Chapter 6:
* * *
The drawing room was bright with sunlight. Henry Jekyll Langham gave me a gentle smile.
“I never imagined I’d have the chance to meet Mrs. Carter alone like this.”
Of course, the “Dr. Jekyll” created by Robert Stevenson and the Jekyll before me were entirely different beings.
While the original Dr. Jekyll was a respected chemist, this young man was just a novice businessman barely starting out.
“Lady Soberg did say she would try her best to arrange a meeting, but the rumors that you accept no suitor at all are rather widespread.”
They’re not just rumors—they’re true—but I didn’t feel the need to correct him.
Henry Jekyll blushed with shyness as I examined him with sharp eyes. There wasn’t a trace left of the “Edward” I’d seen just moments ago.
“Mrs. Carter.”
“Yes?”
“If it’s not too forward of me… may I call you Miss Emily?”
I gave a small nod, and he straightened his posture. His face was visibly tense as he fixed his gaze on me.
“Miss Emily… Would you be willing to date me formally, with marriage as the end goal?”
As expected, it was the same routine as the past two encounters.
A man who mentions marriage right after meeting me—clearly a straightforward type. Naturally, I had to show a bit of hesitation.
“Well… that’s quite sudden. I’m a little taken aback.”
Perhaps my acting wasn’t too bad, because Sir Henry quickly waved his hands, flustered.
“O-of course you are! We’ve only met a few times. You hardly know me, Miss Emily, but…”
His cheeks turned bright red as he bowed his head.
“But I feel like I know you rather well. Or more precisely, I know your work.”
Same line as before.
Before the regression, I avoided discussing my writing. This time, I decided to take a slightly different approach.
“You mean you’re a fan of my novels?”
“It’s a little embarrassing, but yes.”
“What did you like about them?”
“Well…”
With an innocent smile, Henry spoke fervently.
“I’m not usually fond of scary stories, but your novels… how should I put it—they don’t just try to scare people…”
As he fiddled with his hands, he said something unexpected.
“There seems to be a dark truth embedded in them.”
“……”
“A fragment of a horrific truth that no one should ever know, perhaps.”
A dark and terrible fragment of truth.
His words struck deeper than I expected, leaving me momentarily speechless. I quickly collected myself and replied politely.
“…I’m honored you think so highly of my work.”
“I’m just speaking from the heart. Besides…”
Sir Henry hesitated briefly, then lifted his head.
The moment I met his deep navy-blue eyes, I thought of a pitch-black ocean at night—like the deep sea or an abyss whose contents were unknowable.
“I’ve experienced a part of that horrific truth myself.”
Once again, Henry Jekyll was trying to confide in me a secret he had never told anyone else.
Feigning surprise, I responded.
“What do you mean by that?”
The handsome young man opened his lips hesitantly, then seemed to steel himself and began to speak with difficulty.
“It’s not publicly known because my family kept it quiet, but… I’ve experienced quite a few ‘abnormal phenomena.’”
“Abnormal phenomena?”
“You know… things like evil spirits or legendary monsters…”
Entities that defied human reason and logic. He said that after encountering them, he would often faint and suffer mysterious bouts of delirium.
Because of that, he was labeled “the cursed child” and shunned by relatives. After losing his parents in a suspicious accident, he became even more ostracized.
“Uncle Graham was the only one who took me in.”
He not only raised Henry like his own child but also went against the family’s wishes and left him the Langham Hotel. Henry gave a bitter smile as he continued.
“During one of the most difficult times a few years ago, I happened to read your book Child in the Dark.”
“……”
“You may not have meant it that way, but that book gave me tremendous comfort. And I thought… if the person who wrote this could understand someone like me—a weak and broken person, someone with such a deep abyss inside…”
He looked up from his large, veined hands.
“Especially if that person was someone as beautiful as you…”
A faint blush spread across his face as he gazed at me quietly.
“I thought… I might be able to love you with all my heart.”
After delivering his carefully prepared confession, Henry bowed his head again. Apparently embarrassed, his ears were bright red.
Well, this is something.
This honest and direct type was the hardest for me to deal with.
…He’s a bit cute, I admit. But that’s beside the point—I had to say what needed to be said.
“Sir Henry, thank you for your kind words, but don’t you think it’s a bit early to talk about love between us?”
My blunt reply made his face turn even redder.
“Y-you’re absolutely right, Miss Emily. I was too hasty…”
“But that approach wasn’t bad.”
“…Excuse me?”
Facing the confused Henry, I said with a slight smile,
“Why not? Let’s date with marriage in mind.”
Henry Jekyll’s jaw dropped open.
This innocent man has no idea.
He didn’t know the real reason I accepted his confession.
My apostle…
The voice of the “King” echoed in my mind a few days ago. He had given me a new command, and its content was clear:
Find the one trying to bring “chaos” into this world…
My current mission target. His name was none other than Edward Hyde.
“Miss Emily…”
Hearing my name, I looked up to see Henry Jekyll’s reddened eyes.
His honest, expressive face looked up at me with such emotion—he reminded me of a large hunting dog, loyally gazing at its master.
A loyal hound…
What difference was there between that and my own current state? I almost let out a twisted laugh at the thought.
But I steeled myself once more, remembering the Yellow King’s command:
Destroy that being with your own hands.
…Even if he clung to my feet begging for love, I would have to twist the neck of this pitiful man eventually.
* * *
It had been about an hour since Henry Jekyll Langham entered the drawing room.
Unlike the previous suitors who had been rejected immediately, at least he hadn’t been kicked out right away—perhaps that was a good sign.
But Lady Marilyn Soberg still felt uneasy.
It was surprising enough that Emily even agreed to meet him.
She still didn’t understand why her iron-willed niece had suddenly changed her mind.
Lady Soberg recalled the conversation they’d had just the day before.
Why are you being so stubborn, Emily?
Her niece, Emily, had the kind of appearance that truly suited the title “the most beautiful widow in London.”
She had inherited her mother’s thick, wavy platinum-blonde hair and sparkling sapphire-blue eyes.
With porcelain-pale skin inherited from her sickly father and a slender frame, she had the kind of delicate beauty that awakened men’s protective instincts—but the moment she opened her mouth, she drove her aunt mad.
You know why. Aren’t you tired of hearing it by now?
Countless men had proposed to Emily, born Emily Wood, now “Mrs. Emily Carter.”
But she had never even glanced at any of them.
This time was no different. She flatly rejected the ten or so suitors Lady Soberg had introduced, without even listening.
Emily, you’re still beautiful.
Where is this random flattery coming from?
Though she looked annoyed, Lady Soberg pressed on.
You do know people call you “the most beautiful widow in London,” right?
Ah, that. It’s a nice compliment, I suppose, but pretty useless, don’t you think? What’s the point of looking pretty if I don’t plan on marrying again—
You! Watch your mouth!
It’s just the two of us, Aunt. Who cares?
Lady Soberg sighed.
Emily had been smart and beautiful since she was a child—but so stubborn that even her aunt’s persistent efforts couldn’t sway her. After a short marriage to an utterly unsuitable man, she had gone on to become a famous horror novelist.
Her eccentric lifestyle might have raised eyebrows, but her stunning looks smoothed everything over.
Still, Lady Soberg knew the truth: beauty only forgives so much, and only for so long.
Why, Emily?
Why what?
Why won’t you remarry? …Don’t tell me you’re still mourning that dead husband of yours.
Damn that Randolph Carter.
Not only had he seduced young Emily at eighteen and married her, but he also had the nerve to die a year later, leaving behind nothing but a criminal’s record and disgrace.
Lady Soberg prayed that the bastard was not resting peacefully in his grave.
Come on, I did love Randolph a lot, but that was ten years ago.
At that, Lady Soberg exploded.
Then why! Why won’t you remarry!
Emily blinked, wide-eyed.
Are you seriously asking that? Isn’t being a widow in the British Empire the best possible situation for a woman?
…What did you say?
You know how it is for women in this country.
Emily shook her head in disgust.
Before marriage, you belong to your father. After marriage, you belong to your husband. …But what about after your husband dies?
Don’t say such things!
There’s a saying: In this British Empire, the only women with real power over their lives are Queen Victoria and widows.
Strictly speaking, that wasn’t entirely wrong.
Lady Marilyn Soberg was herself a wealthy landowner, the widow of the late Lord Soberg, who had owned prime land in southern London.
She enjoyed that freedom herself—how could she argue?
If you have the wealth and means to take care of yourself, what more do you need? …Don’t you feel the same, Aunt?
