Ricky Thomas regretted getting out of bed that morning. He wished his mom hadn't woken him up, and he wished he could have skipped practice. As he ran through the subway tunnel with his classmates, they shouted like prehistoric animals. An older boy pushed past him, and his book bag hit Ricky in the face. Ricky stumbled and stepped into a puddle, splashing cold water on his pants. The boy turned around and smirked at him.

"Watch it, fat boy!" Ricky shouted.

Things were only getting worse. Ahead, the passage twisted into the distance, and the noise of the students bounced off the walls, echoing into the distance. A group of teachers tried to quiet them down, but it didn't seem to make a difference. A few businessmen with briefcases hurried in the opposite direction, annoyed by the chaos. The air was stuffy and smelled of sweat and urine. Ricky knew that homeless people sometimes spent the night in places like this, and he couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it must be. Seeing that he was already running late, he tried to wipe the sewage off his pants with a paper towel, but it only ended up staining the towel black. Ricky sighed and thought longingly of his warm bed.

Finally, they reached the subway exit and stepped out into the early autumn morning. Ricky shivered and pulled his hood tighter over his head. The sky was grey and rainy, and it was bitterly cold. They stood on the edge of Trafalgar Square, separated from the bustling traffic by a wide thoroughfare. Despite the early hour, there were already tourists milling around the big fountain, and pigeons scratched at the ground. Above them, a statue perched on a column, gazing out over London's rooftops like a lonely lighthouse.

Mr. Watkins, the balding history teacher, clapped his hands together and called out to the students. "All right, listen up! We're here in Trafalgar Square. Follow me, and don't wander off anywhere else. Darren, pay attention!" Behind him, a boy kicked a pigeon roughly with his foot, and the bird fluttered away, pecking at the sidewalk.

Everyone trudged listlessly towards a small statue of a man named Henry Havelock as Mr. Watkins recited historical facts about a rebellion that happened years ago in a foreign country. Ricky gazed up at Havelock's resolute expression and pondered what kind of man would risk his life in war, or what kind of person the sea had to be to take lives. Ricky was normally mild-mannered, but occasionally, he felt a surge of anger towards the bullies and the teachers who ignored him. His mother would often say he inherited his father's bad temper, but Ricky had never met his dad.

As a pigeon approached Darren again, Mr. Watkins noticed and scolded him to come to the front. Taking advantage of the commotion, Ricky quietly left and made his way across the square. He knew Mr. Watkins would be occupied for a while, so he decided to take a break. He scratched his hand in the cold pool and strolled past the fountain on his left, watching as the wind blew the water wildly to one side. He found a bench by the wall and sat down to eat the sandwich his mother had packed for him earlier. A group of girls sitting behind him snickered and whispered, but Ricky paid them no mind. Unexpectedly, he discovered a long-forgotten chocolate at the bottom of his bag and took a satisfying bite after dusting off the wrapper.

Mr. Watkins appeared to be struggling to keep the students together as chaos erupted in the square. A group of girls shrieked as water from the fountain splashed onto them, while two boys attempted to climb a bronze lion statue. Kevin and Janice, holding hands, walked past Ricky's bench, oblivious to his presence. As Ricky observed the dispersing crowd, he couldn't help but wonder why the teachers had gone to such lengths to bring everyone here.

The rain intensified and the wind picked up, carrying the scent of perfume. Suddenly, Ricky felt a sense of unease, as though he was being watched. He scanned the square, his heart pounding with anxiety. To his left, a group of foreign students conversed in a language he didn't recognize, a sanitation worker donning a fluorescent jacket collected trash, and a young Japanese couple snapped photos of each other. Then, his eyes fell on a tall, blurry figure amidst the throng of people. The man towered over everyone else, his hair slicked back and clad in a black suit and vest. He had a blank expression on his face, but his unwavering gaze was fixated on Ricky. The moment their eyes met, Ricky felt a surge of dizziness, as if the world around him was collapsing into darkness. He struggled to avert his gaze, gasping for air. When he finally looked back up, the man was still staring at him.

In the distance, Ricky noticed the other students departing from the statue of Henry Havelock to congregate around Nelson's Column. He gathered his belongings and hurried over. However, the tall man continued to observe him, trailing close behind. The foreign students instinctively parted ways for him, yet no one seemed to acknowledge his presence. As Ricky quickened his pace, the man's slow, cautious movements belied an unsettling sense of menace. He wore a twisted grin that hinted at something ominous, his body enveloped in a murky haze. Who was this man, and what did he want with Ricky?

Ricky glanced back over his shoulder and saw the man nod in the direction of the column. Following his line of sight, Ricky noticed another funeral home employee step between himself and his classmates. The man was small, wearing the same suit as his partner, with a long, angular face and no hair on his head. He moved around restlessly, mumbling and jumping on his knees with excitement. As Ricky approached, the man raised his hand and gestured at him before running a finger across his throat in a slicing motion.

Panicked, Ricky shouted towards his class, "Mr. Watkins! Come on! Help!" However, his voice was drowned out by the sound of the wind and the fountain. Two men closed in on him from either side, but when he tugged on the jacket sleeve of the man standing next to him, the man didn't react as if Ricky was invisible. He felt like it must be a nightmare, but the fear was real and tears stung his eyes.

With no help available, Ricky knew he had to act. He ran towards the upper left corner of the square, where a wide flight of stone steps could help him escape. As he climbed the steps, he bumped into a group of young Japanese couples taking pictures, but they didn't react. When he reached the top, he turned right, and two funeral home employees followed him, shoulder to shoulder. The smaller man jumped and expressed his displeasure at the slow pace of his companion.

Ricky saw a huge, imposing building looming ahead, and a banner advertising an art exhibition fluttering in the wind. To his left was an old church with a spire that seemed to pierce the sky. If he could get inside, he would be safe. Just then, the green pedestrian sign disappeared, and the smaller man giggled and moved closer. Ricky pressed the stoplight button, but several cars whizzed past him. He had no choice but to dart across the street, narrowly avoiding a car that honked its horn, and ran up to the church with relief. A painted sign on the side of the house read St. Martin's branch church (St-Martins-in-the-Field). Looking back, Ricky saw the two men waiting across the road. The smaller man looked nervous, and the taller man simply smiled. Ricky winced and ran through the church doors.

There was a pleasant silence inside the church, with the sound of wind, rain, and traffic blending into a soft hum. Ricky pulled his hat down and tilted his head to admire the ornate roof as he walked forward. Apart from a young lady sitting in the front pew, the church was empty. She was wearing a long crimson dress and a hat with strands of hair dyed the color of fluorescent orange showing underneath, praying with her head bowed. Ricky dragged his feet toward the row of seats behind her.

As he sat down, the chair made a creaking sound, and the lady turned her head at the noise, her eyes full of tears. Though there was no blood on her pale face, it did not detract from her beauty. "Hello," she said gravely.

"Uh...... hi," Ricky paused, "are you okay?"

She smiled weakly and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"You're welcome."

Despite her sadness, her voice was bright and pleasant. Ricky scratched his head, unsure of what to do. The lady thoughtfully patted the seat beside her, and Ricky walked over to her and sat down, dimly aware of the aroma he had smelled earlier in the square.

"Why did you come here?" she asked gently, "You seem unhappy, just like me."

There was a loud bang, and a door slammed shut behind her, but no one was there. Ricky jerked around and realized he was making a fool of himself, so he tried to calm down. "Yeah...... I'm all right. It's just that someone is after me."

The lady sighed, "People can be cruel to their own kind sometimes."

Ricky shifted uneasily in his wooden chair. "Can I ask you a question?" he finally said.

"Of course you can, dear."

"I saw you crying when I came in, why?"

She sighed softly, "It's complicated."

"You don't have to tell me......"

"No, it's okay. It's just that I get uncomfortable when I have to take care of some little kid."

Back in the square, Mr. Watkins was looking for a place to escape the rainstorm and have a cup of tea, but there was a problem with the headcount.

"Yes, we're definitely missing one person. I've counted twice."

Mr. Watkins sighed. Every time, there was a missing person.

"We saw Ricky Thomas go outside the square," someone said loudly.

The teacher looked around. This was not good. The kid could have run anywhere. Why did they have to do this to him? He brought his hand to his mouth and shouted, "Ricky!"

Outside St. Martin's Branch Church, several men got into a black van with the words "Humble & Skeet Undertakings" painted on the side. One of the men could not stand up and had to rely on his companions to get into the car. A very tall man carefully folded up his body, sat in the driver's seat, started the car, and drove away. High above their heads, Sir Nelson (LordNelson) watched all this silently and indifferently.