Inside a small wooden house, Rose lived with her uncle and aunt within Duke Zeke's district.
Although they weren't nobles, they managed to avoid begging or sleeping in the gutters more than once.
When the district bell clock struck 9 p.m., it was advisable that all stores be locked and no one roam the streets at night because of the new serial killer in town.
So, just like every family within the district, Rose was inside with hers.
Sitting adjacent to her was Nora, her aunt's daughter and, of course, Rose's best and only friend.
"Hmm, judging by how focused you are, you must be thinking about—" Nora hummed for a few seconds, then whispered, "Vampires."
"Again, Nora, you're wrong," Rose replied, still focused on knitting the material she held. "Plus, I don't believe in myths."
"Eh? Myths? Haven't you seen the newsletters?" Nora leaned closer to Rose's ear and whispered after looking around. "The serial killer leaves bite marks on every victim."
Rose sighed, easily dismissing any thoughts about the serial killer.
Her aunt, Mrs. Vance, walked down with a basket of weaving threads. During the winter season, their family business was barely enough to secure two square meals.
With all the taxes being paid to Duke Zeke, affording three square meals wasn't possible, since more than fifty percent of their income went there.
While Rose was an expert at knitting, Nora was talented in designing the sweaters. Although Nora knitted at times, not even Mrs. Vance could do it as perfectly as Rose.
"Mother, Rose doesn't believe the serial killer could be a vampire," Nora said.
"Maybe folding the knitted sweaters would be more helpful than feeding the air with anxiety."
Hearing that from Mrs. Vance, Rose let out a slight chuckle. Soon after, her uncle joined them.
As a licensed hunter within the district, he was allowed to carry guns with him, like the Kingfisher he had brought along.
To him, the serial killer was more likely a dangerous wild animal than a myth. After all, he was a hunter.
"Why does no one ever consider—"
Before Nora could complain further, a loud bang echoed from their front door.
Perplexed, they all looked at one another; clearly, no one had been expecting a visitor.
"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, MR. VANCE!" the person yelled. From the sound of it, there was more than one person outside.
"The tax collectors? Isn't this the middle of the month? What are they doing here?"
Silence followed.
At that moment, Rose and Nora stood behind Mrs. Vance.
"MR. VANCE, DO YOU WANT ME TO FUCKING RIP YOUR DOOR APART?!"
Vance carefully made his way toward the door, but before reaching it, he handed his wife the gun, telling her to aim it at the door in case anything happened.
However, when he opened the door, it truly was the tax collectors.
"Bloody Christ, is that a fucking gun aimed at me?" the collector exclaimed, taken aback.
Everyone inside let out a breath of relief. However, things were about to turn worse. Behind the debt collector stood two extra men.
"Alright, Mr. Vance, monthly tax," he demanded. Because of the cold, he wore a scarf around his neck, which muffled his voice.
On top of that, he shivered, as the rain poured heavily outside.
"Tax? But we paid earlier this month," Mr. Vance replied.
"So did everyone else. We're collecting extra for protection, since there's a fucking vampire on the loose."
The debt collector heard a whisper between the two girls behind Mrs. Vance.
His attention was briefly distracted before he resumed demanding payment.
Mr. Vance looked around, frustrated by the fact that he didn't have a penny and struggling to make the collector understand.
"Ooh shit, seize the one with the long black hair," the collector said.
At the command, the two men behind him shoved Mrs. Vance aside. Despite the screaming, they managed to grab hold of Rose.
"This tax was unexpected. Please, I'll pay your money—just let go of my daughter," Mr. Vance pleaded.
"ROSE!!" Nora screamed, her voice pushing beyond human limits.
Rose, on the other hand, struggled against their grip, but she couldn't break free. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn't scream, as her mouth had been covered.
She was forcefully dragged outside.
Mr. Vance did not stop at mere pleas. He grabbed the Kingfisher and rushed outside.
First, he fired into the sky—bam—then aimed it at the collector. "Let her go," he demanded.
Mrs. Vance and Nora ran out into the rain as well.
Disregarding the gun in Mr. Vance's hands, the collector smiled and turned around. "Believe me, if Duke Zeke fancied men, I'd have run my cock inside you myself," he said. "But he fancies the heads of those who disregard his command."
Duke Zeke was a feared man, not just within his district, but beyond it as well.
Mr. Vance knew that if he intervened any further, Rose wouldn't be the only one dragged away. So he lowered the gun and watched as they took his daughter.
---
The Duke of the Blackwood District, popularly known as Zeke, and infamously called the Pregnant Man.
He stood outside his mansion, expecting a well-esteemed guest.
Silas was that guest. His dark attire contrasted with the warm smile he carried, and his dark hair partially covered one eye.
He sat in the carriage, observing the surroundings. Though it was raining and dark, he could see everything as clearly as daylight.
"The Blackwood District seems awfully quiet," he said, calm and collected.
"Yes, Master Silas. Reports of a serial killer, last I heard," his coachman replied.
Silas smiled. His coachman was always well-informed. When could he have possibly heard about the situation in the Blackwood District?
"I suppose that would keep everyone at bay."
Soon after, the carriage came to a stop. Outside, Silas saw Zeke standing at the gate beneath an umbrella.
His coachman stepped down and opened the door with another umbrella. As Silas descended, he noticed the debt collector and Rose being dragged forward by two men.
"Ah, you're here. Please, let us go inside," Zeke said, extending his hands toward Silas.
But the young man's attention was fixed on Rose.
When the collector reached Duke Zeke, he paid his respects to both lords. Before they could enter with the girl, Silas spoke.
"Who is she?"
Before answering, the collector glanced at his master, waiting for Zeke's approval.
"One of the hunter's daughters. He refused to pay the tax he owed," the collector explained.
"Alright, get the pig inside," Zeke said.
"Wait." Silas stepped forward. "Can I see her?"
"Pay respect to Duke Silas." As he spoke, the collector shoved Rose down onto her knees, even though the ground was flooded with mud.
When Rose fell, mud splashed onto Silas's clothes. "Little bitch!" the collector snapped, alarmed that he might be blamed—
—or worse, executed—so he sought to cover it by punishing Rose.
However, before his hand could land, Silas crouched down. Anyone with sense would know to stop.
"I'm sorry," Rose muffled, still crying from earlier.
Silas blinked when her tears touched his palm as he gently lifted her chin. He wore the same warm smile as before.
"It's alright Child. I can always get a new dress, but you can't if you ruin your face with tears," he said. "What's your name?" he asked softly.
It took her longer than he expected, but she managed to answer. After hearing her name, Silas stood.
"The child is under my protection now. She no longer belongs to you." With that, he looked to the man at his side and added, "Zeke."