The blind are among the particularly dangerous types encountered while roaming the martial world.

The other types to be wary of include errand boys, old women, nobles, youths, the deaf, drunks, women, middle-aged men, dogs, fools, children, eunuchs, old men, monks, black people, workers, and members of the Homeless Clan.

–Mark Twain1

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Watson seemed to prioritize her duty as an assistant over painful memories.

I suppressed my gratitude and resumed the work.

“This piece is cartilage, so it’s definitely from the left auricle.”

Watson expertly and methodically assembled the victims’ heads in the correct order.

Thanks to her, the work was much easier than doing it alone.

“It seems endless…”

“The perpetrator smashed them thoroughly.”

With numerous skull fragments and the need to reconstruct not just the temporal areas we worked on at dawn but the entire skull, it took a lot of time.

“Finally done.”

The restoration took just over two hours.

On the restored temporal areas of the corpses, the same marks we saw at dawn were visible.

“As you said, they are all marks left by the same person’s fist.”

Watson measured the size and shape of the necrotized skin tissue darkened by the strike and announced the results, causing the officers to sigh quietly.

One of them had been sweating profusely, sketching the restored face in his notebook.

“This confirms that the recent serial murders are the work of a single perpetrator.”

I revisited the information we had gathered once more.

The case records included the testimony of a telephone operator and the order in which witnesses near the scene reported the incidents.

Based on this, it is certain that the culprit committed the murders by circling the outskirts of London counterclockwise in just 15 minutes.

Moreover, the culprit managed to accomplish all of this without leaving any traces or witness information through some means.

Unless I first uncover how the culprit committed these inexplicable serial killings, I will not be able to identify the perpetrator.

“It’s getting more interesting…”

There is just one possibility.

A technique that can kill an opponent beyond a wall.

If you call and fix the opponent’s position in a pre-set place, you can hit the target with a strike without seeing them directly.

If the culprit has mastered that technique, they could commit murders without directly visiting the scene.

‘The problem is how they managed to move to four locations in such a short time.’

Of course, this is assuming the culprit could circle London within 15 minutes.

However, covering a distance of 100 miles in 15 minutes is impossible for even my master and

Her Majesty Queen Victoria, who are masters of the Unrestrained realm.

“I have something to verify.”

So, it seems I need to consult an expert in that field separately.

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Before leaving Scotland Yard, I instructed Lestrade to contact me immediately once the victims’ identities were ascertained.

Watson and I headed to Chancery Lane, past the Savoy Hotel and King’s College.

Chancery Lane could be considered the heart of London’s legal community, but our reason for visiting had nothing to do with law.

Watson and I left the Public Records Office after confirming the world record for long-distance lightness skill and the record holder.

“It was unexpected to find the world record holder for long-distance lightness skill at the post office.”

“Isn’t it often said that masters hide among the common people?”

It was a fact that was easy to accept.

All postmen in London learn the lightness skill.

When a blue figure zipped across the street, people would simply assume it was a postman and not think much of it.

It wasn’t surprising if one of them was a master of the top lightness skill in the martial world.

“I’m glad we don’t have to wander around needlessly. Let’s hurry.”

The destination wasn’t far.

About six minutes east by carriage would take you to St. Martin’s Le Grand Street.

Located there, the London General Post Office was adjacent to Watson’s workplace, St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, with Postman’s Park in between.

“I think I understand where the postmen’s pride comes from.”

The General Post Office headquarters was, quite literally, vast and magnificent.

Its front was lined with Ionic columns topped with spiral decorations.

“I’d prefer not to come near here on my day off…”

Ignoring Watson’s complaint, I entered the building.

Like Scotland Yard, the General Post Office headquarters was bustling.

In the workshop, office boxers dressed in red were focused on their work at partitioned desks.

They seemed to have mastered martial arts suited for their tasks, swiftly sorting letters and packages, with their dazzling familiar looking hand movements.

“Is that the Lightning Clap from the Santiago Kunlun Sect?”

“Indeed, at an incredible speed.”

All the office boxers have reached a realm above second-class. Furthermore, they were quite skilled in the art of Lightning Clap.

Meanwhile, in another workspace visible on the left, blue-clad delivery boxers were bustling about.

Despite being indoors, those who were displaying their lightness skill seemed to have learned the martial arts of the Santiago Kunlun Sect, just like the office boxers.

Their body technique, which involved leaping into the air or sliding while keeping low, using the space in three dimensions to avoid colliding with other delivery boxers as they carried mail, was something I had seen in the past.

“Eight Cloud Dragons…”

Although they seemed to have mastered only the first move, the fact that everyone could use such advanced martial arts made me feel the majesty of a martial arts powerhouse once again.

“Who would have thought I’d see the pilgrims of Kunlun here.”

I couldn’t help but admire, but I didn’t forget the purpose of my visit here.

I came here solely to meet the world record holder for long-distance lightness skill.

“If even ordinary delivery boxers are at this level, it’s understandable that the Ultimate Speedster is at the post office.”

I handed the cover of the case file stamped with Sir Harcourt’s seal to the martial artist overseeing the work.

“I am Sherlock Holmes, investigating a murder case by order of the Home Secretary. I’d like to meet the Postmaster General.”

The man, caught off guard by the unexpected revelation, opened and closed his mouth in momentary bewilderment, yet, thankfully, his response came out coherent enough.

Right from behind me.

“Are you looking for me?”

Turning my head, I saw a man with pale skin wearing dark sunglasses.

-Coo coo…

A giant spirit dove was perched on his shoulder.

A silhouette seldom seen in London.

However, what caught my eye wasn’t his face or the large dove, but what was hanging from the end of his relaxed arm.

‘The culprit stands at an imposing 6.25 feet, a towering figure. Judging by the build, a right-handed individual with well-developed musculature.’

The words I said to Watson last night after piecing together the bone fragments resurfaced in my mind.

“Are you Sir Henry Fawcett, the Postmaster General?”

“Yes, I am.”

“…!”

This man has formidable fists.

While I examined the Postmaster General’s hand without moving my eyes, Watson couldn’t easily hide her agitation.

Her gaze was fixed on Sir Fawcett’s large fists.

“Holmes…”

“Quiet. There are many watching eyes.”

I interrupted Watson’s words.

Still, with such a reaction, we can pass it off as being surprised to see the Postmaster General in person.

The Postmaster General is a minister within the British Empire’s Cabinet.

It’s only natural for ordinary gentry like us to be surprised when someone of such high status suddenly appears.

…He would think so.

But this only applies if he isn’t involved in this case.

‘If this man is the culprit—’

He must have noticed that we suspect him, having seen Watson’s surprised face looking at his hand.

He might take unexpected actions or move to destroy evidence later.

“…Murder, you say. If Sir Harcourt has moved, it seems to be quite a serious matter.”

But the moment I confirmed the eyes visible through his dark sunglasses, I realized my worries were unfounded.

“How about it? As you said, there are too many ‘eyes watching’ here, so let’s continue our detailed discussion in my office.”

“…Alright.”

Sir Fawcett was blind.

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Third Floor. The office of the Postmaster General, where there are no eyes watching in more than one sense.

A space so quiet that nothing could be heard except for the occasional cooing of the spirit pigeon.

The first words Sir Fawcett said as soon as he sat down were:

“It seems the lady with you is quite nervous.”

“…?!”

-Thunk!

Watson was so startled that she dropped her cane, then quickly picked it up.

“L-lady? What on earth are you talking about…!”

Watson denied it, but Sir Fawcett just closed his eyes gently and smiled kindly.

-Flap!

The spirit pigeon flapped its wings in a warning to Watson, who had unknowingly raised her voice in surprise.

“Stay calm, David. We must be courteous since we have a guest.”

The Postmaster General scattered feed into a dish in front of the perch where the spirit pigeon was perched.

The pigeon, with the splendid name David, nodded towards Watson as instructed by its owner and then quietly began pecking at the feed.

‘Just because he can’t see doesn’t mean he should be treated like an ordinary blind person.’

Sir Fawcett had developed an extraordinary sense of hearing to compensate for his lost sight.

The face-changing technique only helped a little in altering one’s voice, and it was of little significance to Sir Fawcett, who couldn’t see.

He probably discerned Watson’s true gender just by listening to footsteps and heartbeats.

Indeed, a formidable opponent not to be underestimated.

There is a reason the blind are counted among the most formidable figures one must beware of in the martial world.

“…Oh dear. My apologies. I seem to have made quite a blunder. The room was dark, so I must’ve somewhat mistook your voice for that of a lady.”

The current time, 1 PM, did not match the description of darkness at all.

Bright sunlight was pouring in through the window.

‘If this person is the culprit, dealing with them won’t be easy.’

It was undoubtedly clear that he had seen through Watson’s identity.

Saying the room was dark was likely a jest to ease the atmosphere, considering his own blindness.

The way he cleverly pretended not to notice Watson’s identity with just a few words showed he was quite sharp-minded.

“I understand well that the Postmaster General is full of wit.”

I subtly expressed my admiration for his insight.

“Then, how about we formally introduce ourselves before getting to the main topic? I am

Henry Fawcett, tasked with managing postal and savings services as the Postmaster General in Her Majesty’s Cabinet—”

Sir Fawcett said, pushing up his small, round tinted glasses with one hand.

“I am known by the cheerful nickname Blue Bat.”

1. TL/N: The original quote is as follows—October: This is one of the peculiarly dangerous months to speculate in stocks. The others are July, January, September, April, November, May, March, June, December, August, and February. ️