Thick smoke hung over London's East End like a great black cloak.
The ruins of the Kangdi Factory still smoldered, flames licking at broken steel beams with a menacing hiss. The moans of the injured mingled with the sirens of fire engines, a painful assault on the eardrums.
A figure in white moved swiftly against the chaotic tide of people, striding into the wreckage.
Lyra Hainault carried a heavy medical kit, the hem of her white dress stained with mud, yet her posture remained erect. She knelt beside a female worker whose thigh was slashed by glass, her fingers tearing open a bandage with practiced speed. "Apply pressure to the wound. Don't move."
The worker trembled in pain. "Miss, this place could collapse any moment…"
"You first," Lyra's voice was as cool as ice, her gaze unwavering as she cleaned the wound with an alcohol swab. "Is there clean cloth over there? Use it to stop the bleeding."
Her movements were too practiced for a student.
"Step aside."
The low voice, dripping with unquestionable authority, cut through the din. Lyra looked up to see a man surrounded by a group of black-suited figures. He wore an expensive black overcoat, a silver pin—the emblem of the House of Kangdi—fastened at his lapel. His features were sharp, his eyes as cold as a Siberian winter wind, scanning the ruins with absolute detachment.
It was William Camis.
His gaze fell upon Lyra, pausing for half a second.
Kalis emerged from the shadows, reporting in a low voice. "Sir, the boiler section is completely destroyed. Nitroglycerin detonation, professional work. Thirty-seven casualties, five missing."
William's fingers stroked the cuff of his sleeve. "Seal all exits. No one leaves. Find out who did this."
"Sir!" Lyra stood, blocking his path. "The priority right now is getting the injured to hospitals, not locking down the scene. Any more delays, and people will die from blood loss."
The suited men immediately stepped forward, hands moving to the holsters at their hips.
William raised a hand, stopping them. He stared into Lyra's eyes. They held no fear, only resolute anger. "Do you know who you are speaking to?"
"I only know that life is more important than anything else," Lyra's voice offered no quarter. "Does the master of the Kangdi Empire lack such basic common sense?"
William's eyes deepened. He had seen countless people grovel before him, but this was the first time anyone had dared speak to him like this. And it was a medical student in a white coat.
Suddenly, the ground shook violently. An aftershock.
"Look out!"
A broken steel reinforcement bar fell from above, plummeting directly towards a severely injured man lying behind Lyra. Without a second thought, she threw herself forward, shoving the victim out of the way. The steel bar crashed onto the spot where she had just been kneeling, sending up a shower of sparks.
William's heart clenched. He almost instinctively stepped forward, his hand reaching out, only to stop mid-air.
Kalis reacted faster, flicking a folding knife that deflected a piece of shrapnel with precision.
Lyra scrambled to her feet, not bothering to dust herself off, and immediately checked on the injured man. "Broken ribs. Keep pressure on his chest, don't let him move." Her white clothes were now smeared with blood and grime, yet she still shone like a light, cutting through the gloom of the ruins.
William watched her busy figure, a fissure appearing in the ice of his gaze. He had never seen a woman like this—brave, composed, unafraid of his authority.
"Sir," Kalis said quietly, "That's Lyra Hainault from St. Thomas's Medical School. The student who refused noble patronage."
William's eyebrow arched slightly.
After tending to the last of the wounded, Lyra turned to leave. Her medical kit was mostly empty now, her face smudged with soot, but her eyes were still bright. Passing William, she stopped. "Mr. Kangdi, if your empire cannot even protect its own workers, then all its wealth is meaningless."
With that, she hoisted her empty kit and strode briskly towards the waiting ambulances.
William watched her back disappear into the smoke, his fingers unconsciously clenching.
"Sir," Kalis asked, "Should we have her followed?"
William shook his head, his gaze returning to the ruins. "Donate five hundred thousand pounds to St. Thomas's Medical School. Designated for emergency medical equipment. And find out Ignatius's whereabouts—I will make him pay."
The dying light of the sunset fell upon the ruins, stretching William's shadow long across the ground. In his eyes, besides the icy intent to kill, was a flicker of something more complex, something he himself did not yet recognize.
The angel in white amidst the ruins had already left her mark upon him.
And this was only the beginning.