---

Chapter 3: Where Ghosts Sleep

The old warehouse was silent.

Dust hung in the air like old secrets, the floor littered with broken crates and rusted tools.

But beneath the mess, there was order.

Blueprints pinned to the walls with nails.

City maps with red markings across every district.

Stolen books — half-burned, rain-damaged — stacked like precious treasure.

A tattered mattress in the corner, barely a cushion, smeared with old blood.

And on the floor, beside a flickering candle…

She slept.

---

Her hair was tangled.

Her cheeks hollow.

And under her golden eyes, dark bruises bloomed like shadows that never left.

Not normal dark circles — deep, almost sickly.

She looked like she hadn’t slept properly in years.

The man in the grey scarf stood in the doorway, silent.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t step forward.

He just watched her — the girl everyone called a rat or a ghost — curled up on the stone floor, clutching a cracked detective novel to her chest.

The title, barely visible:

> Sherlock Holmes: The Final Problem

She twitched in her sleep, lips moving faintly, whispering something.

He couldn’t make it out.

But he stepped closer.

Quiet. Careful.

The floor creaked once under his weight.

---

She woke like a switch flipped.

Not startled.

Just awake — sharp, breath shallow, hand already reaching for the small blade hidden beneath her coat.

Their eyes locked.

Gold and grey.

The air stilled.

---

> “You’re Rook,” he said softly.

She didn’t answer.

Just stared.

Her eyes looked hollow — not in fear, but in absence.

She wasn’t used to being looked at. Not like this.

> “You passed out,” he said. “That’s not sleep. That’s collapse.”

Still nothing.

---

He took a small step forward and knelt.

> “I know what you are. What you’ve done.”

Still no reaction.

> “But I also know what they took from you.”

A flicker in her stare.

Just one.

He reached into his coat and set down a sealed paper envelope.

> “Medical file. Yours.”

Her eyes flicked to it… then back to him.

> “Why?” she whispered.

Her voice was hoarse, like she hadn’t used it in days.

He tilted his head.

> “Because I’m building something. A team.

And I’ve never seen anyone work in the shadows like you do.”

She looked away.

> “You want a rat.”

> “No,” he said.

“I want a ghost. And ghosts don’t bleed unless they’ve lived through hell.”

---

She didn’t say yes.

She didn’t say no.

She just looked at the file…

And then asked the one question no child should have to:

> “Do I have… both kidneys?”

He looked down.

> “No.”

---

Continuation of Chapter 3: Where Ghosts Sleep

The candle sputtered beside them, casting flickering shadows on the wall.

The man in the grey scarf waited.

Waited for a thank you.

Waited for a nod.

Waited for anything resembling agreement.

But Rook just sat there.

Blank.

Observing.

And then, after a pause, she asked:

> “How are you going to pay me?”

The man blinked.

> “Excuse me?”

> “If you’re not paying,” she said plainly, voice hoarse but sharp, “I’m not working.”

He stared.

Not in shock.

But in a kind of strange… admiration.

> “You want money?”

> “No,” she said.

“I want food. Clothes. Books. A bed. Not a room — my own bed.”

She pointed at her stomach.

> “And medicine. For the scar. It reopens sometimes when I run.”

He took a step closer and crouched to her eye level.

> “You drive a hard bargain.”

> “I know what I’m worth.”

---

He gave a small smile — the kind that didn’t reach the eyes.

> “Done.”

> “I want it in writing,” she added immediately.

Now he laughed — quietly.

> “What’s your name?”

She looked away.

> “I don’t have one.”

> “Then what should I call you?”

She thought a moment.

Then stared directly at him.

> “You’re hiring me for what I do in the shadows, right?”

> “Yes.”

> “Then call me Rook.”

---

The man straightened, extending his hand.

> “Rook,” he said, “I’m Elias Grayson.”

> “Your name’s too long.”

> “You can call me whatever you want.”

She hesitated.

Then shook his hand.

It was the first time she’d touched another human on her own terms in… maybe years.

---

End of Chapter 3