Chapter 102: The Recollections of Isaac Adler
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 102: The Recollections of Isaac Adler
Hey…
Are you really sure about this?
As I quietly descended the long staircase leading to the mansion's basement, a message scribbled in haste flickered before my eyes.
I offered you the best possible happy ending given your current circumstances. Are you really going to reject it?
“...Yes.”
The System clearly disapproved of my actions, but I had already steeled my resolve. There was no turning back now.
I don’t—I can’t understand this.
“I’m not doing this because I want to be understood.”
Ignoring the system window, I walked right through it and trudged toward my destination. The translucent window hesitated in mid-air for a moment before deciding to follow me.
“...?”
Sensing something odd, I turned around. The window froze the moment my gaze landed on it. However, as soon as I looked forward again, it resumed its floating trail behind me.
“...What is it now?”
What? I haven't done anything…
The System’s shifty behavior reminded Adler of being stalked in the past, prompting him to speak in a tone frostier than usual. At his rigid voice, the floating entity displayed words in a sloppy, hastily scribbled script.
“Don’t follow me.”
Are you really going down there?
“...How many times must I say it?”
Since I remained adamant, the System changed the color of its text to a visceral blood-red. A warning.
If you go down, you’ll die…
“………”
Below those crimson words, an array of probabilities appeared—numbers I couldn't simply ignore.
Warning!
The contents were enough to make my skin crawl. However, from the moment I declined the guaranteed happy ending, I had decided not to be swayed by mere numbers.
“...Your probabilities are often off the mark, aren’t they?”
The system doesn’t calculate immediate likelihood. It bases these figures on the ultimate fate you will face at the end of your road.
“You have an endless supply of excuses, don’t you?”
Youdesigned it that way.
When I replied with a calm, cold expression, the System shot back in a font that practically dripped with resentment.
Are you certain you want to revive the game’s final boss?
You aren't even bound by the duty of being this world’s sole Probability. Are you truly going to throw away your one and only unique Life Restoration Event?
“Umm…”
The System, which had vanished for a second, suddenly reappeared with that glaring question. I looked down and sighed.
“...That’s the thing.”
My gaze fell upon the Professor. Her lifeless body was cradled in my arms in a princess carry, and memories of the past began to surface one by one.
Among them, the one I recalled most vividly was the content of The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes. The moment I first read The Final Problem in that anthology…
“There’s a good reason for it.”
Perhaps the decision I was making now had been set in stone from that very moment.
.
.
.
If you asked why people were so fascinated by the Sherlock Holmes series, you would get a thousand different answers.
The mysteries were filled with dramatic twists that remain intriguing even by modern standards. The cast of characters was vivid and lifelike from every angle. Or perhaps it was the catharsis of seeing irrational, obscure cases solved through crisp logic and a deductive ability that bordered on foresight.
But above all, the overwhelmingly popular response would be the charm of the protagonist himself—the great Sherlock Holmes.
Who was Sherlock Holmes?
He was the very epitome of a detective. He was the godfather of the archetype, influencing nearly every fictional detective that followed. He is one of the most adapted characters in film history—arguably one of the most successful creations to ever exist.
Recalling the chaos that befell Arthur Conan Doyle when he tried to kill Holmes off, one can appreciate just how much fans were enthralled by the man.
I was no different. I encountered the series during a particularly dark chapter of my life.
Though the memories have grown hazy, the bleak emotions I felt back then are still enough to send shivers down my spine. After all, how heartbroken must a child actor be—one who never wanted to act or receive unwanted attention—to lose his entire family in a car accident on the way to the set?
The Sherlock Holmes series, recommended by one of the few friends who visited me in the hospital, might not have changed my entire life… but it was certainly enough to help me survive those miserable times.
It was only natural that I became obsessed. I became an ardent fan of the titular character. Up to that point, I wasn't much different from any other Sherlockian.
However, on the day I was nearing my discharge, I finished reading The Final Problem…
That was the moment I diverged from the average fan. That was the moment the series turned my life upside down.
Unlike the ordinary readers who mourned Sherlock Holmes and cursed the sudden appearance of Professor Moriarty…
I was completely captivated by the new character. I was so enthralled by the enigmatic Professor Moriarty that it shook the very foundation of my admiration for Holmes.
.
.
.
“...I suppose I am a strange man, Professor.”
Emerging from my idle recollections, I began walking again. I looked down and gently caressed the cold, lifeless cheek of Professor Jane Moriarty.
“Though I favor the role of a consulting detective, it seems I’ve taken a liking to the role of a criminal consultant as well.”
When I first read the scene at Reichenbach Falls, where Holmes and Moriarty met their mutual end, I was deeply shocked. The editions my friend brought me were missing several stories, including The Adventure of the Empty House—the chapter where Holmes famously returns. At the time, I truly believed the series had ended there.
But my shock didn't manifest as sorrow or anger.
The criminal mastermind who had outmaneuvered the impeccable Sherlock Holmes and forced him to flee across Europe…
I was overwhelmed by the charisma and terrifying atmosphere the villain exuded. I found myself yearning to see him hunt down the forces of justice.
“At first, it was clearly awe.”
Even now, I’m not entirely sure why I felt that way. Perhaps to me, a lifelong victim of crime, the existence of an Invincible Criminal Consultant was both a source of fear and an object of admiration. Or perhaps my inherent nature was always a shade of gray, a mix of black and white.
“...Now, it’s clear it isn't just awe anymore.”
In the end, I still preferred the role of the Invincible Consulting Detective. I was so happy when Holmes returned in The Adventure of the Empty House that I literally cried.
However, a dark corner of my heart, forged by childhood trauma, was forever occupied by the criminal consultant who had shaken me to my core.
Perhaps that was why I voluntarily took on the role of a "consultant"—a job shunned by many because it blurred the lines between good and evil—for an organization that operated in the shadows while reaching for the light. Maybe that was why I became a story consultant for a gaming company after leaving my previous life behind.
“I kept denying it because it reminded me of my trauma.”
Regardless, the conclusion was simple.
“...It seems I like villains just as much as heroes.”
I was a dualistic being—half white, half black. Looking at my heterochromatic eyes, it seemed I had an equal fondness for both roles.
“Now that I think about it, that makes me sound like a bit of a bastard, doesn't it?”
It was a dubious position to take, but surely it was better than my old friend, who liked villains exclusively?
Hey…
As I scratched my head, the System window began spinning around me with a sense of renewed urgency.
Are you really sure you want to die in place of the final boss?
Wait, is that even allowed?
As an archaic door came into view, the entity behind the System seemed to grow desperate. Why was it making such a fuss? Until recently, it had pretended to have no self-awareness, maintaining a monotone, business-like attitude.
Then who will play word games with me?
“...Didn’t you say those were boring?”
I stared at the screen with a befuddled expression. After a brief silence, a final message appeared.
Never mind.
Do whatever you want.
With those words, the entity and the window vanished into the void.
“………”
The last message left me feeling uneasy, but there was nothing to be done.
“...Just wait a little longer, Professor.”
It was time to punish the bitch who had the audacity to assassinate the Queen I swore to follow.
.
.
.
Squeak—
A moment later…
Bang!
The old basement door creaked open. The moment Adler stepped inside, a silver bullet whistled through the air, aimed straight for his head.
Fizzle…
Adler’s gaze remained cold as he lightly waved a hand. The bullet froze mid-air, lost its momentum, and clattered harmlessly to the floor.
“...Oh my. I heard you were currently unable to use magic.”
Hiss…
“It looks like you’ve made some preparations of your own this time.”
In front of Adler, who was shrouded in smoke tinged with a golden aura, stood a frail-looking woman. Her hair was disheveled, her coat tattered, and a sickening smile played on her pale lips as she watched him with intense curiosity.
“...Dr. Frankenstein.”
“Welcome to my laboratory.”
As Adler spoke her name, the woman smiled brightly and spread her arms wide.
“““…………”””
Behind her, in the infinite stretch of darkness, the gleaming eyes of countless grotesque creatures began to flicker.
“Why don’t you come and lie down over here first?”
“...I’ll pass.”
At that moment, Adler’s radiant golden aura began to bleed into shades of gray and black, merging into his very being.
“I have someone I need to kill right now.”