Jack in Whitechapel
"Hey! Kang Seonghun!... What the hell happened to you..." I asked, my voice trembling. Yet somewhere in the back of my mind, one thought refused to fade. Empty eyes. Drool trailing from his lips. Muscles grotesquely swollen. And in his hand, a rope stained with something dark—blood, maybe. That guy... that thing was no longer the friend I knew. And probably never would be again.
Still, I had to ask. But no answer came. Instead, I heard a mocking laugh laced with arrogance and leisure.
"You know what was really funny? When a contractor showed up so boldly, I thought it had to be a trap at first." Ceres giggled as she bit into her lollipop, her gaze shifting between us and Seonghun, whose bloated muscles twitched as if ready to lunge. Then she looked down at us with casual disdain. "But there was no reaction at all. No sign of anyone watching me, nothing. Even though witches can only fight each other during Witch's Time—from midnight to three in the morning—there's nothing stopping us from scouting ahead or choosing favorable battlegrounds."
She pulled the empty candy stick from her mouth and waved it through the air like a conductor's baton, her lips curling in amusement. "So I did some digging. Right from the moment you came looking for me. And wouldn't you know it... I never imagined that washed-up witch, Gretchen, would be hiding around here. Sure, I'd heard she was joining Walpurgis Night, but I figured a loser like her would drop out fast."
"A loser...?"
The word stung, but I couldn't afford to dwell on it now. Ceres flicked the lollipop stick away and declared, "Well then, let the party begin. Doyun oppa? Be a good friend and die for him, won't you?"
At her signal, Seonghun's figure blurred. A thunderous crash followed as a massive shadow closed in on us in an instant.
"!"
I shoved Gretchen aside and barely dodged as the rope in Seonghun's hand lashed out. The tattered cord moved like a living thing, coiling around my wrist with unnatural speed.
"Grraaah!!"
"Ugh!"
My body lifted off the ground. It took only a moment to realize I was being dragged through the air, bound by the rope. The strength behind it far exceeded anything my contract with Gretchen had granted me—pure, monstrous power.
Crash!!!
"Kuh...!"
I was hurled out of the apartment and onto the street. Landing hard on my back without any chance to break the fall, I couldn't even draw a proper breath. My body locked up, and I fought to keep my flickering vision from going dark.
"Doyun-nim!!"
Gretchen's frantic voice reached me, but I had no time to answer. A purple crescent moon hung high in the sky. A dark shadow blotted it out as Seonghun pursued me to finish the job.
Thud!!
I rolled away just in time. The shadow slammed into the exact spot where I'd been lying. If I hadn't moved, my body would have been crushed.
"Hey!... Kang Seonghun! Snap out of it!!"
"Grrraaah..."
I knew it wouldn't work, but I shouted anyway. My words only seemed to provoke him. He charged forward with heavy, thunderous steps. I braced myself, expecting the change in his approach, but—
Whoosh!
"!!"
The same rope lashed out again, wrapping around my body. Seonghun spun like a cowboy in some old western, then slammed me into the ground.
Boom!!
"Kuh...!"
By now, there was no denying it. That rope was the manifestation of the desire Seonghun had inherited. And the fate Gretchen had warned me about—being consumed by that desire and losing one's sense of self—was standing right in front of me in the form of Kang Seonghun.
"Shit...!"
I had to do something. Otherwise, I was dead. As the thought crossed my mind, a memory flashed through my head: a small, razor-sharp dagger gleaming with pure white silver. I tried to summon it, only to realize a problem.
"...How..."
How the hell was I supposed to bring that dagger out?
"Doyun-nim!!"
Gretchen watched as Doyun was thrown out of the building. She drew her staff to stop the contractor from chasing after him. "Construct, the seventh lament that twists trajectories, fangs that rend the void, the thorn that pierces the heart..."
"Too slow. Construct, [Thorned Vines' Binding]."
Ceres skipped the incantation entirely and activated her spell. An experienced witch could omit the chant, though the power was reduced. Not that it mattered to her.
"Kyaa...!"
A mass of magical energy shaped like thorny vines bound Gretchen. Her own spell fizzled out, and the monstrous Seonghun sprinted outside to kill Doyun.
"Your opponent is me, incompetent Gretchen."
"..."
"How did you even survive this long? There's no way a pathetic witch like you should still be in this brutal festival."
"..."
When Gretchen gave no reply, Ceres shrugged with arrogant indifference. "Fine. I don't need to chat with you anyway. I have to clean up this place on Lady Lucifina's orders."
"!"
The moment she heard Lucifina's name, Gretchen's body twitched. Then—snap, crack—the thorny vines binding her shattered and fell to the ground.
Ceres stared in surprise for a second before regaining her composure. "Hmm. So that's how you've survived until now."
"...Construct, [Magic Bullet]."
"!"
Gretchen fired a spell without chanting. Ceres, caught off guard, barely dodged the attack by leaping into the air.
"Y-you bitch...!"
"...I need to end this quickly. A witch from that family would still be too much for Doyun-nim to handle."
"Hah! Acting like you can beat me so easily? How arrogant!!"
Both witches gathered their magic at once and unleashed their spells.
"Construct. The pulse of congealed sap, the remnants of twisted glory, the silent thorns that burrow into hair—[Crown of Thorns]."
"Construct. The stain of scattered sunset, the breath caught on the boundary, the cold afterimage where light was swallowed—[Afterglow of Dusk]."
The two spells collided. A massive wave of thorny vines crashed against a reddish, fog-like radiance.
"Kuh...!!"
It was a one-sided beating. Seonghun toyed with me as easily as an adult twisting a baby's arm. The rope served as both a binding restraint and a whipping weapon. It lashed out without mercy, tearing into my flesh. I barely swallowed the scream that threatened to escape.
I had no idea how many times I'd been thrown around or struck. My clothes were already in tatters, and every breath sent searing pain through my body, as if bones had been broken.
"Haa... haa..."
Still, I forced myself to keep breathing, fighting to stay alive. If my body hadn't been enhanced by the contract, I would have died dozens of times over by now.
"Spit... haa... haa..."
I spat out a thick clot of blood that tasted like iron and raised my head to look ahead. Of all the people... why did it have to be someone I knew? I wanted to complain, but it changed nothing. Seonghun and I weren't close enough to call ourselves blood brothers, but we weren't strangers either. We'd shared drinks and grilled meat together, laughed while badmouthing professors. And now that same guy had become a monster stripped of his ego, trying to tear me apart on a witch's command.
His unfocused eyes no longer recognized me.
'How... how am I supposed to...?'
Was I really going to die here without doing anything?
"...No way I'm dying like this."
I gritted my teeth and forced strength back into my limbs. I wasn't some saint who'd offer my neck to a rampaging friend. I refused to accept such a ridiculous death. Spotting a piece of steel rebar nearby—probably torn loose during Seonghun's rampage—I grabbed it and pointed it at him.
"Kek!"
Seonghun grinned mockingly at the sight and swung his thick rope. It wrapped around the rebar I held. Realizing his intent, I gripped the weapon tightly to keep it from being ripped away.
"Graaah!!"
Seonghun yanked on the rope. For a brief moment we struggled, but I lost. The rebar was torn from my hands, and I was dragged forward into a punch that sent me sprawling to the ground.
"Kuh... ack..."
Strength drained from my body. A cold, deathly chill crept up from the pavement. In my blurring vision, a foreign scene unfolded like a mirage.
It was dark. Heavy, murky fog obscured everything, and the acrid stench of coal smoke burned my lungs. I forced myself upright, trying to shake off the creeping cold, and looked around. The thick, damp mist and flickering gas lamps made it hard to see. I found myself walking aimlessly down a street paved with broad stones, as if drawn by something unseen.
Through the dark, cold alley, I spotted a woman and a man. The woman spoke to him in a soft, seductive voice, placing her hand on his shoulder. Instead of answering, the man raised his hand lightly. Even in the heavy fog, a silver blade gleamed with a chilling light. It looked like a butcher's knife or a surgical scalpel. Without resistance, it sliced the woman open, cutting off her scream as red blood sprayed forth.
"Ah..."
The dense fog. The foreign landscape. The slum alley. The serial killer. All the clues came together, and a single word surfaced in my mind. I finally understood whose desire I had inherited—the most famous, most dramatic legend who was never caught and vanished into the fog without a trace.
"..."
Before I knew it, a silver blade of the same kind rested in my right hand. A cool silver flame flickered along its edge, cutting through the thick fog. Etched along the flat of the blade were the words:
[Jack in Whitechapel]