Lila hadn't listened to anything else about the Toltramon and impending doom after hearing she couldn't go to see Undertaker. For hours she had sat, numbly, in a conference room with the other summoned Shinigami as they droned on about their plans and ideas on how to lure the Doom Bell back into its eternal sleep. She didn't say a thing, rather just sat there quietly, occasionally looking around to make it appear as if she was actually listening.

Hours later, when she left the Shinigami Dispatch for the streets of London, the sky was dark, and she was still occupied with her own mind and her own problems. She didn't even notice she was hoping across the roofs of London homes, but thankfully she was moving so fast that before anyone who saw her could comprehend what they had seen, she was already gone.

It wasn't until a roof tile slipped out from beneath Lila's polished dress shoe, and clattered to the alley below, was she finally brought out of her thoughts. A curious rat digging through the trash tilted his head up at her curiously, and Lila finally stopped to see where he wandering feet had taken her.

She was standing on the roof of one of the seedy businesses in the backstreets of London, one of the ones hidden by the rich, expensive exterior of prosperous London businesses. It was a vaguely familiar place, just a slight pull off nostalgia, but looking around, she didn't see anything she even vaguely remembered. All the old land marks from decades ago were gone. She jumped off the roof, and landed with a gentle crunch of rocks and broken glass beneath polished shoes. Lila couldn't deny this little pull she was feeling, a slight familiarity, but she quickly knew why. It was allies like this she had once wandered, a confused and trapped spirit, before she was found by Undertaker, and invited into his home. Suddenly, rage and defiance swelled in her chest.

Why can't I see him? How will they ever know? It is my right! I am no longer a mere child, nor am I a teenage girl hopelessly infatuated with a man who could not care less about her! He must still be in this town, or else those other stiffs on the Council wouldn't have bothered to forbid me from going to find him…

At the time, and to her memory, Undertaker had been only an apprentice, so surely by now he had grown into, and taken the name of, his profession as his mentor had, this she was sure of. How many morgues could there possibly be in this city for her to check? She knew he was still alive, because she had seen his statue in the Dispatch of his younger days as a world famous Reaper, and if he was dead, again, forbidding her from going to see him wouldn't have been necessary.

Unknown to Lila, she was on the wrong side of town. His shop was on the other side, so she began to wander through the allies, moving at about half Shinigami speed so she could keep a sharp eye on the buildings she was passing. She wandered for many, many hours, only stopping occasionally but never for more than a minute. Polished shoes made a monotonous and familiar crunch as she walked over glass and debris in the allies, but she wasn't paying attention any longer. It was like walking in a daze, and all the buildings seemed to blur into one another. She didn't even notice when the heavens opened up and began pouring down rain, large, cold drops that soaked her to the bone and caused her suit to stick to her skin. She was quickly growing disheartened, and a bit dizzy. Unlike demons, Shinigami still had some basic human needs to attend to, like food and rest, and she hadn't gotten either of them since the day before she arrived at the London Branch of the Dispatch. She was rapidly approaching the thirty-six hour mark without either necessity and it was wearing on her. Lila was growing tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and the cold rain was sapping what reserves were not being exhausted by her walk. By the time the rays of the sun penetrated into the back allies, she had stopped to catch her "breath". She longed to open a portal with what remained of her strength, and go back to the Dispatch. Surely they would put her up with room and food if she asked? But she couldn't, her guards were too far down, and she didn't even know that hot, frustrated tears had begun mixing with cold rain drops on her face.

She finally stopped, falling to one knee, panting, though not for breath. It was an expression of her inner turmoil, but only now that she had stopped, did she feel something...familiar. A sort of primal feeling that told her to wipe the water from her eyes, and take one last look around. Lacking the strength to do otherwise, she surrendered, and stood while wiping her eyes as well as she could. She turned in a slow circle, and that when she saw it.

It was like an angel, though falling apart and a bit decrepit, holding a beacon reading UNDERTAKER. If she had breath, the sight would have taken it away.

A shiver, though of cold or excitement she couldn't say, ran down her spine, and her heels were spurred suddenly into motion. She approached the door quickly, but when her fingertips touched the cold doorknob, all of her motivation suddenly drained away. She had changed so much, and it had been so long...would he remember her? Would he still love her, even though she was no longer the soft and sweet noblewomen of the past? She dropped her hand and backed away as if the angel had suddenly become a demon, turned tail, and ran. Surely, he would never love her as he once had.

Little did she know, that just on the other side of the door that separated them, Undertaker had seen her approach through the water-distorted windows, and at the same time her fingertips touched the handle outside, long, black fingernails had touched it on the inside. He caught sight of himself in a mirror, and lost his nerve as well. He was no longer the young, unmarked, clean-cut gentleman from all those years ago. His withdrew his hand suddenly, as if the doorknob had hurt him, and he too backed away. Surely, she would never love him as she once had.