Title: The Vampire King of Britannia

East London—or simply the East End—was a place of shadows and secrets.

The district sat close to the docks, a gateway for drifters, smugglers, and the nameless hordes that fed the city's underbelly.

It was a cradle of vice and chaos, a breeding ground for secret cults and outlaw gangs.

More riots and gruesome crimes had erupted here than anywhere else in the city.

Parliament had debated for years on reforming the East End, civilizing it, cleaning up the filth—

Yet every resolution had died before the ink could dry.

The crime syndicates here ran deeper than the Thames, their ties interwoven with the same shadowy faiths that whispered the names of forgotten gods.

Contraband, blood money, black-market weapons, and silent killings—all woven into the fabric of London's grand metropolis.

And in these lawless alleys, a gang's word often carried more weight than a police badge.

After all—

The police might throw you in jail.

A gang member would carve out your insides.

Hevering – A Nameless Café

A pair of unusual men stepped into the establishment, the door's bell jingling above their heads.

Lorien and Jack Arnold, now disguised, silently surveyed the room before choosing a corner booth.

Lorien wore a deerstalker hat, its sharp cut framing his refined features, while his black wool coat and silk scarf exuded an air of cold detachment.

If only he had a pipe and cane, he might have pulled off the Sherlock Holmes aesthetic he was going for.

Jack, however, was back to his original appearance.

With his ashen skin and eerily golden eyes, he looked every bit the part of a bodyguard and servant trailing half a step behind his master.

It was dinnertime, and the café was half-full, the air thick with the scent of roasting meat and stale ale.

Patrons glanced up at the two newcomers, their curiosity flickering like the dim candlelight.

"Sir," Jack asked under his breath, "Why are we here?"

"Work, obviously."

Jack's brow furrowed. "Work?"

As Lorien slid into his chair, he beckoned a passing server, tilting his head slightly toward Jack.

"We're here to harvest a few worthless souls."

"And, if luck is on our side, see if anyone is willing to sell theirs to the Devil."

Jack blinked in silence.

A young waiter arrived, pen poised over a notepad.

"What can I get you, gentlemen?"

Lorien glanced at the menu—

Simple working-class fare.

"Hmm… Let's do a potato stew, two servings of fried fish, bacon strips, and pea soup. Also, two pints of ale… Oh, and one more thing—"

Though branded as a "café," these establishments functioned more like diners, serving as cheap eateries for dock workers and laborers—

And sometimes, as rendezvous points for local gangs.

The waiter nodded briskly, scribbling the order before retreating to the counter.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Lorien leaned forward, lowering his voice.

"Do you think Winston will suspect anything?"

Jack's fingers tightened around the wooden tabletop.

"It's possible," he admitted. "But probably not immediately."

Though Ivins' corpse had been discarded in the process of his transformation, Jack still occupied his original body.

Lorien had been careful, ensuring that Jack's transformation took place after the detective himself had left the scene—

So if Winston suspected foul play, it would likely point elsewhere first.

"That being said…" Jack hesitated, "Oliver Winston is not an ordinary man. If anyone could sense what truly happened… it's him."

Lorien sighed, drumming his fingers against the wood.

"Yeah, I figured."

In short—

Trouble was coming.

The only question was how soon.

And whether they'd be strong enough when it arrived.

If necessary, they could always flee the city with their newfound riches.

Lorien mentally reviewed his 200-pound payout and considered his next move—

But then another thought struck him.

"Tell me, Jack—do you have any inheritance left at Winston Manor?"

Jack coughed into his hand.

"Sir, why—why would you ask that?!"

"Curiosity."

Jack frowned but answered anyway.

"I had some savings stored at the Serapeum Private Bank and a small stash in my quarters at the estate. The butler, Rudolph Hill, is likely to forward my remaining belongings to my uncle and aunt in Dover."

Lorien hummed.

"You seem to have a high opinion of Hill."

Jack hesitated.

"I… did. He was well-liked among the servants."

But then—his gaze darkened.

"Then again, so was Oliver Winston."

Indeed, if Ivins' memories hadn't revealed the truth, no one would have suspected what kind of monster Winston truly was.

Much like Lorien himself—

A detective in the public eye.

A vampire in the shadows.

A devil when it suited him.

Jack glanced sideways at his master, his thoughts unreadable.

"People are never what they seem."

Lorien only smirked, neither confirming nor denying the sentiment.

Ten minutes later, the food arrived.

Golden-brown fried fish. Steaming stew. Crisp bacon.

Lorien cut into a piece, chewing thoughtfully.

"Not bad."

Jack, meanwhile, sat unmoving.

After a moment, his hesitation faded, and he silently picked up his utensils, eating with a methodical, measured pace.

There was an art to watching and learning.

It had served him well in life.

And now, it would serve him even better in death.

When the meal was finished, Lorien signaled the waiter again.

The young man approached with a practiced smile.

"Everything alright, sir?"

"Fine," Lorien replied. "The bill?"

The waiter nodded, tallying the total.

"Eight pence."

Lorien stood, withdrawing a silver coin from his pocket.

He flicked it toward the waiter, the face of the Queen gleaming in the dim light.

"Keep the change."

The waiter blinked, startled.

Then—his surprise melted into a delighted grin.

"Your generosity is appreciated, sir."

Lorien's smile sharpened.

*"Tell me—" he slid another shilling onto the table, tapping it lightly—

"Would you like to earn a bit more?"

The waiter's brows lifted, his curiosity piqued.

"What do you have in mind?"

Lorien leaned in.

His amber eyes glowed faintly in the low light, a devil's grin stretching his lips.

"I need information."