A thin layer of white mist shrouded the bustling dark streets of Jude Road.
All the factories along Jude Road were in full operation, the air filled with the noise of machinery, and the streets were exceptionally busy.
Most of the snow on the ground had been trampled into slush, leaving the roads wet and slick, while the sky began to sprinkle light snow once more.
Amid the swirling white flakes and howling wind, the thin woolen coat offered little protection against the cold, forcing Dolly to quicken her pace.
She and her grandfather returned to Clark Lane, passing Piero Grocery Store once again. There, they noticed two shop assistants standing at the mouth of the alley, peering intently into Clark Street.
Just as the two assistants seemed about to say something to the grandfather and granddaughter, Mr. Piero, dressed in a suit, emerged. He cleared his throat and called his employees back with an indifferent expression.
Puzzled, Dolly and her grandfather entered the narrow alley.
Inside, a gleaming two-horse police carriage was parked, its side emblazoned with the insignia of the Metropolitan Police Headquarters.
Two stern police officers stood guard beside the carriage, positioned right in front of her home.
At the other end of the alley, the owner of Lobit Grocery Store was also watching from the entrance, his face full of curiosity.
Other neighbors in the alley peered through cracks in their windows at the police carriage, their expressions mostly wary.
Clark Street was the territory of Irish immigrant laborers, where many spent their days drowning in drink, fencing stolen goods, selling their bodies, gambling, or peddling smuggled contraband—a veritable den of vice.
Under normal circumstances, outsiders rarely lingered here, and ordinary street police couldn’t be bothered to patrol the area.
High-ranking officers from Scotland Yard would never deign to set foot in such a place unless something significant had occurred.
Seeing the scene, Mr. Nash and Dolly hurried their steps back home.
At their doorstep, the two police officers stopped them and asked a few questions.
Each officer wore shoulder badges from the Metropolitan Police Headquarters and the City of London Police, respectively.
Mr. Nash deftly pulled a few Shillings from his pocket, attempting to slip them to the older, long-faced officer to inquire about the situation.
The long-faced officer accepted the money with feigned reluctance, cleared his throat, and said:
“Last midnight, someone died near Tower Bridge. The manner of death was identical to the previous victim near White Chapel.”
Upon hearing this, Mr. Nash quickly asked who the deceased was and why the matter warranted such attention.
“The deceased was a bank manager from the Financial City, and he was involved in a legal case.”
The long-faced officer explained that in the White Chapel murder case, Lisa had been among the first to witness the crime scene.
Now, with the bank manager also dead, Scotland Yard was taking the matter very seriously and had dispatched Inspector Canning, who was now specifically handling this case.
A City of London Police inspector was accompanying him as they reinvestigated from the beginning, which was why they had come to gather information.
Hearing this, Dolly and her grandfather felt relieved and carried their belongings back into the shop.
Inside, Mary was holding a neighbor’s child, soothing it while keeping watch at the door. She gestured with her chin toward the upstairs.
“Two police officers are here, questioning someone upstairs.”
Mr. Nash lowered his voice and asked a couple of questions.
“Who is it?”
“Don’t know.”
White Chapel had its own district police station, located on Commercial Street next to Osborne Street.
Under the jurisdiction of the Commercial Street Police Station, the police boxes covering Dorothy Street and Jude Road had always fallen under the management of Inspector Baljob.
Most cases occurring in this area were also recorded and investigated by Baljob.
When someone dies near Tower Bridge, it’s usually the street constables from Tower Bridge who handle the investigation.
In White Chapel, death is a common occurrence, and ordinary street constables can usually close the case.
Only major cases or those drawing public attention are passed up level by level from various precincts to the Metropolitan Police Headquarters, commonly known as Scotland Yard.
Dolly entered the room, first taking the goods from the burlap sack and spreading them on the counter. She checked each one for damage before arranging them in the cabinet one by one.
Then, she used a feather duster to sweep and tidy up, completely unaffected by the police visit. She even went to the kitchen to fetch a basin of water.
Whether in the original setting or the history she had witnessed, London during this period was a veritable city of crime, especially in the East End.
Countless murders, big and small, were nothing to make such a fuss about.
As long as it had nothing to do with her family’s business, she didn’t care.
After a while, it seemed the interrogation had ended, and the wooden staircase creaked.
Dolly had already moved to a corner, holding a damp cloth to wipe the cabinet.
Mary carried the neighbor’s child back to the storeroom.
Her grandfather brushed off his clothes, bowed humbly, and went to the staircase entrance to see the guests out.
Dolly faintly heard someone speaking softly on the stairs…
“Both victims are connected to the lawsuit between Chablais Bank and Ute Shipping Company.
This matter is significant and could even implicate… In short, it’s beyond our jurisdiction.
Besides, finding the culprit is like searching for a needle in a haystack…”
From their tone, it seemed they hadn’t gotten any useful clues from Lisa.
Soon, two police inspectors in uniform pushed aside the curtain and emerged from the cramped staircase of the Nash household, walking silently toward the door.
The two paid no attention to anyone else in the room, focusing only on matters related to the murder.
Even if the house might be filled with illegal smuggled goods.
From the corner of her eye, Dolly could glimpse an older and a younger policeman.
The younger policeman had a well-proportioned build, perhaps even taller than six feet.
Under his police cap, dark brown sideburns framed his face, his eyes a shade of grayish silver, with deep-set cheekbones and a stern demeanor.
He wore a pair of tall riding boots, and just from the disciplined sound of his footsteps, it was clear this policeman had likely served in the military.
The older policeman, wearing a City of London Police badge and glasses, sighed helplessly as he walked.
Dolly lowered her gaze, withdrawing her observational and deductive sidelong glance.
In the metropolis, the police force was divided into two parts.
One was the Metropolitan Police Headquarters, commonly known as Scotland Yard, responsible for maintaining order across Greater London, investigating cases, and protecting the royal family and officials, with jurisdiction over police precincts in various districts of London.
The other was the City of London Police, responsible only for the small area of the Financial City and not under the jurisdiction of the metropolis.
Dolly watched the two policemen walk out and continued cleaning the counter.
Suddenly, her ears caught the name of a supporting character from the original story.
It was the older policeman speaking to the younger one.
“Christie, let’s go.”
Dolly’s fingers, holding the towel, paused. She turned her head toward the door.
Outside, the young inspector named Christie stopped in front of a long-faced constable by the carriage.
It was unclear what he said to the long-faced constable.
The long-faced officer flushed crimson, fumbling awkwardly as he pulled out the few Shillings he had received from Mr. Nash from his pocket and returned them to him.
Meanwhile, Mr. Nash, who had been seeing them off, stood bewildered as he received a couple of warnings from Christie.
After delivering the warnings, Christie stood in the snow-flurried alley, scanning the surroundings. His gaze swept precisely over the slightly cracked window gaps along the alley.
The old police chief shot an embarrassed glare at the long-faced officer beside him.
Following Christie’s line of sight, he noticed the windows snapping shut one after another and snorted disdainfully:
“Look at these Irish folks, so wary—must’ve done plenty of shady things…”
With that, the old chief ducked into the police carriage first, followed by Christie. The carriage curtains slowly fell, and the officer drove the horses out of the alley.
All that remained in the alley were a set of wheel tracks and fine white snowflakes swirling in the wind.
Dolly stared at the alley, squinting in thought for a long while before suddenly recognizing someone. She quickly averted her gaze, her expression calm as she continued wiping things down.
Mr. Nash returned to the shop, muttering under his breath. He’d never seen such arrogant police officers—not even allowing a simple inquiry.
Dolly shrugged helplessly.
She had already recognized him—this young officer was Christie Canning.
Just like the owner of this body, Christie Canning was also a minor character with hardly any lines in the original story.
Unlike the original owner, however, he had no parents or any relatives—an orphan with only a godfather, who served as an official in Downing Street.
According to the current timeline, he should have just returned from the battlefield fighting the Afghans. After coming back, he became a police officer under his godfather’s guidance.
For now, he was just a police chief, but in the original story, by the time the protagonist grew up and became a notorious thief, Christie had already climbed the ranks step by step to become the Metropolitan Police Commissioner.
She couldn’t quite remember the details of the plot in between.
She only vaguely recalled that this character later turned against his godfather.
His godfather, that high-ranking official in Downing Street, was the protagonist’s biggest protector in the later stages of the original story.
By the end of the original story, this police officer finally uncovered all the evidence of the protagonist’s crimes and even sent his own godfather to prison.
However, after solving the series of cases that shook London’s elite across politics, academia, and business—all linked to the protagonist—he resigned and vanished without a trace.
In the end, whether this character lived or died was never explained in the original story.
Come to think of it, he seemed like a stubborn, aloof, and upright character—a kind of “pure white flower.” Dolly curled the corner of her lips.
She turned and went to the kitchen to fetch a fresh basin of water, then tidied up the shop’s shelves thoroughly, preparing to officially open for business.
Author’s Note:
Shoutout to my friend’s new story:
A 1VN spin-off featuring an alluring protagonist → “How You, Who Relies on Close Contact to Replenish Magic, Become the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer!” BY Han Tu
Synopsis
After your parents, who eloped years ago, die in an accident, you, the sole survivor, are brought back to the Gojo clan.
As a low-born, magically weak illegitimate child from a branch family, you are despised and bullied by everyone in the main household.
Servants feed you spoiled leftovers, and children at the clan school maliciously lock you in the punishment chamber filled with cursed spirits.
Your terrified aura catches the attention of the passing divine child, who casually rescues you, frightened out of your wits.
You yearned so deeply for the noble and kind Divine Child. To get closer to him, you schemed tirelessly and became his personal attendant.
—You thought humbly, even if he couldn’t remember your name or spare you a glance, as long as you could stay by his side, you would be content.
In your third year as an attendant, the heir of the Zen’in family came to spar with the Divine Child.
Naturally, you weren’t worthy of being remembered by such an important figure. You thought humbly, as long as you could exchange a few words with him, you would be content.
In your sixth year as an attendant, the kind Divine Child took you along to Tokyo Jujutsu High.
Naturally, you weren’t worthy of befriending the impressive students of your year. You thought, as long as you could get close to them, you would be content.
In your Nth year as an attendant, the busy Divine Child took you on a business trip to Beika Town.
Naturally, you weren’t worthy of cozying up to the big shots in the police force. You thought, as long as you could [？？] with them, you would be content.
……
……
The spread-out paper was snatched away by a white-haired man wearing sunglasses. He crossed his legs, his tone flippant, though a faint vein throbbed on his forehead. “Tokine, I think it’s about time you reined it in a bit. I knew you were drawn to my cursed energy back then, but I didn’t realize one helping wasn’t enough for you—if this keeps up, what’s the difference between me and the husband in a cuckolding scenario?”
His camellia-like beautiful lover couldn’t be bothered to argue and lazily silenced him with a kiss.
The white-haired man instinctively fed her cursed energy. The delicious energy slid down your throat, gradually filling the ever-insatiable void in your abdomen.
You licked your teeth contentedly, satisfied to feel your mana pool grow just a little bit more.
【Reading Guide】
① Gojo Tokine, the female protagonist, is a distant relative from a collateral branch of the Gojo family.
② Main setting: Jujutsu Kaisen + Detective Conan crossover. Early arc: dark, muddled, universally disliked → gradually becomes universally adored.
③ The female protagonist has a special constitution that allows her to consume cursed energy to replenish her mana pool. Cursed spirits are devoured completely, while humans usually only consume the overflow (?) portion.
④ Not a harem story. The “lover” in the synopsis refers to someone she likes, not a confirmed relationship.
⑤ Contains melodramatic OOC elements.