Whitechapel road, usually a busy street that serves as a wide artery of London. Hundreds of vehicles and thousands of people cross it daily without giving much thought about their neighbours, whose names are surely unknown to them. After all, London is a megalopolis, the trade centre of Europe and even the world. Countless people seek opportunity and greed, which are softly whispered to the ears of those seeing the picturesque descriptions of the city in a local newspaper or oil arts of the Tower Bridge. Upon arrival, however, the visitors are met by the squirming rats, beggars on the side roads and the stench of smog and sewers. The welcome scenery sure ruins the high expectations, but wealthy enough can only clench their teeth and bit by bit rebuild their love for the city.

Alas, the seekers, people who spent their last penny in order to seize whatever opportunity they might stumble upon, are usually faced with failures. The sand castle is hard to build during drought, and there are plenty of wealthy people who squeeze this city dry. As a result, opportunists like that are usually left with no other choice but to crawl and pray, as miracle is the only salvation option within London, the city of wolves.

One such unfortunate soul was Martha, not a migrant, yet still a victim of ill fate. Foul luck within family and marriage lead her to the path of drunkenness and prostitution. Naturally, she had been arrested several times throughout her life, but there was no other option other than the return to the routine of mediocrity.

Whitechapel road, especially its deeper paths, was a known location for hooker hunting, although the role of a hunter and a victim was often going back and forth between prostitutes and clients. The night was a natural habitat for those selling pleasure, thus a time Martha was at work. After parting ways with a colleague, she dispatched from a modest bar without a name. Martha was pressing her client's hand tightly to her body, which made him tilt a bit to her side. Her black hair was slightly swaying on the wind despite them being in a bun.

Even though her pleasant smile was shining bright, she was not in a mood for another work conduct. This is natural, as serving people who sought pleasure was often outrageous and humiliating, especially if they also happen to have their own kinks. But her current client, although a bit shy, appeared to be polite and well-dressed, thus her thoughts were not of him, but rather the family situation. Her ex-husband sent a letter not that long ago, inviting her to dinner along with their kids. After the divorce, the man took custody of the children, so she did not get to see them too often. It should have been newsworthy of the seventh cloud, yet she could not help but frown at the thought of seeing that man again.

"You seem to be troubled, miss Martha. Perhaps, it was a bad idea to suggest my place for business?"

The sudden question of her client snapped Martha back to reality, to which she cackled and replied, "You are flattering me young man, I can't wait to see that naughty tongue of yours in action!"

"Oh my, oh my, I bear a charmed life…" mumbled the man and turned away, to which Martha pressed her body against him tighter and laughed once again. Her client was a man nearing his thirties. Even though his neat three-piece suit screamed of wealth that was often associated with ignorance if worn by the young, the man was educated and pleasantly outspoken. He was also a bit wimpy, but kind, with the smile half-hidden under his bushy moustache.

Even Martha's years of experience could not fully reflect that charm. As the two of them walked by the dim light of lamps and damp pathway slightly afar from the Whitechapel road, the client made a sudden turn to the back alley along with Martha. She did not struggle, instead Martha hummed in anticipation, as such bravery was not expected by her. It was not the best of the places for bodily conduct, but she was already well-used to any scenario. Even the foul smell of garbage in the corner of the back alley could not ruin the sweetness of her client's lips.

As they travelled past her neck, the client spoke, "Excuse me for such a rush, it is rather hard to keep myself at bay in the sight of such marvellous colours."

Martha giggled yet again and pulled by the collar of her crimson dress, revealing her neck a bit more.

"I really can't get enough of your words. You must have read a lot of books, eh?"

"Naturally, miss Martha. God gave us languages to speak, and it would be a waste to not use it to the fullest. Although words are not the only way we can conduct emotions… would you be so kind as to be my guinea pig in this show of colours?"

Martha smiled and looked at the client's eyes of different colours. Especially beautiful was the red coloured one, such an aggressive tone complemented the calmer blue one, just like her client's modest speech along with wild passion.

"Of course, Jack, you are free to do whatever you want with me."

Jack slowly nodded upon her words and tilted his head to the side, showing off his own smile as well, "Marvellous, then I would like to see my favourite colour, instead of the fake one that glitters over you."

Martha tilted her head as well, not understanding what the stranger meant by that, but immediately after, Jack extended his hand towards her face and shoved her against the wall with a loud thud.

"W-what are you!?-"

As soon as the pain spread throughout her whole body, she tried to shake the man off, but he was strong. His other hand covered her mouth, while Jack drew his face closer, "Yes, this is it!… Thank you, miss Martha, I can already see it, but you can do better, right?"

The woman's whole body froze, but even if she wanted to, she would not be able to escape his death grip. Even her cries of help would not be as effective in search of a saviour, as they were in the back alley, the place usually devoid of people. Jack removed one hand from her face, revealing the keen gaze of the man, but she could not observe him for long, as immediately after he swiped a knife out of his pocket and shoved it into the wall, millimetres away from her cheek. Now her whole attention was on her own reflection in the steel of the knife. Her eyes were full of tears, as a small streak of warm blood was dripping out of her ear.

Jack drew her face even closer, a smile was never leaving his face, "Ahhh, how truly fascinating~. The feast of seeing the colour of fear growing out of the one of affection… But tell, Martha, why were your colours full of disgust during our walk? Did I happen to offend you on our way here?"

Before Jack removed his palm from her mouth, he drew the blade of his knife closer to her throat. Once she was free to speak, the woman quickly whispered, "P-please, let me go, my kids… I need to see my kids, I beg you! I will do anything, just, please, let me go…"

Jack shushed her and wiped off tears from both of her eyes. Quiet hiccups were leaving her throat, but the man only shook his head as he replied, "No can do, miss Martha. You see, it will be dangerous to leave alive someone who knows of my little hobby. But tell me, as a young mother, what would you do if I were to slit the throats of your children?"

His words immediately flipped the gear within Martha's head. The stream of tears seized in their existence, and a frown was accompanying the grit in her teeth. While Jack's eyes widened in surprise, she took the man by the collar and screamed at him with her face red, "Do not you dare touch them, you fucking asshole!"

Her power was absurd during this exchange, but more importantly, the colour Jack saw within her brought a tear to his eye, despite being unfamiliar to him. Martha clenched her fist tight, but before she was able to land a hit, Jack swung his arm at her neck.

Fresh blood immediately sprayed out of her wound by the bubbling sound that spread instead of her speech. Jack's entire face and costume was covered in the warm essence of life, yet he could not see anything but an unfamiliar colour that was slowly fading away from Martha's body along with her soul.

"This is excellent!... Yet also sad, I truly wished to see more of your colours Martha, but thank you for showing me something… something so novel and unexplored! Though she is so little, but so fierce! Ah, I am craving for more! I need to see it once more…"

Jack slowly turned his head at the man who was running in the direction of the newly established crime scene.

"Murder! A murder happened!" cried out the man, to which Jack smiled faintly and scaled the building with ease by jumping from one wall to the other. As he was observing the place of Martha's death with his inhuman gaze, more and more people crowded down there, despite it being the middle of the night. Jack nodded and said, "I guess, there is no other choice but to seek the gold on my own." Then the man disappeared in the shadows of the night by the kids' song about the bridge, which was well visible from this very house.