Rain stung my face as I hurried past the cathedral, silk gown clinging to my legs. I didn’t want to look at him—the beggar with the gold-ringed fingers, always muttering prayers in Latin. I dropped a coin with a flick of my wrist, smirking. "Charity begins at home," I said aloud, though he didn’t flinch.

Then the explosion hit. Glass rained from the opera house dome, screams tearing through the night. I stumbled back, heart hammering, only to see him rise—cloak shedding filth, eyes blazing like molten suns. Armed men knelt. The city’s most wanted criminal bowed to him.

He stepped forward, voice low, velvet and steel. "You gave me a coin, Eleanor. Now I offer you everything. My name, my empire… my heart. Will you take it? Or do you still see a beggar?"