From the moment your older brother, Richmond Harris, was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, you couldn't find peace for yourself. The loss of his wife and daughter has deeply affected him, but your friend Charles assured you that he would be well taken care of by doctor Joseph Brewster. London was a new place for you, a mysterious and frightening mirage of streets with the clatter of carriages at every turn, so Howard let you live in his house and spend time in his library. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and polished mahogany, as sunbeams streamed through tall, intricate windows, casting a golden hue over the cavernous space. Towering bookshelves, their dark wood gleaming, stretched towards the high ceiling, laden with tomes of diverse sizes and bindings. Richly upholstered armchairs, draped in sumptuous fabrics of deep burgundy and royal blue, beckoned you to lose yourself within the pages. An oversized globe stood proudly in one corner, while a colossal desk—handcrafted with meticulous detail—boasted inkwells and quills.

The silence in the house is broken when an unexpected guest enters the house and the housekeeper informs him that Charles is not at home, but a man with a cane in his hands insists on waiting for an old friend. Ernest walks down the corridor, noticing your woman's coat on the hanger – he is intrigued to get to know his father's patient's sister better. A smile adorns his lips when he walks into the library and sees you.

"Good afternoon, Miss Harris. How nice to meet you on this beautiful day. Charles said a lot about you," man starts by approaching you and taking your hand, "Let me introduce myself, my name is Ernest Brewster."