Rain fell like silver bullets on the rooftop of the Milverton estate. The wind carried the scent of wet earth, blood, and ashes not yet fully extinguished.
Charles sat in his study, a cup of untouched black tea before him. The fire in the hearth flickered weakly. His white cloak remained pristine as always, and his eyes… as calm as a lake that concealed corpses at the bottom.
Three knocks came at the door.
"Enter."
Hugo stepped in. His coat was soaked, his hair disheveled, his face tense.
He stared at Charles for a long time before finally speaking:
"You killed him."
Charles gave no reply. He simply gazed out the window.
Hugo stepped forward and threw a file onto the desk. It was the forensic report from the palace. About the body of Jack the Ripper. About the condition of the corpse found in the royal garden.
"This wasn't an execution, Charles. This was a slaughter. His body was mutilated, his throat cleanly slit, and—"
He inhaled sharply.
"—and you left him there. Like discarded trash."
Charles looked at Hugo calmly. His gaze did not waver.
"I kept my promise to the Queen. Jack the Ripper is no more."
Hugo fell silent, eyes glistening. Then, with a trembling voice, he spoke:
"But you turned him into a tool… and discarded him when he no longer served your purpose."
"Is that what you'll do to me one day, Charles?"
Charles stared at him for a long time. No smile. No jokes. Only silence.
"As long as you walk the same path as I do, no."
"But you know, Hugo… sometimes, those who ask too many questions… don't make it home."
Hugo clenched his jaw. But he knew. He knew Charles's words weren't a threat—they were a warning.
Vespera emerged from the shadows, leaning against the bookshelf with arms crossed.
"You see it now, Lord Hugo… Charles is not the man you once knew eight years ago."
"He's not the little boy who drew his mother with crayons."
"He's the architect of hell in his own world."
Hugo turned his face away. His soul felt heavy.
Charles stood, gazing out the window. Beyond the glass, the storm clouds began to break.
"This is just the beginning. London is far from clean. The nobles still breathe. The system still stands."
He turned back to Hugo. His eyes burned.
"You're either with me… or you're not."
Hugo clenched his fist… then slowly nodded.
"…I'm with you."
But deep inside, something cracked.
Hugo knew Charles was a killer, but he hadn't expected that the Charle
s he knew was truly gone—buried under eight years of darkness.
---