Chapter 113: The Hound of the Baskervilles
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 113: The Hound of the Baskervilles
The day after Adler’s brief letter reached the three women at their respective residences, a train steamed toward Devonshire, home to the sprawling Baskerville estate.
“Holmes.”
“……..”
“What have you been brooding over for so long?”
Rachel Watson had been traveling with Charlotte Holmes since the early hours of the morning. Seeing her partner lost in thought for several hours, she finally couldn't help but ask.
“I have a sense of foreboding.”
Charlotte muttered the response without glancing away from the window.
“Why so suddenly?”
“Just a hunch.”
As Charlotte sank back into her thoughts, Watson murmured with an intrigued expression, “Wasn’t it Charlotte Holmes who claimed to despise detectives who flaunt their ‘intuition’ more than anything else in the world?”
“………”
“I never thought I’d hear such a thing from you.”
“What I despise are incompetent detectives who strut about brandishing baseless whims,” Charlotte’s eyes sharpened as she countered Watson’s jab. “At the very least, I am aware that someone has been secretly watching us from behind. When there is solid evidence to back it up, that is when I rely on intuition.”
“…Ah.”
“Don’t turn around, Watson. There’s no need to let them know we’ve noticed.”
Charlotte restrained Watson, who had tensed up and was about to look back. She turned her gaze back to the passing scenery.
“Even for a morning, Devonshire has a truly unsettling atmosphere. London’s streets are gloomy enough, but they can’t compete with the creepiness here. It’s so oppressive I wouldn't even dare hand out a business card in this region.”
“Holmes, this isn’t the time to be so nonchalant, is it?” Watson whispered, her voice low and tight.
“It is better to act natural and unbothered than to behave awkwardly and signal that we’ve realized something is amiss.”
“Still, if it’s one of Moriarty’s underlings…”
“It’s fine. I can assure you that the person watching us now is completely at odds with that woman.”
“…What’s your evidence, my friend?” Watson asked, trying her best to sound casual despite her burning curiosity.
“Watson. I’ve thought this for a long time, but please, never try to take up acting.”
“………”
“If I had to name the worst liar in all of London, I would choose Rachel Watson without a moment's hesitation.”
“…So, what is the evidence?” Watson asked meekly, her excitement deflated.
“Actually, it’s someone you know very well.”
“What?”
“There is only one fool in all of London who would try to tail someone while wearing a fake mustache and glasses.”
“…Inspector Lestrade?”
“If someone so buried in police work is on the same train as us this early in the morning, it can hardly be a coincidence.”
As Charlotte directed a sharp glance toward the back of the carriage, a figure peeking from behind a large newspaper far in the distance quickly ducked out of sight.
“I thought we weren't going to show that we’d noticed?”
“Since you’ve already given us away in half a dozen ways, it hardly matters anymore.”
A heavy silence settled between them.
“Then… perhaps the Inspector received a letter as well?”
“I’m not certain, but it seems highly likely.”
“Hmm…” Watson, observing Charlotte’s expression, suddenly let out a sly murmur. “Is that why you’re in such a foul mood?”
“……..”
“Because you aren't sure if you’re the ‘chosen one.’ Isn’t that it?”
Charlotte’s gaze shifted slowly from the window to Watson.
“I’m sorry to say, but that uncertainty applies to you as well…”
“Eh?”
Just as Watson tilted her head at her partner’s cryptic remark, a sharp sound echoed from outside.
—Screeeeech!
The train groaned as it slowed to a halt.
“It seems we’ve arrived.”
“Indeed.”
“Then let’s go, Holmes. For Neville’s sake, I want to settle things with Isaac Adler.”
Hearing the stop, Watson rolled up her sleeves and jumped from her seat, marching toward the exit with fiery determination in her eyes.
“……..”
Charlotte stood quietly and followed. As she prepared to disembark, she paused and spoke in a low, cold voice that made the surrounding passengers stiffen.
“If you’re going to tail someone, you might want to hide the Red Mana League’s insignia, don’t you think?”
A dark glint flashed in her eyes as the passengers simultaneously lifted their heads.
“Or perhaps you weren't planning to hide it at all?”
“”……….””
“It must be exhausting, serving a master in Romania while keeping one in London as well.”
With those parting words, Charlotte stepped off the train. Behind her, every passenger in the carriage glared at her back in chilling silence.
*
“It feels eerily quiet… Even London at dawn isn’t usually this gloomy.”
A few minutes later, they were on a secluded path near the estate.
“This is exactly the kind of atmosphere our young detective loves, right? Criminals must be crawling all over this place at night.”
Watson, trekking up the leaf-strewn path against a biting wind, tried to strike up a conversation. Holmes had been silent for far too long.
“………”
Charlotte ignored her, pressing forward with a grim, focused expression.
“Hey, are you still upset about that incident?” Watson ventured in a whisper, glancing at her cautiously. “There’s no need to worry. Neville is tight-lipped. The chances of Isaac Adler hearing about it are—”
“…Wait a moment.”
Charlotte cut her off with a raised hand and veered toward a nearby thicket.
“Inspector, since it seems we are headed in the same direction, why don't you quit this pointless hiding and join us?”
Charlotte stared intently at the bush. A moment later, a head popped out from the leaves.
“”………..””
An awkward silence followed.
“How did you notice me?”
“Are you seriously asking that?”
“My stealth skills are usually undetectable, even to London’s most notorious criminals!”
Lestrade muttered sheepishly, removing her fake mustache and glasses as she brushed leaves from her hair. Charlotte gave her a look of pure disdain.
“Every criminal knows exactly where you are. They simply know that the moment they reveal themselves, they’re caught.”
“………”
“The moment you get within visual range of a criminal, your arrest rate is practically a hundred percent. I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with hiding.”
“Is that so?” Stung by the blunt critique, Gia Lestrade scratched her head, her eyes downcast.
“Sigh… why on earth did Adler…”
“…….?”
“…Never mind.”
Charlotte exhaled a weary sigh and resumed her pace, leaving her thought unfinished.
—Trudge, trudge.
The three women continued along the path in silence.
“But really, why did Isaac Adler call the three of us here?” Gia Lestrade eventually asked, her face clouded with confusion as the estate came into view.
“What else could it be? Probably some ridiculous mystery again.”
“…This time is different.”
“Huh?”
Watson turned toward Holmes, surprised by the gravity in the detective’s voice.
“It feels like he’s set on something this time. Something very important.”
Charlotte’s complexion was even grimmer than it had been on the train.
“You’ve seen the maps. This area is surrounded by treacherous wastelands for miles. One wrong step into the marshland leads to a miserable end.”
“So…”
“If a murder were to occur here, it would be quite the spectacle,” Charlotte remarked cynically.
Silence fell over the trio once more.
“Besides, there’s something else bothering me.”
“What is it…?”
“Before coming here, I did some preliminary research and found a very interesting legend,” Charlotte whispered, her eyes fixed on the estate’s entrance. “The curse of the Baskerville family… and the hound from hell.”
The moment the words left her lips, the heavy doors of the estate began to creak open.
“””………..”””
The three women tensed, the ominous atmosphere of the moors pressing in on them. A figure stood waiting in the doorway.
“Please, come in.”
A grim-looking woman in a butler’s uniform bowed quietly in greeting.
“Excuse me, but where is Isaac Adler?” Gia Lestrade asked, stepping forward cautiously while keeping Charlotte and Watson behind her. “We’ve come to see him.”
—Swish.
The butler looked up and reached into her pocket.
“Please, take this.”
“…Ah, yes.”
Lestrade watched her movements sharply, her own hand hovering near her pocket. Realizing it was only a note, she relaxed slightly, took the paper, and began to read.
“…….”
In an instant, her face turned ashen.
“What’s the matter?”
“See for yourself.”
Charlotte and Watson leaned in, reading the note Lestrade held with a blank stare.
Sorry. There was no mystery to solve.
>
I just wanted to show you guys my vacation home.
“”………..””
A brief, stunned silence followed. Then they saw the back of the note.
What? You're not even mad?
>
I knew it. You must really like me after all.
“Would you like to come inside?” the butler asked.
After staring at the absurd message—complete with a cute doodle of Adler in his vampire form, blushing and winking like a shameless rogue—the two women’s faces turned just as pale as Lestrade’s.
*
Meanwhile, out in the endlessly sprawling wasteland…
“The three women have arrived.”
“Is that so?”
Adler, navigating a dangerous stretch of the moor that even the locals feared to tread, smiled at his subordinate’s report.
“Then, let them in first.”
—Grrrrrrr…
In the distance, a creature with chilling eyes—eyes that seemed to have crawled out of the depths of hell—approached Adler with slow, heavy steps, its jaws dripping with primal hunger.