December 3rd, 1872.
I was too frightened to write in my journal yesterday.
The cold winter rain kept drizzling down all day, leaving me chilled to the bone. The streets were empty, and a few opportunistic public carriage drivers tried to take advantage of it.
Nothing good has happened since my stepmother summoned me a while ago, but yesterday was truly the worst.
Every time I close my eyes, I see that man’s murderous gaze. The sound of his footsteps drawing nearer, matching my pace. The gleam of those brutal whites of his eyes reflecting the dim gaslight. That grimy, raised club etched into my memory.
I know these thoughts are irrational, but my mind keeps circling back to the same questions.
Why did he try to kill me? Did I do something wrong? Could it have been a personal grudge?
But in a city this size, it’s not easy to get entangled with someone that deeply—especially for someone like me who only goes to the same familiar places.
A few days ago, Melia and I came up with a theory connecting a series of seemingly isolated murders. We believe it’s the work of a single serial killer.
And right after I narrowly escaped that terrifying situation, a kind night nurse was killed by that monster.
I feel terrible for the victim, truly, but I can’t help feeling relieved it wasn’t me—and that thought brings with it a sense of guilt.
The fear still lingers, but Officer Wyatt has been looking out for me, which is a small comfort. He even arranged for security. That’s such a thoughtful gesture…
Melia’s fancy chocolate chip cookies and warm milk tea from the other day also brought me great comfort. She’s such a dependable friend.
Still, last night, I agonized over whether to leave the curtains open or closed, too scared to even turn the lights on.
That insufferable sergeant was standing guard outside my home, keeping watch—and thanks to that, I managed to sleep.
He doesn’t seem like a bad person, but his way of speaking is so unpleasant. Now I understand why Officer Wyatt gave such a stern warning. It took me less than three minutes to see it. He has quite the personality.
Dominic Montrose.
I’ll be sure to remember that noble family name he hates so much.
From watching my father over the years, I’ve always believed that ex-military men are trouble.
Thankfully, I won’t have to see him again starting tomorrow.
And yet… I can’t shake this unease.
My tarot readings have been eerily accurate lately…
Please… I hope I never cross paths with that unlucky, ex-military sergeant ever again.
1. Kailey Delaware
“I knew that bastard was cheating on me!”
The plump hand of a well-dressed lady crumpled one of the tarot cards in a huff.
It was the Ace of Wands—depicting a hand emerging from a cloud, tightly gripping a thick wooden rod.
The small, dimly lit room was flushed with heat from the outburst, its orange glow bouncing off the dark, draped walls.
The flushed woman slammed the modest table covered in black cloth.
“Who is he seeing, ma’am? It’s got to be that perfumed shop girl, right? I knew it the moment I saw her!”
Kailey, her face hidden under a dark hood pulled down to her nose, sighed quietly and stepped away toward the back console.
She was utterly exhausted. After being summoned back to her family home for a forced dinner, she felt as though the food was still sitting heavy in her stomach.
“Whatever schemes you’re up to, remember this: the Delaware title belongs to Colin.”
Kailey shook her head, trying to clear the harsh voice from her memory. She picked up a business card from the console and quickly handed it to the fuming noblewoman.
This client—who had been referred by the influential Countess Hummel—was far too much. Kailey just wanted to go home, drink hot milk tea, and eat some sweet cookies in peace.
“Please calm down, Lady Viscountess. Tarot reveals possibilities, not facts. There’s no evidence—yet.”
The plain white business card had bold letters printed on it:
Melia Boyne, Private Investigator
Specialized in missing persons, lost items, and evidence collection.
“She’s excellent at gathering proof,” Kailey added.
The Viscountess, who had been ranting since lunchtime and had barely let up into the late evening, snatched the card like it was her salvation.
“You truly live up to the rumors, madam! And I trust this detective already.”
She pulled out a hefty coin pouch and placed it on the table.
“Here’s your fee. I’ll be back soon!”
With a jingle, she stormed out of the shop, seemingly headed straight for Melia.
The shop fell silent.
“Finally. Time to close.”
Kailey flipped the “Closed” sign on the door and pulled off her heavy hood.
She let out a bitter smile and opened the coin pouch. Indeed, noblewomen spared no expense. This alone would cover her monthly expenses.
Still, the unease wouldn’t go away.
She had entered university—rare for a woman—and graduated with honors to become independent of her family. But female doctors were still met with skepticism.
By the time Kailey graduated, there were at least five other women in her class, so things were slowly changing. But it still felt too early.
Perhaps it was because she specialized in psychiatry, but even when patients visited, they often felt ashamed to be there. And afterward, they’d beg,
“Please—no one can know I came here. If word gets out, I’m finished…”
That was why she invented the persona of a tarot reader.
It had been the perfect plan. Business boomed when she began offering psychological counseling through tarot.
To Kailey, tarot wasn’t fortune-telling—it was more akin to the art of therapy.
But because her tarot parlor opened late in the afternoon and closed well past midnight, her actual psychiatric clinic could only open late and close early.
Not that there were many patients. But still, it felt like she had her priorities all wrong.
Still, as someone who had broken free of her family and was trying to survive in the capital, she had little choice.
It had even taken months of pleading with the building’s manager to convert an old storage room on the first floor into a usable space.
When she felt this overwhelmed, she told herself she was still staying true to the vow she made upon graduation—to help others, even if they were technically just “tarot clients.”
“Alright, food first!”
She cheerfully declared, stuffing the coin pouch into her pocket.
It was all that blasted dinner’s fault. She wasn’t usually this sentimental. Normally, she was more simple-minded—and optimistic.
Longing for home since morning, Kailey quickly gathered the scattered tarot cards from the table.
She paused, frowning at the crumpled Ace of Wands, making a mental note to replace it.
Just then, the stack slipped from her hand.
“Ah!”
She flailed in panic, just managing to prevent the cards from spilling everywhere. A few fluttered to the floor.
Only one landed face-up.
The Hanged Man.
It symbolized hardship and death… or the hidden strength to overcome adversity.
The card had landed sideways—so it wasn’t clear whether it was upright or reversed.
Kailey instinctively began to interpret it, then laughed softly to herself and gathered the rest.
Tarot was a tool for counseling, not prophecy. That was her belief.
Stepping outside, a cold, damp night air wrapped around her.
The chilly sensation made Kailey instinctively shiver and quicken her pace.
The rain, which had started in the late afternoon, hadn’t let up. The streets were deserted. No—not just quiet. Completely empty.
After walking for a while, Kailey pulled out her pocket watch in alarm. It was a little past 10 PM.
The Viscountess’s rant must’ve taken longer than she’d realized.
She felt like she’d stumbled into a different world—like she was the only person left in the city.
That eerie sensation pushed her into a faster walk, and she soon arrived at the public carriage stop.
Only two carriages were there.
Relieved by the sound of voices, she approached one that seemed about to depart.
The driver, seeing her approach, shrugged and pointed to the top of the carriage.
“No room, miss! Can’t take any more passengers.”
Even the roof was packed.
Kailey nodded gloomily, and the carriage quickly rolled away down a dark alley.
Sighing, she turned to the more rundown carriage in the back. Its driver had clearly been watching everything.
He grinned.
“Evening, miss! Where you headed?”
“Western 7th Street.”
“Let’s see… then that’ll be 1 shilling!”
“What? That’s double the usual fare. It’s normally just 10 guineas!”
“Then feel free to walk,” the driver said with a sly smile, clearly planning to rip her off.
“Fine, I will,” Kailey snapped and spun on her heel.
The driver, stunned, called after her.
“Wait—seriously?! Alright, 15 guineas! No—13!”
But Kailey wasn’t about to be swindled. She knew how hard she’d worked for that money.
She walked away with determination, thinking only of hot, sweet milk tea waiting at home. And those fancy cookies Melia had bought for her.
She picked up her pace. The carriage would have taken 10 minutes—on foot, maybe 30. If she hurried, perhaps just 20.
But the moment she stepped off the main street and into an alley, her confidence wavered.
A dog barked in the distance. Water from the city’s old pipes trickled beneath the streets. The rain continued to patter down on the cobblestones.
And then there were the footsteps.
Squish. Squish.
They were getting louder.
Kailey stopped walking, hoping the fear would subside.
The footsteps stopped a few steps behind her.
A chill shot down her spine.
She began to walk again—so did the footsteps.
She tried the test twice more. Each time, the footsteps followed… and got closer.
Her mind flashed with headlines from recent murders.
[Daily Persborough: Another Murder! Workhouse Nurse Killed in Nearby Alley…]
There’d been no official announcement yet, but Kailey had begun to suspect a serial killer.
That thought sparked something in her.
She wasn’t going to die like this.
“Run,” she thought.
And just then…
She heard breathing—right behind her.
