Hello, It's Mrs. Hyde

Prologue Scn.3- The Land of Untold Stories (Pt. II - A New Arrangement)

Jessica (Narration):
"You can't crawl out of grief all at once. It clings to you — bone-deep, teeth in your soul. But sometimes, something strange happens.
Someone leaves a door cracked open. And against all reason, your broken self drags forward...
just enough to peek inside."

The hot spring water clung to her skin like silk — warm, enveloping, laced with lavender and ancient mineral salts. Jessica hadn't felt so clean, so unburdened physically, in... years, maybe. Time had folded in on itself since Alice's death.
But as she stepped out and wrapped herself in the robe that had been left for her — soft, lined with quilted gray velvet — she was immediately reminded she wasn't alone.
Waiting just outside the arched stone exit was Mr. Hyde, leaned against the wall like a patient warden dressed for a masquerade.
He straightened when he saw her.
No smirk. No smugness. Just that calculating quiet with a glint of thoughtfulness beneath.
"Feel human again?" he asked dryly.
Jessica didn't smile, but her voice held a faint lilt of amusement. "Debatable."
"I'll take it."
He gestured down the corridor. "Come. Your room awaits."

They walked in silence for a stretch.
The hall was wide, lit by soft sconces that gave the stone walls a dusky gold hue. Tapestries lined one side — surreal depictions of mythical lands and strange creatures mid-transformation. The air here felt warmer, less heavy. Not comforting, exactly. But less suffocating than the cell block.
At the very end of the hall, Hyde stopped before a tall black door with an iron tree etched into it.
"This is yours."
He opened it.
Jessica blinked at the sight.
A real bed — draped in deep blue and silver. A writing desk with ink and parchment. A reading chair by the fire, where logs already crackled softly. A private washbasin. Shelves stacked with books — everything from herbology to theoretical magic, even a few titles she remembered from her White Queen days.
She turned to him, cautious. "This is... a bit grand for a prisoner."
"You're not a prisoner," Hyde said. "Not anymore."
Jessica stepped inside.
The floor was warm beneath her feet. She walked slowly, fingertips brushing the edge of the desk.
Hyde remained in the doorway, arms behind his back, watching.
"Tell me," he said, voice smooth but curious, "how versed are you in incantation theory? Herbological classification?"
Jessica glanced over her shoulder. "Well-versed. Trained under the Ivory Mages in Wonderland for nearly six years."
"And potion-craft?"
She shrugged. "Good with ingredients. Terrible with timing. I blew up my own eyebrows once. Alice never let me live it down."
Hyde tilted his head slightly, that flicker of interest dancing in his eyes.
"And do you have any magic?"
She froze — just briefly — then turned back toward the fire, arms crossing over her chest.
"Gone," she said flatly. "Traded away to a monster in exchange for a life he stole anyway."
Hyde nodded once, absorbing.
Then he stepped inside and,pulled out a metal decanter, then from a nearby shelf, two wine glasses. They set down with a gentle clink on the table between them.
Jessica raised an eyebrow.
"Is this the part where you poison me?"
"Not tonight," he said dryly, pouring the Syrah — dark as blood, smooth as silk. He held a glass out to her.
She took it without hesitation, swirled it briefly, and sipped like someone who'd done this a hundred times. She didn't flinch at the dryness or the boldness of it.
Hyde noted that with a quiet kind of approval.
"I used to drink this with my brother," she said after a moment. "And Alice. And the Queen. Parties every full moon. Half our lives were war, but we made time for laughter."
Hyde sipped his own. "And now?"
Jessica stared at the flames.
"Now, they're dead. Or gone."
A pause.
Hyde took a few steps closer, his voice lower. Measured.
"I want to offer you something. A position."
Jessica looked over, arching a brow. "A position?"
"As my assistant," he said. "In my personal research. I've grown... impressed. With your intellect. Your resilience. Your knowledge. I have a theory — and something in my gut tells me you are the key to achieving it."
Jessica eyed him cautiously. "And what, exactly, would I be assisting with?"
"Separating myself," Hyde said, "from the other."
He let that hang for a moment before continuing.
"Jekyll and I are two sides of one coin. The odd part being, of course, that I — the intimidating, brooding half — still have a conscience. He, the gentler face, has none."
Jessica's eyes narrowed slightly. "He's dangerous?"
"Obsessively so," Hyde replied. "A man of science who sees people as mechanisms to dissect. He believes pain is the purest form of data. And he will take you apart, should the opportunity arise."
Jessica exhaled. "Charming."
Hyde's voice dropped.
"My last assistant — a bright, young alchemist — was poisoned by one of Jekyll's trial serums. I wasn't fast enough to save him."
Jessica tilted her head. "So this offer comes with hazard pay."
"You'll find I'm quite generous," Hyde said. "Living quarters. Access to the labs, the archives. Private dining, if you prefer it. But there's a condition."
"Of course there is."
Hyde walked to the other side of the table, wine glass in hand.
"I must know everything," he said. "I keep no ghosts in my world. If you choose to work under me, you must tell me who you are. All of it. No half-truths. I make it a point to understand every soul in my care."
Jessica's heart clenched.
She stared at her wine.