A Lady in the 19th Century

I woke up in 19th-century London, England, with a valuable pocket watch I'd just stolen in my pocket, a helpless baby brother at home, and a good-for-nothing drunk of a father.

I'm face-blind. From the stream of garbage my father spouts, most of which ought to be censored, I barely managed to piece together my own name.

My name is Moss Jackson, and my little brother is Dio Brando.

As for why I didn't take the surname Brando after our drunkard of a father, it's because our family still needs Mother's pension. At least one of us has to be a Jackson for us to keep collecting that money from the government.

Every month, I secretly set some aside as a dowry for when I marry into a wealthy family.

I'm not related to these father and son at all, but with the world in such chaos, I have no idea where to go. That damn baby brother eats and poops, poops and sleeps, growing up little by little without a care in the world. The first English words he learned were "bitch" and "whore."

What a disgraceful Brando bloodline.

I nearly slapped his mouth off. I told Dio, "Don't learn those filthy slang words. Don't spend so long in a garbage dump that you turn into garbage yourself. We have to get out of here. We're not like them."

My little brother stared at me with those watery, puppy-like golden eyes, tears welling up. Of course he wanted to fight back. I knew all too well how chaotic and wicked the heart of this angel-faced little boy was. But I controlled the food supply, so until he was able to support himself, he had no choice but to submit to me.

"Of course, my dear sister. I'll heed your teachings."

When I was sixteen, the Jackson family servants finally found me and came to take me home. I sneaked away without telling the old drunk, but Dio saw through my little trick.

He gripped my wrist, his eyes brimming with pleading tears. "Don't go, Sis. Please. You're all I have. If you leave, I don't know how I'll survive."

Oh, quit it, you little liar. This morning, you used the exact same trick to wheedle two slices of bread out of the woman next door.

I pried his fingers off one by one and kicked the poor thing out of the carriage, without giving him a single word of farewell.

At least in this garbage heap, he was one of the better-looking ones.

As the carriage sped away, I pulled back the curtain and waved at him.

Bye-bye! To my little brother, who'll soon be making a living by selling his body! Your life and mine are different from now on. I'll pray for you from my bed covered in jewels. (Wipes away a tear)

Four years later, I returned to the slums and found the local folk were still as simple and honest as ever.

I'd cut off my long hair back then to keep the leering eyes lurking in the shadows from recognizing me. But my figure had filled out beautifully with time, and now these bastards had the nerve to reach their claws out toward me.

Dio dealt with the thugs with ease, his fists smeared with blood. Before he could hug me with a smile that looked like he was begging for a reward, I put a finely crafted fan between us.

I turned away in disgust. "Don't let the blood of commoners soil the hem of my clothes. Their stench clinging to me is revolting."

"Oh, sorry, Moss. But look, we're both commoners from the slums. Why are you acting like we're strangers?"

Dio smiled back, his eyes saturated with malice.

At twenty, I'm about to marry into the nobility. I came back to the slums for one reason only: to sever ties with those two, father and son.

However, it seems my little brother has no intention of letting me have my way.

I've finished Parts One and Two, so here's a quick blurb.

A wicked woman from the slums tries to climb into the nobility, and gets mounted by the golden retriever she raised along the way.

Moss and Dio are six years apart and not related by blood.

I love harem-style love triangles, with tons of one-sided crushes. There are lots of personal twists and changes to the usual rivalries.

Moss = moss.

Dio is the endgame pairing for Part One. I'll work out the detailed outline as I read and write. We'll see. It might also be a collection of standalone stories. The cover has nothing to do with the story, but I'll use it for now. I really like it!

I'll start posting once I have 100,000 words saved up.

Theme: Hard work makes up for a lack of talent; the early bird gets the worm.