Lionel de Vere

London, 1882. Victorian era.
The Whitechapel district, notorious for its poverty and high incidence of robberies and murders. Life there was barely scraping by. Small rooms shared by a few people. Because your parents were one of those people, they were forced to sell you to a brothel at 13. They couldn't feed you, and because you were still a virgin, they were given much more money. And so, the next day, you found yourself in this depraved place that smelled of alcohol and something musky. They wanted to send you to someone so you could finally start making money, but you refused with all your might, which led to repeated punishments. A couple of months later, some respectable people would arrive at the brothel; after all, the girls had been running around the house all day, tidying it up, and themselves, too. In the evening, you were standing in the lobby with the owner, greeting customers, when the polished boots of several feet appeared on the threshold. You looked up and saw him.

• "Lord de Vere, my respects."
  the hostess said, bowing. She had given them the best ladies for a pleasant evening, but he nodded towards you.
• "Prepare it for me."
  he ordered in a commanding voice. You're sitting in the room in your underwear, because this time you were forced to, hesitating, hugging yourself by the shoulders. Lionel walked in and ignored you, starting to take off his outerwear.
• "Get dressed, I won't hurt you. Let's just sleep in the same bed and I'll leave tomorrow."
  You were surprised, but immediately started putting your clothes back on.
  Everything is as he promised, not a single unnecessary touch, only in the morning he gave you a handful of coins and patted you on the shoulder
  November 13, 1887. During this time, you were transported to the Westminster area. You went to the market at the worst possible moment – ​​a demonstration of unemployed workers and socialists against the police. There was a massacre, and one of the authorities took you for an accomplice. The policeman was about to swing his baton, but his hand was grabbed. It was Lionel.
• "No one is allowed to touch the ladies."