The Test of a True Apprentice
Belle couldn't sleep.
Not after the surgery.
Not after the blood.
Not after watching Jack do the impossible again and again as if it were no different than breathing.
And certainly not after hearing him say:
"Welcome to the doctor's world."
Those words burned in her chest.
So the next evening, long after the hospital lanterns dimmed, she cornered Jack in the hallway between wards—his coat half-buttoned, hair still damp from washing up after another procedure.
"Jack," she said, blocking his path.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Belle. Move."
"No."
He blinked.
"Fine." His tone sharpened.
"What do you want?"
Belle took a breath.
"I want you to train me. Properly. Not hints. Not scraps."
Her voice shook but she didn't back down.
"I want everything you know about surgery."
Jack stared at her, unreadable.
Then he snorted.
"You can't handle everything I know."
Belle clenched her fists.
"Then give me what I can handle."
Jack's eyes narrowed—not in irritation, but in calculation.
Belle felt a cold shiver.
This… this was the moment.
The moment he decided whether she would remain a curious noble girl—
—or become something far more dangerous.
Jack's Judgment
"Belle Fox," Jack said slowly, "you want to learn what no one in this century even imagines. You want to wield knowledge that could save thousands… or doom them."
Belle didn't flinch.
"Yes."
Jack kept walking toward her until she was pressed against the wall—his shadow falling over her.
"You want to know how I move like that?"
"How I can see inside people?"
"How I can repair arteries and reattach limbs when every surgeon in the Empire believes it's impossible?"
"How I can cut faster than Sneed, operate cleaner than your father, cheat death again and again?"
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"Knowledge like that requires more than curiosity."
Belle swallowed.
"I'm willing."
Jack tilted his head.
"So prove it."
She frowned. "How?"
Jack stepped back, giving her space.
"You say you want training? Then you'll take the first test."
Belle tried to keep her voice steady.
"What test?"
Jack's smile was slow.
Sharp.
Cruel.
And it terrified her.
"The test," he said, "is simple."
The Task That Changes Everything
Jack walked to the storage closet, unlocked it, and tossed her a small canvas bag.
It was surprisingly heavy.
Belle peered inside—and nearly dropped it.
Inside were bones.
Human bones.
A full arm—cleaned, dried, every joint separated.
Belle looked up, horrified.
"You want me to—"
"Yes," Jack said.
"I want you to rebuild it."
Belle blinked.
"What?!"
"You heard me."
Jack crossed his arms.
"You claim you're ready for my teaching? Then start with anatomy. Real anatomy. Not the romanticized drawings in your noblewoman textbooks."
"But… but this—this is…"
"A dead man's arm," Jack said casually.
"A convict who stabbed a guard and died of infection. No family to claim the body. No one to miss him. Standard medical donation."
Belle's stomach churned.
Jack's voice hardened.
"If you want to be a surgeon, you need to learn the body like a sculptor knows marble. You need to be able to reassemble every bone in the human arm blindfolded."
He pointed at the bag.
"You have until sunrise."
Belle's breath caught.
"That soon?!"
Jack shrugged.
"You said you wanted to learn. This is lesson one. Don't disappoint me."
Belle's Resolve
Belle stared at the bag.
At the bones.
At her trembling hands.
At Jack.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Well?"
Belle inhaled deeply.
Then—
She tightened her grip on the bag.
"I'll do it."
Jack nodded once.
Then turned toward the stairwell.
"You'll work in the storage room. Lanterns are there. Water basin too. And Belle…"
She froze at the sound of her name.
His voice was softer now.
Sharper too.
"If you fail… you will never enter my clinic again."
Belle felt fire light in her veins.
"I won't fail."
Jack didn't look back—but she saw the faintest smirk touch his lips.
"Good," he said.
"Then maybe you're worth the trouble."
Bone and Shadow
Belle Fox had never felt a room so quiet.
The storage chamber beneath Jack's clinic was lit by three lanterns—each placed carefully so shadows wouldn't distort the bones laid out before her.
Twenty-seven bones.
When Jack left her alone, the door echoing shut behind him, Belle released a long, shaky breath.
"This is insane," she whispered to herself.
But she sat anyway.
Spread the bones on the table.
Rolled up her sleeves.
And began.
The Night Test Begins
At first she tried to recall anatomy lectures—her father's slow droning voice, the dusty diagrams, the crude sketches.
But none of them matched the cold facts in front of her.
She picked up the first bone—a humerus, thick and slightly curved.
"Upper arm…" she murmured.
Then the radius.
Then the ulna.
She compared them.
Her fingers moved slower.
More careful.
More confident.
She made mistakes.
Many.
But she corrected them one by one.
Hours passed.
Her lanterns began to dim.
Belle's eyes burned and her hands cramped—but she kept going.
Because this wasn't just a test.
This was proof.
Proof that she could stand beside Jack Dawkins in the operating room—not as a noblewoman, not as charity, but as a surgeon in training.
Jack Watches in Silence
Unbeknownst to Belle, Jack wasn't asleep.
He stood in the darkened hallway outside the storage room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
He listened to her muttering.
Heard her correcting herself.
Noticed she didn't cry.
Didn't quit.
Didn't run.
"She's stubborn," he whispered to himself.
Then a small, amused smile touched his lips.
"Good."
Every now and then he peeked through the crack of the door—not close enough to help, just enough to see whether she broke.
She didn't.
Belle Fox fought the bones like she fought society:
with defiance, with determination, with fire.
Dawn Approaches
By the time the first hints of sunrise warmed the cracks in the stone walls, Belle slumped over the table—but smiling.
The arm was complete.
Correct.
Fully assembled.
Held together with cloth, twine, and her own stubborn will.
Jack entered quietly.
Belle lifted her head.
Her hair was a mess.
Her eyes were bloodshot.
Her hands shook with exhaustion.
"Finished," she whispered.
Jack stepped closer.
His gaze scanned the reconstruction.
Humerus aligned.
Radius and ulna correct.
Carpals, metacarpals, phalanges—perfect.
He nodded.
"…Good."
Belle exhaled in relief.
Then Jack added, tone measured:
"You passed."
She almost cried.
Almost.
Crisis Breaks the Moment
BANG BANG BANG.
Someone slammed on the clinic's back door.
Belle flinched.
Jack immediately tensed.
Only a handful of people knew the clinic existed.
Jack opened the door, prepared for anything.
Fagin, Hetty, and the stump-maker all barged in, faces pale.
"Jack—" Fagin wheezed.
"We 'ave a problem."
Jack's eyes narrowed.
"What problem?"
Hetty stepped forward, breath trembling.
"It's the opium records. The ones tying the captain to the smuggling route."
Jack's blood ran cold.
"What about them?"
"They've been moved," Hetty said.
"Tonight. Right after the patrol saw someone in the captain's office."
"Moved?" Jack repeated slowly.
Fagin nodded grimly.
"Aye. Hidden somewhere else. And the redcoats are looking fer whoever broke in. They're searching the port as we speak."
Jack's jaw tightened.
This wasn't just a setback.
It was a trap.
Belle pushed herself upright despite her exhaustion.
"What does this mean?" she asked.
Jack looked at her—eyes sharp, voice deadly calm.
"It means," he said, "we have one night to steal the evidence again."
He turned toward her fully.
"And you're coming with us."
Belle blinked.
"Why me?"
Jack didn't hesitate.
"Because you passed your test."
And the chapter closed with Belle staring at him—
Realizing she had stepped, fully and completely, into the world of shadow, surgery, and secrets.