Becoming Professor Moriarty's Probability-Chapter 245: The Adventure of the Empty House (4)

“Hic... sniff... Is that really true?”

“... Y-Yeah! It’s true this time! I won’t die. I swear.”

As I frantically tried to console Moran, who was in a panicked state, tears streaming down her face, she finally stopped crying and gazed at me quietly.

“But... but you said that back then too.”

“Huh?”

“You promised you’d never leave me... but then you disappeared.”

Her words, spoken with a dark, sombre look in her eyes, left me momentarily speechless.

“Well, that was... um...”

“........”

“But I came back, didn’t I?”

Trying to fumble my way through her accusation, I found myself met with an icy glare that instantly made me shut my mouth.

“... But, uh, look. I really am sick, okay?”

“.......!”

Sensing that if I delayed any longer, I might end up stuffed into a bag again, I hurriedly opened my mouth to speak. Moran’s wide, round eyes suddenly grew even wider.

“You can’t be sick...”

Utter trash...

And as tears began welling up in her eyes once more, the system’s cold, unrelenting message appeared to scold me.

This isn’t something I should be doing to a child...

I did feel a pang of guilt beginning to gnaw at me, but my survival instincts were blaring alarms so loudly that I had no choice but to push forward.

As much as it pricked my conscience, I had to make the most of this situation.

“Th-The reason I’m sick is... um... oh, right! It’s because of someone who’s been targeting me! That’s why I’m not feeling well.”

“........ What?”

“Actually, the reason I disappeared for a while two years ago was because of that person too.”

Resolving to twist the story to my advantage, I continued making excuses. Hearing me, Moran’s face turned frighteningly pale.

“Who is... that fucking bastard?”

Her voice, low and chilling, sent shivers down my spine. It was impossible to believe such words could come from a 14-year-old, especially paired with the horrifying expression that now twisted her features.

“... Where did you even learn such vulgar language?”

“Who’s the bastard making you sick, Master? Tell me.”

I tried to steer the conversation into a scolding tone, but it was futile. Moran’s eyes had already gone wild with rage.

What on earth had Princess Clay and Blaze been teaching her during the last two years to turn such a sweet child into... this?

Did you really think she was just a sweet, innocent child all along?

You do realise you’re utterly hopeless for just having that thought, right?

... You’re unusually talkative today.

Deciding to have a conversation with those ladies later, I brushed away the messages that popped up in front of me. Turning my attention back to Moran, who still wore that terrifying expression, I cautiously spoke again.

“So, I was actually planning to go after that person myself... but, well, you lot kept holding me back here.”

“... Were you planning to go alone?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind...”

“... Kulluk, kullluk.”

Moran, who had begun growling with her eyes glinting dangerously, froze mid-sentence the moment I coughed again while glancing at her cautiously.

“So, if... if I kill that bastard... Master won’t be sick anymore?”

“Th-There’s no need to kill the person. I just...”

“Got it! I’ll torture the bastard until they’re on the verge of death. I won’t let them die even if they want to!”

“... We just need to capture the individual alive.”

“Then peeling their skin off and pouring boiling water on them should be enough...”

I couldn’t help but feel slightly uneasy at how violent Moran had become, but with her clutching both my hands tightly and sniffling, as if afraid I might disappear again, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

“Anyway, will you help me?”

“Yes! I’ll make sure that bastard—!”

“... So, you’re going to get me out of here, yeah?”

Watching for the right moment, I subtly slipped the question into the conversation.

“Of course.”

“Phew...”

When Moran immediately answered with a bright, innocent smile, I let out a small sigh of relief, my expression visibly relaxing.

“... Because I will be accompanying you 24/7. So, it’s fine.”

“Uh...”

“Let me know when you need to use the bathroom. I’ll assist you with that too.”

But as her next statement, said with the utmost nonchalance, reached my ears, cold sweat beaded my forehead.

“So, where is that bastard?”

“Ah, well, you see...”

As Moran, still gripping my arm tightly, got up from the bed and asked, I answered with my lips twitching.

“America.”

“America?”

“Providence, Rhode Island.”

Thank goodness I’d taken the time to look up H.P. Lovecraft’s home address on a wiki site back in the real world.

“... America, so, um, that means...”

“Hm?”

“That means it’ll just be you and me going there.”

As I entertained the rather grim thought of personally dealing with Lovecraft, who had once torn me away from this world and everyone I held dear, Moran, clutching my arm and heading toward the door, lowered her voice and began muttering.

“Hmm...”

“Right? Master?”

To be honest, for safety’s sake, I’d considered bringing Princess Clay or Silver Blaze along, but with Poppy also serving as a bodyguard, Moran alone seemed sufficient.

“... You mean just the two of us are going, right? Master.”

“Yes, that is correct, ma’am. I mean, yeah, that’s right, Moran.”

Moran stared at me with deadened eyes, clearly manipulating me into giving the answer she wanted. Still, I wanted to believe it was my own decision in the end.

“I knew it, Master.”

- Creeeeak...

As I deluded myself with that thought, avoiding Moran’s shy smile, I opened the door.

“”.........””

“Oh.”

What greeted me immediately was Princess Clay and Silver Blaze, already dressed in travel attire and fully armed, standing at the entrance. I couldn’t help but froze at that.

“You two... what are you doing right now...”

“We’ve already tasked some of our men with finding a ship heading to America. Wait in the living room for now.”

“We’ve also contacted the demihumans in America. Accommodation and security won’t be an issue.”

How the hell did they figure out where we were going?

“These days, spying in London is standard practice. It’s common sense.”

“... It’d be easier to find people who don’t do it, to be honest.”

What kind of lunatic logic is that?

“Who gave you permission to—“

Still reeling from the sharp reminder of London’s infamous underhandedness after two years, I couldn’t even finish my sentence before Moran’s face twisted, and she started growling fiercely again.

“Isn’t it better if Adler’s at least a little safer?”

“Exactly. What if you disappear right before our eyes again?”

“........”

But when the two women brought up the issue of my safety, Moran flinched and fell silent.

It seemed the events from two years ago had left a significant trauma on her.

I felt a pang of guilt stabbing at me. What was I supposed to do to make this right?

“... Master promised he wouldn’t do that again.”

“Hah, you still haven’t realised how deceitful he can be?”

“Our Master tells lies as easily as breathing.”

“Ah!”

Moran, who had been clinging to my arm and passionately defending me, suddenly froze with her mouth agape, looking utterly shocked by their words.

Seeing her reaction, I felt a tiny bit of relief— it seemed there was still a fragment of her innocent self left somewhere.

No, there wasn’t ever an innocent side to her!

And you’re going to get devoured alive at this rate!!!

Seriously, do a better job raising her already!!! frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

I decided to ignore the system’s exasperated messages. Honestly, such suspicions about a 14-year-old child were truly unwarranted.

“... This time, it’s really true, Moran.”

“See? Master says it’s true this time!”

“”...... Haah.””

After several rounds of back and forth like this, it was finally decided that three of my most loyal companions would accompany me to America.

How am I supposed to handle Inspector, Charlotte, and Professor...?

Just dealing with this lot had absolutely already drained me. I had no idea how I’d manage to navigate through everything else that lay ahead.

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Meanwhile, at 221B Baker Street,

“... Holmes. Why did you summon us?”

“I’m a busy person. Just get to the point, will you?”

“... It’s good that both of you have arrived.”

After being urgently called by Charlotte, Watson and Inspector Lestrade found themselves in the familiar sitting room after a long time. They looked at her, seated quietly in the armchair, their expressions a mix of confusion and curiosity.

“Would you like an Arcadia cigarette after such a while? Oh, and you too, Inspector, if you’d like.”

“You know I quit smoking! And you promised you’d give it up too...!”

“... I don’t smoke, and I never will.”

But as Charlotte offered them a pack of cigarettes with a weary, hollow look in her eyes, their faces twisted in disapproval, recoiling at her suggestion.

“That’s a shame. You know, about three hours of smoking a day can really clear your mind...”

“Yeah, and rot your lungs while you’re at it. Enough of this nonsense— just tell us why we’re here.”

“... I was about to get to that.”

Charlotte, looking slightly dejected, tucked the cigarette pack back into her coat. She then reached for an envelope resting on her desk, holding it up for them to see.

“What do you think this is?”

“Hmm... a letter?”

“That’s right, it’s a letter. But you see, the important thing about a letter isn’t just what it says... it’s who it’s from.”

With that cryptic remark, Charlotte handed over the envelope. Watson took it, pulling out the letter inside and beginning to read aloud.

Dear Mr Sherinford,

I’m reaching out to you after reading your critique of the short story I submitted to the magazine.

Goodness, I never imagined there could be someone in this world who truly recognises the literary craftsmanship and the depth of the universe I’ve created.

As you so astutely pointed out, the novels written in America nowadays are nothing but kindling, devoid of even the slightest entertainment value. And the foolish masses continue to devour such base rubbish, perpetuating a dismal trend of mediocrity... (omitted)

“... What is this?”

Watson abruptly stopped reading, her face contorting in clear disgust at the letter’s grim, dark tone.

“You’ve been corresponding with someone like this? Under an alias, no less? And aren’t you usually indifferent to this sort of thing?”

“Watson, have you already forgotten what I said?”

“What?”

Charlotte smirked at Watson’s confusion and replied with a mocking tone.

“The importance of a letter lies in who it’s from.”

“.......!”

At those words, Watson’s gaze unconsciously drifted to the bottom of the letter. Her pupils contracted sharply as she read the name signed at the end.

Your devoted admirer,

Rebecca Phillips Lovecraft

“This is...”

The name written there, bearing a surname all too familiar to her, left Watson momentarily speechless.

“Found you, Lovecraft.”

Amid the heavy silence that followed, Charlotte whispered those words, her lips curling into a chilling smile.

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Around that time, in Providence, Rhode Island, USA,

“Achoo!”

Lovecraft, holed up in a corner of a room within a large mansion, sneezed and sniffled.

“... Is someone talking about me?”

- Shrrrrrk...!

As she muttered absentmindedly, the pages of her notebook suddenly began flipping on their own, as if possessed by a will of their own.

Stop rambling and focus on the task at hand.

“Ah, alright, alright, I get it...”

Startled by the eerie writing that appeared on a fresh page, she stammered an apology and began drawing a complex magic circle on a sheet of paper beside her.

“... Uh, but, um, I might’ve accidentally spit on it a little.”

Then erase that part and redraw the whole thing from the beginning.

“Just kill me instead...”

Are you sure about that?

“... I’m sorry.”