NOTE: This is a fem reader story
Book I: Young Y/N and her mother are two Irish immigrants who travel to England, where her mother will be working as a caregiver for the Joestars. She befriends a young Jonathan Joestar and grows up with him. Of cou...
I watched from inside the mansion as Jojo left in the carriage.
Whatever you may learn in London about the poison, I'll see to it that you take the truth to your grave.
I needed to get into his study now that he was gone. I needed to get my hands on that damn mask.
When I walked into Jojo's study, I immediately began my search for the mask. I didn't bother to search every space. I know how important this artifact is to Jojo.
I knew it would be hidden inside his desk drawer. The only one with a lock. I took a knife and used it to unlock the drawer.
What do you know. I was right indeed.
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There it was, along with a notebook filled with details Jojo had uncovered over the years.
What a strange looking mask. I've never seen anything like it.
I held the artifact in my hands, feeling its full weight and texture. It was cold, heavy, and a bit coarse.
I always wondered why the creator of this mask incorporated fangs. Bizarre.
I began peering through Jojo's notes in the book. Not only did it contain many written records, but drawn diagrams as well. One image caught my attention though. It was of the the thorns of the mask. The very same ones I recall seeing seven years ago.
It's difficult to explain but it felt absolutely hypnotic starring into it.
Jojo, your death will be the perfect crime.
Seven years ago, this mask reacted to my blood. The spikes hidden within will make short work of Jojo's brain. His injuries will be so unique, there will be nothing at all to tie it back to me.
Jojo, your curiosity will lead to your destruction. ✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆
Y/N's POV
It had been 3 days since Jojo left the mansion. I'd like to say I just started worrying about him, but I'd be lying. I've been worrying about Jojo from the moment he left.
Still, I've been taking care of George and haven't left his side other than to bring him food or bathe.
George was asleep in bed while I was in the middle of reading on one of his comfy chairs. It was long enough for me to lay on.
He had taken his medicine two hours ago. He seemed to be recovering and getting better.
