For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.

–Roman Sutra

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“How could a detective possibly steal…?”

“I’m an investigative consultant. You can call me a consulting detective.”

“Huh.”

“The bugs have consumed so much already, a few missing pieces won’t change much. It’s all to solve the case. I’m sure the people at the Physic Garden will understand.”

Through this incident, I gained a small insight.

Living as a guardian of the law is good, but occasionally challenging it doesn’t seem to be such a bad thing.

“How on earth did I end up living with such a despicable fellow…?”

Watson mumbled, placing a hand on her forehead, seemingly dizzy.

“I apologize. I forgot that you are a noble military doctor from the British Empire.”

“Indeed, unlike someone like you.”

“That’s unfortunate. I happened to bring a few golden dragon fruits that boost ‘Yang energy’.”

I turned my back to her and pulled out a yellow fruit from my coat pocket.

“Go, golden dragon fruit?”

Watson reacted to the words ‘Yang energy’ and ‘golden dragon fruit’.

“It seems I’m the only one who needs to show some moral flexibility.”

“…I correct myself. You bringing the elixir was to subdue the Dead Man and ensure the safety of the people, so it can be considered a noble act.”

“Oops. My hand slipped.”

The souvenir from the Physic Garden accidentally slipped from my hand and flew toward Watson.

She hesitated between her ethical standards and the temptation to change her constitution, then tightly closed her eyes and bit into the fruit, allowing me to proceed with my work more smoothly.

“Now, I just need to focus on the mixing.”

I crushed the fruit of the Arisaema heterophyllum and mixed it with the flesh of the golden dragon fruit, then finely chopped other herbs like Tripterygium wilfordii and combined them.

“If I mix starch and flour here…”

Next, I rolled the solidified mass into a ball, then rolled it on the oatmeal I had sneaked from the first-floor kitchen, resulting in a medicinal ball that was safe to handle with bare hands.

“Anyone would think it’s an Oatmeal Ball. It could be supplied to the Wu-Tang Order or the E-Mei Sisters.”

Veteran Watson shook her head, but in my view, it was quite well-made.

“Well then, let’s see…”

Carefully placing the pill on Hope’s head where the bug was hiding, I saw the nose twitch slightly.

As expected, it seemed it mistook it for a delicious elixir.

Thinking of how it absorbed all those elixirs overnight, the pill I made would likely be digested in the blink of an eye.

“There seems to be a chance.”

Preparations to welcome the guest were almost complete.

-Knock knock knock.

Just as the special elixir was completed, a knock was heard from the first floor.

“Could it be…?!”

“No, it’s not.”

Watson shivered for a moment but then sighed in relief, realizing the sun hadn’t set yet.

“Made it just in time.”

As I went down to the first floor and opened the door, I saw Lestrade with a determined expression.

“You wouldn’t believe how hard the Home Secretary raged.”

“Still, it seems you succeeded in persuading him.”

Lestrade nodded heavily.

Beyond his shoulder, Baker Street was deserted, save for the police who had brought the carriages.

Mrs. Hudson remained, but it was proof that the police had evacuated all nearby residents as I instructed.

Lestrade didn’t particularly like me, but he was a man who adhered strictly to the ethics of a policeman.

His upright character, willing to endure reprimands from his superiors for the sake of solving a case, could indeed be considered exemplary for the police.

“I’ll believe it. You are indeed the finest inspector in Scotland Yard. So, the guest?”

“We’ve brought him.”

At Lestrade’s gesture, officers pulled a neatly dressed man from the patrol carriage seen behind him.

A gentlemanly appearance but with a face that gives a mean impression.

He was wearing handcuffs, which was also as I had instructed Lestrade.

Joseph Stangerson.

A friend of Enoch Drebber and the man who killed Jefferson Hope’s lover and her father in the United States.

Originally, this villain should have died at Hope’s hands by now, but seeing him alive and well felt strange.

However, letting him die before a proper trial is not something I should do as a consulting detective.

The time for him to die is on the execution day, not today.

“Bring him in.”

I took Lestrade and the man back to the second floor.

I sat the tense-faced Stangerson on the sofa and began to speak slowly while watching him.

“Nice to meet you. I am Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting detective in London.”

“My name is Joseph Stangerson. For what reason…”

As there wasn’t much time left until sunset, I decided to get straight to the point.

“Calm down. I called you here because you’re part of the investigation. As you know, your employer and friend, Drebber, was murdered. The culprit is Jefferson Hope. That name should be familiar to you.”

“I, I don’t know that person.”

Still feigning ignorance, are you.

Without reacting to Stangerson’s words, I continued with what I was saying.

“He is still wandering around London looking for you. If you answer my questions honestly from now on, you can continue to receive police protection.”

Stangerson was scared.

It was only natural.

He wasn’t aware that Jefferson Hope had been found dead while he continued to receive police protection.

A friend with superior martial arts skills was poisoned, so he’s probably afraid that Hope will bring an assassin skilled in poison arts.

“I will answer any question sincerely.”

“Good. If you continue to lie…”

I paused for a moment before finishing my sentence.

“I will release you onto the street immediately.”

“…Pardon?”

“I said I would release you.”

Stangerson blinked as if he couldn’t understand.

Instead of solving his curiosity, I produced a gold ring from my pocket.

“Do you recognize this ring?”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen it.”

Stangerson shook his head.

“It was found where your friend Drebber died. Are you sure you’ve never seen it?”

“Yes.”

“Inside the ring, the initials of Jefferson Hope’s lover, Lucy Ferrier, and Enoch Drebber are engraved. It’s a wedding ring made without consent. Judging by the size, it’s not Drebber’s, it was an item worn by a woman.”

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

Stangerson continued to shake his head as if he knew nothing.

I was reassured once again by the realization that this man was an incorrigible villain.

In case my power falls short and Stangerson dies at the hands of the Dead Man, I wouldn’t need to blame myself.

“I understand your position well. Separately, let me tell you the conclusions I’ve deduced based on what I found out by contacting Cleveland, United States.”

I decided to summarize the events that occurred in the United States as briefly as possible.

“You and Drebber kidnapped Lucy, who had a fiancé in America, and killed her father. Then you competed for the woman, but in the end, Drebber forced her into marriage.”

“I don’t know anything about this!!”

“Shut up.”

When I gathered my energy, Stangerson flinched.

The fact that he still thought of me as a fool showed how foolish this man was.

“Lucy, shocked by her father’s death, died shortly after. As a result, her fiancé, Jefferson Hope, set out for revenge. He brought the ring from Lucy’s dead hand to constantly remind himself of his hatred.”

As soon as I finished speaking, Watson and Lestrade spoke in voices mixed with admiration.

“You… When exactly did you investigate up to that point?”

“The Cleveland police have sent a telegram saying that someone witnessed Jefferson Hope taking the ring from the coffin, just as Mr. Holmes said. How did you figure it out?”

I had understood the full story of this case because I had heard the whole truth from Hope, who was dying of an aneurysm before my regression, not as a result of deduction.

Therefore, even when Lestrade and Watson looked at me with eyes full of respect, I could only sigh.

I could understand Hope’s feelings.

He wouldn’t have wanted his beloved to rest as the wife of his enemy.

Even if it meant exchanging his life, or surrendering his body to a sinister existence, he must have wanted to complete his revenge.

“…It’s an unfounded speculation. As a citizen of the United States, please allow me to contact the embassy―”

-Smack!

I slapped Stangerson’s cheek, who was still trying to wag his three-inch tongue, and then slipped the ring I was holding onto his finger.

-Crack!

Then I twisted his joint in the opposite direction to secure the ring so it wouldn’t come off.

“Ahhh! What are you doing right now!”

“What do you think? Setting up bait. The bug that uses Jefferson Hope as its host is obsessed with that ring.”

“Bug?”

Lestrade and Stangerson tilted their heads in confusion at that moment.

-Thud!

A tremendous noise shook the ground, echoing from outside the window.

The floor vibrated as if an earthquake had occurred.

The sound of flowerpots crashing and shattering was spreading from windowsills all over the streets.

“It’s here.”

While we were conversing, the sun had already set in the west.

The time had come for the beings of the Nine Netherworlds, who live in the shadows, to begin their activities.

“……”

Soon, the noise from outside quieted down.

-Knock.

-Knock…

A regular knocking sound was heard from downstairs.

It was eerily similar to a story I heard from a man named Jacobs, whom I befriended at the dockside tavern.

Without needing to go downstairs, I could tell the identity of the visitor.

“Hey, Stangerson.”

“Yes?”

“You are the worst liar, but I intend to keep the promise I made earlier.”

“What do you mean…?”

Gripped by terror, I grabbed the villain by the collar, ignoring his broken fingers, and hurled him out the window with all my might.

“I’ll let you go, so try to run away.”

“Aaaah!!!”

A scream echoed through Baker Street.

Gathering my cane, ball, and the severed head of the avenger, I leisurely descended to the first floor and opened the door.

-Creak…

The headless corpse turned towards the falling Stangerson, arms stretched forward.

That was the true identity of the guest who knocked on the door.

The pitiable man who burned everything he had for revenge, Jefferson Hope.

To soothe his spirit, all I could do was grip my sword.

“I promise you. Your body will be buried next to your lover.”

A hazy, ash-gray sword aura, like mist, enveloped the blade drawn from my cane.

“So then―”

What I must cut is the soulless shell and the crystallized malice within.

I repeated this several times, glaring at the Dead Man.

“For now, forgive my sword for slashing through your shell.”

The ruthless sky of London Murim, where even the stars closed their eyes.

The cold moonlight was gazing down upon the earth.