Chapter Text
Third Victim in Series of Gruesome Murders
By: Cao Bin
While many slept peacefully through the night, a gruesome murder had taken place.
Marie Tambaram, aged 32, was found by her housekeeper in the early hours of the morning, her screams alerted the cook who then alerted the steward who then proceeded to alert the local police of the murder.
A local Doctor made an examination of the woman and pronounced her as to have been brutally murdered based on the excess of knife wounds on her breast, stomach, and abdomen. There were 15 wounds total in various parts of the body.
The body of Marie Tabram had been moved to a hospital mortuary where expert will try gather more clues to see if this murder was the work of this cities latest sensation: The Lonely Heart Killer. Many public officials including the Chief of Police, Anred Donavich, and Mayor Eckhart, have vehemently denied that these strings of murders are the work of a serial killer. They opt for a shepherd like approach, blind to the recent dive in public opinion regarding these murders.
As for Marie Tambaram, her body still remains in the morgue and her killer remains at large.
Will The Lonely Hearts Killer strike again or will the police finally stop chasing cold leads? It is only a matter of time until then we can only watch and wait.
Yuuri feels a cold hand grip his heart as he reads the latest article the Kingsons Morning Post had cooked up.
It's springtime in the city, flowers bloom like stars and pedestrians litter the street like ants enjoying the cool breeze before the sweltering sun of summer bears down on them. The air smells of dirt, smoke, and burning gaslights——a typical day for most but not for Yuuri Katsuki. The weather is too fair, the sun shines only on the brightest part of the city easily hiding away its more grisly and mottled underbelly.
A new murder rocks the city to its knees and with no news of the investigation progressing, the city is slowly becoming restless; it had been the same as the previous to victims, no signs of a struggle and bodies fresh as dew. Whoever the murderer was, they were quick and they didn't bother to hide the bodies once they were done.
Several people speculated that this was the start of brand new killing spree but Yuuri knew better, this was no ordinary serial killer. He had seen the state of the bodies, after all, nobody could forget the fresh taint of blood in the air or the sight of a mangled corpse. Yuuri counted himself fortunate that his stomach was made of stronger stuff lest he ruins the crime scene with his lunch.
His thoughts circle back to The Lonely Hearts Killer, he always thought that was a stupid name but the press was having a field day with scaring the public.
Someone calls out his name as Yuuri crosses the street. He snaps his head up, stopping as he swivels his head to search for the source of that oh so familiar voice.
It is truly going to be a terrible day.
The barreling omnibus tumbles his way as he crosses the street, the sounds of hooves echoes like thunderclaps and Yuuri finds that he is frozen and unable to move. His mother always said that death came swiftly, he screwed his eyes shut hoping that it wouldn't be a messy death. He thinks stupidly if his death would make it into the newspapers.
But it seems death doesn't want anything to do with his this morning. It takes only seconds for someone to reach out and yank him out of the way. He lands unceremoniously on the ground but is otherwise unhurt, the only thing bruised is his ego....and perhaps his elbows.
The newspaper is plastered to the ground, a crumpled mess of letters and mud.
"Yuuri?"
He looks up to meet concerned blue eyes that make him feel like curling into a ball and disappearing. It's also the fact that his rescuer is no other than the Viktor Nikiforov that causes his heart wedges itself in his throat cutting off whatever Yuuri had planned to say. (He is doing a marvellous impression of a gaping fish.)
"Mr. Katsuki?" Viktor extends his hands, the white gloves he wears are pristine and without a smudge of dirt on them. Yuuri eyes them, uncertain if he should dirty them with his muddied hands. "Are you alright?"
He feels himself colour, starting from the tips of his ears down to the root of his neck.
How embarrassing, he thinks.
"I'm well," Yuuri splutters, duking his head as he takes ahold of Viktors hand allowing himself to be pulled upright. He tried not to think of how strong the older man was or how firm his fingers were curled around his, and his definitely does not think about how it would feel to hold that very hand that supported him. Nor does he think of his cologne, how sweet the scent of pine and winter is, unobscured by the unsavoury smells and smog of the city streets. No, not at all. "T-thank you, Lord Nikiforov."
"That's was a nasty fall, I'm sorry if I pulled you too hard." Yuuri's hands remain in his as Viktor gives him a quick look over, his eyes lingering in the patches of dirt stuck to the back of his pants and knees. Most would take offence at the small action but Yuuri only feels self-conscious. "I wasn't thinking, it was a spur of the moment decision. I saw the omnibus and I---"
"No, it's perfectly fine," Yuuri said, sheepishly. He pulls his hands away from his clasped fingers. "I should've been more vigilant. My own clumsiness could've gotten me killed."
"That omnibus driver should've been more careful, not you." Viktor looked unconvinced, his blue eyes narrowing in on Yuuri's face. The gaze isn't intense nor is it intrusive but Yuuri can't help but find his scuffed boots suddenly interesting. "Are you certain you are alright, Mr. Katsuki?"
"Positively so, Lord Nikiforov." He peeks through his eyelashes, feeling small. Yuuri dares to glace around himself, noticing the crowd gathering around them, lingering on the curb of the street whispering in hushed tones. He flushes even deeper, hating the feeling of the stares levelled against him.
They're not staring at him, of course, they're staring at Lord Nikiforov; some with wonder and others with curiosity. He must look rather dull standing next to him. Lord Nikiforov was a striking and alluring figure with the exotic silver hair and large blue eyes, his presence alone held anybody's attention. Yuuri knew he needed to get away, no doubt that this incident would be in the papers by noon tomorrow.
Anything Lord Nikiforov did ended up in the papers somehow, savoury or not. (Not that Yuuri knew it anything, he just happened to stumble across articles pertaining to Viktor Nikiforov.)
Duke Nikiforov Saves Hairbrained Pedestrian From Barreling Omnibus.
He represses a shudder, what a truly terrifying thought. Lady Minako would have his head on a silver platter if that was to happen.
"I'm afraid I have to go, Lord Nikiforov," Yuuri says, rushing the words out. He bows stiffly, nearly tripped as he gathers his things, feeling even more mortified. He can scarcely look him in the eye lest he salvages whatever dignity he had left. "Thank you for saving me."
"Yuuri!"
And then he turns sharply on his feet, ignoring the odd looks and flees like a deer during a fox hunt. He doesn't even stay to hear Lord Nikiforov call out his name.
It's truly was the start of a terrible day.
First Lord Nikiforov and then the sudden sludge of rain. He didn't know what deity or fae or higher being he had snubbed or disrespected but they must have found some glee in his suffering.
Yuuri walks into Leroy's Magic Book Emporium, drenched from head to toe due to the sudden downpour of rain that arrives only fifteen minutes after his encounter with Lord Nikiforov. He feels already exhausted and the day has barely begun.
Phichit is already there to greet him, a Cheshire like grin decorating his face and a glint of mischief in his eyes that can never be hidden. If Yuuri was to squint and perhaps see past the thick shimmering coat of glamour, he could faintly make out a cat-like tail swishing back and forth like a pendulum.
"Your demeanour is far too cheerful for today," Yuuri tells his companion flatly before he could utter a word.
"Yuuri!" He stretches out the constants of his name, almost cooing it. Phichit's pointed ears twitch, ignoring the flattened look Yuuri gives him to match his tone. "How was Lord Nikiforov this morning?"
"Why am I not surprised?" Yuuri sighs, slipping off his overcoat. He lets it hang from the coat rack, water droplets splashing onto his shoes and onto the floor. No doubt Ms. Isabella would give him hell for sullying her rugs with rainwater. That was fine, Yuuri could simply dry them with a quick spell before she arrived. If only he knew where he placed his copy of Leroy's Housecleaning Spells for the Daily Witch. "I assume the pixies told you everything, haven't they?"
Damned little things, always sticking their noses into other people's business. Yuuri had half a mind to grab a broom and chase them out of the shop but they were expert in the art of wooing his soft heart over with their big glassy eyes and adorable little pouts.
"Oh, Lord Nikiforov! My hero! My Knight in shining armour! My darling Rose?" He presses the back of his hand to his forehead, pretending to swoon as he lands clumsily on the nearby chaise. Yuuri is half tempted to laugh at Phichits horrible impression of himself but his lips remained pressed in a thin line. "Thank you so much for saving me! Oh, however could I repay you?!"
"I'm certain I'm not a Damsel in Distress." Yuuri snorts, picking up a stack of books to be reshelved. He nearly trips over one of Phichits pet rodents that scuttle around and gnaw away at pages. The fattest one, Arthur, gives him a dirty look before disappearing underneath the floorboards. "Nor do I dare assume that Lord Nikiforov would want anything from me. He is, after all, a man that has everything in the world."
"Oh, I digress."
"Really now, Phichit." He said. There is little he can do to stop the words that come from his mouth. "This again?"
"Yes, this again!"
"You sound like some miser." Yuuri rolls his eyes. "Please do impart your knowledge onto me, oh wise guardian of Leroy's Magic Book Emporium."
"Isn't it obvious, Yuuri?" Phichit groans. He levels the older man with a knowing look that feels admonishing. "Must I spell it out?!"
"If it was obvious, he'd know!" A voice from the back room pipes up. Mr. Altin appears, precariously balancing a number of boxes as he speaks. "It's been the talk of the ton for almost a year now, Mr. Katuski."
("You hush now, young Altin!")
"I'm afraid I don't follow," Yuuri said, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Am I missing something important? And since when do you indulge in high society gossip, Mr. Altin? I thought you found it unpleasant."
"I believe Mr. Plisetsky may be responsible for that," Phichit chimed in. He glances at Mr. Altin, aware of the tinge of red that adorns his cheeks. "But that's not my story to tell now, is it?" He said slyly, a teasing grin making its way onto his face.
The two gentlemen promptly exchange a knowing look before resuming their tasks.
Phichit turns his attention back to him, grinning ear to ear.
His answer nearly sends Yuuri's poor heart close to an early death. "Your hand, my sweet ignorant magical friend. He wants your hand in marriage."
"Impossible," Yuuri is quick to dismiss the idea before it takes root in his mind. It's outlandish and completely ridiculous. He scuttles down the ladder, nearly rolling his ankles in his haste. He ignores the way his heart hammers loudly in his chest, thudding almost painfully against his ribs as Phichit continues to rile him up. "That's impossible."
What a silly notion, he thinks as he restocks the shelves carefully, Lord Nikiforov is just.......kind.
"Do kind men usually ogle at one's backside shamelessly when the latter isn't looking?" Phichit muses, perching over one of the stools. "I don't blame him," He sighs.
"Phichit!" He ducks his head behind the large stack of books, realizing that he said his thoughts out loud. Yuuri is half tempted to chuck a rather large copy of Leroy's Book of Herbs for Cosmetic and Magical Needs at his head. It's the only book in the shop that was big enough other than the Witch's Potions Index (and Mr. Leroy's ego) that could do any real damage. Anything bigger and he expected Phichit to be bedridden for weeks. It's only his fondness toward his friend and years of dealing with Mari's endless teasing that keeps him from doing so.
"Well, clearly the man is parched, Yuuri!" Phichit exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Save him lest he dies of dehydration!"
Yuuri sighs deeply, again. "He is not a dog, Phichit."
"But he does follow you around like one," Mr. Altin said. His face remains impassive but there is a wisp of a teasing smile that adorns his usually stoic face. Traitor, Yuuri thinks. "Forgive me if I'm overstepping my boundaries but he seems quite besotted with you."
("Thank you, young Altin! You understand!")
"Et tu, Mr. Altin?" Yuuri huffs.
Yuuri shakes his head gently as he reshelves the spell books, aiming to put aside thoughts of Lord Nikiforov. He gently swats away the little fluff balls of magic and mischief that glide through the shop, the pixies settle on his shoulders as they whisper amongst themselves no doubt gossiping. They tug at his hair, trying to grab his attention. He unwraps a candy and watches the little pixies fight over it.
He does not think of Viktor Nikiforov.
He absolutely refuses to think of him. No, of course not. Yuuri doesn't think about his eyes or his lips or his strong arms or his twinkling laugh or his silver starlight hair or his dancer-like legs or his——-damnit! A slap reverberates around the room followed by the sharp sting of pain on both sides of his face. It takes Yuuri seconds to realize that he slapped his own face in order to quell the mad red blush that covers his face turning him into a frumpy looking tomato that cannot control his own feelings.
The pixies scatter, chiming like angry bells as they're displaced by the sudden movement. An orange pixie gives him a dirty look before zipping off to find a spot to nap.
Lord Viktor Nikiforov, the most eligible bachelor in the city; well cultured, highly intelligent, ridiculously rich and most important of all, single. Every mother in the belle monde with an eligible daughter or son would've gladly paraded them around in front of him hoping for a match. A title and a rather large fortune paired up with a pretty face and a family legacy is quite the package. Anybody would consider themselves fortunate enough to have Lord Nikiforov as their own.
He doesn't see how he can compare?
Yuuri can barely form coherent words on the presence of Lord Nikiforov much less look him in the eye, how could Lord Nikiforov possible be interested in him of all people?
If Yuuri was being honest, it felt like a dream.
What perplexed him further was that Lord Nikiforov kept visiting him at Leroy's Magical Book Emporium. He didn't even know how that was even possible in the first place. This place was ensnared in warding and other sigils that only allowed witches and other supernaturals in. If the warding had failed and a human had gotten in then Yuuri knew that it was his job to notify the Leroy's but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. Besides the few odd encounters, like their earlier incident with the omnibus, he hardly saw Lord Nikiforov.
It was a selfish part of him that allowed it.
Perhaps it was because he was good at lying to himself, he wanted to keep seeing Lord Nikiforov even if it was a doomed infatuation that would lead nowhere.
Leroy's Magical Book Emporium wasn't always magical. It was easy to glamour and hide the parts of the shop that he didn't want humans to see. The bright blue book had been placed by Mr. and Mrs. Leroy, who to his dismay (and secret elation) encouraged his acquaintance with Lord Nikiforov, helped to generate a large amount of glamour that hid the more eccentric and less standard parts of the shop from more mundane eyes.
He could smile, he could entertain him, and he could give him books to fuel his desire for reading but he couldn't imagine the possibility of never seeing him again.
Yuuri didn't know why these things seemed to happen to him.
Every encounter with that man outside the shop is a disaster and driven completely by fate. Yuuri had lost count the number of times he had made a fool of himself in front of Lord Nikiforov like some wide eyed tongue tied country boy. Here, at least they would be equals in some sort of way.
He could give Viktor whatever he wanted.
But his hand in marriage?
Ha!
Ridiculous.
That was an impossible daydream. The other shoe would drop eventually.
Lord Nikiforov would tire of him and this shop eventually, Yuuri could only wait out the proverbial storm that had taken its form in silver locks and sky coloured eyes before he was left stranded and forgotten. The gifts that accompanied Lord Nikiforov would run dry and that would be the end of it, he was certain despite what Phichit said.
(If it soothed Yuuri's already conflicted mind, at least Lord Nikiforov's dog was quite adorable.)
Yuuri had neither any prospects nor any fancy titles; as a young boy he was raised in his family inn, his upbringing was frugal and quiet. His childhood was mundane fro a witch. The only things that Yuuri seemed to excel at were magic, something that took him years upon years to master.
Lord Nikiforov had no need for a man like him; he had nothing to offer other than his words and his misguided feelings; and even if he did marry Lord Nikiforov (and that was a larger considerable and slim if,) he didn't like to entertain the idea of hanging off his arm like some ornament for members of high society to gawk at or look down upon. Yuuri was far too independent to allow himself to settle into the role of a trophy husband even if it was Lord Nikiforov's trophy husband.
There was also the other matter. One that was almost impossible to gloss over.
Yuuri was a being of magic that straddled the thinly veiled divide between humans and other supernatural creatures. His kind thrived in the shadows, far from the light and far away from peering eyes. The thing about Yuuri was that he was easily looked over and he liked that very much, it wasn't a desirable quality but it was a useful one especially when it came to his other profession.
Viktor came from a world bathed in glittering light and jewels, he could never understand Yuuri and his way of life. Yuuri grew up learning magic and spells and interacting with all sorts of supernatural creatures. He had never really fitted into the proper norms of human society, it was impossible with what he's seen over the years. They were too different, in station and in life. Whatever chance they had at meeting in the middle diminished with every encounter.
Lord Nikiforov had better things to do than dabble in an illicit affair with a bookseller.
The logical thing to do would be to keep Lord Nikiforov out of his thoughts and away from his carefully guarded heart but said heart wanted him to otherwise.