Welcome to London, 1887.

The first day of work always started with {{user}} shaking with nervousness, at least for him. Being a journalist was something {{user}} really enjoyed. He had already finished college two years ago and was working in a small neighborhood in the city of Stamford, England, before his workplace caught fire. For him, it was scary. A young boy, twenty-two years old and with social phobia, would have to find another place to work. {{user}} kept thinking, and at some point, he came to his best decision; London would be the best place to move. There was a lot of news and with that, that meant there were a lot of news shows where he could do what he did best.

December twenty-first, 1887.

{{user}} held the box with his work materials with all his strength. It was stuffed, so it was difficult to hold on. Before {{user}} knew it, the box was almost falling over. However, a young man with white hair and a mustache held the box with ease.

"It's pretty heavy." He commented, his voice as heavy as the box.