AN: Things start to get darker from here, including themes of pain and torture – you have been advised!


As a child, Ryou loved myths and fables.

His father had been a publisher and had an intense love of literature and books. And although Ryou enjoyed reading, it was the legends and stories of the impossible that gripped his imagination. While Amane asked to hear the story of Handel and Gretel again, Ryou was devouring the harrowing journey of Odysseus back to Ithaca yet again.

He supposed that he enjoyed the escapism aspect of reading, imagining himself as Perseus facing the Minotaur or fancying himself as Herakles, strength unmatched. But there was something about these Greek myths that spoke depth about the human condition. While these stories were intended to explain how and why the world worked around them, Ryou read his own meaning into them, intended or not.

And of all the legends that he read, his favorite was the story of Orpheus. The tale of a beautiful, young woman, in the prime of her youth, suddenly stolen away by death. Hades emerging from the underworld, stealing her away from the land of the living. So motivated by his grief and despair, her lover Orpheus makes a desperate plight to save her. And how despite all his valiant attempts, he fails and loses her for eternity.

When Ryou lost his entire family, he found himself drawn to the legend. He thought of his little sister, so young and bright and lively, wasting away as a corpse from the same disease that should have killed him. Instead, the god of the dead stole her and his parents always, leaving him to grieve their lost.

Death always felt like a close shadow to Ryou, always present yet always out of reach. And much like Orpheus, nothing he could do would bring them back. They had been lost forever to the void, and Ryou was sharply aware of his loneliness.

Not many people take interest in myths. Outside of historians seeking to preserve this knowledge, those stories were often swept away as children's fables. So when a mysterious serial killer started to sweep the streets of Whitechapel, leaving cryptic messages in dead languages, Ryou felt an old spark. He felt that burning intrigue of discovering a new myth unfolding.

That was why Ryou enjoyed his work as a detective. He liked to solve mysteries and piece together these enigmatic narratives around him.

But more than that, Jack the Ripper offered him a challenge. A challenge to defeat death at his own game. Unlike Orpheus, Ryou could save his Eurydice from Hades himself. He felt compelled to rewrite this narrative and rescue those he once could not save from this hidden enemy. Jack the Ripper truly felt like a god of death himself, cloaked in darkness and stealing from the living.

Ryou thought he could triumph over death.

But Hades was not a dark figure. He was incandescent, bold, unapologetic. His hair like a golden mane, framing his manic expression. Though death hid in shadows, it's god shone as radiant as the sun.

Ryou wasn't living the tale of Orpheus but rather of Icarus. Jack the Ripper was like the searing light of the sun, and Ryou had flown too close. His wings had fallen apart and now he descended into hell itself.


Ryou didn't remember when he had fallen unconscious. He remembered being blinded and hoisted back up, being led through a maze of tunnels. As he blinked open his eyes, lips dried and throat parched, he knew that he was no longer in the sewer by scent alone.

Where he was, he had no idea.

He looked around, brows furrowed at the plain room. He noticed the metal frame of a broken bed, chains hanging off its legs as well as a few off the wall. Everything was an off-white color, though Ryou didn't want to examine the dark stains on the floor. Whether it was blood or some other bodily fluid, he didn't want to find out.

Ryou forced himself to sit up, noticing the chain tightened around his ankle. He yanked at the metal, noticing how it only extended a few feet away from the wall. He knew he had no chance of breaking the chain, the cold metal chilling him even through the stockings.

Ryou frowned, mind trying to process his surroundings. The first thing he needed to figure out was how to escape, and it wouldn't help if he had no idea where he was. There was one small window in the room. Ryou contemplated using it to affirm his location, but the window was fogged and crossed with iron bars that served to remind him of his imprisonment. He wouldn't even be able to slip through the bars to escape if he wanted to.

Ryou sighed, glaring straight as he leaned back against the wall. He knew his captor would be back soon. And with no grates or windows he could escape through, his only means of escape would be the locked door in front of him. So he needed to get this chain off of him, unlock the door, and slip away unseen.

These were tasks easier said than done.

Ryou had to assume that the police would not find him. If he wanted to live, he needed to use every resource at his disposal to get out. Of course, being chained to the wall limited him to what he had around him in this small area. It didn't give him much to work with, regrettably.

Ryou glanced down, noticing that he still wore the dress from before. Though not fond of the material, perhaps he had more in hand than he initially thought.

Ryou didn't have time to act when he heard the metal clink of the lock. He flinched as the weighted door screeched open. A sudden light flooded the room, his guest slamming the door shut, lantern held high. The smirk he gave him was all teeth, a sense of delight emitting from the killer.

"Did you sleep well, detective?"

Ryou knew it was pointless, but he struggled against the chain bolting him to the wall. He didn't want to be seen as submissive or weak. As he drew closer, Ryou scowled, his disgust made plain across his face. "Namu."

"In the flesh." He towered over Ryou, setting the lantern down so he could observe his prey.

Ryou snorted, eyes watching Namu carefully. They exchanged glares like two wary cats about to launch into a scuffle. "Any reason why I'm still alive? Can't kill a coworker?"

Namu cackled, a deliriously manic noise. It was as if the mask of annoyance and bored indifference had finally fallen off now that Ryou knew the truth. No longer did Namu have to keep up appearances as the exhausted coroner, but he took pleasure in the power he held over the man trying to catch him. They had played a hunter's game, only now Ryou became the hunted.

"Don't flatter yourself. The police have gotten themselves in a tizzy over your disappearance. Kaiba will want any and all information I can provide on the victims. I need to scope out what they know in case I need to throw them off scent. Once I'm certain I'm not a suspect, I can kill you off with no consequences."

Ryou felt his stomach give an uneasy lurch. A mere delay of his death was a huge boon but he felt a desperation consume him, realizing he lived on borrowed time.

Ryou lowered his head, his short white hair framing his face. He chuckled to himself. "Can I even trust that you did your job right? What would have kept you from falsifying the autopsy reports?"

Namu gasped mockingly. "Detective Ryou! I'm hurt you would think so poorly of me. Why would I deprive you the opportunity to learn the full extent of my craftsmanship?"

Namu grinned, a gleam in his eye. "As for the dead languages, well, I knew you had a fanciful mind and were desperate. I thought I'd have some fun watching you puzzle over those. Anything that led you to snatch at any other possible suspects would lead you away from me."

Ryou snorted, glancing away. He had been so desperate to create some narrative, to make complete this mystery, that he was trying to make sense of myths and legends. He had thought the killer was leaving him secret letters, a shared sense of wit and drama that drew them closer. Dare he say, Ryou almost felt some sort of kinship with this madman, believing him to be far more intelligent and clever than the average man.

How the mighty had fallen from their pedestal. Ryou had placed too much hope in epic history. Reality was far more grounded.

Ryou narrowed his eyes, anger boiling within him. "So you've been mocking me from the shadows, watching me struggle to find you. Did you enjoy the show? Was it all worth it?"

He glanced up, noticing the hungry grin on Namu's face. Namu pulled out a knife and twirled it lazily in his hand. "Well, you know what they say. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." His grin widened. "And you already know that I don't have any friends."

Namu knelt down, his eyes bright and glowing in the harsh light. The lantern cast gruesome shadows across the room, making everything seem more harsh and cruel in Ryou's mind. Ryou pressed against the wall, trying to maintain some space between him and his captor. He forced himself to breathe steadily, unflinchingly glaring back at his captor.

Namu chuckled. "You seem dissatisfied. Were you hoping this would end differently?"

Ryou narrowed his eyes. The question was rhetorical, though his thoughts still flew. The investigative part of him wanted to deconstruct the myth evolving in his life. He needed to understand the motives of a demon to make sense of this horror story.

"No, I was just thinking why? What devils have driven you to this end?" Ryou asked quietly.

Namu didn't answer, raising an eyebrow at his prey. Ryou tilted his head, studying the man before him.

"You were hurt as a child. Your father... he was relentless. Abuse… It's shaped you into who are now. It's why you lash out now. But why?"

Ryou kept talking, the pieces floating just out of reach. "Is this all some sort of means of taking back control? And the prostitutes? Perhaps he abused a whore he rented... You would have been impressionable as a child… Abuse victims often avoid situations where they are powerless… Is this just a play for pow-"

Namu's chuckle interrupted his thoughts. Ryou jerked his head up, surprised by the noise. Namu shook his head.

"You still don't get it. How disappointing."

Ryou frowned, still confused. Before he could ask, Namu hiked up the skirt. A moment later, Namu's knife flashed, plunging downward into the exposed leg. Ryou watch as the blade sunk into his thigh, seeing it disappear into flesh before the pain registered.

Pain was a strange sensation. Ryou had often felt numb to life around him. His own exhaustion, hunger and pain always seemed distant until it consumed him, demanding his attention.

So it took a moment for his mind to recognize the searing sting in his leg. He gasped, his mind buzzing at the piercing sensation. Namu twisted the knife slightly, the blade tearing the flesh but remaining level. Ryou gritted his teeth, the pain magnifying and growing but he couldn't show it. He squinted his eyes shut, trying to ignore how his body trembled.

Ryou swallowed, opening his eyes to look at the knife in his leg. He half-expected Namu to shove the knife the rest of the way in, but his hand remained steady. Shaking his head, Ryou glanced up, noticing the tight smile and narrowed eyes watching him. A display of control and intentionality. Namu wanted it to hurt but not kill him.

And damn it was working.

Namu drew close, the heat radiating off his body. Ryou flinched as he felt lips brush against the shell of his ear, the gesture far too intimate for comfort;

"Tell me, detective. Did I just stab you because of my abusive father?"

Ryou's eyes fluttered open, staring hazily at the gray floor beneath him. He struggled to catch his breath, suddenly feeling as if he couldn't get enough air. Namu turned his knife away, not moving deeper but dragging it along the skin to create a shallow ravine, Ryou jerking as the pain continued to spread like scars splintering down a tree by lightning.

"Or is it perhaps my mother was a whore and that's why I kill prostitutes?" Namu's voice was light and curious, almost teasing. He let out a loud cackle, laughing at his own joke. "Or maybe I fancy myself some dark god over the weak, eh? A coping mechanism to regain control in my life?"

Ryou panted, finding it difficult to consider all of his theories as pain consumed his mind. He was aware of Namu making light of all of his hypotheses. Months of research, of trying to deduce motives and understand why the killer acted as he did added up to nothing.

He left clues to mock the detective at his work, not as an actual reflection of his true character.

"So is this some sort of game?" Ryou spat out, the only thing that made sense in his muddled deduction.

Ryou glanced up, his face only inches away the killer. Namu gave him a manic grin.

"I killed those people because I could."

Ryou felt the mystery unravel around him. The all enigmatic air surrounding Jack the Ripper finally disappeared as he finally saw his true character. It was not how he imagined it all unfold, with himself chained and at the mercy of his captor. He had tried to find the source of all the suffering. The mystery of what drove a man to commit such atrocities. The questions on what hardships and trials the madman suffered to justify his actions. These very ideas drove Ryou to the truth.

In the end, there was no justice. Only madness.

Ryou lowered his head, a noise bubbling in his chest. Before he could stop himself, he started to laugh, free and unchecked. There was something almost liberating in the act, urging Ryou to laugh even harder to the dark ceiling.

Namu leaned back, scowling at his victim. "Why are you laughing?"

Ryou shook his head, a smile growing on his face. "This whole time, I thought all the clues left behind were indication of some genius, revealing something deeper into your mind."

Ryou snorted, finally meeting the suspicious lavender eyes. "But it turns out that there's no greater meaning. You hurt people and that's it. No tormented genius, no tortured artist, nothing."

Ryou smirked, shaking his head pityingly. "I hate to admit it, but you're ordinary and banal. How disappointing."

Ryou could see how his words angered Namu, the veins bulging in his neck. Ryou felt no fear, a strange sense of detachment as he inadvertently upset a deranged killer. He didn't even flinch when he felt a hand grip his throat, thumb pressing just hard enough that it hurt to breathe.

Ryou locked eyes with Namu, studying his face. He noticed how his nose was knobby, as if it had been broken and mended. A thin slice at the corner of his eyebrow prevented the fine, golden hairs growing back neatly. The more Ryou watched him, the less impervious he seemed. Each mark that marred his face made him seem less like a god carved in marble, but rather a man crafted in clay, cracking and crumbling under the weight of his own humanity.

This entire hunt for Jack the Ripper had been like chasing after a god. He was elusive, careful, and so cruel that it seemed unearthly. Ryou wanted to catch this deity and bring him down to earth. When he felt all hope stolen away from him, he truly felt mortal. He was at the mercy of a vengeful god.

But in that moment, Ryou realized that Jack the Ripper was no god. He was painfully human - flawed and dull.

And that was both a comfort and a fear.

Ryou wasn't dealing with some omnipotent god, untouchable and vexing. The air of mystery surrounding this infamous serial killer seemed to dissipate. And now he saw him for what he was, not how he wanted to be viewed. Gods couldn't be made to stand against human justice. Namu could not escape his earthly fate.

But Ryou was all too familiar with how cruel and malicious humans were. He only needed to reflect on his life experiences and what he had witnessed thus far into the case. It was cruel to take a life, but the precise method that Namu used in torturing his victims before finally letting them die was worse than what any cruel god could inflict in Ryou's life. Namu was one of the damned, turning his back to the gods.

What Namu was capable of was truly disturbing and gave reason for fear.

Namu's hand tightened around his neck, cutting off his air. Ryou gasped, panic clenching his chest. He raised both hands, trying to pry away his grip and find his breath. His eyes searched desperately the face before him, knowing even then he would find no mercy.

At the last second, Namu let go, leaving Ryou to collapse in. He gasped grateful breaths, the blood rushing in his head as he fought to see straight. He was only just regaining awareness when he felt the knife pulled from his leg, causing a new fresh sting of pain. He cried out, still dizzy as he gripped his leg.

Namu narrowed his eyes, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a needle and thread. Some stupid voice in Ryou's head praised the killer's change of heart, but Ryou knew better than to expect kindness. Left untended, Ryou could bleed out before Namu returned. And lord forbid Ryou deprive his captor the opportunity of choking out his life.

The stitches were jagged and uneven, a quick fix to keep Ryou from bleeding out. Namu snorted, a smile flicking across his face. "I don't want you to die so quickly. That would just ruin my day, after all. The benefits of being a doctor is knowing how resilient the human body is and where to draw the line."

Ryou bit his lip, his stomach squeezing at the thought. He didn't want to give Namu the chance to display his medical knowledge. The careful tightrope between pain and death terrified Ryou, his heart clenching. Namu wasn't merciful – he was indulgent.

Namu stood up, his voice a low rumble. "Next time I won't be so kind. I intend to enjoy skinning you alive. I'll make you suffer and relish every second of it."

Ryou stared at his feet, not looking up. He knew that Namu would likely dissect him as he did his other victims. He didn't want to think of the unimaginable pain. He watched Namu leave, the killer humming lightly to himself.

As soon as the door closed, Ryou leaned his head back against the cool stone. Fear served no purpose, despite how it tried to claim his heart. He was aware he likely would die in a few hours, his corpse to be discovered days later.

But Ryou didn't want to die yet.

Without a second thought, Ryou reached down, shaking off the heavy skirt. He grabbed the off-white garments, tearing it to shreds to bind his wound. Namu stitched the wound, but Ryou needed to give himself every advantage he could get. He wrapped the cloth around the stitches, red seeping through the cloth, though the bleeding seemed to slow. Though not personally comfortable with women's clothes, Ryou realized the various assets on his side that might prolong his life.

Ryou smirked, reaching into his hair. As expected, he found a few bobby pins still in there. He looked down at the dress, pulling away the pins that helped hide the lack of curves in his masculine body. Ryou knew he didn't have Malik's skills, but their conversation about lockpicks still hung in his mind. Malik had let himself into his flat enough times that Ryou was curious about it.

He would teach himself now, like Malik taught himself how to escape as a child. His life depended on it and Ryou worked well under pressure.