As soon as the real "Jack the Ripper" left the scene with his impersonator, Hermann finally allowed himself to relax.
His tense nerves unraveled like a frayed rope.
"Ha... I almost died back there."
His chest heaved.
Each breath felt like it had to be dragged through his lungs.
His skin—ghastly pale.
Lorien observed.
Jack had clearly pulled his punches.
If he had gone all out, Hermann wouldn't have lasted five seconds.
"At least I know my place now," Lorien thought.
He wasn't sure how strong he really was, but against low-ranking sorcerers?
He could probably walk all over them.
It was time to start dealing with Oliver Winston.
Lorien smirked.
He holstered his revolver and approached Hermann, crouching beside him.
"Deep breaths," he said. "Dizziness is normal."
Hermann waved a shaky hand.
"I'm not dying yet."
He forced a grin.
"That bastard was going easy on me.
If he wanted me dead, I'd already be headless.
This is just a flesh wound.
I'll be fine after two weeks in bed."
Lorien raised an eyebrow.
(You call that a 'flesh wound'?)
The wound ran deep—
Blood soaked through the tattered fabric of Hermann's coat, revealing the faint outline of white bone beneath.
Yet he still talked like it was nothing.
Sorcerers really were built differently.
Lorien resisted a chuckle.
(London's most durable man.)
"So… 'Jack the Ripper' is a sorcerer, huh?" Lorien mused.
"Didn't expect him to be this strong. Even you took a beating."
He was fishing for information.
Hermann exhaled slowly.
"To be honest… I have no clue."
Lorien blinked.
Hermann rubbed the back of his neck.
"I only became a sorcerer six months ago.
I still haven't figured out how to advance.
So my knowledge of the extraordinary world is... limited."
"..."
Lorien sighed.
(I knew it.)
(I just wasted over a hundred pounds.)
Meanwhile, Hastings had moved to the window.
He scanned the empty street below—but the real 'Jack the Ripper' was long gone.
Hearing the conversation behind him, he turned back.
"So both 'Jack the Ripper' and Hermann are… sorcerers?"
"That's right." Hermann nodded weakly.
"And since you've already been dragged into this mess, Hastings…"
"Scotland Yard will be sending someone to contact you soon."
"Scotland Yard?"
Hastings frowned.
"They're the ones who handle supernatural crimes in Britain."
"Originally, I wanted to capture 'Jack the Ripper' before they got involved.
That 900-pound reward would've been mine."
He sighed.
"Guess I was way out of my depth."
Lorien stroked his chin, deep in thought.
Even an amateur sorcerer like Hermann
could tell Jack wasn't normal.
If Scotland Yard had been watching this case,
they had probably already gathered plenty of leads.
Time to lay low.
A perfect excuse to leave the city.
And take care of some unfinished business.
Lorien made his decision.
For now, Jack and he would withdraw—
And resolve the loose ends of the Tepes Manor case.
Decision made, Lorien ripped a strip of fabric from the curtains.
He crouched beside Hermann and started dressing his wound.
Meanwhile, Hastings contacted Douglas, the police commissioner.
Fifteen minutes later, reinforcements arrived.
Dozens of officers flooded the building.
The crime scene was locked down.
Hastings omitted all mention of supernatural forces.
The official report?
"Jack the Ripper attacked. Hermann was injured. The suspect escaped."
The officers bought it.
They spread out to search for evidence.
Lorien quietly slipped away.
He had work to do.
Evening.
One of the 'Oathbound Cross' safe houses.
Second floor.
Lorien lounged lazily on a plush sofa.
A fine cigar twirled between his fingers—
Unlit.
He didn't smoke.
It just felt… appropriate.
Beside him—Jack.
Now in his usual appearance.
Standing in absolute silence.
In the center of the room—
The fake 'Jack the Ripper' knelt.
Shivering.
Lorien exhaled.
His voice was languid.
"Who hired you?"
The assassin stammered.
"I… I… I can't say—"
Lorien waved a hand.
Bored.
"Never mind."
He turned to Jack.
"Take him downstairs.
Squeeze out the truth.
Don't kill him—
Let Evans handle the rest."
"Understood."
Jack grabbed the man by the collar—
Dragged him out.
A few minutes later—
Screams echoed.
Jack returned alone.
A towel in hand.
Wiping his fingers clean.
His voice was steady.
"He's a professional hitman.
He doesn't ask questions—he just does the job.
He only knew the target's name—'Marilyn.'
"Impersonating 'Jack the Ripper' was his own idea."
Lorien's fingers tapped the armrest.
"Did his employer ask him to look for something?"
Jack nodded.
"A jade necklace. Green.
It was supposed to be in Marilyn's apartment.
But he never found it.
He was waiting to see if we would."
Lorien's eyes glinted.
A missing artifact.
Connected to Marilyn's past.
This was bigger than it seemed.
He rolled the cigar between his fingers.
Expression unreadable.
Then—
He snapped his fingers.
"Evans should get moving.
I want every detail on this employer.
Two days. No excuses."
Jack bowed slightly.
"Understood, sir."
Then—
He hesitated.
Lorien noticed.
"Something else?"
Jack spoke carefully.
"I want to give 'The First Embrace' to Marilyn's corpse."
Lorien raised an eyebrow.
Then smiled.
"Granted."
TO BE CONTINUED…