What in the world am I? A gigantic puzzle.

–Louise A. Carrol (Name change authorized by Magistrate)1

----------------------------------------

“Watson, are you familiar with the study of discerning human character through handwriting?”

“I’ve heard rumors of it.”

“The basic principle is not much different.”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, I began to pick up bone fragments with gloved hands, each still attached to the scalp, and fit them back into their original form.

Having studied anatomy to the point of exhaustion, and possessing spatial perception far superior to my pre-regressed self in this world, the task was not difficult.

“The martial world is a vast signature collection, and executing a technique is akin to writing one’s name there.”

On the table, the victim’s head is pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle.

There’s no need to restore the entire head.

Reconstructing just the right temporal region, where the victim held the receiver, would suffice to confirm the clue.

“Just as shaky handwriting conveys instability and oversized capital letters hint at arrogance, one can discern much from the execution and traces of their techniques.”

The term ‘Signature Move’ exists for a reason.

If a martial technique is a signature, it inevitably bears the gentleman’s handwriting.

Even if one hides their face with a mask, the martial strength they’ve built and the path they’ve walked are unmistakably revealed.

There is a limit to concealing one’s learned martial arts and internal energy unless one has undergone specialized training.

Even Her Majesty Queen Victoria herself, a master of the Unrestrained realm who had regained her former youth,

once attempted to feign the stance of a debutante, only to be unmasked by none other than myself.

And the owner of the martial arts technique I deciphered this time had a rather tyrannical disposition.

“If you can figure out what technique the victim fell to, the outline of the perpetrator naturally emerges.”

-Click.

As each bone fragment found its place, the darkened skin on top connected like a crooked border on a map of Europe.

I have long maintained an amicable understanding with the mortuary attendant.

To be precise, ours was an ideal and entirely businesslike arrangement—so long as I provided appropriate compensation, he turned a blind eye to whatever activities I chose to undertake within the mortuary.

Thanks to this arrangement, I was able to study the traces left by martial techniques on the human body. Having conducted numerous experiments on a variety of corpses, I am hardly one to overlook such a valuable clue.

“Judging by the sheer brutality of the act, not merely ending the victim’s life, but reducing the skull to fragments, the culprit exhibits a domineering nature, utterly indifferent to the suffering of others.”

Considering that the spread and shape of the brain and skull were almost identical at both scenes, the perpetrator was someone who practiced a single technique repeatedly, to the point of being mechanical.

In other words, it was someone who spares no means to achieve their ends.

A stone cold man who executes a set plan thoroughly to obtain the desired result.

“As I mentioned earlier, what the perpetrator used wasn’t the Fingertips you were worried about.”

The vicious move used in the crime was far from Fingertips.

All Fingertips techniques, including those of the Enfield Academy’s martial arts, possess high penetration and accuracy.

Even the mighty Shotgun, known for its overwhelming power, would have left a mark on the wall if used indoors, piercing through a head.

In contrast, the perpetrator’s technique shattered the victim’s head without leaving significant traces indoors.

This implies that the technique used is specialized in stopping power2.

“It was also certainly not the Jezail Sword Technique.”

The Jezail Sword Technique requires withstanding the intense recoil at the moment of impact to accurately project the Sword aura forward.

Because of this, the snipers of Diancang Sect favored special shoes, and it was common for the ground they stood on to be deeply indented at an angle when they initiated a strike, leading martial artists to call it the Jezail Mark.

However, no Jezail Marks were found at the crime scenes investigated so far.

“The technique used is far from either projectile skills or sword techniques.”

Considering that the second victim, a first-rate master, was unable to react to the attack from close range, there are two possibilities.

“The perpetrator either didn’t carry a weapon or used a concealed weapon not typically recognized as such.”

I continued assembling the right temporal region of the victim.

The temple, ear, cheek, and lower jaw.

I painstakingly reconstructed the scattered bone fragments with intact flesh over the course of tea time3.

The puzzle of flesh and bone was finally completed to the size of a palm.

“This is―”

“What do you see this as, Watson?”

“…It’s a bit large for a dimple.”

The reconstructed temporal region of the corpse bore the distinct imprint of the technique that took his life, etched as if in bas-relief.

“If we rule out the possibility of acromegaly, the culprit stands at an imposing 6.25 feet, a towering figure. Judging by the build, a right-handed individual with well-developed musculature.”

A deep imprint left by a massive fist.

That was the trace of the move we found on the right cheek of the corpse.

“A truly formidable giant, indeed…”

Watson couldn’t close her mouth, as if imagining the physique of the suspect who took the victim’s life.

“He must not only have a body suitable for martial arts but also have accumulated considerable skill. The one move he used to kill must have been perfected.”

The dark bruises covering the temple, ear, and cheek indicated just how powerful the haymaker that struck the victim’s head was.

Even though the skull was shattered, the neck remained intact, with his cross necklace hanging there, showing how cleanly the assassin’s strike was executed.

“No matter how devout an Anglican he was, it seems it was difficult to adhere to the teachings of the Matthew Sutra in such a situation.”

There was no chance for the victim to offer his left cheek to the suspect who hit the right one.

His brain must have been destroyed before he could recall the scripture’s verse or sense the presence of the assassin and turn his head.

“Have you found anything?”

The inspector from the Yard, who had returned from his patrol and was watching us, spokke carefully as he saw the reconstruction of the corpse’s face side.

“I’ve identified a clue regarding the suspect’s physical characteristics. Send a message to contact the other scenes to collect the fragments of the shattered heads.”

“Understood, great hero.”

In the past, we wouldn’t have been able to cooperate so smoothly like this. Indeed, the influence of the Home Secretary is quite beneficial.

Even if I don’t know for sure, adding the status of a full member of The Royal Combat Society here would make the work easier.

“First, let’s try assembling the head at the Yard tomorrow.”

I left the scene with Watson.

Hypotheses waiting for verification were dancing in my head.

----------------------------------------

We returned to the boarding house and took a short nap.

After finishing the breakfast prepared by Mrs. Hudson and completing a brief Breath Control, Lestrade arrived.

“Where’s the evidence?”

“They’ve all been gathered.”

“Excellent.”

We set off immediately in a carriage.

The carriage raced southeast from Baker Street, through Marylebone, towards St. James, reaching near the destination in less than 30 minutes.

As we passed in front of Trafalgar Square, the statue of Charles I on horseback was visible through the carriage window.

Usually, Admiral Nelson’s statue behind it was far more noticeable, but today was different.

It was because the king beheaded by an axe at the execution site overlapped with the victim’s body that had lost its head.

“We’ve arrived.”

The carriage that exited towards Whitehall soon stopped in front of Scotland Yard.

We got off in front of a large building made of red brick and Portland limestone.

Right in front of us was the green front gate, a symbol of Scotland Yard.

Just as I was looking at the door, this gate must have witnessed countless criminals, witnesses, and defenders of order.

“You seem oddly solemn, Holmes. I thought you didn’t like Scotland Yard.”

“Even if I lightly regard the incompetent peelers who can’t handle their duties properly

I have never disregarded the authority of Her Majesty’s police.”

Lestrade, who was walking ahead, turned his head and looked at me with a meaningful expression.

“…It seems Lestrade just cursed me with his eyes.”

“It must be your imagination. Anyway, I thought I’d never come here unless I committed a crime.”

“If a doctor starts harboring evil intentions, it’s not hard to become the greatest criminal. Doctors are bold and knowledgeable, after all.”

“Please, stop saying such dreadful things.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t talking about you.”

As we exchanged small talk and entered the police headquarters, officers were bustling around.

Due to the lack of police compared to the criminals disturbing the London Murim, it seemed they didn’t even have time to rest properly.

Especially since this series of locked-room murders required many officers, their work must be twice as exhausting as usual.

“The evidence is stored in the autopsy room.”

I felt a brief sense of sympathy for the burly officers with dark circles under their eyes, but only briefly.

Watson and I quickly followed Lestrade to a room at the end of the corridor.

There, a seemingly unnecessary coroner and the inspectors investigating the four murder scenes were huddled around four bodies.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

Upon entering and briefly introducing myself, I heard murmuring.

It seemed they weren’t pleased with an outsider wandering freely in the Yard headquarters.

“Please understand, he’s always like this.”

Watson soothed the inspectors with a gentle smile.

Well, as long as I do my job well.

“Then, let’s begin right away. The head of the corpse assembled at dawn…is well-preserved it seems.”

On the workbench lay the temporal lobe of the second victim, which had been pieced together the night before.

Beside it, fragments of shattered heads from the other three crime scenes were clustered, each keeping its own distance.

“No matter how many times I see bodies killed in this manner, I can never get used to it.”

“If it reminds you of comrades lost in Afghanistan, you don’t have to push yourself.”

I felt an unnecessary sense of guilt for bringing up memories Watson would rather forget, but there was no other way to solve the case.

I began reattaching the shattered bones and flesh, just as I had done the night before.

“Is it alright if I help, Holmes?”

“…By all means.”

The retired military doctor began to lend a hand.

As if trying to repair something that had broken on the battlefield.

1. TL/N: The original quote is as follows—Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle. ️

2. TL/N: Stopping power is the ability of a weapon—typically a ranged weapon such as a firearm—to cause a target (human or animal) to be incapacitated or immobilized ️

3. TL/N: Tea time = 30 minutes ️