Theodor Blake

It was just another typical day in the slightly rainy London of April 1988; the gray clouds above covered the horizon, casting a heavy and somewhat depressing vibe over the bustling streets.

Unlike most days, today, many children could be seen walking the streets in this late morning hour. The Easter vacation had just started, and numerous families opted to explore the capital's streets.

Theodore Blake, or Ted-for short, was one of them. An 8-year-old heir to the affluent Blake family, one of London's wealthiest business families, Ted had just returned from his boarding school when his father suddenly decided he was to visit the National Gallery to "broaden his horizons" or whatever that meant.

However, what truly bothered the 8-year-old boy wasn't the museum trip but the fact that his companion on this outing wasn't even his father but Jessie, whom he absolutely hated.

Jessie, a blonde maid who had been working closely with his father for a few years, was only around half his father's age. Ted, who had been essentially raising himself since age 4 or 5, was quite mature for his age. He was well aware of the kind of "work" the blonde woman did for his father, especially since he had walked in on them more than once, and they didn't really bother to put on an act.

As Ted didn't want to attract attention to himself, he ordered his father's chauffeur, an old man named Henry, to park his father's head-turning Rolls-Royce a block away from the National Gallery at the intersection of Strand and Charing Cross.

Unsurprisingly, just as soon as the car disappeared from their line of sight, Jessie left him alone and wandered into a random jewelry store she spotted on the way, leaving Ted standing alone in the middle of the intersection, looking at the long Charing Cross Road, wondering what he should do.

Glancing around, Ted could see several people observing him curiously; they must have seen him leave the luxury car and wondered who his parents were. Ted frowned a little; their stares made him very uncomfortable.

Fortunately, people on this kind of street never stood in one place for long, and soon, as they kept on walking, they were replaced by others again and again, until finally, no one noticed Ted's existence again.

As he moved through the crowd, his eyes scanning both the people—like an endless river with tens or even hundreds passing him every minute—and the shops showcasing everything from clothing to candies, gift stores, and restaurants, all filled with people coming and going like a stream.

His attention was caught by the unusually high number of weirdly dressed people walking down the street. Almost every three minutes, he would spot a group of adults in long robes of various colors heading north. Ted didn't take their appearance to heart, as there was no shortage of eccentric individuals wherever he went. He chose to ignore the phenomenon, considering it might be some peculiar party.

After just over 20 minutes of looking around, he decided to enter an old second-hand bookstore—the only silent shop along the street, except for a few pubs that wouldn't open for the next few hours.

As Ted entered through the door, a bell rang, alerting the shopkeeper to his presence. The shopkeeper, a woman in her early 30s, raised her eyes from the book she held for only a second before returning to it, disregarding Ted's existence. A kid without an adult is nothing more than a watcher, after all. Normal kids his age wouldn't carry their money themselves.

This didn't really matter to him. He wasn't an attention-seeker who would throw a tantrum over being ignored. Besides, he understood her reaction. Even though he was quite rich, he didn't show it off, wearing simple clothes typical for his age. He looked just like any other random kid; no one would guess he carried enough money to buy a family car on his person.

<================= >

In the corner of an old, long, and narrow second-hand bookstore, a kid sat. His roguish, messy, raven-black hair hid his eyes as his head leaned forward, only hovering a few centimeters above the yellowed pages of an old fantasy book.

Ted, who had spent the last few hours engrossed in any book that caught his attention, was nearing the end of another when the bronze bell above the door rang, alerting him to a customer entering the shop. Not many ventured into the old-looking bookstore.

Over the hours Ted spent there, only four people had walked through the door, and two of them had merely inquired about the restroom, despite its location on an active avenue.

As the new customer entered, Ted could only see the silhouette of a tall man in a dark raincoat, carrying an equally dark umbrella. Uninterested, Ted chose to ignore the man, lifting the book once more, eager to finish reading it.

<============= >

It was already dark outside when Ted finished the eighth book, 'A Short Guide to Common Insects and Butterflies,' showcasing various types of insects living in common households.

Walking toward the counter, Ted grabbed several random books from the shelves without bothering to read the synopses. By the time he reached the counter, the unbalanced pile of books had already grown taller than his head, his small hands visibly shaking under the weight.

These books were meant to last him through all of spring break. If he had more hands, he would probably have carried even more.

Ted was very bored during the holidays. He didn't have any friends in his school, not because he didn't want any, but because the situation didn't allow it. Since he was young, his father had always sent him to private education.

It started with an etiquette tutor when Ted was three. Those lessons took place twice a week for nearly a year. By that time, he was already well-versed in manners and had even impressed his teacher, a very rigid old lady named Margarethe Brice, who taught all the kids of the rich families in London.

In her words, "Theodor is an absolute genius. Teaching such a rare, clever, young man is my pleasure and delight. Learning all his lessons in less than a year, and to such a high degree, is nothing but marvelous! Others often take even ten or more!" or so she said.

Ted didn't really understand what the big deal was. The lessons only contained reading and writing lessons followed by mannerism and some history of London's famous families and nobility, the content of which only consisted of about five or six books.

This was also the time he gave up on his father's love. As the old tutor praised him, his old man didn't even draw a single smile, not to mention a smile; his father didn't even bother to throw in a single empty praise. He only left a simple remark of "You will start piano next Monday" before going back to whatever it is that he was doing.

By the time Ted was six, he had already studied piano, fencing, and chess to a normal level for a high schooler and read many books in his father's library. Though Ted guessed it was actually his mother's as he had never seen his father go there.

The library had quite the collection of fantasy books which he had grown quite fond of. The idea of a magical world fascinated him.

When Ted reached school age, it was the first time he went outside of their garden. His father had sent him to the most prestigious private school in London, though for him, it was all the same as the curriculum only consisted of basic stuff he was already well aware of.

Reading books gave him knowledge far beyond what others of his age group had, and so he spent his first year actually trying to make friends, and he succeeded, or at least so he thought.

It happened when Ted went to a birthday party of one of the kids who chose to speak with him, Larry Bright, the son of a minor businessman who spent a lot of money to send him to that private school.

Ted, who was just on his way to the restroom, spotted Larry's father calling Larry out of the corner of his eye. Intrigued for some reason, Ted followed his curiosity only to overhear something that once again shattered his worldview. The father told Larry to speak to him so that he, the father, could use that to form a business relationship with Ted's father.

Ted felt his guts turn at the mention of his father and simply left Larry's house as fast as he could, tears forming in his bloodshot eyes. He didn't know how or when, but he finally reached his room, where he stayed for the remainder of his winter break, reading.

This experience left a deep scar on him, making it hard for him to trust other kids. Over the next few months, through various questions about their families, Ted found all his 'friends' to be the same. He never made another one to this day.

<============ >

As Ted reached the counter, the shopkeeper once again raised her head, this time finding an unstable, shaking pile of books right in front of her eyes. It took her quite by surprise, causing her mouth to hang open for several minutes before she finally stood up to help the struggling Ted.

"What are you doing with this pile of books?" she finally asked him after she helped him organize them into three separate piles on the counter. She seemed genuinely stumped at Ted's situation." I want to purchase them, of course," Ted answered with a straight face as he took a £50 bill out of his pants, presenting it to the shopkeeper.

Looking at his deadly serious face, the shopkeeper had a strong urge to burst out laughing. Then she saw the bill in his hand and realized the kid in front of her was actually serious about this, causing a large change in her expression once more.

Scanning Ted once more, she almost immediately ruled out the option that he stole it. The kid in front of her was well-groomed, with seemingly ordinary clothes that were easily identified as high-end brands on second look.

His black hair, slightly long and almost covering his eyes, was shiny black, clearly well taken care of, and his silvery eyes, which had only the slightest tinge of blue, gave them an ethereal kind of feeling. Clearly, he wasn't the kind growing up in a poor environment.

Looking back at the books on the counter, she couldn't help but wonder what he planned to do with them. Some were about subjects like advanced physics, and some were of the science fiction and fantasy genres.

They were clearly randomly picked, being so unrelated to each other. But that was not her job to judge, and so she simply went back to the other side of the counter and checked the books, finally giving him the price of £23.80 (a used book in 1988 cost around £1).

Hearing that he overestimated the price, Ted gave himself a quick note about not considering the books being second-hand. Reaching back into his pocket, he swapped the £50 to three £10 notes and handed them to the shopkeeper.

"Please pack them in a box; someone will pick them up in the morning," Ted said in a hurry as he turned to the door. He was a perfectionist, and making that simple mistake actually made him quite angry with himself, causing him to forget his manners for a moment.

"What's the name? Who should I hand the package to?"

He was just about to leave when he remembered he didn't even leave a name for the package. "Blake," he added finally, not letting the shopkeeper say another word. He didn't notice the change in her expression as she finally recognized his background.

He may not have been famous, but his parents definitely were, and Ted looked like a male copy of his mother's face when she was alive, with short black hair instead of her long silvery white. His features, especially his eyes, were unmistakable.

Elara Blake's face was quite familiar across London and even the world, as one of the most successful actresses in her generation, starring in several record-breaking films. Her death just as her son was born was known by all those who ever read the papers as it stared the front page for over a week after her death.

She was a symbol of perfection and envy for many young women as well as the subject of most men's infatuation.