People love the surprise that catches one off guard. This, indeed, is the very seed of Kung-Fu.

–Ralph Waldo Emerson

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“What did you say?!”

Watson’s shock was quieted by the sound of footsteps clicking.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Turning his head, he saw Sir Fawcett coming down the stairs, having gathered his hat and cane.

It seemed the spiritual pigeon was left at the office.

“It looks like the carriage is ready, so let’s depart promptly.”

“That seems best. There’s quite a bit of work piling up for the Yard officers.”

The carriage of the Postmaster General, waiting for us in front of the Central Post Office, was covered in dust.

It was a stark contrast to the obsessively well-maintained carriage of the Home Secretary.

“…The carriage that exudes the elegance of age and experience.”

“I forgot to have it cleaned. I only use the carriage once or twice a year.”

With Watson babbling in panic, Sir Fawcett offered an excuse that was less of an excuse and more of an attempt to explain himself, accompanied by a wry smile.

“It’ll be clean in three seconds.”

Before he even finished speaking, the coachman, who had tied the horse a little distance away, returned and took his position.

The coat he wore had very wide sleeves, and although the material was different, it was the same style as Sir Fawcett’s.

Such garments with large sleeves were symbolic of the Kunlun Clan pilgrims, often utilized in various ways to control posture while in mid-air when executing the Ocho Dragones Nubes.

Since the Kunlun Clan’s main base is in Spain, it’s rare to see martial skills displayed using those sleeves, but to see it in a place like this was unexpected.

“Ha!”

The coachman let out a spirited shout and swung his arm, releasing the brilliantly shining Brain Stopper from his palm and sleeve toward the carriage.

-Whoosh!

A soft energy, scattered like petals in the spring breeze, swept through every corner inside and outside the carriage before dissipating into the air.

A single gust of verdant blossom-laden wind swept through, leaving not a speck of dust in its wake.

To think that they would apply Floating Blossom Rebounding Hand, the signature defensive technique of the Kunlun Clan, to mere cleaning—now that is luxury beyond comparison.

“Alright. There’s still time before we drop you off at the Yard, so shall we continue our conversation? I happened to overhear something when I was coming downstairs earlier. It seems you’ve discovered something.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

As soon as I sat down in the carriage, Sir Fawcett asked.

As expected, it seemed he had overheard the conversation about the telegraph boxers I had with Watson on the second floor.

“If it’s related to the Post Office, I think I should be informed.”

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that yet. It’s a matter that requires verification.”

Upon my firm refusal, Sir Fawcett’s face hardened like a dry log, though he kept smiling.

“…You have a knack for leaving people feeling disappointed.”

The Postmaster General removed his tinted glasses.

Through the opened eyelids, only a single color remained as the pupils disappeared.

The air inside the carriage felt sharp, piercing my skin like needles.

“…!”

The oppressive sensation was as if a silk-threaded rope was tightening around my neck, making it hard to breathe, yet Watson, sitting beside me, simply looked at me blankly, not understanding the situation.

It seemed that the aura emanating from Sir Fawcett was focused solely on me.

‘It seems Watson still can’t see it.’

Focusing my vision with internal energy and using the eye technique, I could see the faint circular light hovering behind Sir Fawcett’s head.

That is a Halo, a mark of those who have reached a certain level and opened their upper energy center among the masters of the Christianism Clan, including the Zion and Kunlun sects.

It’s somewhat excessive to reveal it just to intimidate a mere Murim junior.

However.

“That’s what everyone says.”

There was no need to draw a large amount of internal energy to deflect the pressure he exuded.

With but a slight motion of my hand, imbued with True energy, the unseen afterglow that had been cascading toward me veered off course, deflected cleanly out of the carriage window.

“Hmm?”

Sir Fawcett’s eyebrows raised significantly, as if surprised.

“Until I present you with an unexpected surprise.”

“Oh.”

Somehow, I felt like I knew what the Postmaster General wanted.

“An unexpected surprise, you say…”

Even as he listened to me, Sir Fawcett scratched his head with a puzzled expression.

“Forgive me. Without being able to see your expression, it’s hard to understand what you mean. Could you explain it in a way that even a blind man like me can comprehend?”

I could guess his intentions, pretending not to understand what I was saying.

‘He thinks I’ve found a crucial clue to catch the culprit.’

Sir Fawcett is a politician.

Additionally, he is an authority who authored the Manual Of Kung-Fu Economy, a bible of Kung-Fu economics.

By now, he is likely considering the possibility that a postal official might be the real culprit behind the serial murders.

He is probably trying to extract a clue from me so he can personally move to apprehend the criminal.

The police from Scotland Yard, a sub-organization of the Home Office, would certainly find it less politically precarious to directly hand over the criminal rather than barging into the Post Office to drag away subordinates.

Unless they resort to all means and methods to destroy the evidence necessary for arrest to avoid leaving a stain on their career.

Of course, since they swore cooperation in the investigation even bringing out the Jacob’s Shell, the latter possibility is almost nonexistent.

“What I mean is, you’ll be surprised soon. In a good way, of course—”

“It seems you haven’t understood my words at all.”

The moment he cut me off with a sharp tone, the faint halo shape behind his head became a bit clearer.

“Calm down, sir!”

Finally grasping the situation and understanding what was going on, Watson tried to calm the minister.

“Apologies. It seems as I age, only my unnecessary meddling and curiosity increase.”

Sir Fawcett calmed down and continued with a composed face.

“What I, the Minister, want to say, is that it would be greatly appreciated if you could explain exactly what surprise you’re referring to.”

For about three seconds, I pondered what I could gain from this deal.

The task entrusted to me by Home Secretary Sir Harcourt was to find the true culprit of this case.

The Zuckerberg family also requested, even offering an advance, that I catch the criminal without yielding to any external pressure.

Arresting the murderer is a given, so perhaps using this opportunity to have Sir Fawcett owe me a favor wouldn’t be a bad idea.

The opponent is a representative of the Santiago Kunlun Clan and a pillar of the Cabinet as the Postmaster General.

And the postmen under his command are observers who can watch everything as they traverse all of London.

If Sir Fawcett can be brought into the fold as an ally, assistance can be obtained when necessary.

“This small detective cultivation is yet shallow, unworthy of grasping the profound intentions of the Minister.”

“Haha. It’s all because my mind is dull.”

“What are you saying, Master of Kunlun?”

Only then did the great Blue Bat withdraw his aura, and the carriage was filled with the warm smiles of the three men inside.

I waited for the laughter to die down before answering Sir Fawcett’s question.

“The surprise I mentioned means that within three days, I will capture the culprit and have him kneel before you.”

“……”

Sir Fawcett was silent for a moment, then suddenly burst into hearty laughter.

“Hahaha!!”

It seemed my answer wasn’t entirely to his liking.

“Indeed, what a splendid surprise! I shall gladly wait for three days!”

Though it wasn’t entirely the wrong answer either.

“I, Holmes, will do my utmost to capture him for you.”

Even as I answered in the most serious tone, the Postmaster General continued to slap his thigh with laughter.

“Truly… You are a very amusing person.”

“Humor is a gentleman’s virtue.”

I replied, looking straight into the minister’s now sober eyes.

Sir Fawcett understood exactly what I was trying to convey.

I spoke with the utmost politeness, but from the start, I had no intention of letting Sir Fawcett arrest the culprit.

Revealing the criminal’s identity and capturing him was a task that belonged to me, the investigative consultant.

However.

Before handing over the murderer to the police, if it’s about giving Sir Fawcett a bit of credit during the arrest process, it might be worth considering.

The fact that he’s laughing so cheerfully means he must have accepted my proposal.

“You continuously remind me of that man.”

“Does that man happen to have the same surname as mine?”

“Oh. How did you know?”

“……”

Could he be acquainted with Mycroft?

“We’ve arrived at Scotland Yard.”

I couldn’t answer easily, but just then, the coachman knocked on the window.

“It’s a pity I have to let you off here. I’d love to chat all night, but the police must be waiting for you.”

As the carriage stopped, the green gates of the Yard appeared beyond the window.

While I was engaged in a battle of wits with the Postmaster General, we had reached our destination.

“There are always opportunities as long as we live, aren’t there? It was a pleasure, Minister.”

“Thank you for seeing us off.”

“Think nothing of it.”

As Watson and I exchanged farewells in turn, Sir Fawcett graciously stepped down from the carriage with us.

It seemed he had something more to say to me before leaving.

“I’ll send a separate message to the relevant parties. Is it alright to evacuate them to the Yard?”

“That would be best. Thank you.”

When I replied, Sir Fawcett cautiously lowered his voice and asked again.

“But, is it really alright? There might be a criminal among those gathered.”

“You think the real culprit might be among the postal officials.”

The Minister quietly nodded.

“You need not worry about that matter. The officials of the Ministry Of Posts And Telegraphs are in the most convenient position to be the first suspects once the victims’ identities are revealed.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means the perpetrator of this case isn’t that stupid.”

Even if the lawsuit ends favorably for the Ministry Of Posts And Telegraphs, the ones who benefit are the Post Office and the government.

Killing a telephone company executive doesn’t directly benefit the perpetrator, so there’s no reason for Sir Fawcett’s subordinate to resort to murder without a personal grudge.

Moreover, the status of the victims and the strong scent of a power struggle suggest that this case wasn’t driven by personal vendetta.

“I don’t know much, but since it’s you saying it, I’ll believe it for three days. Take care, then.”

“Thank you. I hope you stay safe as well, Minister.”

“I should be fine.”

After a brief moment of contemplation, I spoke again.

“We can’t be sure. It doesn’t seem like the perpetrator has achieved their goal yet.”

“…Do you mean there will be more fatalities?”

To Sir Fawcett’s question, I replied with my honest opinion.

“Sooner or later, the perpetrator will target the Minister’s life.”