite number of dimensions, Y/n. But we don’t exist in all of them. In fact, I’ve found myself in 9 others. You? Only in 2 others. One was mine, and one was in another, where you had died in childhood, a car accident.”
“Cant you use the time machine to bring your Y/n back?”
He shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “You cant raise the dead, Y/n. I’ve tried turning the time back to save her, but she’d always end up dying. Her death was already written, set in stone. Once the events have occurred, I cant change her end. I stopped trying after the 20th attempt. I watched her die twenty times, each death worse than the previous one. I can’t put her through it again just to relive my time with her again.” Silas sighed, something clear in his eyes. “This is why I came here, to save you. I’ve spent the last 20 years, figuring out all the events and changing them down to the last detail, just so that I can save you. If you’re alive and return to your time, I’ll have broken chain of events. You wont be killed.”
“And why am I being killed? What does Henry want?”
“Power. Revenge. Perhaps he deems you to be a threat if you’re the only FitzGeorge alive. Or maybe he just didnt take kindly to being rejected.” Silas smirked. “That is the common thing in the other universes you were in. You always rejected him.”
“It’s been years since I’ve gone missing. How come you and I haven’t aged?”
“We age only in our own timelines. That is what I’ve observed so far.” You suppose it’s true, because even after he’s taken you through so many different eras, you haven’t aged a day.
You looked at the time machine in his hands. “I still cant understand how you managed to understand the science time travelling. I mean, you may have graduated from Oxford but your education was limited to the Victorian period.”
He laughed, his dimples appearing again. “You underestimate the human mind and its capabilities when motivated.” You glared at him. “How did the Egyptians build the pyramids? With absolutely no modern machines, how did they even lift those heavy blocks?” You shrugged. He smiled, extending his palm towards you as his other hand set a date in the time machine.
“Let’s find out.”
-
Henry’s in his office when his assistant brings in his mail. “This was left for you without a return address.”
He looks at the envelope, then opens it. Its an invitation.
“Welcome back, Mr Blackwood. At the behalf of Freemasons London, we invite you to a night of socialisation with the future world leaders.”
Freemasons, huh. He closed the envelope.
I suppose there’s no harm in making more contacts and blackmailing more people.
He’d decided to go.
And once he’s done here, he’ll be back at home with you.
He reached the building- a castle rather. So, this was the Freemasons lodge? Fancy.
Henry spotted some men, who didnt say a word. They just lead him inside and he was waiting in the lobby, to be joined by the others. He adjusted his cufflinks, fixing the collar of his coat.
What? He wanted to make a good impression.
A shadow watched from above, hiding in the dark, waiting for the other one to arrive.
And then he did.
The shadow smirked.
Showtime.
Henry was still adjusting his collar when he sensed something.
A breath. Someone elses.
He ducked just as a knife was thrown at his head.
“Oh, sorry I missed.” Henry glared at him.
“Silas? How did you-”
“Survive? Did you really think I was just going to kill myself and let you win?” Silas scoffed. “I’ll take you down with me.”
Henry smirked, shaking his head. “Is that the only weapon you had on you, or are you ready to fight like a man?” He removed his jacket, folding it neatly as he set it aside.
Silas raised his fists. “You’ll pay for coming after me and my family.” And the duel began.
Silas landed the first punch and Henry grinned through the blood pooling in his teeth. “Good punch. It’ll be fun to beat you down now.” And then, Henry landed a series of hits that Silas wasn’t able to dodge. “When I kill you, I’ll enjoy taking over everything you own. And then I’ll have Y/n-” He was cut off as Silas kicked him in the gut, making him bend and Silas threw another punch, knocking him off his feet. Silas climbed over him, punching him again and again.
“Where is she?! Where have you kept her?!” Henry cackled through the hits.
“She’s in my bed right now, waiting for me to fil-”
“HOW DARE YOU?!” Silas’s anger had reached its peak and he was intent on killing him.
The shadow watched with a smile as the two men fought. Silas had mistaken Henry for the Ripper.
Benjamin looked at his watch, then pulled away from the balcony and went inside the room with the painting, waiting for you and the Ripper to return.
Any moment now.
And then a bright flash appeared, and you two appeared.
“Benny?” You looked at him, surprised to see him waiting.
“I’d greet you in a better way but we have a situation.” He looked at Silas. “Henry’s here.”
“No.” Silas face went grim. “He wasn’t supposed to find her- how did he even know about this place?”
Benjamin shrugged. “I have no idea, but he’s down there fighting with Silas. This timeline’s Silas.”
Silas is here? You tried to follow them, but the elder Silas stopped you. “No. You need to stay here.” “I cant-” But he cupped your face. “Please, Y/n. I cant endanger you. If something happens to you, all of this, all my work will be for naught. Please.” He was begging. You nodded stiffly, and he smiled. “Good girl.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before taking your hands, squeezing them reassuringly. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared into his eyes. “I’ll be back soon. Benjamin, guard her with your life.” You watched him slip on his mask and leave.
“Benny, whats going on? Tell me the truth. How did either of them find this place?”
“The two of them mistook the other for the Ripper. They’re fighting for you.” He sighed, walking near you, gathering your hair and placing it on over your left shoulder. “As for how they found this place… well, someone sent out an invitation to Henry. And Silas had faked his death to make Henry come out of hiding, and Silas now followed him here.”
Your brows furrowed. “What? Silas faked his- who sent out the invite?”
“I did.” You didnt have time to react as he pressed on a pressure point, making your world go black.
-
Silas came just in time to see his younger self beating the life out of Henry. But at the sound of movement, the younger one looked up, confusion flashing across his face.
If the Ripper is there, then-
Henry took this moment of distraction to throw Silas off him and he knocked him out cold with a punch. He turned around, only to get hit in the face by the Ripper.
Henry spit out the blood, cracking his neck as he smirked at him. “You’re the reason why my employees died. I’m going to fuck you up.”
However, over the course of next 15 minutes, it ended with Henry being the one who got “fucked up”.
Henry was lying on the ground with at least a dozen broken bones, and he was in a world of pain, as evident by his laboured breathing, barely hanging onto consciousness.
“I’ve been looking forward to this day for the past 30 years.” He pulled out a knife and held it against Henry’s throat. “What a disappointing opponent you turned out to be.”
Just as he was about slit his throat, a bloody scream ripped through the air.
“SILAS!!!!!”
The Ripper’s eyes shot towards the room he’d left you in, smoke had started to come out of the closed doors.
Y/n.
-
Fifteen minutes ago.
You woke up to the sight of Benjamin hovering over you, tying your arms together. Your feet already done so.
“Ah, I was hoping you wouldn’t wake up for this part, but oh well. I suppose it’s tradition for me to confess my crimes to you, as I did in every other universe where I killed you.” He’d placed you on the altar.
“B-Benny, what are you doing? Stop-” Your eyes filled with tears. He cooed. “Shh, don’t worry. I told you, I’m one of the good ones. The ones on the right side of history, and religion.” You tried to reach for the time machine you’d hid in your sleeve when Silas slipped it in your hands.
“Looking for this?” Benjamin dangled the device in front of you before chucking it aside. “Had to get it off you before you slipped away. Silly girl, making me chase after you.”
He pulled out a rosary with the cross and slipped it over your head, onto your neck. “I am the Templar Knight, I will never wrong you or my faith. If its any consolation, this will be quick and painless. This time, at least.”
“Benny, you said you’d never hurt me-” You struggled against the ropes. He held you down, and stared into you. “I am not hurting you, Y/n. I am saving you. I am saving us all.” He pulled out a flask and began anointing you with what you assume was Holy Water.
“I would’ve loved to baptised you, but we don’t have the time for that.” “Please stop.”
“You should be thanking me.” He chided you in almost a motherly tone. “I am making you holy, I am returning you to your maker, I am returning you to Baldwin.”
Your blood curdled. Baldwin?
“Silas- he doesnt see it, that old fool. He’s too far gone in love to ever understand his duty. His responsibility as a Templar. I do! I cant allow sacred, holy, pure creatures like you be just tainted by the world! No, you’re divine, you’re blessed- just like the Holy Grail.”
Oh no. Its only dawning on you now that Benny’s not just a lunatic. He’s a religious lunatic!
“Benny- BENJAMIN! Stop- if I’m so sacred, WHY ARE YOU KILLING ME?!” You shrieked, struggling against your restraints. “Just keep me around like the damned painting- or the Holy Grail!”
He sighed, shaking his head. How naive you are. “Y/n, hey- shh. I can’t you keep you like an artifact. You’re a living being, I have to sacrifice you before the world taints you. You’re already onto believing that you’re Muslim or married to a heretic like Silas.” He pulled out a knife and your breath hitched.
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God- please- please don’t do this-”
“Dont you understand? This is a good thing. When I kill you, the balance will be restored. I’ve done the math, I swear. With you gone, King Baldwin would’ve never left Jerusalem. Christianity would’ve been the religion of the land. We would’ve ruled all over the world. Humanity will be saved.” He patted your hair as you cried. “Dont worry. I will personally make sure to preserve your sacrifice. I will pray for you, although I think, God will be merciful to you and allow you to enter paradise. You’ll be reunited with Baldwin.”
He’s crazy. He’s crazy. He’s crazy.
“Ive done this before. It was a very quick, very painless death. You remember Daisy?” Your jaw dropped. No. No.
“You killed Daisy?!”
“I had to. How else would’ve Silas been driven by guilt to reach here?” He positioned himself over your head. “Silas thought he was the mastermind behind everything. He couldn’t have been more wrong.” You sniffled, and Benjamin’s eyes softened. “Benny, please- I don’t want to die- please, I don’t want to die!” He set his knife aside, and ran a hand through your hair. “Its okay. Calm down, love. I know its scary, but I’ll help you through this. Forget about the knife- hey, hey.”He cupped your face to make you look at him when your teary eyes drifted towards the painting hiding behind the drapes, illuminated by the candles. He wiped your tears, his heart actually melting at the sight of the big fat tears in your doe eyes. “You remind me of my baby sister. She was so much like you, so pretty, so innocent, yet always a mischievous glint in her eye. Breathe. Breathe, Y/n.” You took a deep breath, a feat that seemed so hard to do now that you were going to die. “You’ve healed a part of me, you know. You let me be the big brother she never had. Thank you.” And just like that, you saw a glimpse of the old Benny. The one you could never imagine killing someone.
He knelt down to press a kiss to your hairline, but you took that moment to knock your head against his hard, throwing off and allowing you to roll away, the sudden movement made your legs hit the candle and push it over, causing the drapes to catch on fire. Benjamin reached for you, but you jerked your bound legs in a way that made you kick him in the chest. You spotted the time machine lying just a few feet away from you and you leapt towards it, the fire behind you catching onto the entire wall.
You were only a few inches away from the device when Benjamin grabbed your ankle and yanked you back. “Enough!” He yelled when you thrashed in his arms.
“SILAS!” You screamed his name and seconds later, the door bust open to reveal the Ripper.
“Get away from her!” Benjamin threw you to the side and you hit your head, knocking yourself out.
The two men began fighting. No doubt, the Ripper was stronger and better at fighting, and Benjamin couldn’t be fast enough to dodge the hits.
Outside, Silas had finally regained consciousness. He looked to the side, where Henry was out cold, badly beaten, barely alive. He then looked upstairs, the sound of yelling and the sight of smoke brought him back to reality.
If Henry is not the Ripper, then-
His eyes widened. Y/n is here! He dashed upstairs to the room.
His eyes darted first towards the Ripper and- Benjamin? What is he doing here? The Ripper was punching Benjamin over and over again, and only then did he spot you lying on the ground, only a few feet away from the burning wall.
Y/n!
Silas was about to run, when he hesitated. What am I doing? Run to her! His mind screamed at his body to move, to save you, but it was like the months of torture had suddenly paralysed his body.
Everyone you’ve ever loved has suffered because of you! You’re worthless. The Ripper’s words echoed in his mind. I’m worthless. I’m worthless.
He watched the Ripper throw Benjamin against the wall, only sparing Silas a glance before turning towards you. You were groaning, lifting your head as you looked at the Ripper.
“Silas.” You called out for him, even as the Ripper walked in your direction. You were calling for him even in the face of death.
Do I deserve her? Am I worthy of her? Irrelevant. She called out for me!
And it was like you’d broken him out of trance.
He ran. “GET AWAY FROM HER!” His heart skipped a beat at the sight of your small head in the Ripper’s murderous hands. Pumped on adrenaline, Silas jumped on the killer.
“I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU!” Silas began throwing punches, while the Ripper only defended himself.
“Silas! Silas!” You stumbled onto your legs, calling for him to stop but it was like he’d gone deaf. The Ripper- elder Silas looked at you and nodded for you to get out of here. You suppose he’ll handle this situation then. You picked up the time machine, running towards the exit when you saw the fire had reached the roof, when you were suddenly grabbed by your hair and yanked.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Benjamin yanked you back inside the burning room. “Let me go!” You clawed at his hands that were embedded in your hair. He dragged you back near the burning painting, where his knife laid. “We could’ve done this the easy way, but every version of you has to fight me!” He threw you to the ground and you screamed in pain.
The Ripper punched Silas in the jaw and threw him off him. He dashed towards you just in time to push Benjamin away and as the two men struggled, Benjamin stabbed him in the chest just before the Ripper snapped his neck.
Silas looked down at you and your eyes were staring at his stab wound. “Dont worry about it. I’m- I’m fine.” That would be a more convincing argument if blood didnt spurt out of his mouth. He knelt down, checking on you. “Are you alright? Can you move?” You nodded, only to hear a loud crack. You two looked up to see the roof which breaking, and before you could react, he took the time machine from you and set the date.
Your eyes widened. My machine!
The roof fell and he shoved the machine in your palm, pressing on the button, pulling you under him and shielding you from the burning roof. You felt it fall on him, but before you could pull him along with you, you’d already teleported.
The Ripper was dead. And so were you. Silas saw the burning roof fall on two of you.
He doesnt remember being pulled out of the burning building, he doesnt remember anything.
All he can see is the sight of the roof falling on you and the Ripper.
in another life, i would make you stay a gojo satoru (fix it) fic
pairing ⸺ reincarnated!gojo x reincarnated!reader
summary ⸺ you are a sorcerer, married to your husband who bears the burden of being the strongest. firsthand, you watch the love of your life fall apart, the world burdening him until, finally, he dies at the hand of sukuna. as you watch him through the broadcast, you blankly volunteer to be next and you die, praying to whatever merciful god out there that, in another life, you and satoru get the happy ending you both deserved—
until you wake up from your dream, gasping. why the hell was your dream so vivid? you were some sort of magician? with a smoking HOT husband? and why the fuck does the guy that's ten minutes late to the first day of lectures look EXACTLY like him?
warnings ⸺ eventual smut fluff and angst (the holy trinity of aashi longfics), hurt/comfort, reincarnation fic, basically you and gojo have a miserable life in canon and get reincarnated into a modern au where i fix everything and give you the romcom you deserve, canon typical violence, jjk manga spoilers, mentions of blood and injury, major character death, fem reader implied
a/n i'll see u at the end :3
December 23, 2018.
“How do you feel?”
The both of you lay, side by side on the grass as you stared into the sky. The only sounds that surrounded you were the occasional rustle of leaves, the hum of the late afternoon cicadas, and the soft, almost inaudible rise and fall of your breathing.
The stars were really bright that day.
The sounds of nature were even more tangible in the absence of traffic. After the culling games had roped in both non-sorcerers and sorcerers alike, no one went out, so the roads were all virtually empty.
Satoru frowns thoughtfully, in a way that makes his nose scrunch up. His fingers play through your hair absentmindedly as he comes up with a response. With the way he’s thinking, your heart aches to tell him that you want his honest feelings, his doubts and fears, not some fake image he perpetually paints on for the rest of the world. You temper the urge.
“Fighting Megumi is gonna be…weird,” he says finally, with a sigh. “I’m just glad the real pain in the asses are out of the way.”
You remember the day he had come back from killing the higher ups. There was still blood matting his face and hair, dried and flaking. His eyes had long lost their light, and when you had got him alone in your shared room, grabbed a washcloth to wash his face. While you made sure none of the blood was still there, he had asked: Did I do the right thing?
It had taken three face towels to clean it all. The others had gotten soaked too quickly.
He continues. “I’ve been walking toward changing the system for so long, I forgot how to want anything past it.”
You tilt your head to look at him. His eyes are on the sky, as if trying to memorize every cloud.
“You can still want things,” you murmur. “Even now.”
What is left unsaid from you is, You can run away with me.
It’s a pipe dream at best. He was born with the shackle of the six eyes, born in the prison called The Strongest. Running away from it all was as possible as it was for Sisyphus to escape the burden of rolling the rock forever.
At your words, he huffs out a laugh and turns his head just slightly, eyes meeting yours. The blue of them is softer in this light, dusk and gold turning them the color of worn glass. “I do,” he says. “I want a stupid house with a stupid yard and a dumb dog who only listens to you.”
You laugh, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes. “The dog would accidentally eat your god-awful heap of chocolates and drop dead.”
“Okay, then maybe not a dog then,” he accedes. “I could do with a cat. Just don’t confiscate my chocolates.”
Your voice is a bit stuffy when you reply with, “I would never.”
“Good,” His smile is crooked now, warm. “If I had all the chocolates and the cakes you bake for the rest of my life, I would die a happy man.”
“You already have those, Satoru,” you laugh wetly.
“Yeah, but I want grocery lists and laundry days and boring Tuesday nights. Not endless mission reports. God, I’m definitely not going to miss the paperwork,” he groans, and his tone would sound petulant to anyone else; to you, it’s a reminder of how he’s been worked to the bone.
You roll closer to him, forehead brushing against his temple. “We’ll have all of it.”
There’s a beat of silence. The wind rustles through the trees again. He closes his eyes and breathes it in, like he’s trying to make a home of it. You can’t help but look at his serene face and think,
I love you.
It goes unsaid.
Then, “You’ll wait for me?” he asks, almost like a joke.
You turn to him, gaze softening as it lingers on the line of his jaw, the sweep of his lashes, the eyes you’ve loved in a thousand different lights. He’s so beautiful it aches—like something out of a dream or a poem scribbled by a lonely poet on a dirty street, staring up at a beauty wistfully peering out of a window of a high tower.
“Always.”
December 24, 2018.
He looks like he’s watching the sky again.
You are staring down at the shape of him broadcasted through Mei Mei’s crows. The ground is soaked, and the sky doesn’t seem to know whether to rain or just stay gray. His eyes are open.
But you know better. And still, you wait.
Around you, there’s chaos. Your students, in disbelief, are talking loudly but it’s as if everyone around you is talking underwater, none of their words comprehensible. You feel someone shake you, but you’re still staring.
His eyes aren’t closed, but he looks peaceful.
The air thrums with cursed energy, of people in utter shock, and with fear so thick it could choke.
But all you can think about is a stupid patch of wildflowers blooming in your yard. They would’ve been his favorite color—blue, like his eyes when he was teasing you. Like his eyes when he told you he wanted a dumb dog and boring Tuesday nights.
You were going to plant them for him every spring.
You were going to make him cakes every time he forgot his own birthday.
You were going to grow old together.
Instead, you’ll be the one laying flowers on his grave. Alone.
“I’ll go,” you say.
It’s too quiet. Someone protests. You don’t even hear who.
“I said I’ll go.”
You’re already stepping forward. The fight is miles away but it doesn’t matter—you’ll find it. You’ll find Sukuna. You’ll follow the stench of blood and ruin until it leads you to him.
You know your death is imminent, but there is nothing left to want anymore. Because a future without Satoru is no future at all.
As you make your way through Shinjuku rapidly, you can’t help but think of Yuji—his eyes wide and boyish, despite everything—as he shoved a flyer into your hand and told you to try that ramen shop with him once this was all over.
You remember Megumi’s ginger candies, the ones you had to keep hidden or Gojo would eat them all in one go. They’re still sitting in a dish by the kitchen window.
You remember Shoko’s voice when she said, “Just come back alive, okay?”
You remember Nanami, and Utahime, and Nobara. You remember every stupid, beautiful person you’ve ever loved.
You love them, but love doesn’t always save you; instead, it makes you walk straight into the fire.
Your life had begun when Satoru had saved you from that lonely, dark prison you were forced into; you remember how you had thought that he was akin to a glowing deity, descended from heaven to be your savior. A discarded animal like you, made to believe you were human again by this savior.
So it feels right, in a terrible, sacred way, that your life should end with him, too.
When you finally spot Sukuna, you put up a good fight, but anyone who watches you knows you are resolved, have accepted your fate and prefer death. You don’t scream or cry when it happens; you stare at his face when your body is cleaved into spilling your blood like an endless dam.
You just think: I kept my promise.
I waited.
Then, as you feel everything growing darker and darker, there’s only one thought left, just a silent prayer to whatever god that might still be out there:
Let us try again.
Please—let us try again.
…
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
You wake up from your dream, gasping.
The noise your alarm makes is an unfriendly wake-up call; in your furious effort to locate your phone—which has found itself nestled in your messy blankets—you notice your roommate, Maki, blearily shifting. You madly search to minimize the yelling you’re going to get from her later in the day (you’re already cooked by this point), until silence blankets the room once more.
It’s only until your phone is silenced that you register how fast your heart is beating. Then, when you trudge over to the personal bathroom you and Maki share and flick the light switch, you see that tears had flowed down your cheeks in your sleep.
What a weird fucking dream.
One to have on your first day of classes for the semester, too. You squint at your reflection, the fluorescent light doing your sleep-addled eyes no favors as you grudgingly get ready, brushing your teeth and washing your face and all that. You don’t know why it was so vivid.
From the dredges of your mind, you first recall the flashing light beams and carnal violence in the destruction of the city, and then you. Were you some kind of magician? It was kind of like…Winx Club, but you weren’t a cunty fairy in cute clothes. Something about sorcerers, so maybe Harry Potter? Hunter X Hunter?
You spit out the frothy mix of your saliva and the mouth freshener. So ridiculous. You couldn’t even blame stress for the weird fanfiction at this point—classes haven’t even started.
Memories of the dream ebb and flow as you try hard to remember what else had occurred as you wipe your face. Gazing upon the white of the moisturizer you’re dabbing on your skin, a flash of white suddenly resurfaces.
Gojo.
A violent feeling overcomes your chest at the name, and you think you’re having a heart attack with the way it clenches like you’re almost about to weep in longing of a beloved. You gasp, cupping the left side of your chest as you try to lower your heart rate.
What hurts most of all is the searing pain, like a spiral of thinly corded string has branded itself on your ring finger. In your rush to look up in the mirror to see what could be hurting you, you don’t notice the red glow it forms. What you see in the see in your reflection surprises you: you’re crying again.
Tears have fully started streaming down your face with the pain, carving wet valleys on your cheeks as they went. After your heart rate slows down, you frown while looking down at your hands. Why were they shaking?
You repeat the name numerous times in your brain, each time causing you to physically tweak. Gojo, Gojo, Gojo, and then resurfaces Satoru, Satoru, Satoru—
It’s after the tenth time you repeat his name that your body seems to calm itself down and get accustomed to whatever emotional shock that coursed through your name after you mentioned his name. His name originally came up because you remember the main person in your dream: the white-haired man. He was the reason you decided to confront that…three armed man? Or did he have four arms? Regardless, you basically offed yourself after he died because you loved him, or something. With the way your body seems to physically shake at the sheer thought of his name, as if the utter image of longing, love may not have been enough to describe what you felt.
Realizing that you’ve drifted off at reminiscing sleepily, you start, as if suddenly animated. You pat your skin, setting in the final step of your skincare routine. Then, you click on your phone screen to check the time.
And notice immediately that you are going to be late.
Then ensues you scrambling to your room, putting on your clothes, tripping on the floor in the process, getting a sleepy glare from Maki that has doubly certified that you are getting a scolding, and then finally making it out the door. The somewhat cool fall weather hits your face as you walk on the pavement, checking your clock repeatedly to ensure it hasn’t hit 9am yet.
When you make it into the lecture, you realize that it is packed. There aren’t many seats—it is a gen ed class after all, something on some ancient history, and you notice two empty seats, side-by-side, tucked away in the corner of the lecture room. You have to carefully maneuver yourself down the seats.
Navigating the maze of limbs and backpacks, you mumble a series of "excuse me’s" and "coming through’s" until you squeeze past two guys—a stern-looking blond with glasses that scream "salaryman thirst trap" and a loud brunet beside him. Reaching your target, you slide into the seat that leaves an empty one between you and the blond. You’re very pleased about the extra breathing room.
Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.
You prepare your supplies to take notes on the first (of many) syllabus reviews to come. In the meantime, you’re privy to hearing the mumble and grumble of people around you; it’s only when a throat clears itself at the head of the class do you see a man—probably the professor of this class, Yaga—who has the slides already up. Ancient East Asian History is branded on the big white screen in bolded, black Arial font. Clearly, graphic design was not his passion.
His voice projects through the mic and is fairly deep and resonant, so it’s clear to everyone, despite the number of people in the room, that class is starting. As expected, the next slide is titled “What is Ancient East Asian History?”
“Let’s delve deeper into what I mean by East Asian. Asia is a subcontinent that’s home to a diverse set of cultures, and even so in East Asia…”
As Yaga speaks, time ebbs and flows around you. The monotonous sounds of papers flipping, pens scratching on paper, and the clicking of keyboards surrounds you. You can’t help but think the fluorescent lights, harsh and white, had to be designed to keep students from falling asleep, because their intensity paints the lecture hall in this weird lighting. The mood created by it is something akin to the filter horror movies perpetually have on—vivid, but cold and dark. Like when you’ve been up for too long to the point that you don’t know if it’s night, or morning, because it’s still dark out. Then, dawn breaks, the sun enveloping the sky in its warmth.
Suddenly, the heavy set of doors that serve as your lecture hall’s entrance open loudly—louder than someone who is sheepishly entering late. Instead of the usual indifference reserved for a fellow student who had slept in, the room ripples with murmurs and giggles, shattering the silence that had settled—save for Yaga’s lecturing.
You don’t look at first. You look at Yaga, who is pinching the bridge of his nose as he mutters, “In Japanese culture, punctuality is a form of respect—something we are clearly still learning.”
You don’t turn. You don’t need to. But, like a current pulling you under, your gaze follows the crowd’s. And you see him.
Gojo.
Suddenly, your heart clenches violently, and you can only help but gasp hoarsely and shut your eyes. If you didn't, streams of tears would flow down your face once more. You couldn’t help but swear internally; you had thought you had conditioned yourself to be stable at the mention of his name.
But, almost as if it’s subconscious, you wrench your eyes open, desperate to view the boy. You’d assume something apologetic, maybe. Rushed. Someone with their hood up, mumbling an excuse as they shuffle into the shadows of the back row. But this—
This is someone who walks like he knows the sound of his own footsteps matters. His ivory hair is tussled, like he had just rolled out of your dream. He looks a bit younger than he did when you had seen him, but his eyes are the same unmistakable brilliant, cerulean color.
Now, he’s making his way down the stairs, skipping every third one with his long legs. Something leaves his lips, and it’s something humorous—depending on how girls and guys around him laugh, a shared sense of adoration in their eyes. You can only help but watch as he comes closer and closer to you, and you remember belatedly that the seat next to you is the only empty one in the whole lecture hall.
Yaga huffs and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in barely concealed annoyance. “Nice of you to join us, Gojo.”
Gojo lifts a hand in a lazy wave. “Yaga, you ever tried finding parking on this campus?” The lecture erupts in barely muted half-sleepy giggles.
It’s only when a particularly loud high five he receives—by the brunet in your row—that you break out of your reverie and turn to your laptop, flustered. Any attempt to act nonchalant would be funny as if the thing that’s wrong with you—that invisible thing—hasn’t been rippling violently inside your gut the moment you laid eyes on him. Like your body has just been handed proof. Like a wound cracking open in slow motion.
He’s approaching, long legs trying to get through the sheer amount of people to where the empty seat next to you was, and when he’s there, right next to you, you shouldn’t look up.
But you do.
When your eyes meet his, something ancient and awful coils in your throat. A shiver, not of fear, but of recognition so buried it aches.
Pearly teeth and bright blue eyes glistening. A breathless, “Hi.”
And the invisible string, that had spiraled and corkscrewed itself into the jumble it was, pulls—until it is straight and wrung tight. You don’t know this boy. You’ve never seen him before.
So why does it feel like your heart just remembered how to break?
Your throat is dry, but you manage out a “Good morning.”
You turn back to your desk, your fingers quivering. By your side, he’s moving and rummaging through the contents of his backpack quite noisily, one that can be heard throughout the lecture hall if one were to tune out Yaga’s droning. In curiosity of seeing what was taking him so damn long to find, you turn your head slightly, and notice the heaps of wrappers—all pastel colored and bright, like candy and dessert wrappers—that his backpack is almost suffocated with. Then, he pulls out his laptop, opens it, and resumes the game of Run 3 he had paused beforehand.
Respectfully, what the fuck.
As if sensing your stare, he turns to you until meeting your eyes; you were caught. Like a deer caught in headlights, you helplessly stare back at him, heat creeping up your neck, and his gaze leaves your eyes to look at your lips, which you were biting.
Then, he leans in slightly—you also inching yourself back because why is he getting so close and why is your heart beating so fast—and whispers, “Do I know you?”
You’ve never seen him outside of the weird dream you had, and it would’ve been weird to admit that you’ve dreamed about him. “No, I don’t think you do,” you whisper back, voice hoarse.
His lips quirk in response, but, to your dismay, he doesn’t retract. His brows furrow while he stares at your face, as if deep in thought, and nods, flirtatiously saying, “Makes sense. I feel like I wouldn’t have forgotten you if I had met you.”
Despite the cheesy line, heat creeps up your neck, and you can’t help but bitterly look down at your desk after giving him a quiet, “No, I don’t we have. I’m sorry.” If he flirted with a stranger like this, dream you must’ve had a really hard time as his wife. Shameless.
And thus the lecture runs its course. Throughout, you’re tense, the heat of his presence never letting you relax. You feel every movement of his fingers, his forearms, as he played his games or typed miscellaneous things that you didn’t see because you were physically forcing yourself to stare at the lecture slides, back ramrod straight.
It’s only until his leg starts shaking that you start feeling…weird. His reaction is completely normal; you don’t blame him, because Yaga’s been going over the syllabus’ section of projects and how you can’t change project partners for over thirty minutes. But it’s the fact that a steady wave of nausea is building up inside you, until a sharp piercing sensation overwhelms your head.
Then, a vision.
It’s hazy, as if projected on cloudy water. A shaking leg, clad in what seems like uniform pants, underneath a small wooden desk. Then, a hand reaches out to yours, grasping it firmly, and you feel a weird sense of nausea once more. However, it’s not the same feeling you’ve been feeling since your dream—instead, it’s a stomach upturning feeling of being teleported somewhere.
A bed.
It’s a small one, in a room that resembles a dorm. The hand grasping yours isn’t simply grabbing your hand; it’s now trailing up your sock-covered ankle, up your calves, and then under your skirt—
The murky vision gets even murkier until you can’t register anything anymore. Then, you suddenly return, the fluorescent lights being the first thing you register after the weird deja-vu-memory thing. The feelings you felt from the vision linger, including overwhelming feelings of euphoria, lust, and sheer happiness that bloom in your heart warmly, like a flower in fresh spring.
You’re so distraught from the complicated jumble of feelings that have thrusted themselves upon you that you don’t hear Yaga say his concluding words. It’s the jarring, obnoxious screech! of the chair next to you—Gojo’s—that you jump to your senses and realize half of the students have left.
Thus, you hurriedly pack your things and book it the fuck out of there because you would rather die than be the last person to leave class, lest Yaga think you were staying behind to talk to him. You’ve had more than your fill of East Asian Studies today.
Maybe it’s best if you avoid Gojo, lest you slip up. The dream—and the weird reactions your body seems to be having in his presence—are too…peculiar. If something happened, you wouldn’t know how to recover.
In your haste, you don’t realize you’ve left something behind, nor did you hear the “Wait! You forgot….this” that Gojo had called out to you, staring at the object in his hand—and your retreating back—with a complicated expression.
next. the aftermath (soon!)
a/n short chapter, but this series is going to contain a mixture of: a lot of crack and fluff, yearning (as always, yall know me), and debilitating angst ("who did this to you??" oh i loved writing the angst) and crazy reunion sex. comment down below to be added to the taglist!!
to be clear, unless otherwise indicated, reader is getting these moments from the past as "migraines" / flashes / dreams.
– Summary: In the Land of Rune, an emperor is unmatched in magic. In a world where one's survival and standing were dependent on magic, you had gotten accustomed to being at the very bottom of the food chain. For being a magicless servant, you could not expect change.
That is, until you discover you are a creator. The rarest type of witch that was previously hunted to near-extinction. The power comes with the ability to create life itself, but it comes at a great cost.
– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Female reader.
– Note: New feature for this series: the taglist. Hopefully it works?
– Pages: 7
chapter i | chapter ii | chapter iii
TWO BLOODIED HANDS
Mondays were for bedrotting. Instead of the sound of sizzling eggs and the aroma of bacon wafting through the air in the humble little two-story abode where (Y/n) and her parents lived, there was the scent of freshly picked blossoms and clicking of clear glass vials. Which is why (Y/n) openly preferred the small yet private lodgings she claimed as a privilege of being the personal servant to Emperor Desire’s student.
Usually Monday was the one single day she had free of duties, however, today she held herself in attendance. It was the first Monday of the month, just after Final Sunday. The halls were filled with palace staff running about their errands. As she walked at a brisk pace, through the long vertical windows she could spot a number of nobles still lingering about since yesterday. Although they really should’ve gone home by now.
The chatter floating throughout the halls was exactly what every conversation was on the first Monday of the month. The main event of every Final Sunday, but it wasn’t like just any other Final Sunday, the latest one had the magic prodigy that dwelled in this very palace.
“I don’t know what they were thinking putting him up against Cenra of all people!” A maid with a familiar face but a name she couldn’t be bothered to remember, sniffed in disdain as she carried about a basket filled with sheets to be washed. “If he had been against any other, he would’ve won and been an excellent knight.”
(Y/n) paused, stopping behind a corner beside servants quarters where she was out of sight. On the shelves were various ointments and gauze. Carefully she rummaged through the bottles, checking the printed labels and ingredients to pinpoint the most useful one. The tips of her pointed ears were perked, listening to the uninterrupted conversation.
There was the rustle of blankets being folded, and curtains being brushed by feather dusters. “Well, she was merciful and let the boy live. So he has another chance. Although it will take him at least a year just to get back on the roster. He did deserve a spot, I can picture him as a Black Knight…”
“Hm, well, if the invocationer boy was trained by Emperor Desire himself, he would’ve no doubt been last night's victor, not the human.”
The human. They said it as if it were a derogatory insult, and in their mind it likely was. It was easy to pick on the outliers, the magicless servant who aided the only human in the realm. “Cenra deserved that spot more than anyone else, and would’ve defeated anyone they threw at her. Not like you useless bunch would ever understand.” (Y/n) muttered underneath her breath.
When she walked past the corner with the supplies in arm, the gossiping bunch had stopped to stare at her. They heard her, hadn’t they? Their fists clenched, and the magicless servant merely held the bottles tighter to her chest. It dawned on all of them, what they could do when the hallways were vacant of any witnesses. It had been years since any palace staff or other personnel could get within reach of her. Maybe a few bruises would remind her of old times, when she had no one to protect her and anyone could get away with tormenting her.
(Y/n) leaned her head back, hoping to avoid any marks that would mar her flesh where it was visible. No one would notice if the blemishes could be hidden by the collar of a shirt or the sleeves over her arms. After a few knicks and scratches, they’ll get bored and leave her alone. Really, she should’ve known better by now. The last time this happened was two years ago, and she got a burn for not keeping her mouth shut.
“Loitering about during shifts?” A familiar voice scoffed. Their gazes traveled over, spotting the one who dared to encroach. Cenra must’ve seen them from across the hall and silently teleported to them in an instant, or she could’ve been lurking about nearby listening closely. Any of those appeared plausible. “The Emperor doesn’t take kindly to those wasting his resources. He doesn’t pay you to gossip all day long and intimidate staff members who are actually pulling their own weight.”
The two maids backed away, eyes wide and mouths open as they fumble for excuses or apologies. It wasn’t entirely clear upon hearing the incoherencies tumbling from their tongues. While she was used to her liege’s appearance, it was entirely possible that this was the first time either of them had ever been in the presence of a creator witch. Considering the fact that the witch was last publicly seen nearly killing a powerful invocationer wizard and in her training uniform, she would come across as extra terrifying.
Cenra promptly ignored your presence, scrutinizing the two unfortunate maids who now looked rather pathetic and no longer so intimidating. In all black from neck to toe with a vest of sable dragon scales, the knives strapped to her hips ready for disposal seemed to gleam just a little brighter. Irked by their sad excuse for words strung together to form attempts at a sentence or two, she interrupted, “You’re getting on my nerves. Drop your tasks, leave them for someone else to complete, unless you want to become the next moving targets in my training.”
“Y-Yes, young Uza.”
“Right away, ma’am…!”
The two scattered like flustered fowl flying away in a panic. The last time someone had attempted such intimidation on her was roughly two years ago around the time she was promoted to the position of personal servant of Emperor Desire’s sole pupil. The incidents were common, until the head of staff was torn down and demoted to the very bottom rank. Why? She had no idea, but she always suspected that it was due to the very person currently less than five feet away.
When Cenra’s gaze traveled over to her servant and friend, instantly she brightened up. That cold piercing gaze became a warm delighted one as her lips curved up into a grin. In a sing-song voice, she greeted, “Hiii. I’ve been looking for you all morning!”
“That was almost enough to scare me.” (Y/n) admitted with awkward laughter. The interaction she just witnessed would be further proof as to why the human was most deserving of the title of knight, perhaps even as a Black Knight. “Almost as scary as a Black Knight.”
Raising an amused eyebrow at your words, she actually managed to laugh in turn while her shoulders slumped with her lowered guard. “Those uptight losers? Please. You are looking at the newest knight of the guard! I’m a creator! I’ll be much more important than them.”
Black Knights were some of the most feared figures in the entire land, directly behind the Advisor, the General, and the Emperor himself. These particular knights were distinct by their black armor and robes that mirrored the appearance of Desire. They were something of a myth, only spotted in the throne room. Even if they were not visible, they were always lingering in the shadows around the Emperor. It’s said that to be one, candidates are trained from childhood and picked off one by one. Their order has been around for longer than anyone can remember. It’s said that a team of Black Knights can take on an entire army and win, although that’s only hearsay. Not that Emperor Desire required special protection anyways. Everyone knew that.
Cenra would eventually move past that. Yesterday she was a witch in-training, but today she was officially a knight of the royal guard. It was only a short matter of time before she ascended once again, and where did that leave (Y/n)? Continuously stagnant. Destined to remain at the bottom as a servant for all time. If she were lucky, Cenra would bring her along for the journey. People would travel far and wide to see the creator witch at work. (Y/n) would fetch the tools and ingredients along with any other necessary supplies, but her liege would be the one making the real magic happen. Cenra will bring about a new wave of creations for the Land of Rune.
(Y/n) readjusted the vials and jars in her arms as she resumed her walk, this time with Cenra beside her. The duo kept pace, matching each other’s steps. The magicless with lengthy strides to keep up and the human taking care to do short steps.
“You really should stop letting them walk all over you.” The witch said, disrupting the peaceful silence they had. Occasionally they bumped shoulders, or rather, (Y/n)’s shoulder bumped the center of her bicep. The black leather boots that matched her training uniform only added to her height. “As much as I’d like to be around you all the time to protect you, it’s just not possible. You know that, right?”
Pursing her lips, (Y/n) was desperate for a change of topic. Not this, anything but this, because she knew she would just get scolded once again for something that was beyond her control. A glimmer caught her eye, the light reflected off an extra ear piercing she must’ve added recently. The human trait of round ears allowed her to easily wear more rings piercing the shell. Silver curled around her ear like a swirling dragon, each metallic bit shaped with the intricate scales and wings. “You have a new piercing. That’s cool! Let’s try to get matching ones next time––”
“I’m serious, (Y/n).” Sliding one of the heavier jars out of her arm, she freed up the space so their arms could intertwine as both carried a bit of the burden. Their steps continued, matching pace as they approached the chambers where the new knight dwelled.
(Y/n) nodded slowly, managing a small smile while she murmured, “I just didn’t want to make a scene. It’s not exactly like I could do much anyways.”
The sore subject, her lack of abilities. The witch knew this and instantly her expression softened with remorse, the hand of her intertwined arm gently tapped the servant girl’s forearm. “No, no, that’s not what I meant, you know that. I’d never mean it like that! It’s just…”
“I’m okay, really.” Somehow, (Y/n) managed to keep the smile plastered over her face. The lack of skill was something she normally didn’t discuss often, for obvious reasons. Even in conversations with her parents, the topic was a sore subject. However, with Cenra, it wasn’t as bad. The witch never poked and prodded like she was attempting to find the cause of such a fatal flaw. She could just be content to listen to pointless hour long rants, and be entirely attentive and understanding the entire time. That was the best part. “Besides, it’s not like it matters right now. I’m sure you’ve scared them off, so I won’t have to worry for at least another few years.”
Cenra barely gave anyone the time of day. Their unexpected friendship might’ve begun back when (Y/n) was first assigned to serve her needs. It was a reluctant relationship, and the witch was cold to just about everyone. It took months before the icy exterior began to melt. Every time they met, her eyes looked just a bit brighter and her tone a bit louder. Everyone else did not warrant her attention unless they were her superior.
Briskly entering her private chambers, she set the jar down on the counter after pushing aside books and scrolls scattered across the hardwood table-top. A sigh escaped her lips. “Fine.” When she stood up, she placed her hands on her hips. “Next time, as in tomorrow, you should definitely come to my training session. You don’t even have to do anything! Just hand me some water every time I sit down or something. I don’t really care what you do, honestly. But it would be nice if you were there. So, want to come?”
When (Y/n) set all the items on the table, she reached over to place a hand on the witch’s shoulder. Cenra tensed up, going still as she was steadily pushed back into a seat while her friend took the one directly across from her. Their knees were nearly touching. She scowled, “You smell like sweat and dirt.”
“Duh, I just got back from training! What did you expect?” With a roll of her eyes she grinned in amusement, not moving an inch and letting her do whatever she pleased with her body. “You’re avoiding the question though.”
“No, I’m not…!” With one glance at the array of tools and glass containers, she rolled up the witch’s black sleeves. Deciding to put off changing the gauze from yesterday’s battle for now until after she bathed, it seemed wise to check for extra damage. The dirt smeared on parts of her uniform was a sign as to what her day’s training must’ve looked like. There was a high likelihood she obtained additional injuries, bruises and scratches and the like. Yet somehow her hair and makeup were always impeccable afterwards. The magic of incredible sorcery. “Will the Emperor be there teaching you?”
Purposefully avoiding eye contact, her eyes honed in on apparently something very interesting like the wallpaper above her bed. “... Yeah.”
That was all the answer needed. Shaking her head, (Y/n) applied a damp towel, wiping off the dirt and speckles of dried blood from her brown flesh. “Mm, hard pass then.”
That was one of the very few things they disagreed on: Emperor Desire. Cenra looked to him as if he were her own father, her only teacher, and a god walking among simple mortals. To most, he was just that, like a god. Those heavenly powers he was gifted with defied the very laws of nature, for he was the same just as Cenra Uza, a creator. However, the Emperor had no desire to forge new life. Desire proclaimed that creators were dangerous, which was why there were only four remaining. In the history books, Desire was said to have overthrown the tyrannical empress a century ago, and ordered a mass execution of his own kind, an event merely referred to as Lethiferous. Creators had grown wild, selfish, and cruel to the point they thought themselves as the superior with only their precious creations deserving of life. At least, that’s what the textbooks preached, but (Y/n) wasn’t convinced. It was why the magicless servant was never too keen on seeing him. Not that he was around much to actually be seen by her anyways.
“But (Y/n)...!” Cenra complained, pouting as she groaned in utter disappointment. Neither mentioned the Emperor.
“But nothing. I’d rather be doing your laundry and sorting out your spell books than watch you get hurt.” Upon turning over her hands to wipe her palms clean, (Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of multiple gashes from her thumb to her pinky in shaky lines. These cuts looked intentional, not caused by training and definitely not by Final Sunday. She had been wearing gloves yesterday.
Snatching her hands away, Cenra’s eyes were wide as she realized that she was caught. Tightly she clutched her fists, holding them against her chest.
“... What was that?”
“Nothing!”
“No, that was something.” Outstretching her own hand, demanding to see her palms. (Y/n) watched as the witch quickly looked away, the most obvious sign that she was lying. “Liar! You’re hiding something. Let me see. You’re hurt. I’m the only one that can treat it because we both know you’re trash at first-aid and too stubborn to let anyone else help.” When there was no movement from her, no sign she was willing to give in yet, she sighed. “You can tell me about it? I won’t tell. Or don’t. But just give me your hand so I can treat your wounds. It’ll be quick, I promise. I always saved my mom’s specialty elixir here in case you ever needed it.”
A few seconds passed before Cenra begrudgingly gave in, slowly uncurling her fingers from her fist as the back of her hand lowered onto the outstretched palm in front of her. Her palm faced up, revealing deep red cuts that stretched across the flat surface. Her eyes were glued to the ground, and her voice was like a fleeting whisper, “I can’t…”
Pausing with the towel and elixir in hand, (Y/n) echoed in confusion, “You can’t…? What?”
The entrance of her chambers were thick wooden doors sealed shut, the windows were locked. Carpeting over the floors saved the glass bottle containing the elixir, cushioning its fall when the magicless one dropped it upon hearing the witch’s next words.
“I can’t do it! My blood was supposed to guarantee the ritual worked, but it didn’t! I can’t create!”
Hello Everyone,
I am Nour Al Madhoun, 30 years old, a computer engineer from gaza, my h… Tahir Awad needs your support for Help my family r
🍉🍉🍉 We are currently at €21,714 out of €5000 first goal - please consider donating to my Ezzdeen and helping us reach our goal as quickly as possible‼️
I want you to know that my ezzdeen is "ADHD" and very picky in his food, and now he is suffering from huge weight loss, because the crazy expensive prices for the food ,so that we can't afford to buy what he accepts, without you ezz will not regain his health.
We needs your support more than ever, the daily costs of living, the expensive treatments, I hope that through your support I can reach safety with my family.
From the heart of unimaginable suffering, I want to sincerely thank everyone who has supported my family 🙏🏻
Right now, famine is hitting us harder than ever, my heart cries whenever I go to the market to buy any basic necessities! The prices are crazy, and most days my children survive on just bread Hunger and thirst are destroying us, and cooking on fire increases our suffering unbearably! Severe eye and chest sensitivity, in addition to constant stomach pain due to the type of food and the way it is cooked.
All this while we flee from one place to another in fear of bombing, bullets, and imminent danger! I cannot describe what I feel, but it is a feeling beyond exhaustion!
Despite the exhaustion, your support gives us strength and I hope you will not let us down
If you can donate, please do so, or at least help us by sharing, so we can reach those who can
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>> Our campaign is vetted by gazavetters list at Momen & his family
Hello Everyone,
I am Nour Al Madhoun, 30 years old, a computer engineer from gaza, my h… Tahir Awad needs your support for Help my family r
Gaza is full of oppression #The worst is yet to come #Genocide #A resilient people
"as much as i would like to end your suffering, princess, i won't give you the satisfaction... you are going to suffer for a long, long time, just like i have."
⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?
⟡ fem!reader, royal au!, arranged marriage, reader is a florist in our world, mentions of terminal illnesses, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mentions of death, unrequited love, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mean!gojo, yandere!gojo, reader is called 'princess cerena', princess cerena is described as having pink hair and feminine features, reader is reincarnated as princess cerena, body swapping, isekai, isekai-d reader, talks of classism, misogyny, ideations of suicide, talks about self-harm, attempts of suicide, mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol, suggestive mentions, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of conceiving, language, tension, more tba...
He was a ghost in the fashion world. A legend whispered about in ateliers and behind closed velvet curtains. No one knew his real name, only the signature he left on every creation: flawless, divine, unforgettable. The kind of work only a soulmate could inspire.
And then he saw you. Not at a gala. Not on a runway. Just… in the street.
“Perfect,” he whispered. Not to you. To himself. As if your existence confirmed something he’d been designing in his mind for years.
You were supposed to interview him for a one-time exclusive. That’s all.
But now you find yourself wrapped in silk and secrets, your measurements memorized, your life tailored to his liking.
He knows your favorite colors before you speak.
He sews your name into collars you never asked for.
And behind his smile is a need that cuts deeper than any needle.
“You’re my muse,” he says.
“My masterpiece.
“The thread I’ve been waiting to pull.”
But what happens when the design is done?
When the final stitch is placed, and you’re not allowed to leave the frame?
After all — he doesn’t create things he’s willing to lose.
so I’ve been working on a yandere game with @sophiethewitch1 and @deer-fic-fics called TETHERED HEARTS! please look forward to it! will be posting more information on it when i finish art for it!
THIS IS NOT CANON TO THE GAME ONLY PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL.
Your body wakes up before your mind does. You feel the warmth of the sheets first, unlike the freezing cold when you dove into the snow and saw-
Jack the Ripper.
Your eyes snapped open at the sensation of someone touching your feet and prepared yourself to see the notorious murderer having a foot fetish.
“Relax. I’m just bandaging your feet.”
Silas?
He’s the Ripper?
“What are you-” you gulped. “You… you found me?”
Silas raised a brow at the fear in your voice. “It would’ve been hard not to. You were lying on my side of the bed, under my covers.” He stated, pulling your feet back in his lap gently. “There’s no need to be scared really. I’m not mad that you got in my bed. I mean- after your performance last night, I suppose its the least you deserve.” He massaged the healing balm into your soles. “I’m not a monster, Y/n.”
What? “I- I was in bed?”
Silas looked at you befuddled. “You still are. You left the stage after your dance, and when I came to the room, I found you in bed.”
Did I… did I imagine all of that? Was I in bed the entire night? Did I hallucinate running off to the snow and seeing the Ripper after that tea-
The tea!
You glanced at Silas who was now wrapping bandages around your feet with utmost care.
He probably told Cadbury to lace my tea with God knows what! It makes sense. Cadbury is the most loyal servant to Silas, they have that knock-off “Bruce Wayne-Alfred” relationship going on.
“Did you drug me?”
Silas’s head shot up. “What?”
You pulled your legs back. “Did you drug me last night?”
“Have you lost your mind-” Silas nostrils flared at your accusation. “No, Y/n. I did not drug my wife-”
“Stop it.” You snapped. “Dont pretend like you give a crap about me. You were counting on me to fail on stage, to embarrass myself for whatever stupid revenge you have planned.”
His lips pulled into a thin line. “I was counting on you to fail and look how that turned out. You lied to me. You said you didn’t know ballet at all and then proceeded to dance like a prima donna. You ruined my plan but you don’t see me complaining. And now you dare to accuse me of drugging you?”
“I’m not accusing you, Silas. I know you did it! You made Cadbury gave me that tea laced with something so that I would make a fool out of myself, but things didn’t turn out the way you planned, did it? I don’t know what drug you gave me, but my pettiness will always be stronger than anything you could spike me with!” You screamed at him. He stared at you with bridled fury as he pushed your now bandaged feet off his lap before standing up.
“I will say this for the last time- I did not drug you. I did not plan on drugging you, ever- and if I did, you surely wouldn’t see it coming because my intelligence would always beat any amount of your pettiness, Y/n.” Silas’ eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you were hoping to achieve by pushing all these absurd accusations on me. I admit that I did plot for you to not perform well in front of the queen, but like I said before- we’re on the same team. Like it or not, we’re married. You’re associated with me, thereby you are my responsibility and while I may use you from time to time to exact my revenge- which I have told you about, I would NEVER go as far as to endanger my own wife for this.”
You scoffed. “Wife? This is a sham marriage-”
He leaned closer suddenly. “Sham or not, we did get married in front of law and in religion! You are my wife, my family now and I dont need to stoop as low as to hurt you.” Silas stared into your eyes and for a second, you almost believed him.
But very early on in your life, you knew better than to trust any man who wasn’t your father or brother.
“But you did hurt me, Silas.” Confusion flickered in his eyes. “You have hurt me several times, but it never hurt me before because the wounds weren’t ever that deep. But last night, you- you crossed a fucking line.”
“I told you I didn’t drug you-”
“I’m not talking about that, though that may have been less painful than what you actually did.” You said before pushing him away to stand up and move past him.
“And what did I do?” Silas watched as you walked on your injured feet, but he knew it would be fruitless to try and stop you.
You glanced over your shoulder. “Why should I tell you when you didn’t care enough to remember it in the first place?”
-
You stomped all the way outside to the gardens, where snow covered as the eye could see. You wanted to confirm it, to look for any clues that would indicate that you did not hallucinate your encounter with the notorious murderer.
There has to be something. It cant- it had to be real.
You found the tree and remember it was near the spot you dove into. But no matter how much you looked, how much snow you shoveled, you couldn’t find anything. If any footprints did exist, they were covered by the snowfall. There was nothing left behind, not by you, or by the Ripper. Not a drop of blood, or a strand of hair. Nothing.
Huffing, you marched back inside the house, ignoring the ache in your feet and the frost in your hands. As soon as you entered, you spotted Cadbury making his way to the dining room with a tray in his hands.
“Cadbury!” He halted, looking back at you in surprise as you walked upto him. You already knew what his answer would be but you couldn’t stop yourself. “Cadbury, I need you to be honest with me and know that if you lie, I will catch you.” You tried to sound as menacing as possible. “Yes, ma’am?” He looked clueless. Resisting the urge to grab him by the collar and throttle him, you settled for a huff as you asked him.
“Did you drug me last night?”
His brows shot up in surprise. “Drug you? Why would I-”
“Cut the bullshit.” He looked even more shocked at your tone. “Last night, before I went on stage, you gave me a cup of tea. I know for a fact that you spiked it with something. Don’t deny it, I know it. Just tell me if Silas put you up to it.”
He shook his head. “Ma’am, I can assure you I did not drug you tea, nor did I ever intend to. All I gave you was chamomile tea to calm you down.”
Before you could accuse him again, Sarah called for him in the dining room. Cadbury looked at you apologetically. “I have to serve Miss Sarah her breakfast before she leaves. Would you like something as well? Eggs, toast… tea?”
You glared at him harshly enough at the end that it made him rush back to the dining hall.
Wait, Sarah’s leaving?
You entered the dining hall and saw Sarah sitting there.
“Oh, good morning, my prima donna!” She made her way to you, pulling you in as she pecked your cheeks, her eyes shining. “I didn’t get to see you again last night, but my darling you were so wonderful on stage! I am so proud of you, my little star! Everyone is talking about you! And even praising me for training you, but the credit is all to you!”
You smiled, heart fluttering at praise. “No, I did well all thanks to you.” Squeezing her hands gently, you asked where she was going. “I heard Cadbury say you were leaving-?”
“Ah! Yes, darling! I’m going to Edinburgh for a couple of months. I need to take care of some family business there. I’m sorry love, I was so busy with everything that I forgot to tell you. I thought Silas would’ve mentioned it to you.”
Yeah. Silas, my lovely husband, would always keep me in the loop.
An hour later, you and Silas stood at the doorway watching Sarah’s carriage leave.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was leaving?” You muttered, eyes trailed forward. You knew if you looked at him again, all the anger from the morning would return.
“I forgot.” You almost wrung him by his neck.
“You always keep things from me.”
“Y/n, dont start.” He let out a small huff. “Why does it even matter? How does her leaving affect you?”
You looked at him in disbelief. “Its not about her leaving. Its that you didn’t tell me! Why the hell do you keep things from me?!”
He turned to you, narrowing his eyes. “Oh so now you want to play the doting wife? She’s my grandmother, she told me! Me knowing is enough! I am not privy to tell you anything!” He snapped. “Like you said, this is a sham marriage and as far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing but an employee. Know your place, woman!”
He marched out of the house in fury, leaving you standing there in absolute shock.
You sat in the gardens, stewing over what happened with Silas when Cadbury came to fetch you.
“Miss, there’s a carriage waiting for you.” “What? Why?”“I would assume its to take you somewhere.” You pursed your lips to not let a sarcastic comment slip.
“Who sent the carriage, Cadbury?” Did Silas sent it to take you out for an early lunch and make up?
“Mr Blackwood.” Henry?
You made your way towards the carriage, about to ask the driver when the carriage door swung open.
“There you are, kitten!” Henry grinned, stepping out of the carriage. “I should tell you, its not good to make your boss wait.”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “What do you want, Henry?”
“Well, I came to fetch you, seeing as you are in fit condition and not busy, there’s no reason for you to be skipping work.” Work? Ah, yes. You were supposed to be at the office at 8am and its 10am now.
“I’m not coming back. What use is it if I cant write what I want without you shutting it down?” He shrugged. “Silas did make me a good deal last night while you were dancing- marvellously, I must say.” He went to grab your chin but you smacked his hand away. Sighing, an amused look in his eyes he straightened his broad shoulders. “You can write what you want, within reason, and I’ll allow it to be published.” He nodded his head towards the carriage. “Shall we, milady?”
“I’ll think about it-” You turned to leave when he caught your wrist, yanking it to make you collide with his chest.
“I was being polite, kitten.” He looked down at you, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Get in the carriage, Y/n. Now.”
-
You were sitting on your desk after making a brief stop at Henry’s tailor, so that you could change into a suit for your male disguise. The suit, even though it was the cheapest one available at the shop, was still pretty expensive and luxurious enough for a small time reporter like you. It turned a few heads, but only Colin asked you where you got it from.
“One of Silas’s.” You muttered dismissively, which now that you think about it, sounds like you wore your husband’s clothes after shacking up.
You didn’t know Colin also shared the same thought when he took a sip of his half-n-half coffee (half alcohol, half coffee.)
“Anyways, want to go to hospitals with me? Investigate, now that you are in disguise anyways.”
Looking up from your desk, you spotted Henry in his office talking with someone. His eyes made contact with yours for a moment, and he winked at you.
“Sure.” You need to get out of here before you combust.
“Great. I was thinking we could go to St Peters hospital-”“No.” You stood up, grabbing your coat. “We’re going to Aveline’s.”
“The asylum?” Colin asked, following you.
Yes. The same asylum Silas forbade you from entering. Why? You don’t know, but you suspected it was linked to something personal so you respected his wishes. Now? Fuck. That.
He crossed a line with me. Now I will too.
You made your way towards the exit, which happened to be near Henry’s office (because he wanted to keep tabs on everyone who entered and left the building) and you were ready to fight if he tried to stop you. But before you could, Henry suddenly left his office- his face was alarmed. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he left with a few men, practically running out of the door.
What was that about?
-
Why was Henry in a rush? Why did he look so alarmed?What was his deal with Silas? What had Silas offered him for you? Where was Silas—
“Here we are.” You both stood at the street of the asylum, spotting the guards at the gate. The place still looked as lavish as ever, the beautiful gardens and the Gothic inspired architecture, now encased in snow gave the asylum a daunting yet “you’re-too-poor-for-this-fancy-rehab” look. “How do we get in? The guards stationed wont permit us to step a foot in there, and I’m pretty sure Silas gave them a word about you and me.” He stated, frustratedly running a hand through his hair.
You looked at the asylum, looking for something until your eye caught it.
“Its a big place, Colin. Come on.”
The property itself was on a large piece of land, surrounded by walls and tall trees, which meant that there had to be another opening. Plus, with how heavily its snowing, the guards aren’t always on their stations. You just need to find another way in.
And you did.
“Colin, get your stupid leg over the wall!” You whisper-yelled at him as you gave him a boost. Colin, who apparently had no upper body strength, was struggling to climb the wall. “I am trying!”
“Try harder!” You gave him another shove, practically jostling him up at this point. Finally after a few more minutes in the cold, he was able to sling his leg over. Panting, he extended his arm to you. “Take my hand. I’ll pull you up.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right.” In a flash, you scaled the wall with the expert of a mountaineer. Colin watched in surprise as you perched yourself next to him on the wall, without even breaking a sweat. “How did you-?”
“I’d love to get into details of how much more athletic I am than you, but we need to get down before someone spots us. And I still have to help you down before you break your hip, grandpa.”
Moments later, you two had made your way inside the asylum, blending in with the other visitors there. “Go charm the nurses and staff. See what you can find. I’ll go look around.” You told Colin, who only warned you to beware of the patients there.
You walked down the hallway, looking into the rooms with the doors open, most were unoccupied, which would make sense since its lunch time and everyone’s probably eating or doing some activity.
You were about to walk back to Colin to see if he’d made any progress when your eyes caught sight of a door. It… it was different than the rest. The paint was chipped, and the door itself looked quite old. Not unused, since you couldn’t spot any dust. The doorknob was made of wood, while every other doorknob you’d seen here was metal.
Walking upto it, you were immediately hit with a daunting aura. Looking at the doorknob, you spotted the areas where the paint was more chipped, the pattern indicating where someone’s hand would hold it.
Your gut is screaming at you to open this door, that there is something behind it that you need to know. With your hand hovering only a few millimetres above the handle, you’re about to enter-
“Hey!” You froze, whipping your head around. An angry nurse stood there. “What do you think you’re doing, young man?! This area is off limits!”
“Off limits?” She glared. “Yes, off limits! Who even allowed you here?!” She marched over to you. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
If she caught you, then Silas will find out and he’d make it much harder for you to find out anything about him.
“I’m so sorry. I was just- I was just looking for the bathroom.”
She narrowed her eyes at you. “The bathroom is all the way at the other end of the hallway, with clear signs! What are you doing here?!”
Oh shit. What possible excuse could you come up with as to why you’re trying to break into a room in the asylum?
“I heard someone crying.” A flicker of confusion came on her face, but you continued to pile on the lie. “I was just going to the bathroom when I heard someone crying. It was- it was just so pitiful, so heart breaking, like- like-”
“Like a girl wailing?” She asked, her face paling.
You nodded. “Yes! And- and as I came near, I thought that someone was calling for help and I was just going to check in-”
“No. No, no, no.” The nurse shook her head, grabbing your forearm as she began dragging you away. “No one is allowed in there. Mr Fitzg-” She cut herself off before she could reveal anything further.
“Mr FitzGeorge? As in, Silas FitzGeorge?” Her expression gave her away. It was Silas, and he was connected to that room.
“Tell me who is in that room.” “No one.” “Tell me the truth. I heard someone cry-”
“This is the truth!” She harshly whispered as she dragged you out of that hallway. “There is no one in that room! It hasn’t been occupied for years, not since she-”
“Since who?” You pressed. “I clearly heard someone cry. And you confirmed it. Is there someone being abused? You tell me now before I go break down that room!”
Her eyes widened as she grabbed your arms tighter. “No, please dont- I- I- fine, I’ll tell you the truth.” She looked around before whispering. “You cant tell this to anyone but… someone died in that room. It was- it was a girl, and she- she wasn’t getting better in the head anymore. And then one day, she just- she jumped out of the window and broke her neck. Ever since then, many people have said that they’ve heard a girl crying and we all assumed that it was just her spirit trapped in that room.”
“Who was the girl?” “I cant tell you-” “You can and you will because if you don’t, I will have my friends at the police department come and give this place a visit and possibly examine a patient’s death due to hospital negligence.” You could’ve said that you’d have story leaked to the papers but you didn’t want to arouse suspicion if she told Silas about someone snooping around his business.
Biting her lip, you saw the defeat in her eyes.
“Daisy. Daisy FitzGeorge.”
Silas’s elder sister.
The nurse proceeded to tell you that the last time Silas came to the asylum itself was on the day of her funeral. He saw her room and then paid the asylum to keep this room as is, leaving her belongings there and its been unoccupied and in its original state since.
“I think he just wants to preserve what was left of her.” The nurse added thoughtfully.
Maybe thats why he’s never visited the asylum again, why he didn’t want me wandering in and finding about Daisy. Silas has painful memories linked with this place, and perhaps he didn’t want me knowing about his sister being a psychiatric patient.
You felt a small part in you feel guilty for snooping around his business. You’re no stranger to the loss of a sibling-
No. You closed your eyes. Not now.
The nurse lead you back to the main hall where Colin was chatting up some doctor. You’re about to head back to him when you remember something.
“Does the asylum offer volunteer work, say something like… a barber? I see some residents who could do with a good hair cut or two-”
The nurse looked at you like you were stupid. “I’m afraid not. We have a strict policy against non hospital staff bringing in sharp objects like scissors, blades, the sorts.”
“Right. Thank you.” You nodded before turning around.
So, Benny is a liar and I hope for his sake, its for a good cause.
-
It was an hour before closing when you and Colin came back to the office… which was now in utter chaos. The place was divided, men on either side with papers scattered everywhere as they kept a yelling.
“What the hell is going on here?” Colin asked a coworker but you were focused on the screaming match in front of you.
“We need to be the first one to report this!” One man yelled. “It is our duty as journalist, as honest men! To make the public aware of this!”
“We cant until we permission from above!” Another countered. “Besides, what use is it publishing about such crimes except to make the people panic!”
“Then let them panic! It is a greater calamity to not know and be afraid of the unknown, then to know and be afraid of the known!”
“But we still don’t know who the Ripper is!” “The articles about him will rattle him-” “No, it’ll only idolise him and give him the validation he needs!”
Colin pulled you aside to fill you in on what the coworker had told him.
“The Ripper strikes again.” “I figured. Who did he kill this time? More night girls?”
“One girl and two men in broad daylight.” You frowned. The Ripper hadn’t ever targeted men before. No, his usual targets were women, often prostitutes. And he was mostly active at night time, when the darkness concealed him and his intentions.
“Where did this happen?” It had to be the Gentlemen’s club. It’d explain why Henry left in such a hurry.
Colin looked uncertain whether to tell you or not.
“The FitzGeorge estate.”
Your face paled. “My… home?” For a moment, you felt like the sky fell on you.
“Yes but-” You rushed past him, flying out of the door.
One girl and two men.
You ran as fast as you could down London streets, pushing people out of the way.
One girl. Two men.
It could be anyone. The Ripper doesn’t target the rich. No, he has a pattern. He’s a serial killer and serial killers stick to their patterns.
But you cant trust a murderer. You cant trust someone who is not right in the head.
One girl- maybe its just a passerby, maybe a sex worker for the two men.
Or maybe Sarah came back.
No. Your lungs screamed for a break as you rushed down.
Two men. Two men. It could be anyone, someone you don’t know.
Or it could be Cadbury and Silas.
Killed near the FitzGeorge estate.
He’s sending me a threat. He’s coming for me next.
The estate came into view and you saw the crowd of people and the cops trying to hold everyone back. You tried to go past the gates, but seeing that you were still in disguise, they found it hard to believe that you were “Mrs” FitzGeorge.
Fortunately, Cadbury was outside and able to recognise you.
“Thank God you’re home, miss Y/n!” He helped you inside the house. “You wouldn’t believe the people trying to get in-” “Who- who did the Ripper kill, Cadbury?” You asked breathlessly.
“I dont know them personally miss, and I doubt I’d be able to recognise them with how badly they were mutiliated. But I heard the detectives say that they were Mr Blackwoods employees.”
“Henry’s employees…? From the club?” He shrugged. “I dont know miss, but the detectives found the bodies outside the estate walls. Mr Blackwood was the first one to arrive at the scene with the detectives and he recognised the bodies apparently.”
He came here?
“Where’s Silas?” You asked instead.
“He went to work this morning. I’ve tried to reach him but to no avail…”
You had Cadbury send someone for Silas. He needs to be home right now.
Its not because I care about him. I’m not worried that these murders near his house was a message and that he’s the Ripper’s next target.
With a handkerchief held to your nose to mask the awful smell, you went to the crime scene to look at the mangled bodies that were now being removed for autopsy.
Henry was there as well, his usual cocky expression replaced with concern. If you looked closely, you would notice a hint of…unsureness? Fear of the unknown?
“Henry.” He turned to you, his expression now guarded. “I’m sorry for your employees… demise.”
He gave a stiff nod, confirming that they were indeed his workers. “Why is the Ripper targeting your staff?”
“There is no Ripper.” He snapped. “I told you before, he’s nothing but a fictional character created to instil fear in public.”
You excuse his tone for being “overwhelmed by grief”. “Okay. But we can agree that there is a particular man going after your employees. Why?”
His lips fell into a thin line, and you could see him trying to control his anger. “I don’t have the time to let you play detective so that you could write a story for the paper to make yourself feel good about “making it as a strong woman in a male dominated field”, Y/n. Step aside.”
You instead, blocked his path. “Yeah, I don’t need you to dominate any fields, Henry. I’m only asking you so that when my husband, you know- Silas, comes home and asks me why is there a crime scene and a crowd outside his house, I can give him an answer instead of letting him go to the cops and report the last murder of that woman outside your club and bring your shady businesses into light for the world.”
Henry narrowed his eyes at you before leaning down to whisper in your ear.
“If he comes for me, I will come for everything he holds dear and make him watch as I destroy his world.” You glared at him as he stared you down. “You don’t get to make threats here, Y/n.”
You returned back inside the house, where Cadbury informed you that he still wasn’t able to get ahold of Silas. With Sarah gone and most of the house staff busy being interrogated by the detectives, you had the house all to yourself.
You wandered around the house, hoping for an epiphany to strike you for all the questions that plagued your mind.
Why did Benny lie about volunteering at the asylum?
What happened to Daisy?
Why did Silas not want me at the asylum?
Who is killing Henry’s employees?
What were they even doing near this house?
Who is the Ripper?
Entering the library, you sat in your usual spot near the window at the end, a cozy corner behind the shelves. This was the place where you were trying to fix, or rather- create your time machine. Yes, despite everything that had been happening, you still found some time to actually work on your way home. For now, you had only done the maths and collected some raw material to start building it, but you still had a long way to go.
This would’ve been much easier if I had my old machine, even if it had been destroyed by the blast, at least you wouldn’t have to start completely from scratch.
You had hidden the metal scraps and a notebook under the shelf because the maids never bothered to clean under there (judging from the dust collected there) and when you pulled them out from under there, your hand touched something hard as well, something unfamiliar.
Bending down to look, you spotted a black leather-bound book. You pulled it out, sitting on the floor as you wiped the dust off it, coughing in the process.
You began reading it, heart sinking the more you flipped the pages.
This was Daisy’s diary.
-
I have to tell Silas!
You ran out of the library when Cadbury informed you he had returned home.
Making your way to his study, you barged in with Daisy’s diary in hand.
“Silas!” You panted as you saw him sitting down behind the desk, glass of scotch in hand. “Where were you?! I was worried-!” You cut yourself off when you saw the disdain behind his eyes.
“Silas?” His eyes landed on the diary and you saw a new wave of rage flash across his eyes.
“I told you to not go to the asylum, didn’t I?” He stood up, hand gripping the glass. “I told you not to pry. I gave you everything- money, land, power, that fucking job at the paper, everything. All I asked was that you don’t go to the asylum.”
“I know but-” Silas threw the glass against the wall, shattering the crystal.
“Dont talk. Don’t fucking talk or I swear to God, I will hurt you.” He whispered but the words echoed into your soul. His eyes were rimmed red as he took a step towards you, then two backwards, balling his hands into fists. Clenching and unclenching. Holding back.
“You went to the asylum, you went to her room, you fucking read her diary. Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Silas yelled, and you couldnt tell if he was crying or drunk. Or both.
You stood frozen as he continued to scream. “I- I don’t understand what you were trying to do? Are you trying to write about my dead sister, desecrate her by telling the world about her suicide, drag my family through the mud? Didn’t I tell you that I wont tolerate that? Not even by you?”
He walked upto you again, this time he was so fast that you thought for a moment he was going to strike you.
“Worst thing is, you don’t even realise what you’ve done. What you’ve taken from me, what you’ve ruined for me.”
He closed his eyes and backed away from you, running a hand through his hair frustratedly.
You let out a shaky breath. “Silas. I understand what losing a sibling is. My brother- my brother died too-”
“Good. And if I was him, I’d kill myself. Wouldn’t want to be associated with someone like you.”
Tears welled up in your eyes as your lips parted.
“No. No, no, no.” Silas glared at you. “Dont you dare fucking cry. You’re not the victim here.”
He shook his head at you. “You know why I’m so fucking infuriated with you? Its not because you went against my direct orders and pried into my personal life. No. I’m mad at you because you have no fucking shame. Not an ounce. You’re no better than those woman in Henry’s club, actually you’re way worse because they sell their bodies for money but you? You sell your self respect, your dignity for nothing except under some false pretence that you can make it in this harsh world as a woman when in reality, all you want is to find out about everyone’s secrets and write a fucking column about it for a few pennies. You just don’t want to admit defeat, just cant accept being told no and I have no doubt that this characterless, shameless habit of yours, prying into people’s business is the very reason your brother is no longer here.”
Neither of you knew how long you two stood there in silence, but you were the one who moved first when the diary slipped out of your hand and fell on the floor with a thud.
You simply left his study, then his house, and continued walking into the cold winter night with nothing to keep you warm, not a coat or a shawl, not even shoes.
“Characterless.”
“Shameless.”
“I’d kill myself. Wouldn’t want to be associated with someone like you.”
“Someone like you.”
Someone like me?
Me?
You fell to your knees, your bare feet no longer able to stand the cold. Or was it because of Silas’s words?
A wretched sob broke from you. Then another, then you quieted down, biting your tongue as your lips quivered like that of a child’s. You tried to breathe, to bring air into your lungs but it seemed so hard to do. Your shoulders shook as your body finally succumbed to exhaustion, falling to the snowy ground.
Qasim.
Qasim.
Qasim.
Your brother’s face was the last thing that came to mind as you felt someone’s arms wrap around you before your world faded to black.
-
“Make sure that the club is prepared for the New Year’s party. Have Lady Scarlett bring the new girls for our special guest. No expense is to be spared.” Henry’s assistant nodded obediently, jotting down all the details.
“Did you take care of the bodies?” Henry asked, taking a puff from his cigar.
“Yes sir. The funeral arrangements were made and the burial was done at night. Unmarked graves, as usual.” Henry gave a approving hum, his eyes darting to the wall, then back at the assistant.
“Did you find the Ripper?”
“Not yet, sir. I’ve placed the highest bounty on him and still no news. Its like he doesn’t exist.”
He exists alright. Henry took another inhale of the smoke. “Increase the bounty. Send more men and interrogate everyone. And hire more security around the club.” The assistant nodded again. Henry closed his eyes. “Is someone keeping tabs on Y/n?”
“Yes, sir. I sent two guards to shadow her. Last I heard, Mrs FitzGeorge-” the assistant cleared his throat when Henry glared at him. “Miss Y/n, had walked out of the FitzGeorge estate in tears. One guard came here to report to me while the other is still keeping her safe.”
The corner of his lips quirked up. Silas must’ve found out that you went to the asylum again. He was having someone follow you. What a creep.
Henry stood up from his chair, putting out his cigar. “Clear my schedule for tomorrow. Its time to pay Mr FitzGeorge a visit.”
And bring Y/n home.
See you soon, kitten.
-
“Stop being such a baby.” You roll your eyes as you hear him fill your pantry with groceries.
“Hey! I’m your older brother. If anyone’s a baby, its you!” Qasim admonished you playfully.
“Says the man who wants me to go skiing with him because he’s too embarrassed to ask anyone else to film him doing small stunts.” You tease as you continue to read your history book. Qasim walks over and plucks it out of your hands. Glaring at him, you try to reach for the book. “I have a test tomorrow and I still have 8 chapters to go.”
“Why do you wait until the last minute to study? This is quite self destructive.” You cross your arms. “Well not everyone is blessed with an eidetic memory like you.”
“True as it may be, I still use my brain to actually understand the concepts rather than just memorise it word-for-word.” He opened the book, taking a look at the topic you were reading before scoffing. “Ancient Egypt? Come on, I’ll teach you it myself.”
You opened your eyes to someone petting your hair.
Knowing who it was, you weren’t startled as you woke up.
“How are you feeling?” Benjamin asked, watching you sit up in your old bedroom.
“Better.” You smiled gently.
Last night, after running out of Silas’s house, Benny was the one who found you crying in the snow, barefoot and near hypothermia. He wrapped his coat around you and took you home, the flat and you explained to him what happened at Silas, what he said to you. If Benny didn’t feel himself compelled to console you, he would’ve marched all the way to the estate to strangle Silas himself.
Sitting at the table, eating the breakfast he made you, you were reminded you of all the good times at the flat. Everyone else was at work for now, but they’d be returning in a few hours.
“Y/n.” Benny pulled out a few documents and passed them to you. “I got what you asked for.”
Wiping your mouth, you picked up the stack of papers and read them.
“DIVORCE DEED”.
It wasn’t what you asked for, so much so it was what Benny had strongly suggested you to get. After he told him what happened with Silas, he was ready to go over there and beat the shit out of Silas but he stayed back for you. You needed someone last night, someone who didn’t make you feel like you were all alone.
Someone like Qasim.
So, ignoring all the evidence and lies that pointed Benny as a suspect to the murders, you used his shoulder to cry on. He ran his fingers though your hair all night and advised you to part ways Silas because even if you were to overlook all the awful words he said to you, you cannot stray away from the fact that he threatened to hurt you. Thus, it would be unsafe for you to go back to him.
You agreed, partly because of his reasoning and partly because you just- you’re tired of everything now. You need to go back to your timeline, and for that, you need to divert all your attention to making the time machine.
Picking up the pen, you looked at the document again, eyes focused on the name “Silas FitzGeorge”.
Benny squeezed your hand. You nodded. This is the right thing to do.
With a sigh, you signed the document.
Benny took the documents. “I’ll have these delivered to his house.” You hummed, knowing that if he went there himself, he’d probably get in a fight with Silas.
“Y/n.” You looked up at him. “Dont worry about anything now. I’ll take care of everything, hm?”
“Thank you, Benny.” You stand up. “I would need some help with a new wig for work. I left my stuff at Silas’s and…” He waved you off, understanding your predicament. “I already was working on a couple of new pieces for my new clients. Come on, Mr Holmes.”
-
Silas hadn’t slept a wink since yesterday, so his hangover was significantly still worse and his morning got even more worse when Henry strolled in his study.
“Well, you look like you could be having a better day.” Silas glared at him from his position.
“How did you get in here?”
“Just charmed a maid with my irresistible looks.” He grinned, sitting across from him.
“Great. She’s fired.” Silas rubbed his bloodshot eyes, that were tired and itchy. “Now now, no need to go around firing the staff just because you’re in a bad mood. Speaking of bad mood- where is your wife?”
Silas stared at him, not with jealousy but… with indifference. “I don’t know.”
“Not a good quality in a husband to not keep tabs on his missus.” Henry smirked.
“I dont need to keep tabs, when you already are.”
Henry raised a brow. “So you know that I know where she is?” Taking his silence as an answer, he continued. “Go ahead, ask me where she is.”
Silas stood up and for a moment, Henry thought he was going to punch him. Instead, Silas staggered over to the corner table to grab the bottle of scotch.
“I dont care.” He said, pouring himself a drink.
“Trouble in paradise?” Henry pushed. Silas took a sip. “What do you want, Henry? Is your paper in trouble that you would need to write about my marital life? I would assume that you would have a lot to write about now that more employees of yours have been murdered. How many does it make it now? 3? 4?”
The smirk was wiped off Henry’s face. “Thats precisely why I’m here.” Silas walked back to his seat, not offering him a drink. “I hope you don’t pursue this case with the police. I wouldn’t be bothering if I could just buy the detectives, but seeing as this has happened near the house of someone belonging to royalty, they are concerned for your safety. I want you to make them brush this under the rug and we can all go on our ways.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because if you dont, they will go digging around my business. And if they get in my business, I will send them your way as well.” Henry’s lip quirked up. “You’re well aware that I know where Y/n has been going about, hm? I remember her last visit was for an assignment, where did she go? Ah, Aveline’s asylum.”
Silas’s jaw ticked and it took everything in him to not smash the glass in hands on Henry’s head.
“I hope we understand each other, hm?” Henry stood up, buttoning his coat when Cadbury walked in through the door, looking alarmed.
“What is it?” Silas snapped as Cadbury rushed to him and gave him a stack of papers.
“Sir, I- someone left these for you- they-” Silas pulled the documents out and read them, his brows furrowing as his lips set into a thin line.
He set them on the table and Henry couldn’t help but peek.
“DIVORCE DEED”.
Henry couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips.
Fucking finally.
“I’ll take my leave now, Mr FitzGeorge.”
Henry left the manor in a rush. He needed to see you now.
-
Colin was expressing his happiness on you coming back to live with him and the guys when Henry had called you in his office.
“How are you today, Y/n?” Henry asked, closing the door. “I wouldn’t have blamed you for taking the day off today, you know, after what your marriage has fallen through.”
Your eyes widened. “How did you-”
“I know everything, Y/n. I knew this was going to happen eventually, after all, how long could you have resisted a man like me?”
“What the hell do you want?”
Henry stood against the desk, leaning back slightly as he looked at you. “I have a proposal for you.” The stupid smile on his face gave away that you were not going to like what he was going to offer.
“Marry me and I’ll take care of you for life. Or- don’t marry me, and you’re fired.”
“What?”
He pushed himself off the desk. “You know I fancy you, despite all your quirks. I think we’d make a great team, make a lot of people very mad, especially your soon-to-be ex-husband.”
“So you just want me to be pawn for your plans?”
He shrugged. “Well I’d hoped we could eventually grow our family, but if you’re not into that, then sure. You can be a pawn for me to use. You had no problem with this arrangement when you were with Silas.”
You stood up from your chair. “How… dare you?” Seething, you walked upto him, who only smiled looking down at you. “I would rather jump off a building than marry a disgusting piece of cow dung like you. You think just because I’m a divorcee, you can threaten me into marrying you just so I could have a job here? Fuck you. I quit.”
You stormed out of his office, leaving Henry grinning at his plan working.
“Mark my words, kitten. You will end up marrying me. One way or another.”
-
“Fucking fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” You screamed as soon as you got back to house, knowing no one would be at him right, you needed to get your rage out before you combusted. Shaking in anger, you grabbed a glass and you were ready to throw it against the wall but decided against it.
“Y/n.” Qasim had been looking everywhere for you, after you’d vanished from the time your cousins came over to lunch. They had made some mean comments about… well your family’s financial status, and if it weren’t for your parents presence, you would’ve returned the insults with something worse enough to make them cry.
Instead of replying to them, you were now seeking revenge by throwing a brick through the window of their new car.
“Y/n, what are you doing?” Qasim whisper-scolded, looking around to see if anyone else had stumbled upon his 7 year old sister trying to damage their cousin’s car. “You know this is wrong!” He said as he pulled the brick out of your hand.
“Its only wrong if you get caught. No one’s around to watch!” You huffed.
“I caught you! Besides, even if no one is watching, God is!” He pointed up in the sky.
“So? Allah will forgive me. I’ll pray more, worship more often, fast, even use my pocket money to give to a charity!” You explained how you’d get off scot-free for all your sins.
Qasim smiled, pulling you away from the car. “Yes, Allah is Ar-Rahman- the Most Gracious, and Ar-Raheem- the Most Merciful. He would forgive you, but not the way you’re doing it, hm?” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you further away. “What you explained are acts of worship and yes, you’d be fulfilling your duty as a Muslim to God, but what about your other duty? Islam isn’t just about worshipping Allah, Y/n. Its half of your duty as a believer, but the other half is your duty to the humans around you. How you treat them, talk to them, your mannerisms. So even if you were to worship Allah, He wont forgive you for doing wrong to someone unless that person forgives you themselves first. Allah is very fair. If He has allowed you to feel hurt someone’s words, then He has also allowed other people to feel hurt too.”
Your shoulders slumped as your plans were foiled, knowing he was right. Qasim pecked your forehead, rubbing your shoulder to cheer you up. “Besides, this is no way for a Muslim to act. We should always try to be on our best behaviour, maintain composure and reflect. It’ll allow you to think more clearly.”
Maintain composure and reflect.
Letting out a sigh, you placed the glass back on the table before sitting down to rub your temples, trying to ease the ache that was forming.
Reflect.
Reflect.
Reflect-
You stood up as your eyes landed on Colin’s typewriter in the corner. Grabbing it, you made your way to the table and grabbed a stack of blank sheets and began typing away.
Hours later, you were leaving the house just before the guys returned from work but you stumbled into Benny on the street.
“Y/n? Where are you going?” He saw you hiding a few pages in your hand.
“I- um-” Concern flickered in his eyes as he came near you. “Tell me. I can help you.”
You weighted your options, contemplating whether it’d be good to trust Benny with this, despite letting him help you earlier.
Exhaling, you made the decision.
“I need to get to the printing press. Now.”
A flash of confusion appeared on his face before he nodded. “Okay.” Without any further questions, you two made your way towards the printing press as the sun went down.
-
After spending the entire night, printing hundreds of copies, you and Benny walked out of the printing press with stacks of papers. Walking down the streets of London in the cold winter, the sun just beginning to rise, Benny turned to you.
“Are you sure about this? Because once this is out there, there’s no going back.” He looked down at you, and judging by the determination in your eyes, he already knew the answer.
“Yes.” With a nod, Benny took half the stack while you had the other half.
“Alright. There are some paper boys that wait near the corner. Lets have these distributed.”
Henry walked into his office that day, finding it unexpectedly silent. For a moment, he thought the place was empty but when he spotted the employees gathered around a desk- your desk. Upon closer inspection, he noticed they were all surrounding Colin, who seemed to be engrossed reading a paper. Henry slowly pushed through the crowd and peeked over Colin’s shoulder, his eyes widening at the headline-
“The Ripper Strikes Again!
By S.H.H.”
S.H.H?
Henry snatched the paper, his eyes scanning the article his ex employee had written. It entailed the details from the first murder outside his club to the very latest that had taken place outside the FitzGeorge estate.
S.H.H.
It didn’t take much time for him to figure out that it was you who had written this piece and while a part of him was very furious at you for ruining his plans and image, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at you because he knew you couldn’t have done this alone.
No, you didn’t have the money to print this, let alone distribute this throughout London.
This has Silas written all over it.
“Get back to work!” Henry yelled making the crowd scatter away. “Colin. My office, now.” He seethed before storming off.
“I swear, I don’t know who wrote that article. I just picked it up on the way-”
“Shut up.” Henry opened his drawer, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, a rare sight since he’s often seen smoking cigars. But cigars are for celebratory occasions. For now, he needed something to calm down his nerves before he combusted.
As soon as he had finished inhaling the first cigarette, he lit up another one, taking slower drags out of it this time. Colin could only watch in both shock and nervousness as Henry sat down on his chair and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.
Finally, he opened his eyes and pulled out a file from the desk drawer, throwing it at the table for Colin. Colin stared at Henry in question, whose eyes were focused on the wall, deep in thought.
“You’re working on exposing horrible hospital environments, aren’t you?” Colin nodded. Henry took another drag before looking at him. “Here’s conclusive proof that would support your article. I want you to write it by the end of the day so it gets printed for tomorrow morning’s paper. Oh and Colin?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You will write what is in this file and you will not give me any excuses as to why you can’t, because if you don’t write it, I will find someone who will and I will make damn sure that you don’t get to work another day in your life as a journalist. You are replaceable.” Unlike your cross-dressing roommate. “Do I make myself clear?”
Colin gulped. “Yes, sir.” He stepped ahead to take the file, his heart racing as he saw the name on the file.
“Daisy FitzGeorge”
-
Silas sipped his scotch, his blurry vision a testament to how many drinks he’s had. Glass in one hand, the papers in the other, the only words visible to him were “DIVORCE”.
Divorce.
You were divorcing him. He doesn’t understand why… he’s upset? No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not upset with something like this. I am merely… intrigued. Just slightly.
And why am I intrigued? I knew this marriage wasn’t going to last, I specifically told her that it wouldn’t? So why am I even wasting my time thinking about this when I have better things to do?
His eyes fell on the ring you had sent along with the papers. The wedding band. He set the papers down and picked it up, twirling it between his hands.
Did she divorce me because I yelled at her? Or did she already plan on leaving me?
He scoffed, standing up as he made his way to the window. Why would she leave me? I’m richer than her, I’m smarter than her, and if we’re being honest, I beat her in looks too. I am out of her league. Who the hell does she think she is?
I gave her everything. More than she deserved. Compensated her for everytime I had to use her for my plans. She had no reason to complain. She had no reason to leave me. She has no reason to leave me.
His eyes flickered to the snow covered garden.
She has no reason. Of course, a woman like her, would try to use me. She wants me to go after her, beg her to come back. The audacity!
He set his glass aside and pulled out a pen, his vision clearing as they focused on the documents.
You think you can trick me, huh? You want a divorce, Y/n? I’ll give-
“What the hell is that?” Silas whispered, gazing out the window and in the distance, just near the tree line, he saw a shadow, seemingly facing in his direction.
How long had it been standing there?
No. He’s way too still. The shadow doesn’t seem to be moving, breathing even. Silas’s drunk brain could only come up with two conclusions.
Either someone is trying to scare him (possibly Henry) by building this snowman or whatever, or someone is actually trying to break in (probably one of your several male friends).
And he planned on finding out who or what it was and taking his anger out on it.
He stormed off into the snow, with the divorce papers in hand, lest its you and he needs to shove them in your face.
-
Its been over a week since you wrote the article on the Ripper, which made news all around town, created enough buzz for major publications to start talking about them… including your last place of employment.
Henry of course, hadn’t taken so well to your details about the murders of his employees, so while his paper had mentioned a few paragraphs about the Ripper, they didnt mention anything about the victims being associated with Henry. And shockingly, the paper had instead used its front page to write about the “harrowing treatment at Aveline’s asylum” but it was really just an expose on Daisy FitzGeorge and how the FitzGeorge (and by association, the royal family) may have mental illnesses.
So… you understood why Silas had been silent this entire time. You understood why he hadn’t found the time to respond to your divorce papers. He’s probably dealing with Henry for what he made Colin write, and he might be dealing with keeping his reputation intact as well as being grilled by the queen. And with everything that had happened between you two, you knew it would be best if you never saw him again.
But… its been almost two weeks now, and you need to start working on your time machine again, for which you would need your little journal that you had so stupidly forgotten to take along with you when you left his house.
And so, here you were standing inside the FitzGeorge foyer at mid day (when you knew Silas would be away at work). In hindsight, you could’ve sent someone else, perhaps Benny in your place to fetch your journal, but you didnt want to risk him beating up Silas in case he had decided to take the day off.
The house seemed awfully quiet, more gloomy than usual, which you blamed the London winter for, but something was off.
Seeing that nobody was there to greet you, you decided to make your way towards the library, only for rushed steps to come your way.
“Mr Silas?” You spotted Cadbury coming from the corner, only for his concerned face turn hopeful as he ran towards you. “Oh Miss Y/n! Thank heavens, you’re here!”
“Cadbury, what’s going on?” You spotted the bags under his eyes.
The lines on his forehead deepened as he contemplated on how to break the news to you.
“Mr Silas… is missing!”
“What?”
“He hasn’t been home in over two weeks! I have looked everywhere for him! His workplace, bars, hospitals. But he’s nowhere to be found!”
You sigh. “Maybe he’s at a friend’s place. Or maybe he’s with his uncles or cousins.”
Cadbury shakes his head. “I checked! I contacted his friends, and I went to his uncles places without raising suspicion of him being missing, but he hasn’t seen any of them since the day he went missing.”
“And what day would that be?”
Cadbury’s voice died down. “The day… the day after you sent the divorce papers.”
A pit formed in your stomach. The day after I sent the divorce papers… that was the day the Ripper article was published. The news about his sister was also written that day, but it was printed out the next day. Which meant that Silas probably hadn’t read about Daisy, which then meant that if he lost his calm and snapped, it may have been due to the divorce papers you sent his way.
No. You assure yourself. He possibly couldn’t be affected by the divorce deed. He expected it- he demanded it. He assured you, he would give it to you before you two were even wed.
“You’re overthinking this, Cadbury. For all you know, he could be with his grandmother, wherever she is.” At your words, his face fell even more. “What is it?”
He gulped. “Miss Sarah fell ill when she left.”
Your eyes narrowed. “How ill?”
“Very. She’s bedridden now and doctors haven’t found a cause for it. She has been writing letters to Mr Silas, but since he’s been gone and I didnt want to cause her further distress, I… I have been writing to her under the guise as her grandson.”
You blinked at him. “What?!”
“Please, Miss Y/n. I didnt have any wrong intentions, I just didnt want Miss Sarah to worry herself in her condition.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. If Cadbury had been caught disguising himself as Silas, then Sarah wouldn’t still be writing back to him. Which means that Silas is… actually missing.
“Where did you see him last?” You asked him.
“In his study, when he was talking to Mr Blackwood. I gave him your um- divorce papers, and after Mr Blackwood left, he asked to be left alone. When I went to check on him the next day, he wasn’t in there. He wasn’t in the house!”
“Okay. Lets check the study first.” You both walked towards the study, your mind trying to think of where he could’ve gone.
Wait, Henry was here. He may have sad something to provoke Silas. Or maybe he blackmailed him? Perhaps, Silas has gone to run an errand for him?
No, it wouldn’t make sense for Silas to be doing favours to Henry, if the latter still went ahead and published his family’s secret.
Cadbury opened the study’s door and let you inside, the room was scattered all around.
“I left it as is.” Cadbury confessed as you looked around. “I didnt want to disturb his belongings. Mr Silas doesn’t appreciate it when anyone touches his things.”
Looking at the scene in front of you, it looked like he left in a hurry. His glass was still half full with the drink, and if you know anything about Silas, he never leaves his alcohol unfinished.
After an hour of searching the room for clues, all you could conclude was that he left in a hurry and with the divorce papers, since you couldn’t find them either.
He must’ve signed them and was coming to deliver them to me personally. Or perhaps threaten me.
“Do you know where he is, Miss Y/n?” Cadbury asked, worry etched on his face.
You sighed and shook your head defeatdly. “I don’t know, but I think its high time we report this to the police and his family.”
He immeadetly shook his head. “We cant do that! Mr Silas’s uncles will jump at the opportunity to take his assets and involving the police will make everyone know in high society-”
“What else do you want me to do, Cadbury?” You cut him off. “If you don’t want to report it, then dont. But the longer you keep this from the authorities, the more it’ll raise suspicions towards you. Just- you know what? Do whatever you want. I’m no longer a part of this family, and I’m no one to meddle in its affairs.” You tried to leave but Cadbury blocked your path.
“Technically ma’am, you still are a part of the family.”
“What?”
“The divorce deed… is nowhere to be found.”
“Yes. Because Silas has it.”
“It doesn’t mean he signed it.”
You blinked slowly. “What?”
He shrugged innocently. “I didn’t see him sign it, neither do I know if Mr Silas had any intentions of doing so. And you didn’t see him either.”
Your blood ran cold. “The papers are with Silas-”
“But we don’t know for sure if he signed it. You are still Mrs Silas FitzGeorge.”
You clenched your fists, trying to reel yourself in. “Stop playing games, Cadbury. You know Silas has the papers, you know he has signed them-”
“I do not know. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still happily married to Mr Silas.”
“Enough!” You walked unto him, staring him dead in the eye. “Silas has divorced me, he has the papers! And before you say that you didn’t see him sign it, I don’t think that argument will fly in court!”
“Court?” He raised a brow.
“Yes. Court. If I cant find the divorce papers, I will get a lawyer who will fight my case and have the judge accept the end of this relationship! And if this is some sick game that you thought would stop me from getting a divorce from Silas, if that is the very reason he has suddenly gone “missing”, let me assure you, I will fight tooth and nail and get my way!”
The butler maintained his composure, despite your menacing tone. “You can do as you want, ma’am. But if you are going to involve the court in this, then I must contact Mr Silas’s lawyer who has documents containing important information that you must see.”
By evening, the lawyer had come and you were not expecting the information he came baring.
With trembling hands, you scanned the pages, eyes widening with each word.
“I, Silas (Edmund) FitzGeorge, hereinafter referred to as “the husband”, being of sound mind and body, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, and I hereby revoke all previous wills and codicils. I am married to Y/n L/n, hereinafter referred to as "my wife," and I have full confidence in her and wish to provide for her after my passing.
Y/n and I are married under the laws of Islam and the British crown, and both parties have expressed mutual interest in ensuring that their marital relationship endures regardless of any future physical separation, and The Husband wishes to secure the continuity of his marital bond with The Wife under extraordinary circumstances, and WHEREAS, The Wife, understanding the gravity of this arrangement, agrees to the terms outlined below, NOW, THEREFORE, in consideration of the mutual promises, covenants, and obligations set forth herein, the parties agree as follows:
ARTICLE I: CONDITIONAL MARRIAGE BOND
Condition of Divorce: Notwithstanding any future legal proceedings or claims for dissolution of marriage, The Wife shall not be permitted to divorce The Husband unless one of the following conditions occurs: a. The Husband’s Death: In the event that The Husband is declared legally deceased by a competent authority or court, and his remains have been conclusively identified by appropriate authorities, or b. The Wife Locates and Identifies The Husband’s Remains: Should The Husband go missing or be presumed dead, The Wife may pursue divorce only if she personally discovers, identifies, and confirms The Husband’s remains. This confirmation must be made through formal identification methods accepted under the laws of British empire, and shall be accompanied by appropriate documentation (e.g., medical or forensic certification of death).
No Divorce Without Finding Remains: In the event of The Husband’s disappearance under circumstances where his remains are not conclusively located, The Wife shall not initiate any legal action to dissolve the marriage until The Wife has personally located his remains and has provided the court with satisfactory proof of the remains' discovery.
Duration of the Agreement: This Agreement shall remain in effect as long as The Husband's remains have not been conclusively found. Should The Husband be found alive or if his remains are discovered, the terms of this Agreement shall automatically expire, and The Wife may pursue divorce proceedings under applicable laws.
ARTICLE II: TERMINATION OF AGREEMENT UPON FOUND REMAINS
Disappearance: If The Husband disappears under circumstances where there is no conclusive proof of death, The Wife shall maintain all legal rights to pursue a divorce as if The Husband were alive, but only after making a reasonable effort to locate his remains through all available means.
Notification of Discovery: In the event that The Wife discovers The Husband’s remains, she must notify The Husband’s designated legal representative, within 14 days of the discovery. Upon receipt of this notice, The Husband’s legal representative shall confirm the identification of the remains and provide written notice to both parties.
ARTICLE III: CONSEQUENCES OF BREACH OF AGREEMENT
Breach by The Husband: If The Husband is found to be in breach of this Agreement (e.g., by acting in a manner that leads to fraudulent claims of death, or failing to comply with identification procedures), The Wife may petition for divorce under the laws, irrespective of the condition precedent regarding finding remains.
Breach by The Wife: If The Wife attempts to initiate divorce proceedings without satisfying the conditions set forth in this Agreement, The Husband shall have the right to petition the courts to invalidate any such divorce attempt, and may seek damages for breach of contract as provided by the law.
ARTICLE IV: MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
Mutual Consent: Both parties acknowledge that this Agreement has been entered into freely and voluntarily, and that each understands the extraordinary nature of the conditions set forth herein. The Wife acknowledges the serious implications of this contract and agrees to abide by its terms unless the conditions of divorce are satisfied.
EXECUTION
IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the parties have executed this Agreement on the day and year first above written.
[Husband's Full Name] Silas Edmund FitzGeorge
[Wife's Full Name] Y/n L/n
Witnesses: Cadbury Hawthorne Colin (surname)
“You and Mr Colin signed these documents the night you had your Nikkah with Mr Silas.” Cadbury quietly said, answering you question as to when you had signed a bullshit contract like this.
Silas fucking tricked me. He took advantage of me, put me on the spot and had everything so rushed that I didn’t even have the time to read the documents I signed.
“This is trickery. I didn’t agree to any of this-”
“That argument will not fly in court, ma’am. Your inability to have read through the papers you signed out of your own volition, still means that you did signed and agreed to the terms.” The lawyer explained.
You stared at him. “So what? You’re telling me that I cant divorce Silas, that no court will grant me a divorce from him unless I find his body?!”
“Its not necessary you find his remains. If he’s still alive, you can still get the divorce.” The lawyer answered, ignoring the angry vein on your temple. “Even if you don’t find him, you still are the sole inheritor of all of Mr Silas’s assets. I think thats a pretty sweet deal.”
“I dont want his stupid assets! I want the fucking divorce!”
The lawyer closed his brief case. “Then I suggest you find Mr Silas, ma’am.”
-
The first few days at the manor had been hard for you. Refusing to trust Cadbury, given his history as being Silas right hand and well, you still suspected him of drugging your tea, you fought with him. Well it was more like you yelling and throwing things at him, and he just calmly reassured you over and over again that he was and will be for the foreseeable future- loyal to you, while dodging the fine china plate you frisbeed at his head.
When you finally came around to the idea that Silas may actually be missing and this is not some ruse, that he might be in real danger, your first thought was to contact his family. But Cadbury strongly advised you against it, saying that even if you were to only inform Sarah, she would eventually reach out to her sons to help find Silas, which is a bad idea because according to Cadbury, they would jump at his inheritance which Silas left all to you and to acquire it, they will stop at nothing. Even if they have to do something less than savoury to you.
“So you’re staying back at the estate because you need to find Silas, dead or alive, in order to get a divorce from him?” Benny asked. He came here after he found you moving back to the manor.
“Yes. I signed a document saying so. And I think that if I were to stay here, I’d be able to find more clues to his whereabouts.”
“Cant you just get a dead body?”
“Ok, first of all, where would I get a random dead body that looks like Silas? Secondly, no. The authorities need to actually verify that I bring Silas’s remains, not some random guy’s. And since Silas is part of royalty and not a nobody, its almost next to impossible for me to fool anyone.”
Benny dragged his palms over his face. “Why does it even matter that you’re not a divorced? You can just come back and live with us!”
“It does matter because I am married to a FitzGeorge, and I am the duchess of Westminster, and because if I need to marry again, I cant without divorce from my last husband!” You explained. Part of the reason you’re staying at Silas’s manor is because you want to find clues to where he is, but also because with the house entirely to yourself, you can peacefully build your time machine.
“So how do you plan on finding Silas?”
“Well, first I have to determine if he’s actually gone missing or if he’s just hiding away-”
“Why would he hide?”
“I dont know, to avoid confrontation? Maybe he thinks that I’ll come for his money, which I don’t think is the case since he has given it to me now anyways.” You rubbed your chin. “Perhaps he has enemies? His life is in danger and he decided to vanish, while also keeping me bound to him just to have the last laugh.”
Benny chuckled at your suggestion. “Okay, so how will you determine if he’s missing or hiding?”
“I plan on drawing him out.” You replied. “Force him out of his hiding place.” Which isn’t as easy as it sounds because one thing is for sure, Silas is very resilient.
Cadbury walked in with tea. “Is it done?” You asked the butler who nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It should be ready for operations in a week.”
Benny looked confused. “Whats done, Y/n?”
You took your teacup from Cadbury, hiding your smile. “You’ll see. Oh and tell Colin to see me when he can.”
-
Colin stood outside the building you’d given him the address to.
“The London Post” He read the name on the board, which looked like it was newly installed.
He walked inside, where a receptionist greeted him and lead him to an office upstairs. On his way, he saw a bullpit full of desks with employees working in full swing. Looking at the dozens of typewriters only further confirmed his suspicions that this was a newspaper agency. But what he didn’t understand was why you had sent him here.
Was it to write an article for this paper? Or did they want to interview him for his latest expose he was forced to write on Daisy FitzGeorge?
The receptionist knocked on the office door before someone inside gave permission to enter. Swinging the door open, Colin was just able to catch the glimpse of the brass plaque on the door.
“Y/n FitzGeorge, CEO”
You were sitting in behind your mahogany desk in your plush leather chair, smiling as you greeted Colin.
“What is all this?” Colin asked, sitting down from across you.
“Dont you like my new workplace?” You asked, setting aside whatever paper you were working on. “I bought the building to start a new paper. The London Post! Has a nice ring to it, hm?”
“It does. But… why exactly did you start a newspaper company?”
Because I plan on drawing out Silas by using his money lavishly and while the first idea that came to mind was to burn it in a bornfire, another idea came to mind.
Why not use the money to ruffle some feathers as well?
Henry was going to be a problem for you longterm, you knew that for sure. So while you and Benny may have been able to get away with writing something against him one time, you doubt you’d be so lucky again.
But you cant say that to Colin without sounding like a complete lunatic.
“Because I want to write freely. I want to write the truth without some rich dirtbag trying to brush it under the rug because it interferes with his business.” Colin was impressed.
“That is… excellent. You will make a lot of people unhappy with this, but I suppose you don’t care about it.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “The truth needs to be out there. People should be able to acquire knowledge and decide for themselves what they should do with it.”
“Admirable. And I suppose you wont have to dress up as a man again. Perks of being the boss, hm?” He commented, making you laugh.
“I didn’t just invite you here to show off, Colin.” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your desk. “I want you to work here.”
“What?”
“You can write your articles on the horrid healthcare system and you’d have your own team to help you in investigations. I’ll back you up, all the way. Whatever you need-”
“Ok.”
“Hm?”
“Ok. I accept your job offer.” Colin stood up, shaking your head. He didn’t need to be convinced much to leave Henry Blackwood.
In the evening, you failed to notice a pair of eyes stalking your form as you got in your carriage and went home.
“I seriously need to hire better security. They cant just let anyone in.” You grumbled as soon as you spotted him lounging in the parlour.
“Oh please. Like that would stop me.” Henry smirked, making himself as he poured himself a drink. “I thought you’d be happy to see me after so long, kitten.”
“So all it takes is one sip of alcohol for you to start deluding?” You rolled your eyes, giving your coat to the maid as you walked inside the room. “What do you want, Henry?”
“Just some answers, kitten.” He smiled, though it wasn’t a genuine. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“The London Post.” “Ah. The newspaper. Its a nice name, hm?”
“Y/n.” He warned.
“Henry.” You mocked back. “What is it of any concern to you?”
“Is this your big plan to get back at me? The moment I propose to a soon-to-be-divorcee, you go running back in the arms of Silas? If money was all it took, need I remind you- I have plenty more than Silas?”
Great. He just called me a gold-digger in my own house.
“First of all, I doubt that any amount of your blood-stained money will ever compare to Silas’s generational wealth. Its about class, something you wouldn’t know about.” You ran a hand through your hair. “As for why I’m back with Silas, well why don’t you see it this way? The mere idea of being with you repelled me so much that it drove me into the arms of another man.”
“And where is this other man?”
“Perhaps he was also repelled by you.” Henry crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that so? Huh. So he’s been hiding away weeks before I actually came.”
Your eyes narrowed. How does he-?
“Ah ah. I saw that look.” He snapped his fingers, sauntering over to you. “What? You really didn’t think I’d find out that he’s been missing for what? A month now?” You kept your mouth shut as he gloated. “Not a bird flutters its wing here and I am not aware. I know everything, kitten.”
Either he’s bluffing, or he’s the reason why Silas is missing. “Silas isn’t missing. He’s away on business.”
“Dont lie, love. I know the truth. Besides, what I cant figure out is why you’re back here after that nasty fight with him? I mean, the last time I saw Silas, you had sent the divorce papers yourself.”
Did you see him sign them? Is what you wanted to ask. Instead, you feigned innocense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I agree that I did take time apart after our… marital discourse, but thats normal. Lovers fight, not that you’d know. I imagine most women in your life are threatened into a relationship with you.”
He smirked. “You think about me with other women? Is my kitten jealous?” Your unamused face made him chuckle. “I just came here to congratulate you on starting your new business. Hope it doesnt burn down before it makes a real mark.”
“Is that a threat?” “Did it sound like a compliment?” You scowled, and he smirked. “My kitten has a tendency to go a little crazy and scratch others. I’d hate to be the one to have to tame you, although-”
“Get the hell out of my house!”
Henry cackled, enjoying getting under your skin. He got ready to leave, glancing at you one last time.
“You don’t belong from this world, kitten. Stop meddling with my business before you get hurt, hm?”
As days went by, the Ripper began his killing spree again. More victims came to light, most of them were people who were out and about well after midnight, but there were some cases where the victims were… just normal people. The London Post had a dedicated team working on reporting this case audit was garnering more attention. You might even dare to say… that it was more popular than Henry’s now.
Benny would swing by your office whenever he could, usually with snacks and make lighthearted conversation. You knew what he was doing though- he was checking up on you. And really, you don’t blame him. After breaking down in front of him, to sending divorce papers to Silas, to quitting your job and writing an article that damages your ex-employer’s repute, to then moving back to living at your “missing” husband’s home (who you cant divorce until you find his remains) and then starting a whole new company, who wouldn’t want to check how someone like that is doing mentally?
Its sweet really, it really is. Which is why its so hard for you to look at him as a potential killer. It doesnt help all the lies he’s told you, not to mention his relationship with the shady cross-dresser who practically threatened you to not bother Henry.
I really, really hope you’re just a closeted gay Benny.
You woke up to the sound of yelling. Looking at the clock, the needles pointed to 11 pm. You got out of bed, wrapping your night robe around yourself before leaving the room. Following the clamour, you found yourself on the top of the staircase and saw the source of noise standing in the lobby down.
It was Silas’s uncles, William and Adolphus . The two men were yelling at Cadbury, the poor butler trying to shush them and prevent them from passing past him.
“As I said sir-! Mrs Silas is asleep at the moment and I cannot allow you to enter Mr Silas’s study without her permission.”
“You have no right to stop us! And I don’t need that wench’s permission to enter wherever I please!” William, the eldest FitzGeorge shouted.
“Actually, you do.” You finally spoke up, shutting them all up. You gracefully descended the stairs, eyes narrowing down at them. “As it happens, I am the co-owner of this house.”
“I’m sorry ma’am, I tried to stop them-”
“Its alright, Cadbury.” You turned your attention back to the two men who were looking down at you. “Now that you have disturbed me from my sleep, what seems to be the problem?”
“Your stupid servant is stopping us from going to Silas’s study-”
“He’s a butler, and you will give him the due respect or you can march yourself out of here. Now.” Your words made the room silent again, and one could cut the tension with a knife.
Adolphus, the middle child of Sarah, seemed to be the one with more sense. “You’re right. But as it happens, we are in a bit of rush and we need to go to the study.”
“Why?”
“There are some papers there.” Adolphus stated, mistaking that this would be enough to satisfy you.
“So?” You crossed your arms over your chest.
“So? So we need to get them.”
“Why? Whats so important about them?”
Adolphus looked at you, then at his brother who had an angry being popping on his head, then back at you. “Silas… has granted us some money. We need those papers to access that money.”
“Ah. That is important.” You hummed, and the uncles took this as a sign for them to go and retrieve them. “Halt, now.”
“What?” William seethed.
You sighed dramatically. “Now I understand the pickle you’re in, but as it happens, Silas has absolutely forbidden anyone from entering his study without his permission and since Silas hasn’t told me beforehand about letting his uncles in, I’m afraid I cant let you go there. He’s weirdly territorial about it.”
“Then where is Silas?” William barked.
“I dont know. As a good wife, I don’t keep tabs on where my husband goes, when he’ll be back or stick my nose in his business.” You smiled charmingly, knowing these chauvinistic jerks will eat this lie up.
“Look, we’re his family. We wouldn’t betray our own.” Adolphus tried to reason with you.
You shrugged. “Orders are orders, uncle. I’m just an obedient wife, listening to my husband because I’d just be a fool not to!” Your voice drips with honey.
William glared at you, and was ready to bark an insult when you beat him to it.
“Cadbury, please show our guests the way out. Don’t hesitate to use more help if needed.” You leave before they could get another word in.
When Cadbury returns, you’re sitting in Silas’s study, holding the file that the uncles wanted. However, it didn’t say anything about any money being set aside for them. It was just Silas reiterating that you were his sole inheritor of everything.
“Ah thank goodness you didn’t let them in, ma’am.” Cadbury breathed a sigh of relief. You hummed, looking at the document again before setting it aside. You have a gut feeling that if they were to find out that Silas has left everything to you, they would not be happy.
“Did you tell them that Silas has been missing?” Cadbury shook his head. “No ma’am.”
“Then how did they know he wasnt home?”
It is possible that word got out via the house staff that he hasn’t been home in a while. Or that someone from the outside is spreading the news. Perhaps a business partner? An enemy? Maybe his uncles have a hand in his disappearance. Or it is entirely possible that Silas is behind this and is using his uncles to put me under pressure?
Whoever it is, its high time to put an end to all of this. Silas needs to be found out.
“Prepare my carriage for tomorrow. I’ll be leaving to see Silas’s grandma.”
-
You sensed something was gravely wrong the next day you saw Cadbury.
The butler held a letter in his trembling hands, his face pale as he read with wide eyes.
“Mrs- Mrs Fairbrother is- is dead.”
What?
You grabbed the letter from his hands, reading the details of how Sarah passed away yesterday in her sleep. It was sent by her housekeeper, who said that Mrs Fairbrother wanted to be buried in London and her funeral arrangements done by you.
Two days later, you were standing in Silas’s study, looking out the window at the funeral service arranged. Despite the large amount of attendees, everything went smoothly. Cadbury made sure of that, he basically handled all the things on your behalf.
Perhaps he knew you’d need your energy for something else soon.
You’d met with the people only briefly, accepting their condolences before you went back to hiding in the study. Sarah was buried in the family cemetery, next to her husband and near her granddaughter, Daisy. You didn’t go to the gravesite yourself, it only reminded you of Qasim. You don’t think you could ever handle going through that ordeal again.
Not to mention the big elephant in the room that you have to address.
Silas is not here.
You may not know much about him but you know for a fact how much he loved his grandmother and the fact that he’s not here means that he… he might actually have gone missing. And not by his own will.
Is he missing or is he dea-?
Cadbury entered the study with a knock, a cup of tea in his hand.
“Thank you.” You take the cup from him. He smiled, understanding your gratefulness for letting him deal with the funeral.
“I just wanted to give you a heads up, ma’am. Mr William and Mr Adolphus are waiting in the parlour downstairs with the will executor. He says its important for all family members to be there.”
“I understand.” You sigh before standing up. You walked into the parlour where the uncles were drinking
“Look who decided to finally join us.” William sneered.
“I want to say its nice to see you again but I don’t want to insult the dead by lying.” You turn your attention back to the executor. “Please lets get this done with already.”
“It wont take too long, miss.” The executor says before opening the envelope. “The will states “I am grateful to all who attended my funeral. I knew my time was coming soon, which is why I left London a month ago. It was my dream to see my beloved Silas get married and what a fine lady he chose for this family. He took care of me, as did Y/n when she became a part of our lives. Which is why I Sarah Fairbrother FitzGeorge, in sound mind and with no pressure from anyone, am leaving all of my wealth to Silas and Y/n. For my other grandsons, I leave a trust fund that they will acquire if they get into Oxford college like Silas did. The trust fund will be distributed to reputable charities if they don’t make it to college.
For my sons, William and Adolphus, I leave only this-
I know what you did. I was made aware of it in my final days and I am ashamed to call you my sons. Which is why you are both removed from my will and are not entitled to a single pound from the inheritance. If I could, I would strip you off the respectable FitzGeorge surname. Shame on you.” The executor folds the paper back. “That concludes the will, now if you could all just sign here-”
“I am not signing this bullshit!” William threw the glass on the floor, the crystal shattering everywhere. “This is complete bullshit! How the fuck does she not leave anything to me?! To her own sons?!”
The executor narrowed his eyes. “I understand this can be difficult to digest-”
“Mother must’ve been delirious. That explains it. Women experience hysteria on the daily now, its very common now a days. Why else would she leave nothing to her owns sons, and everything to Silas, who did not even bother to attend the funeral!” Adolphus spoke up.
“I assure you, sir, your mother was not delirious. She was not a mad woman when she executed her will. I was there, with two other witnesses.”
“So what? We get nothing and Silas and his bedwarmer get everything?!” William yells, glaring at you. “Where the fuck is Silas?! He cant get a single penny of this will unless he’s here!”
“I-” Your voice died down in your throat. What do I say? How long can I avoid this question?
“What?” Adolphus questioned but William walked to the executor. “Did you hear that? He’s not here which means he doesn’t get the bloody inheritance! And neither does she!”
“Actually, Miss Y/n is entitled to all of the inheritance as Mrs Sarah stated in the will.” A voice interrupted. You looked at the doorway where Cadbury was walking in with Silas’s lawyer.
“This is a private matter. You need to leave.” Adolphus stated, not liking the intrusion.
“I’m Mr Silas’s lawyer and he’s allowed me to be in matters in his place.” He set down his briefcase and pulled out some documents. “Mr Silas has already given all of his inheritance to Miss Y/n and anything that Mrs Sarah has left for him, will also be going to Miss Y/n.
-
The Ripper has Silas.
He’s made that much clear to you over the last two weeks via all the letters and cryptic messages he’d sent you, which you didn’t take seriously at first because for all you could know, this could be just a prank or from Silas enemies to scare you.
Then came the present.
It was a small box with a red bow on it, left on the windowsill of your room. When you opened it, your blood ran cold at the contents inside.
It was a ring. The wedding band.
The day you married Silas, his grandmother gave you her late husband’s ring to give to Silas. It was a family heirloom and it was his grandfather’s. Losing it, it’s not something Silas would risk just to trouble you.
He was in serious danger. Especially if the Ripper is the one who has him.
You wanted to go to the cops, but knowing how they never actually came close to catching the killer, you decide to go to someone more powerful.
The Queen.
Now I know she may not have MI5, but surely she’d have contacts and perhaps some secret agents who’d do a much better job of finding her royal relative.
“The queen is busy and cannot see anyone at the moment.” The royal servant told you at the front door. That’s as far as they’d allowed you to enter.
“I don’t think you understand. My husband, a royal member of the family has gone missing and possibly been abducted by the Ripper-!”
“I don’t think you understand, miss.” He cut you off. “The queen is simply too busy to entertain any civilians or their lost men.”
“He’s not a civilian! Silas FitzGeorge-”
“Is not recognised by the royal family. Please refrain yourself from associating that name with the prestigious royal household.”
You looked at him dumbfounded. Is he- did the queen really just cut Silas out of the family?
“Then as a civilian, I am begging you to let me see the queen. I want to find my husband and only she can help me.”
“The queen has far more important engagements at the moment.”
Clenching your fists to stop yourself from swinging at him and running inside the palace, you asked him. “Does she hate Silas that much that she didn’t attend Sarah’s funeral? Or did she loathe Sarah that much that she refuses to help find Silas?”
“Let me show you the exit-”
You swiftly turned and left, your body ready to combust from anger.
How can anyone do that? Just refuse to help a family member? You’re no stranger to enemies-in-family, but still- she adored Silas enough to reintroduce him as a part of her family just months ago. Did she really just hate him for marrying me, or as Silas showed the world- “married for love”.
How can you just turn your back on family?
You stormed into your office, breathing heavily. Fine then. If she won’t let me see her, I’ll make her come to me.
“COLIN!” He came into your office alarmed. “I need you to allocate 5 of the best writers on a new project. Give them whatever they need, no expenses spared.”
“What’s the project?”
“The royal family.”
“What?”
“Every crime they’ve committed, every scandal they’ve been involved in, every time they’ve so much as swatted a fly! I want it all reported and published.” Colin’s eyes widened at your words.
“Y/n it’s not wise-“
“Colin, I’m not in need of wisdom. I know what I’m doing, I know the risks I’m taking, so spare me the advice and do what I’m asking you to do. Please.” You rubbed your temples.
He gave a nod. “Very well.”
“Oh and Colin?” “Yes?”
“Please send the team working on the Ripper to me. And if you could, please send for the coppers.”
“Why?” Colin asked, testing his luck.
“Silas has been taken by the Ripper. And I have letters from him.”
-
The next few weeks were very busy, with police officers interrogating you about Silas and the Ripper to representatives coming from the royal family to stop you from slandering them, which besides being satisfying to your ego, was also good for business as people loved to watch “the rich get torn apart a new one”.
But you didn’t have the time to enjoy that when you had a literal serial killer murdering people left and right with notes attached, always written to you. Well, not exactly to you- he’s kind enough to just praise your paper for getting details right about him, and only rarely adding in corrections about how he murdered someone,
You had asked him to return Silas in one of the articles your paper published, pleading him to send “the love of my life” back.
The psycho slashed a smile on the next victim’s stomach, with the words “GOOD JOKE!” written in blood on the walls.
To deal with all that, you had decided to cross out one item off your list-
Get rid of the portrait.
The moment you returned home from the crime scene and spotted the painting that was glaring down at you, you had it pulled off the wall of the staircase and set out in the gardens.
“Having a bonfire, are we?” Henry spoke from behind you, rubbing his hands as he saw you standing alone in front of the large fire pit you’d started.
Watching the last bit of the paper turn to ash, put your mind at ease. “Care to join?” You asked.
Henry’s lips quirked up. “Oh I’d love to be by your side-“
“I meant the fire. Care to jump in?” You didn’t move your eyes from the fire.
He pouted. “Oh kitten, if you want me to keep you warm, I know far better ways-“
“I’d rather you push me into the fire.” Your monotonous tone makes him chuckle. “I can’t do that. I’d lose the most popular person in Britain then!”
“Popular?” “No need to be humble, love. You’re both the most hated and most loved woman in all of England right now! People just loathe the way you’re tearing down the monarchy and yet they can’t help but adore your fake tears for your missing husband.”
“They’re not fake.” You whisper. “I do miss Silas, and I do want him back.”
“I need him.” To finalise the stupid divorce. “But no matter how hard I try, I can’t find him.”
Henry stared at you, an unsavoury emotion swirling in his eyes though he managed to keep his expression neutral.
“You don’t need Silas. You think you do, but the human body is capable of surviving with way less than the bare minimum.” He looks ahead with you at the dancing flames. “All you have to do is leave this place and go home.”
“It’s not that simple.” Shaking your head, you answer him. “I can’t just up and leave him, not when I know he’s in danger, when he’s being held hostage and I can do something about it.” You finally turn to him, finding him staring at you already. “Which is why I sent for you today.”
He raised a brow. “You want me to find Silas.” He said in an unamused voice.
“Please.”
“I may be fond of you, kitten but don’t you think it’s harsh and frankly, unreasonable to expect your admirer to find a man for you?” He chuckled, roaming his eyes anywhere to conceal his jealousy.
“I’m desperate-” “Clearly.” He scoffed.
You took a deep breath. “If you find Silas, I’ll leave him.”
Henry’s head turned to you. “I’ll leave Silas, I’ll divorce him. I’ll leave London for good.”
He looked at you for a moment before sighing. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”
Your shoulders relaxed. “So you’ll find him? Good, I can go and deal with the monarchs-“
He grabbed your shoulder. “Not so fast, kitten. First, you’re going to attend a party with me.”
“Why?”
“I’d like to have the most popular lady on my arm for a night.” He grinned, making you roll your eyes. “Besides, I think you’d enjoy seeing a few familiar faces there, for your paper, hm?”
-
You were standing inside the Gentleman’s club, waiting for Henry to receive you. It was a grand party, they usually are around here but everything seemed to be grander this time around.
Two weeks ago, when you were given an invitation to the club, Henry had asked you to stop publishing anything regarding the Ripper, as to stop giving him the attention he seemed to thrived on and make him slip up in an attempt to regain his popularity back. So, you ignored the letters you got from the killer, reading them but never responding.
There was a large guest list but no masquerade this time, except for the workers who were responsible for “entertainment”, they wore masks.
You saw many of high society there, including the sleazebag Charles Dickens. He never seemed to issue the opportunity to be present anywhere debauchery is popular.
“You look ravishing, love.” Henry’s husky voice reached you before you felt his arm on your waist. You frowned at his closeness but decided to put up with it for the night, after all you did agree to be “arm candy” for the night.
“Aw, are you afraid someone might see you being so cozy with the most handsome bachelor in London?” His earthy cologne filled your lungs, and you hoped by the end of the night, you don’t end up smelling like him.
“Most handsome bachelor? So you have found Silas?” You feigned innocence but he didn’t seem fazed by the insult, in fact pulling you closer to him. “You’re looking just too gorgeous tonight for me to admonish you, but who knows? Maybe we can arrange some type of punishment to put you in your place later tonight.”
You smile seductively at him, putting a hand on his chest. “Not if I punish you first.” You drag a nail over his chest bluntly, making a mischievous glint appear in his eyes.
“Yeah? What do you have in mind, baby?”
You giggle sweetly, batting your lashes up at him.
“How does getting whacked by a cactus sound?”
“Exciting!” He gave you a huge grin. “Pain is pleasure, kitten. And I’ll make sure you learn to love everything I give you.”
You push him away, rolling your eyes as he chuckled. “Pervert…”
“I jest, milady. Come now, let’s greet our guests.” He takes your hand and pulls you along.
“Our guests?” He nods. “You are my date for the night, so you’re going to be hosting these guests with me. I think you’ll find some very interesting people here.”
“Yeah? Like who?”
He leaned down to whisper in your ear, nodding ahead. “See that man with the beard? That’s Mr Bell. He’s currently working on a device that’ll make it possible to communicate from distance.”
Bell… as in-
“Alexander Graham Bell?!” You harshly whispered.
He quirked a brow. “A fan, are we? Didn’t know you’ve also been following his work.” Only since elementary school science class!
Henry then nodded at another guy in the corner. “See that young fellow in the corner, surrounded by women? Yes, that’s Louis Pasteur. Odd fellow, always going on about invisible germs and what not, but I know a genius when I see one. That’s why I invested in him, even if I don’t fully understand what he’s working on, I know he’ll worth something someday. I wouldn’t get too close to him, he smells like spoiled milk often.”
He then waved at two ladies sitting on a sofa, surrounded by men and women- entertaining them. “Enjoying yourself girls?” They smiled at him with flushed faces, as you turned away in horror.
“That’s Dr Elizabeth Anderson, first female to qualify as a doctor in Britain. The young gal next to her is nurse Florence Nightingale. Sweet girl.” Henry introduced you and never in a million years did you imagine meeting your scientific heroes in a place like this.
“What- what are they doing here?” “What do people do at a party? Enjoy.” “I meant, what are they doing here in this disgusting place-“
“Excuse you, but my club prides itself in maintaining its hygiene better than most hospitals here.” He grabbed a glass of champagne from the waiter passing by. “They’re here because I want them here. Every guest here tonight, I have granted them favours and now, they’re forever indebted to me.”
“Why do you want them here tonight?”
He sipped his drink. “Let’s just say, they’re here to make someone feel comfortable tonight.”
You frowned. “I don’t feel comfortable.” Henry laughed. “Oh, I love you darling, but tonight, we have a more important guest than you. Come now, they should be coming soon and I’d hate for you to miss their entry.”
He took you along with him up the staircase, standing over the railing as you looked down at the main floor, a clear view of everyone.
“Henry.” He was leaning over the railing, his shoulders looking even more broad as he rested his arms against the bannister. “Did you find anything?”
He understood what you were referring to. “I found a lot of things, it’s all in my office, but nothing that tipped off to Silas’s whereabouts.”
“What about the Ripper’s whereabouts?”
“I’m focusing on finding Silas. Not a deranged killer.” “Henry-“ he narrowed his eyes at you. “How are you so sure that he took Silas? For all you know, Silas could be hiding because he cheated on you or something.”
“He sent me the ring.” “So what? He could’ve just-”
“No!” You snapped, making him narrow his eyes at you. “He wouldn’t have just given up the ring for petty revenge or to make my life difficult. He wouldn’t- you don’t know him like I do. The ring is very important to him, he wouldn’t give it up without a fight.”
Henry was ready to say something, probably argue more, but right then, a commotion started on the ballroom floor.
All the guests had started to look towards the entrance, where some men stood. There were hushed whispers of disbelief, people looking around to make sure that someone else was also seeing at what they were.
The chief guest had arrived. And as they appeared from the shadows and into the center, your breath hitched with almost everyone there.
It was Prince Edward VII, Queen Victoria’s son and successor.
What the hell is he doing here?
You turned to ask Henry, only to see him walking down the stairs to greet the prince. Why did Henry invite the prince to the club? What evil plan did he have in mind? Or did he do this for you, so that you’d write about royalty being associated with such perversity?
You turned away from the bannister and looked around for Henry’s office.
After a few minutes of walking in on people making out, you finally found the office. Stepping in, you spotted a file on his desk and as you suspected, it had everything on Silas’s life, including how Daisy ended up in the asylum. Apparently one day, uncle William had called her over to his estate to discuss an important family matter.
She never returned. It’s reported that the following morning, William and Adolphus had her admitted to the asylum because she was “acting odd” and was “delusional”.
The file also details that while it was rare, Silas was able to visit Daisy a few times there whenever he got time off from boarding school. Unfortunately, in less than a year in the asylum, Daisy had taken her own life.
You close the file, setting it back on the desk before moving towards the other side and sitting in Henry’s chair.
Might as well go through his stuff if I’m snooping.
You open the single drawer and it has a small box containing a few cigars and some papers. You close it and are about to make your way outside when you hear footsteps coming towards the room. You look around for shelter before ducking under the mahogany desk, just as the door opens.
“Why haven’t you been responding to my letters?” You heard Benjamin’s voice. “Why did you make the guards turn me away whenever I came here?”
You heard the sound of glass clinking and a drink being poured. “And yet here you are. Take a hint, Benny boy.” You recognised Lady Scarlett’s voice.
“Scarlett” you heard strain in his voice. “I just- I don’t understand. What are Henry’s intentions with Y/n?”
“What do you care?” The annoyance was evident in Scarlet’s voice. “You love her or something?”
There were a few seconds of silence. “She’s a friend.”
Scarlet’s heels clicked as he walked to the corner of the room to pour herself another drink. “She’s been taken care of.” “What do you mean?” “She won’t be meddling with our business again, I had a talk with her. She won’t be coming back here. And if she does… well, I’m afraid your friendship won’t save her.”
“Scarlett-” “Do the job you’ve been given, Benny. Find out who’s been going after Henry’s business. We lost another two guards that were sent to keep an eye on Y/n.”
What?
A few seconds later, you heard them walk out of the office. Sighing in relief, you stand up to leave from your hiding spot but hit your head on the mahogany desk. You groaned, clutching your head as the drawer slides out slightly from your head bump, and that’s when you spot it.
A secret compartment on the side of the drawer!
It had a small lock on it, which was easy to open with a bobby pin. The small wooden door unlocked and without missing a beat, you opened it.
Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was in there.
“No- how…?” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the object, from-
The Time Machine.
My Time Machine!
Thud.
You jumped at the sound. It came from the window. You didn’t move from your spot, either waiting for the source to reveal or perhaps you were too stunned to move.
A few seconds later, it happened again. Only this time, a rock burst through the window, shattering the glass everywhere. You stayed on the ground before creeping towards the windowsill to find the source, and there he was- standing alone in the dark alleyway, his figure illuminated just enough to give him away.
The Ripper.
You couldn’t make out his face due to the dark alley, but it was clear he was looking at you.
Your heart almost leapt out of your throat when he waved at you.
What the fuck?
Locked in a trance, you couldn’t move from the window. You know you should’ve ducked, should’ve moved out of sight but it was like you knew if you looked away, if you so much as blinked he’d-
“Y/N!”
You’re yanked away from the window, face colliding into Benjamin’s chest. “There’s a fire! We need to leave!” You looked back towards the window.
He’s gone.
“Come on!” Ben dragged you out the door by your arm and that’s when you were hit in the face by the intense heat.
The once fancy club was now set aflame. Flames licked their way up the walls, devouring the silken tapestries and velvet curtains. The air was now thick with smoke. People were screaming and trampling all over each other to get out, their masks discarded as their faces were painted with horror. Your heart dropped at the panic of it all.
You’re lucky Ben was there, because while you were frozen up, he took charge and pulled you out of the club, pushing through the doors as people poured out on to the freezing London streets.
Ben was putting his coat around your shoulders when you looked back at the club, the once luxurious facade now consumed by fire as screams echoed against to haunting night.
And then, there was loud explosion on the upper floor, more specifically, from Henry’s office where you stood only moments ago, destroying everything in its vicinity.
He did this. Without a shadow of doubt, you knew he did this.
By the time you returned home, a bouquet of roses was waiting for you on your bed, a note attached with it.
You knew who it was from before you even opened it.
In the same elegant handwriting, it read-
“Do I have your attention now, darling?
I do not appreciate being ignored by you, love.”
(Ignoring being that you haven’t responded to his letters by writing articles about him the past few weeks.)
“I don’t understand why you pretend not to see me, when you know I’m here. The way your body tenses, the way you look over your shoulder when I’m near. You know I’m here. You always have.
I do not take being ignored lightly. I have tolerated your silence, your dismissiveness, your feigned ignorance. But there are limits to my restraint, and you are dangerously close to testing them. I wonder—do you truly believe you can pretend I do not exist forever? That if you avert your gaze, I will simply disappear?
You should know better.
This is not a game. I have seen things, learned things—collected things—that you would not want in the wrong hands. And if I were you, I would think very carefully about whether continued defiance is worth the consequences.
You will acknowledge me. One way or another.
See you soon, sweetheart.
JTR.”
-
It had been only a few days since the club burned down. As expected, it was the front page headline on every major newspaper.
Except for one, very new publishing company, who published this headline that made everyone buy their paper only:
“FUTURE KING OF ENGLAND FOUND AT THE DEVIANTS DEN WHERE THE RIPPER MADE A SURPRISE APPEARANCE!”
Representatives from the monarchy came to the London Post everyday, and later by the estate to demand that you take down the scandalous article.
“No.” You state, fixing your sunglasses. You were getting ready to go somewhere, and as much as fun it was to get payback, it was starting to get boring when these representatives came over everyday.
“But the royal family-”
“Is not my family. Is not Silas’s family because as I recall, no one from the royal family sent a condolence message, much less attend Lady Sarah’s funeral, and when I came to ask you to help find my husband, you refused. So gentlemen, I frankly don’t give a shit.”
“You will regret this.” You stopped at his words, turning around. The man with the thick moustache glared at you. “Those who do not fall in line, fall out. This is your last warning.”
“Yeah? Well, you can shove that warning up your ass.”
You got into your carriage, pondering over his words. Does the monarchy want to kill me?
You scoffed.
They’re gonna have to get in the fucking line.
You stopped by the London Post first, giving them orders to write more articles on prince Edward and the sighting of the notorious killer in the same place. Colin came to your office and handed you a folder, and when you read its contents, you smiled.
“When should we publish it?” Colin asked.
“Not yet.” You close the folder and stand up. “You have made a copy of this, right?” He nodded. “Good. Hide it in a safe place.”
He furrowed his brows. “Hide it? Why?”
“Because I don’t want it to be leaked before time.” You replied, grabbing your coat and leaving before he could ask for more.
Sighing, Colin pulled out his flask and looked around before taking a big gulp.
Your carriage stopped next at the cemetery. Grabbing the flowers, you walked out of the carriage and entered the cemetery. It was midday on a Monday, so there weren’t a lot of people here. Walking past a man who was digging up a grave, you realised you didn’t know where you were supposed to go.
So you asked the man. “Ah. It’s just up the hill, next to the tree.” You thanked him before looking down at the cradle he was preparing. Flashbacks of Qasim’s burial came to mind and your heart wrenched.
Following your gaze, the man shook his head. “Rich folks these days… they’re getting odder. They just don’t know how to spend their money, so off they go buying their burial plots, just in case they suddenly drop dead.”
You laughed lightly before going up the hill to your destination.
“Sarah Fairbrother-FitzGeorge” the tombstone read.
“Hi, Sarah.” You cleared your throat, resting the boquet of flowers next to the stone. “I know I should’ve visited earlier, but um… heh, I was preoccupied with some things. All Silas’s fault.” You joke, before patting the folder Colin gave you. “I think- I think I’ve found a way to find Silas. I don’t know if it’ll work, because well- he is being held captive by a psychopath whose identity remains unknown even in the future, but at the very least, I’d still be pissing off a lot of people and these days, that brings me joy.” You chuckle, before nodding. Offering a small prayer for her, you turn on your heel and leave.
As you walk away, your eyes fall on the burial site the man was preparing earlier, though he was no longer there. Instead, he was walking with another man, who towered over him. They were talking and you saw the taller one hand him a wad of cash.
You got in your carriage and told the driver to take you home.
As the carriage began moving, your mind wandered back to the night at the club. Of course, you haven’t forgotten the most important discovery that night-
The Time Machine.
And even though you weren’t able to see Henry again since because he was busy with police or his business, you already knew your Time Machine was destroyed for sure this time.
Which begs the question- who did this?
You were brought out of your thoughts as the carriage came to a sudden halt and there was a commotion outside. You heard your driver arguing with someone and as you opened the door to see, a man suddenly pushed you back in. You looked at his face that was covered with a bandana, his eyes glaring at you. He jumped into the carriage and you jumped back to the other door, only for another man with similar getup, entered from that side, trapping you in.
And in that split second, you knew if you didn’t fight now, there’s no chance anyone will find you.
You kicked the man in front of you, trying to push him out the door as the carriage began moving. The man behind you grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back, but you twisted your arm and elbowed him in the gut, making him lose his grip on you. But then the man in front of you lunged at you and grabbed a hold of your neck, pulling you up and then smashing your head back on the wooden floor of the carriage, knocking the air out of you.
Your hands began to claw at his when he began squeezing your neck, your eyes bulging out as he increased the pressure. You couldn’t even say a word as he strangled you. Tears formed in your eyes as you looked at the man behind you, silently begging him for mercy.
But he simply tilted his head at you, his eyes crinkling as if he was smiling.
“You shouldn’t have stuck your nose in places it didn’t belong, woman.” He sneered.
You shouldn’t have stuck your nose in places it didn’t belong, woman.
Really, if I had just minded my own business, I wouldn’t be here. If I had never bothered with finding out the infamous killer, if I had never bothered with finding out everyone’s secrets, if I had just never gotten in the damn machine, I would’ve avoided this fate.
Black spots began to cloud your vision and your grip on the hands around your neck began to loosen, ready to accept the fate when the carriage came to a halt, followed by a scream and a thud.
The men seemed startled and the man behind you pulled out a knife, silently waiting for an attack.
But he was taken by a surprise when the other door opened and the man strangling you was ripped off you and out of the carriage.
He leaped out to help him, leaving you inside. Collecting your breath, you got out of the carriage to run, when you saw the decapitated body of your strangler lying outside the door.
“Please! Don’t-!” You looked up just in time to see a tall figure holding the second attacker in a chokehold and then-
He slit his throat.
Your eyes widened as blood spurted out of his neck and he fell to the ground. The dark figure breathed heavily and slowly, he turned his head to look at you.
For a moment, you thought he’d come for you next. But he simply turned around and left.
It was only when his back was facing you that you realised who it was. Tall figure, broad shoulders and the top hat-
Jack the Ripper.
And if that wasn’t enough confirmation, the bouquet of white roses on your bed certainly were, and a note that read-
“Next time, look away.”
Was this an apology? Or a warning?
-
You were sitting inside the white drawing room at Buckingham Palace. No, you were not summoned. And no, they did not throw you out like last time. In fact, they sat you inside for a meeting with the royal directly once you told them that you’d take down everything from before if they met you just once.
You fixed your dress, then adjusted your seat. You’d come here the day after you’d been ambushed and after speaking to the authorities, you came here.
The door opened and you stood up, throat going dry at the thought of meeting her. The Queen.
Instead, a tall man walked inside. A familiar tall man with steely eyes.
Prince Albert.
You courtesy as he made his way towards you, arms behind his back.
“Your majesty.”
“Lady FitzGeorge.” He looked you from top to bottom, sizing you up. He motioned for you sit, taking his seat on the sofa across you. “How may I help you?”
“You’re not who I was expecting but… I suppose you should be the one to deal with this.” You pulled out the brown folder and passed it to him.
“What? Is a prince not good enough for you?” He retorted, amusement in his eyes that died as he opened the file. “What is this?”
“Don’t worry, I haven’t published it yet but I will tomorrow.” You smiled, watching his jaw tick.
“There’s no merit to this.” He flipped through the pages. “No one would ever believe this.”
“And yet you read.” You sigh. “There is merit to this, your majesty. I was there that night at the club and I saw your son.”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “So? That qualifies you to link the royal family to being mentally insane?”
“No, but perhaps your son being in a relationship with a cross dressing, gay man would.” You clasp your hands. “Now, you could argue that just because Prince Edward did something like that, it doesn’t mean that the entire royal family is insane. And that’s when I’ll bring up how completely insane it was for Prince George to marry his mistress, Sarah Fairbrother. And then how his son jumped off a ship and died when his wife was murdered. Not to mention Daisy, Silas’s late sister, who was admitted in a mental institution where she died. And now you’ll say- “that just insinuates that the FitzGeorge line is insane!” Well, that’s when I’ll bring up the all the diseases that run in your family.”
“There are no diseases-”
“Your sons have a tendency to bleed for a prolonged time when they’re hurt.” You watched his eyes widen slightly. “Even small bruises and cuts take too long to heal. Sometimes they don’t.”
They didn’t just call Hemophilia “the Royal Disease” for nothing.
“And as for mental health, well, respectfully, Her Majesty isn’t doing so well, is she?”
He stood up angrily. “Victoria is not sick-!”
“No, but she is pregnant. A lot.” You stand up slowly. “Everyone she gives birth, her majesty becomes someone else, doesn’t she? She doesn’t hold the baby, she despises her heir, she grows gloomy and introverted and by now, any normal man of today’s era would’ve sent his wife to a mental asylum. But not you. No, you love her. And the royal status, of course, which you’d lose if she’s gone. So what do you do? You keep your wife pregnant, so that’s she’s unable to take part in her duties, where you step in, playing the monarch while letting the government excuse your wife and her behaviour for being with child.” It was a shot in the dark, but you always theorised that the queen relied very heavily on her husband because well-
She was constantly suffering from postpartum depression. From one pregnancy to the next. She didn’t have much time to recover from it.
Prince Albert flared his nostrils. “You have some nerve to make bold accusations-“
“Not just accusations. I am willing to go above and beyond for my husband.” You exhale. “In the past few months, since Silas has gone missing, I have given up on being courteous and forgiving. I have asked for help, I have begged for it everywhere, only to be turned down, insulted and threatened. I will no longer be allowed to be mistreated. You and the queen had once claimed Silas as your family, and now that he’s no longer of use, you discard him? If not that he’s blood, could you not care about him as a human? As a citizen of your kingdom?”
Albert remained silent as you talked.
“I had come here before, asking for help.” You shake your head. “I’m not asking anymore. You have until 8 am tomorrow to find Silas, or I’m publishing this article.”
“How-” “You have abundant money and resources, eyes and ears everywhere, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
“You can’t-“ “I assure you, I can and I will. I will burn this kingdom to the ground and watch from the front row. Why should I be the only to suffer, when I can make everyone else hurt as well?” You walk past him.
“And what makes you think I can’t stop you right now?” His voice stopped you.
You turned to look at him, raising a brow.
“And what makes you think that I didn’t come here without an exit strategy?” You sigh, as if tired of explaining everything. “Do you believe that the file is the only copy?”
After you’d left the palace, you were going to return home, but you spotted Benjamin on the street. He was walking in a rush, pushing past the crowd to go somewhere.
You followed him on foot, blending in with the public to remain undetected. Finally, after 20 minutes or so, you saw him stop outside a run-down building. It was on the opposite end of town, near the slums of London.
After a few minutes, Benjamin left the building, slamming the door on his way out. He stormed down the street and you lost sight of him. You focused back on the building. What was in there? What happened to make Benjamin lose his cool?
After a little bit of contemplation, you decided to investigate.
Crossing the street, you made your way to the alley besides the building. You spotted a window but it was a little high up, so you backed up a bit and then used the dumpster to jump up high enough for your hand to grab onto the window ledge.
Pulling yourself up, you peeked inside. It was normal sitting room, though a bit fancier than exterior of the building. You inched your fingers towards the glass and opened it slowly. Hearing no one, you attempted to lift yourself inside, but suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside.
You fell face first on the carpeted floor.
“You just like to get yourself in trouble, don’t you?” Lady Scarlet smiled down at you. She was wearing a wine red silk robe, hair as red and luscious as ever.
Shocked, you stared as she gazed out the window to see if anyone else was there, a drink in her hand as she closed the window shut. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to snoop around?”
You get off the floor and glare at him. “Didn’t your mother teach you to be a man?”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “What are you doing here?”
“Following Benjamin. What are you doing here?”
“I’m sure you know my last home was burned down.” “You call that place home- nevermind.” He rolled his eyes at your insults. He walked out of the parlour and you followed him. “What did Benjamin want from you? Why did he look so mad?”
“What do you care?” He sighed exasperated, entering the study.
“He’s my friend.” You stated firmly as he sprawled himself over the chair across the mahogany desk.
“I’m starting to think he’s more than a friend.” He looked at you through the crystal glass he drank from.
“And if he is? What’s it to you?” You crossed your arms and you watched something flicker across his eyes. Disdain? Resentment? Jealousy?
“Screw him for all I care.” He looked away from you, sipping his drink. “Thanks, not that I was looking for permission.” You sigh, looking around the room. There seemed to be something familiar about this place.
“If you won’t tell me about Benjamin, at least tell me where Henry is?”
“He’s left London.” Scarlet stood up and made his way to the corner table to pour himself another drink. “And before you ask- no, he’s not on the run. He has business to deal with.” He looked at his glass and then at you. “I don’t suppose youd drink this.”
“No, but I’d be leaving soon anyways.” You turn around. “Without this?” You looked over your shoulder as you heard him open a drawer, and your breath hitched at what he’d pulled out.
The Time Machine.
“How did you-“
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you hiding under the desk in the club that night? I spotted the moment you’d entered, hanging off Henry’s arm.”
“I was hiding under-“
“I saw your stubby ankles sticking out from the side of the desk.” He played with the Time Machine, popping it in the air and catching it, your heart dropping for the exact amount of time it was in the air.
What if it broke?!
“I don’t know what this is, but I do know that this is important to you.” He looked at the machine. “When the fire broke out in the club, I returned to the study to grab some of Henry’s important documents and that’s when I grabbed it. I’ve had it for weeks now, and I still don’t know what it is.”
“It’s a clock.” You nod at the numbers written on it. “It shows the date and time simultaneously. I invented it.” The lie slipped though your teeth with ease. “I’m supposed to patent it and sell it, hopefully make a fortune out of it.”
“Impressive. But you don’t need a fortune now, do you?” He was referring to Silas’s money you’d inherited.
“Still. It’s something I created. It’s mine.” You insisted.
He smirked. “Well, then that means it’s invaluable.” You scowled at his tone. “What do you want for it? Money?”
“No, that’d be too easy.” He hummed. “I want you to give me something that would… torment you for a long time.” And then suddenly, his eyes shone bright, as if he got an idea.
“I want a kiss.”
“What?”
“Kiss me.” He walked up to you. “Kiss me, the cross-dresser pervert you hate so much, and you can have your little clock.”
“I don’t have time for jokes.”
“Clearly. I still have your clock.” He waved the machine in front of you, irking you.
Glaring daggers at him, you cross your arms across your chest. “You think I won’t do it because what? I’m a Muslim?”
He smirks. “You’re all bark and no bite, darling.”
You suddenly grab his collar and yank him close. “You want a kiss? Fine.” His eyes widened for a second before turning lustful, landing on your lips.
“Go ahead. Take the lead.” He smiled, looking into your eyes.
Exhaling inaudibly, you keep a firm a grip on his collar as you lean in, to stop him if he tries anything.
Just get it over with.
Time slowed down as you zeroed in on his lips. They were stained from the wine. He had a slight stubble, just beginning to grow. The rest of his skin was smooth, even with the makeup.
Stop stalling. Get it over with.
You gulp and just as you’re about to close the distance, the door suddenly bashes open as 3 masked men barge in.
Scarlett pulls away from you, both of you stepping back as the men begin stalk towards you.
Scarlett squared his shoulders. “Gentlemen, I suggest you walk away right now unless you want to be seriously hurt.”
That sentence alone was all it took for the masked men to lunge. You sidestepped as one jumped towards you while the other two men attacked Scarlett. Grabbing the crystal bottle from the corner, you bashed it against the man’s head, making him stumble. It gave you enough time to run, but as you ran down the hall towards the main door, it opened to reveal 2 more masked men. You twisted on your heel and ran through the door on your right, the parlour. You dashed towards the window and opened it, jumping out of it just as a hand grabbed your wrist, but your sleeve ripped and you slipped, falling down to the ground on your knees, scraping them.
Instead of your knees, you looked at the Time Machine in your hand. Yes, you’d swiped it the moment those men barged in. You didn’t have time to celebrate as you heard footsteps. Getting back on your feet, you ran towards the opposite end of the alley. You turned the corned and noticed the streets were way less busy than usual, which meant you couldn’t lose these attackers in the crowd.
Still, you screamed at the bystanders to help.
“Help! Those men are chasing me!”
Of course, they’d only looked on in shock. Someone even went back inside their house.
You ran towards a carriage at the end of the street, hoping to get in and use your machine to get out of this era, but two more masked men rounded the corner, making you change your step and dash towards the other side of the road and round that corner.
Looking over your shoulder for a second, you spotted four- no, five men hot on your heels. There’s no way you’ll be able to beat them on your own.
I need to get somewhere dark, somehwere isolated to use the damn machine without having one of these men grab onto me and travel with me to another time!
As you ran down the street, you looked over your shoulder one more time, only to crash into someone.
Strong hands grabbed onto you and you don’t think you’d ever been this glad to see a man.
“Y/n-?”
“BEN! THOSE MEN ARE CHASING ME!” You pointed at the masked men, who slowed down, strolling towards you two now.
Benjamin’s face hardened and he pushed you behind him. “There’s a cemetery down the road. Hide there. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”
You breathed heavily and then ran, spotting the cemetery. It was dark and considering how late it was now, you doubted there’d be any visitors.
It’s the perfect spot for you to use the machine.
Running into the cemetery, you immediately recognised it as the one where Sarah was buried. You jogged further in to find a hiding spot, lest any of the attackers manages to slip by Benjamin.
It was dark in the graveyard, only the moon illuminating the place. Just enough for you to find the trail that lead up to Sarah’s grave. On your way up the trail, you spotted the grave from the other day. The one that was dug up in advance but didn’t have a coffin.
It was filled now, mud piled over it messily.
You gulped, walking up to Sarah’s tombstone and resting against the tree, trying to catch your breath. As much you’d like to go help Benjamin, well truthfully, you couldn’t. It was clear the men were sent by Prince Albert to get rid of you, just like the other day.
Pulling out your machine, you began setting in the time.
Time to go home-
“Leaving without a goodbye?” You jumped back, startled. And if you weren’t scared before, the shadow of the tall man in the long coat and the top hat certainly was enough for your soul to leave your body.
The Ripper.
His face, still concealed by the dark night.
“Please- don’t-“ you backed away. He titled his head. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I just came to bid you farewell.”
You were too mortified to express your confusion.
He sighs. “I had hoped you’d stay long enough to play the game with me, especially now that you were so close to winning.” Game? Winning?
He looked away from you and towards the grave, the fresh one.
“But I suppose the reward is just not good enough. Oh well. At least, I don’t have to clean up after this one.”
You followed his gaze to the grave and then looked back at him, then back again at him. The horrifying realisation slapped you in the face.
“SILAS!” You dashed towards the grave, stopping in disbelief but one look at the man on the trail had you falling to your knees as you began digging through the dirt, the machine discarded.
The mud was still wet, which meant that he had been buried today, possibly a few hours ago.
Was he dead? Or was he buried alive? You didn’t know which answer petrified you more.
You were breathing fast, hyperventilating as your hands shoveled the dirt for god knows how long.
This is an unmarked grave. It doesn’t even have a tombstone. No one would’ve found him if you’d left-
Your hands felt something hard and you knew you were close to finding the coffin. Moments later you’d finally been able to shove dirt off to reveal a pale wooden coffin. But no matter how hard you tried, it didn’t budge open, it was like it was nailed shut.
That didn’t stop you from starting to bang your fists in. The wood was off poor quality, not solid wood but you doubt it was going to stop you from breaking it open.
You just needed to see him, needed to see his face.
Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you punched over and over until your knuckles began bleeding, but you didn’t let it deter you. No. You didn’t stop punching until the wood began to splinter and finally a hole formed as the wood gave out.
With a grunt, you ripped the wood from crevice and saw him.
“SILAS!” He was lying there, going in and out of consciousness. He was alive! “Silas! Get up! We need to get out of here- SILAS!”
You attempted to pull him out but that was much harder when he was a dead weight and he slipped out of your grasp and back into the coffin. He was drowsy, probably either drugged or from the lack of oxygen when he was inside the coffin. But you needed him to get a grip.
So you slapped him across the face, making him snap out of it. “SILAS! This is not your fucking grave! GET THE FUCK UP!” Silas only stared at you, in disbelief? In shock? He didn’t say a word, but he was more conscious, though still weak as you helped him up.
You climbed out of the grave and then pulled him up, but as soon as he was out, he was suddenly struck by a metal rod, making him fall. “Silas!” You dove towards him and shoved the man away from him, making him appear into the moonlight and revealing himself to be-
William? Silas’s uncle?
“No!” You shielded Silas with your arms as he struck again, hitting you. “Stop! You’ll kill him!”
“Good! I’ll get rid of you two together and get my damn money at once.” You jumped over Silas to shield him, as his uncle began raining down strike after strike, not stopping as you screamed in pain.
You blacked out and it was Silas who had to witness from the corner of his eyes as a figure came up behind his uncle and grabbed him by the throat. The metal rod fell to the ground with a clang and one second, his uncle was being choked and in the next, his throat was slashed.
The tall figure turned towards you two and slowly made his way to Y/n, looking directly at Silas as he knelt down and picked you up.
“If you don’t sacrifice for what you want,
What you want becomes the sacrifice.” He said, looking down at you as he caressed your cheek.
He looked back at Silas.
“You’ll never see her again.” He said, turning around and leaving.
Silas tried to move, but he couldn’t. Pain and exhaustion overtook him, with only one thought haunting him.
thank you to everyone who follows me and who interacts with my blog for being so kind
since I started up this blog in 2020, everyone who has sent me an ask or commented on my posts has always been incredibly nice and supportive, and I've always felt very encouraged from the responses that I've gotten in regards to my writing. I think I've said this before, but it really surprised me when my fanfics started getting the attention that they did. I started this up as a way to have an outlet for some of the feelings I was having during what was a pretty difficult time for me for a multitude of reasons, and I figured that my stuff would go largely ignored
so to have so many people send me such nice messages in regards to my work - it's really appreciated❤️ I'm really happy that my writing is able to make other people happy, and I'm really happy to have had so many lovely interactions with such nice people❤️
now that I'm getting to the end of this I feel like some of what I've written is stuff I've said before so I'm repeating myself xD but I just wanted to say it again:
thank you❤️
(also damn in October it'll five years since I first started posting my fics and that is WILD to me. where did the time go???)
We are living the ugliest images of humiliation and degradation...
No shoes, no winter clothes, no blankets, no hygiene, no healthcare, no education, no streets, no homes, no food, no flour, no vegetables, no meat, no fruits, no canned goods, no nutrients... no money to buy anything... no life, no death.😔
And here we are, stuck in between.😭😭😭
Thank you for your support. Every bit of your kindness means so much to me 💔
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