Morning came too early, and I immediately suspected a conspiracy.
The hotel curtains betrayed me again, letting in the most judgmental sunlight in existence.
It hit me right in the face like it was personally offended by my continued existence.
"Ugh…"
I groaned, rolling off the couch for the second morning in a row.
"Why does light hate me so much?"
Ravel, of course, was already awake — immaculate as ever, hair perfectly in place, uniform crisp, not a trace of humanity's greatest weakness: bedhead.
"Good morning, Master."
She said, voice calm, neutral, and about as warm as a tax audit.
"Morning."
I croaked.
"So… where's breakfast?"
Her brow twitched.
"I assumed the master of this trip would decide that."
"Exactly why I'm asking you. Delegation, Ravel. It's what great leaders do."
She sighed the sigh of someone re-evaluating her entire life path.
"You truly have no shame."
"On the contrary," I said, stretching. "I have so much shame that I outsourced it."
She gave me a look — the kind that said you're lucky I'm bound by a contract and not impulse.
After breakfast, I declared our noble mission for the day: 'To conquer London, one landmark at a time.'
Ravel blinked.
"You sound like an invading general."
"Same energy. Fewer casualties."
First Spot Buckingham Palace
The crowd outside Buckingham was massive.
Tourists waved selfie sticks like battle flags, cameras clicked nonstop, and a dozen kids were crying in at least five different languages.
Ravel stood beside me, calm and dignified.
I stood there holding a map upside down.
"So… this is where the Queen lives?"
I asked.
"Technically, His Majesty now," she corrected.
"Right, right. The King. Feels weird though — this place just screams grandmother's house with too many rooms."
Ravel exhaled softly.
"Please do not say that aloud."
"Why? You think the guards will hear me?"
Before she could stop me, I took a step closer to one of the stoic red-coated guards, who stood perfectly still with his tall bearskin hat.
"Hey," I whispered conspiratorially.
"Blink twice if you're held hostage."
Ravel's voice cut through the crowd like divine lightning.
"Master."
I froze.
Her tone was gentle — too gentle.
That terrifying calm made my survival instincts kick in.
"…Yes, Ravel?"
"Step. Away."
"...Right. I was just testing international diplomacy."
The guard didn't blink.I respected that level of mental fortitude.
Second Spot St. James's Park
From the palace, we wandered into the park.
Greenery stretched around us, sunlight glimmering on the lake, and ducks paddled lazily like they owned the place.
Ravel's eyes softened slightly as she watched a mother feed bread crumbs to her kids — and then the kids to the ducks.
"It's… peaceful," she murmured.
"Yeah," I said, sitting on a bench.
"Almost peaceful enough to forget my crippling jet lag."
A pigeon landed beside me.
Then another.
"Ah. I've been chosen."
Before Ravel could respond, one flapped right onto my shoulder.
Then my head.
She covered her mouth.
"Master… they seem to like you."
"They sense power," I said solemnly, standing completely still.
"Or maybe crumbs. I can't tell."
One of them cooed threateningly.
"I think it wants my soul."
"Please do not antagonize the birds."
"I'm not! It started this war!"
She took a photo anyway.
"Ravel!"
"For documentation."
Click.
Third Spot Westminster Abbey & Big Ben
The afternoon crowd here was insane — tourists everywhere, buses honking, street performers juggling flaming torches while someone nearby sold keychains for "only ten pounds!"
Big Ben stood tall and golden against the cloudy sky, and for a brief moment, I actually admired it.
"Looks majestic," I said.
"You know, in another world, I could totally make this clock a villain."
"…A villain?"
"Big Ben: Destroyer of Timelines. Every time it chimes, someone dies in another dimension. Cinematic gold."
Ravel rubbed her temples.
"Why must you turn it into a tragic anime plot?"
"It's my gift."
"Your curse."
We walked through the area, me pointing out random architecture like I was an expert.
"That's definitely… Gothic something."
"Indeed," she replied.
"You're pointing at a Starbucks."
"Ah, yes. The true modern cathedral."
Fourth Spot Tower Bridge
Wind whipped across the Thames as we stood on Tower Bridge, gazing out over the city.
Boats drifted below, the skyline glowed faintly in the distance, and for once, things felt calm.
"Pretty, isn't it?"
I said.
"Yes."
Ravel admitted.
"The city has… character."
"You mean chaos."
"Same thing."
I leaned on the railing.
"So, hypothetically—"
"No."
"I didn't even—"
"No, Master."
"You don't even know what I was going to say!"
"You were going to suggest something idiotic involving jumping, climbing, or testing gravity."
"…Fair."
She wasn't wrong.
Then a tourist couple nearby asked if we could take their picture.
I happily agreed.
Except I accidentally took a selfie instead.
Ravel's expression darkened.
"Hand. Me. The phone."
"See, it's a new artistic approach—"
"Hand. It. Over."
"Fine! No vision for innovation here."
Fifth Spot Hyde Park
We grabbed ice cream on the way — because that's the law when traveling.
I got a double scoop tower of strawberry and vanilla.
Ravel got a single modest one, because apparently she's allergic to joy.
Predictably, mine began melting immediately.
"See? Gravity's evil."
I muttered, licking furiously.
Ravel handed me a napkin.
"Or perhaps you lack motor coordination."
"Excuse me. This is precision eating."
A squirrel appeared out of nowhere, bold and hungry.
It stared at my cone.
I stared back.
"Don't you dare," I warned.
It climbed up my leg.
"RAVEL!"
By the time she intervened, I was dancing in circles trying to shake off Britain's most determined rodent.
When it finally retreated — with half my cone — she was laughing.
Actually laughing.
"Well," she said between breaths, "at least the local wildlife appreciates your presence."
"Glad someone does."
Sixth Spot Piccadilly Circus
As evening descended, we found ourselves surrounded by neon.
The air buzzed with street music and chatter, lights flashing in every direction.
"This place feels alive."
Ravel admitted quietly.
"See? Told you London had a pulse."
I said, snapping a picture.
"Now this is the energy of chaos I thrive on."
A group of teenagers nearby was doing a dance challenge.
I stared for three seconds before declaring, "I can do that."
"You cannot."
Ravel said instantly.
Challenge accepted.
Thirty seconds later, I proved her right — by tripping mid-spin and almost colliding with a performer dressed as a robot.
The crowd applauded anyway.
The robot dabbed.
Ravel was done with reality.
"Let's go before you end up on social media."
"Too late," said a tourist holding up their phone.
Seventh Spot Evening by the Thames
We ended the day at a small riverside restaurant, the Thames shimmering under the city lights.
The air was cool, music soft, and for once — peaceful.
"One fish and chips, please," I said confidently.
"Again?" Ravel asked, sipping her tea. "You had that yesterday."
"Alright, there's a luxury item on the menu that I don't quite understand how to read. But that's okay! As items that can't be read are more luxurious in nature."
She sighed, ordering something elegant and complicated that made my dish look like fast food.
The food came, and as we ate, the city outside glowed — golden and alive.
"You know," I said between bites, "for a place famous for rain and misery, it's actually… beautiful up close."
Ravel smiled faintly — rare, but real.
"Even you can be right occasionally, Master."
"I'll take that as an award."
"Don't. It's more of a miracle."
Last Spot Back at the Hotel
By the time we returned, I was half-dead and wholly satisfied.
Ravel immediately began organizing tomorrow's itinerary — museum day, apparently — while I collapsed face-first on the couch.
"Good night, Master," she said softly.
"Good night, Ravel. Don't dream of murdering me."
"No promises."
I smiled into the pillow, hearing the faint hum of London outside the window.
The city had been loud, chaotic, unpredictable — and, somehow, exactly my kind of perfect.
Hehe~ she doesn't notice that I am sleeping in bed with her so naturally.
I will take this as my win finally.