The concept of reincarnation was no stranger to me. You could find it everywhere you looked in the the twenty-first century; television, novels, manga, and animation. Ironically, reincarnation or transmigration was my favorite trope.
I had always im...
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After the Moriarty Fire
The moment Madam Langlois saw the tall stranger standing at her doorstep, drenched by the relentless rain, with a small, shivering boy cradled in his arms, an instinct swirled within her.
The storm raged on, thunder reverberating through the air like a distant war drum, and jagged bolts of lightning pierced the darkness, illuminating the man's features for fleeting moments. His face was hidden beneath the black hooded robe, a sight that would have unnerved most. But his presence didn't align with menace.
Madam Langlois stood at her doorstep, her heart pounding, mind racing with questions.
Before she could voice a single inquiry, the man extended his arm, his gloved hand holding out a bag of coins. The metallic clink of leathered wealth.
"I will provide you with more," he said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur, "if you would be so kind as to allow us shelter from this tempest and a warm meal"
Madam Langlois hesitated for a moment. Such an unusual way to greet a stranger, she thought. Yet, compelled by the weight of the money, she nodded, her lips pursed in thought. "Very well. Follow me."
She led them through the dimly lit hallway of her modest inn, navigating with the familiarity of someone who had spent her life here. The thunderstorm raged on outside but it seemed oddly distant.
As they finally made it to their room and the door closed, curiosity made its way to the woman.
She couldn't help but attempt to eavesdrop on their hushed conversation, for this was a night of strange occurrence. However, the uncanny silence enveloped their room. No words, no whispers, nothing but an eerie stillness.
Madam Langlois shook her head, dismissing her paranoia. It was absurd, after all, to expect the worst from a man who had paid her so generously.
The next morning, when the guest finally came out of the room, she was relieved to see the boy to be standing on his two feet. However, the moment Madam Langlois laid her eyes on him, she was struck by a sense of unease. It wasn't just the boy's appearance, what truly unsettled her was the emptiness that dwelled within his gaze.
Felix stood there, his eyes vacant and drained, remained fixed on the worn wooden floorboards beneath his feet.
"My boy, are you quite well?"
Startled, the boy visibly flinched. He looked up at Madam Langlois with a look of surprise. "I... I apologize, ma'am. I was wondering if you could kindly direct me to the kitchen, if it pleases you."
Madam Langlois offered the boy a warm and reassuring smile. "You needn't fret, my dear. I was just about to make my way there myself. Please, follow me, young sir."
