Chapter 10: The First Request
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 10: The First Request
“Adler.”
“Yes, Professor.”
It had been a few hours since the recruitment notices for the ‘Mock Crime Consultation Club’ had been plastered across the academy.
“I was the one who trusted you and stamped the permit. I was also the one who willingly accepted your request and participated in these interviews.”
Professor Moriarty, who had been vetting the students flocking to the office alongside me, spoke in a low, dangerous silkiness.
“But now, I’m starting to regret that decision.”
As she spoke, she twirled a strand of hair around her finger and shifted her gaze forward.
“I’m saying this as I watch these pathetic antics.”
“Eeeek…”
In front of us, a student was desperately straining, pouring every ounce of their strength into manifesting mana.
“Well? How is it? Is it red enough?”
“Does the student not know the difference between orange and red?”
Moriarty watched the charade with an expression of pure boredom. At her dry remark, the student stopped his mana manipulation and began scratching his head sheepishly.
“I—I tried my best…”
“Next.”
“Tch.”
Receiving his notice of failure, the boy stomped out of the office, grumbling under his breath.
“Thanks to that peculiar condition you set, the interview room has turned into a mana demonstration site for idiots aiming for extra credit,” Moriarty noted.
“……..”
“How much longer do I have to watch these fools strain themselves to produce red mana? It doesn't even exist in London.”
Professor Moriarty leaned against her desk, her eyes heavy with sleepiness, and fixed me with an intense, searching gaze.
“Here, have one of these.”
“Mm.”
She seemed thoroughly drained, so I pulled a sugar cube from the bag I had confiscated from her earlier due to "health concerns" and handed it over.
“Just wait a little longer. The person I’ve been waiting for will definitely show up.”
“Mmm…”
“I’ll give you another sugar cube, so please, be patient.”
She didn’t look entirely satisfied with the deal, but after I placed a second cube in her hand, she finally popped them into her mouth. She chewed contentedly, nodding her head in a slow rhythm.
—Crunch, crunch.
In that moment, I felt a strange sensation—as if I had somehow become her dedicated tamer.
“Ah, hello?”
Before being called, the door to the interview room swung open, and a girl stepped inside.
“Is this the Mock Crime Consultation Club?”
She was neat and earnest-looking, with reddish-brown bobbed hair, and she posed her question with a timid air.
Speak of the devil.
After a brief observation of the student—who looked like the quintessential model pupil to any casual observer—I murmured to myself, a satisfied smile playing on my lips.
“I am a second-year, affiliated with the student council. My name is Victoria Spaulding.”
I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist.
“I look forward to working with you!”
The fourth smartest girl in London—the one whose Red-Headed League case I had effectively stolen—had finally appeared.
“Professor, what are you doing?”
“Huh?”
“I told you, didn’t I? When you meet a client for the first time, you should start with an analysis.”
I gave a slight nod of acknowledgment to the girl’s greeting. Then, while Moriarty was still leaning over her books, I tapped her lightly and whispered into her ear.
“Understanding a client’s information is fundamental for a crime consultant, Professor.”
“…Understood, Adler.”
In an instant, her eyes began to shine with a quiet, predatory light.
“Please, take a seat, Senior Spaulding.”
After catching that look in Moriarty’s eyes—the look of a hunter who had spotted her prey—I shifted my gaze back to the girl.
“The interview will now begin.”
It was time to find another victim to help relieve the professor’s boredom.
*
“Now, Senior, would you mind demonstrating your mana for us?”
“Do… Do I have to?”
The girl, Victoria Spaulding, looked bewildered by the request.
“You don’t have to, but is there a specific reason you’re avoiding it?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Is there a reason, student?” Moriarty echoed, mimicking my tone like a trained parrot.
“I—I’m still not very good at handling mana… Hehe.”
“That’s fine. As long as we can see the color, there won’t be a problem.”
“Then… I will try.”
Under the combined pressure of our gazes, the girl eventually succumbed. She extended her right hand and began to summon her mana.
—Hummm.
Shortly after, a faint, match-flame-sized aura, tinged with a rosy hue, began to emanate from her palm.
“As you can see… this is my limit.”
“”………””
“Originally, the inherent color of mana follows the user’s hair color. In London, where true red hair doesn't exist, red mana would be impossible… wouldn’t it?”
Looking pitiable, the girl made her excuses, pointing to her own crimson-dyed hair.
“But… why did you include such a strange condition in the first place?”
“Although it is a mock club, it is still a crime consultation club,” I replied. “We need someone who can use red mana to simulate specific crime scenes.”
“…I see.”
Mumbling to herself, the girl suddenly stood up.
“…I just remembered I have something urgent to attend to.”
“Is that so?”
“I’m sorry. I should get going—”
“Before you leave, I have one question for you, Senior.”
As she turned to make a hasty exit, I threw the question out like a hook.
“If you were to join our club, what crime would you like to consult on?”
She paused for a brief moment, then turned back with a bright, innocent smile.
“Um… I’m not sure? But robbing London’s top bank has been a childhood dream of mine.”
“Really?”
I let the corners of my mouth curl upward and lowered my voice to a whisper.
“For Princess Joan Clay, a woman of royal blood, what could you possibly be lacking that would drive you to such an act?”
A heavy, tense silence descended upon the room.
“…I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Frozen in place, the girl stared at me, eventually breaking the silence with a look of feigned confusion.
“I am just a simple farmer’s daughter. I was admitted to this academy merely because I happened to be born with the ability to use mana…”
“Student, it isn’t a good habit to put your hand in your pocket and focus all your mana there, now is it?”
Moriarty’s voice, tinged with genuine amusement and intrigue, cut through the girl’s monologue.
“Someone might misunderstand and think you’re preparing for a battle.”
The girl fell silent. Moriarty tapped her finger on the table rhythmically.
“Especially when a vampire—a race known throughout Europe for nearly being hunted to extinction—exhibits such behavior. It’s highly inappropriate.”
“……….”
“Even if you are a noble young lady hiding your status… at the very least, within this academy, the authority of a professor is absolute.”
The girl let out a long, cold sigh and sat back down.
“…Haah.”
The facade of the inadequate student vanished instantly. She crossed her legs arrogantly and fixed us with a haughty glare.
“How did you figure it out?”
“The faint scent of hair dye. The red stubble on the back of your neck that you failed to completely remove,” Moriarty began. “And unlike the other fools trying to turn their mana red, you were desperately trying to make yours appear orange. When you put the clues together, there can only be one answer, can’t there?”
“………”
“I’m not sure how my adorable assistant knew, but red mana is a characteristic that only vampires possess. Am I wrong?”
Joan Clay’s expression shifted to one of grudging respect.
“I thought you were just some nobodies, but you are clearly not ordinary.”
“You are far from ordinary as well,” Moriarty countered. “You used a very unique perfume to mask your scent, and you meticulously removed your body hair to the point where I almost didn't notice for a second…”
“Hmph.”
“But that very meticulousness was your downfall. A poor farmer’s daughter wouldn’t be able to afford such an exotic perfume, nor would she have the means to shave so cleanly.”
Professor Moriarty’s face was alight with excitement.
“By the way, the part about the smell of hair dye was a lie. The perfume was so unique I just made a random guess. Next time, try to stick to your guns until the very end.”
She looked like a young girl riding a rollercoaster for the first time.
“…This is irritating,” Joan Clay murmured, her voice turning icy. “I never expected there to be a hunter in this academy.”
In the next heartbeat—
—Vroooom!
A deep, blood-red aura erupted from her body, swirling around her like a storm.
“But for someone with a sharp mind, you’ve made a foolish choice.”
Clay, filling the room with mana that burned like fresh blood, whispered with amusement rather than fear.
“To face me, you should have brought at least a hundred hunters. What can you two possibly do?”
“Did you come here so unguarded because you were confident you could escape?” Moriarty asked.
“I have no desire to continue talking with hunters.”
Clay’s mana surged like a tidal wave, rejecting the conversation.
“Hmm.”
Professor Moriarty wore a chilling smile and began to raise her finger.
“I must respectfully disagree, Princess Clay.”
At that critical moment, I reached out and pulled Moriarty’s hand down.
“We are not hunters.”
“I don’t care. As long as you know my true identity—”
“We are criminal consultants,” I interrupted. “And we are sincerely willing to assist you, Princess Clay, in your plot to resurrect the vampire race in the 19th century.”
Princess Joan Clay furrowed her brows, staring at me in disbelief.
“The reason we lured you here, My Lady, was to receive a request from you.”
“I can manage perfectly well on my own. Why would I need your help?”
“Because a certain genius girl in London will stand in your way.”
“What?”
“Even if that weren't the case, now that we know your plan, executing it would be virtually impossible.”
Clay scoffed. “As I said, I can simply kill you both right here…”
“If we don’t send a cancellation command by tomorrow morning, the newspapers will be plastered with articles about you,” I countered.
“………”
I didn't back down.
“Of course, that is merely insurance for our lives. We aren't forcing you to hire us. If you choose to leave, no harm will be done. But let me be clear: without our help, your plan is doomed to fail.”
Moriarty, a smile lingering on her lips, added the finishing blow.
“Because your plan is flawed at its very foundation.”
Silence reclaimed the room.
“What are you talking about?”
“I will tell you that after you have officially entrusted us with the request, my dear student,” Moriarty said composedly.
Clay glared at them, her annoyance palpable, before finally opening her mouth.
“What is the fee?”
“I have more than enough money, so I require something special. How about you become my familiar, Princess Clay?”
“I’ll take that as you saying you want to die right now.”
“On the contrary, if you are dissatisfied with the results in any way, I will become your servant instead.”
Clay pondered the proposal, her mana still rippling through the air.
“If you write exactly what you just said into a contract and sign it, then I will consider it.”
“Very well.”
“It will be a contract bound by Contract Magic, of course.”
“Naturally. That is the only way to proceed.”
When I agreed so easily, Clay looked suspicious for a moment, then chuckled.
“If you’re so keen on becoming my servant, I could make you one this instant.”
“I’d rather let the contract decide that.”
“Ha.”
She pulled a quill from her bodice.
“Having the scum of London at my beck and call like a dog could be quite entertaining.”
The criminal consultation contract, bearing the signatures of Adler and Clay, was completed minutes later.
*
“Well, then… Farewell!”
Clay, having reverted to her naive student persona, bid us a loud goodbye as she stepped out of the office.
“…Professor, you must be pleased.”
Finally relaxing, I sighed and spoke to Moriarty.
“Our first case has finally arrived.”
The case that would later be known as the Red Mana League.
“I see.”
Moriarty replied with a faint, soft smile.
“I’ll kill you… if you ever belong to someone else, Adler dear.”
It wasn't a reply; it was a death threat. How could she say something so chilling while looking so radiant?
“Me? Or her?”
“Consider it both of you dying.”
“…To avoid that, I suppose we’ll have to work extra hard on this case.”
I was becoming surprisingly adept at handling these situations, which was a worrying realization in itself.
“But earlier, why did you grab my hand?” Moriarty asked, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Because it would be bad if a pointless fight led to injuries.”
Of course, the one who would have been injured was Princess Clay. Regardless of who she was, the final boss of this world—whose true power remained a mystery—was not someone Joan Clay could best. I didn't want to subdue her yet; she was meant to become the Professor’s top-tier servant alongside me.
“Why are you grinning at me like that?”
“You really are amusing.”
“That kind of gaze is sexual harassment, Professor.”
“Pfft.”
As I stood up to leave, exchanging banter with Moriarty—
—Creeeak.
The office door began to open again. I turned, wondering if Princess Clay had forgotten something.
“…Ugh.”
A curse died in my throat as I froze.
“Is this the Mock Crime Consultation Club?”
Standing there, wearing the uniform of the Auguste Detective Academy with a cold smile on her cute face, was none other than Charlotte Holmes.
“Mr. Adler.”
Why the hell was she here now? Fucking dammit.