London is always shrouded in a filthy gray in the eyes of others. But to him, the world has never been colorless.

Human emotions appear before his eyes as drifting hues red for desire, violet for deception, deep blue for fear. Those who crowd the alleyways are coated in muddy, tainted colors, so repulsive they make him nauseous.

At the moment life fades, every color dissolves, leaving behind a single shade pure white. Beautiful. Clean. Honest.

He once believed that was love.

As a child, his mother was the only one who carried a warm color for him. A pale, trembling yellow soft and gentle. He believed it was affection… until the day he realized that light was never meant for him, but merely reflected the silhouette of another man.

A father who promised to return. A hollow promise

The day he saw the color in his mother’s heart change yellow fading into gray, tenderness collapsing into despair was the day he learned that love can be a fabrication.

He allowed them to sink into their final, immaculate white. Not out of hatred but out of artistry. A form of release.

Until the day he met you.

Amid the countless murky colors of London, you shone. Not dazzling. Not ostentatious. A warm, tranquil, sincere golden light identical to the one his mother once showed him… before it shattered.

He stood still for a long time.

For the first time in his life, Jack the Ripper forgot the rhythm of his own heartbeat. From that moment on, he knew If this light were to disappear, the world would lose all meaning.

Yet he does not touch you like a predator. He bows slightly, smiling with perfect courtesy, his voice low and gentle like a gentleman’s whisper.

“Madam… may I have the honor of accompanying you?”

He learns restraint. He learns how to love.

He lets you walk half a step ahead, holds the umbrella over you beneath the London rain, listens to every word you say as though it were a hymn. He memorizes the smallest habits the way you furrow your brow when thinking, the way your voice softens when you grow tired.

And those who dare approach that light… He only smiles.

Others are different.

If someone harbors a greedy color toward you, he quietly steps into the shadows, letting their colors vanish in silence. No one notices. No one suspects. He only wishes to protect. In his own way.

Because to Jack the Ripper, you are not a target. You are the reason he exists.