Late nineteenth century England, you had your rich and you had you poor. Among the poor you had those that worked earnestly to make their money the right way, the thieves, and you had those that did dirty jobs. You want someone killed? You want to buy a slave for cheap? You want something, anything, illegal? The black market was your place. As a kid Loretta believed the black market to be an actual place that she could go to make money when she was old enough. When she grew older, she found that it was far more complicated than that. To get your name out there in the black market as someone to hire, you had to know people, you had to do something that was worth getting your name out there, and you had to be good at it.
She was struggling, horribly. Sure she got a few jobs, but only one, two, sometimes three, if she were lucky that is, a month. She barely had the money needed to survive. She didn't come from a poor family, but she didn't come from a rich family either. Her parents were just barely above the poverty line, but so far away from the wealthy line.
Her family was strict; her father was in the Italian army. If he hadn't, they would still be in Italy, but he was stationed in England right before he retired. Since he retired the army refused to pay the money for him to return, and since they did not have the money they decided to stay in England.
Loretta longed to return to Italy, to return to her friends and her church. Her resolution? To get a job, a job that paid in multitudes. Where else better than the black market?
Loretta was sitting on the dirty cobblestoned entry of an old and run down ally way in the poorer side of London, letting the sun hit her dirty face as she calmed herself down from another panic attack. She has an awful habit of getting too worked up when things didn't go as smoothly as she had planned. It had been almost two months since she had last had a job and money was getting tighter with each ticking second, her father's retirement money from the Italian government was running out; not that it was much to work with from the beginning.
A man walked by swiftly, dropping a letter onto her lap as he walked by. When she had lifted her head he had already disappeared into the crowded street full of poor citizens and cheap fruit stands. She tucked the letter into a small self made pocket on the inside of her torn and thin cloak that barely protected her from the weather. She stood up and patted at the dirt on her, not that it did much, before stepping further into the one way ally. Leaning against the wall she opened the letter and read it from the sunshine that shone in from the opening of the ally above.
Loretta Albert, a dear friend of mine that has used you in the past recommended me to you. I need you to find your way into the home of the Earl Phantomhive. I will need you to gather as much information as you can and meet me at this very spot every Sunday night at 24:00. Each piece of information that you bring me will be rewarded reasonably. I am looking for nothing in particular, anything will suffice. I will give you more information during out first meeting.
If you are worrying about how you will be getting into the Phantomhive manor, do not. My dear friend, of whom gave you the recommendation, is close to the Phantomhive boy and will meet you at this spot at exactly 13:00 to help you get into the manor. You shall recognize her when you see her, she is hard to forget. Best of luck my dear.
There was no signature at the bottom of the letter; no name. However, there was a neatly written, and fairly large, 'G' in the bottom corner.
She pulled out her bent and cracked pocket watch, the chain missing, and looked at the time. She had two hours to wait for the mystery woman, and there was nothing needed for her at home. She would eventually get a letter to her parents, but she knew from past experience that her absence won't look suspicious since her parents know of what she does.