Chapter 116: The Hound of the Baskervilles (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 116: The Hound of the Baskervilles (4)
"What on earth happened?"
"U-ugh, ah... huff..."
The residents, led by a newly awakened Gia Lestrade, rushed down to the first floor. There, they were met by a maid who had only started working at the estate a few weeks prior.
"First, calm down and talk to us. Are you saying something happened to Miss Baskerville?"
"No, it’s not that..."
"Hmm?"
Lestrade, well-versed in handling such chaos, draped a coat over the trembling maid’s shoulders. The maid shook her head frantically.
"It’s not Miss Helen who’s in trouble..."
"Oh."
"It’s... the master of the house..."
Only then did Lestrade notice a pale-faced girl descending the stairs behind them—Helen Baskerville. Lestrade narrowed her eyes and turned back to the maid.
"So, you’re saying there’s a problem with the current head of the house, Sir Charles Baskerville?"
"U-uh..."
The maid shuddered, the memory seemingly too horrifying to recall, and she began to spiral back into a panic.
"Miss, you don't need to worry. Everything will be fine. As long as I am here, this place is secure, I guarantee it."
"........"
"Now, please tell us where this happened. You don't have to go back there, of course. Just stay here, and we’ll go check it out."
At Lestrade’s gentle prompting, the trembling maid began to mumble, pointing toward the desolate wasteland beyond the windows.
"It was late at night, and the master hadn’t returned... so I went out with a lamp to look for him..."
"Go on."
"And... when I followed the master’s tracks along the trail..."
Her voice wavered with pure terror, but Lestrade remained patient, waiting for her to finish.
"...At the end of the path... I found the master’s body."
The moment the words left her mouth, Lestrade’s gaze sharpened. She pivoted and bolted out of the mansion.
"Inspector, wait!!"
"...What are you doing, Watson?"
"Ho—Holmes?"
While Watson stood there sweating profusely, torn on what to do, Charlotte quietly slipped past her to follow the inspector.
"Come on, don't just stand there."
Charlotte’s eyes were alight with her usual spark of intrigue at the prospect of a new case.
"........"
However, sensing the deep-seated anxiety hidden beneath her partner’s excitement, Watson lowered her head for a brief moment.
"...Oh, forget it."
She pulled a pistol from her pocket, squeezed her eyes shut, and hurried after Charlotte.
"".........""
The servants, drawn out by the commotion, stared blankly at their retreating backs.
"Haaahhhhh....."
Behind them, Isaac Adler, who had just emerged from his room, let out a long yawn.
"...Why is it so noisy in here?"
A heavy silence filled the hall as the lifeless gazes of every servant—save for the sobbing maid—fixed on him simultaneously.
*
Thanks to the drizzle that had been falling since dawn, tracking Sir Charles Baskerville’s footsteps along the narrow trail was a simple task.
"This way."
"Be careful not to tread on the prints, Watson."
With two specialists in tracking and investigation on the scene, the trail was as clear as a map.
"Hmm?"
The three women continued along the eerie path toward the moors.
"Something is strange here."
"...What is it?"
As they reached the edge of the moorlands, Lestrade stopped, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"The footprints... they’ve changed."
"The footprints?"
"It’s as if... the person was walking on their tiptoes."
Watson’s eyes widened. She leaned down to look at the path; sure enough, the shape of the tracks had altered exactly as Lestrade described.
"...It’s true."
"I don't understand. Why would someone suddenly start tiptoeing out here?"
"Are you two serious?"
As Watson and Gia Lestrade traded puzzled looks, Charlotte’s exasperated voice cut through the air.
"What kind of idiot starts tiptoeing out of the blue while walking toward the moors? Unless it’s Adler trying to sneak away after being caught in an affair, nobody would do such a thing."
"I suppose..."
"Then what are these prints?"
Lestrade asked, her expression blank. Charlotte replied in a low, somber tone.
"...He was running."
"Excuse me?"
"He was sprinting with every ounce of strength he had."
A grim shadow fell over Charlotte’s face.
"Though it’s impossible to know what he was running from in the middle of the night."
An eerie silence followed her words.
""...........""
The atmosphere grew heavy. The three women quickened their pace, their voices dropping to hushed whispers.
"...Oh."
Before long, they reached the end of the trail where the vast moorlands stretched out into the dark.
"This is..."
A gruesome scene awaited them.
"........."
In the middle of the expansive moor, at the end of a long trail of desperate footprints, lay the man presumed to be Charles Baskerville.
"...This is giving me the chills."
"Ugh..."
His face was contorted into a mask of such pure horror that he was almost unrecognizable. It was as if he had looked upon something that shouldn't exist in this world—something that had scared him to death.
"It seems he really did see something and tried to flee."
Even Lestrade, a veteran of countless crime scenes, couldn't help but frown at the sight. Charlotte Holmes, however, approached the body with a look of intense fascination.
"Look, Watson. He’s clutching the earth with his bare fingers. He must have been consumed by absolute terror and panic."
"...A-Aren't you scared at all?"
"Watson, you’ve seen more corpses than I have."
"T-T-That’s not the point!"
As Charlotte nonchalantly squatted beside the body, Watson shivered uncontrollably, letting out a small shriek.
"After all the cases we’ve solved, you’re still such a baby."
"This... this isn't like the others! We aren't in some city alleyway, and at least the killers were usually human. But Holmes, this place..."
"...I hope you aren't suggesting the culprit is the legendary Hound of the Baskervilles, Watson."
Charlotte’s calm voice acted as an anchor. Watson took a deep breath, slowly regaining her composure.
"Yes... even in this world... it’s unlikely a demonic beast extinct for a thousand years would suddenly reappear."
"This is a clear case of murder," Charlotte stated firmly.
"But... is it possible he was struck by some monster? Or a supernatural entity...?"
"...Honestly, I’m inclined to agree. If a person had done this, I don't think the victim would have that specific look of horror on his face."
Lestrade, who had been quietly observing the body, voiced her dissent.
"Looking at him now, there are no signs of external trauma. We’ll need an autopsy to be certain, but it doesn't look like he died from a physical assault."
"........"
"And as you know, that is a common characteristic in cases involving the supernatural."
Lestrade looked intently at Charlotte. The detective nodded slowly and stood up.
"You’re right to consider that. I am also weighing the possibility of supernatural involvement."
"In that case—"
"But there are too many inconsistencies. Too many strange points that suggest otherwise."
Charlotte looked up at the moon, which peeked faintly through the clouds.
"...Hmm."
Seeing Charlotte’s vacant stare, Watson realized she had entered her "mind palace." She was deep in deduction, so Watson silently stepped aside to let her work.
"I still think it’s something supernatural..." Watson murmured timidly, scanning the area for any missed clues.
"...Hmm?"
Something twinkled in the distance under the moonlight. Watson tilted her head.
- Click...
She cocked her pistol and began to walk toward the light.
"...Ah."
When she reached the spot, Watson’s jaw dropped. She froze in utter shock.
"This... this is..."
Despite the darkness, a massive paw print was clearly visible in the rain-soaked mud of the moor.
"Ho-Holmes. Inspector. You need to see this..."
Watson turned pale and began to back away. Just as she called out to the others—
- Grrrrrr...
A low, vibrating growl of a beast echoed from right in front of her.
"A-Aahhh..."
The source of the growl stepped into Watson’s field of vision. She froze, sweat pouring down her face.
"AAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
Watson screamed at the top of her lungs and began firing her pistol frantically into the dark.
"What?! What is it?!"
"Watson...?"
Lestrade and Charlotte spun around, only to witness the most terrifying sight of their lives.
- Grrrrrrr...
The massive creature—the thing Watson had seen glinting in the moonlight—dodged the gunfire with supernatural grace. Its cold, gleaming eyes lingered on them for a second before it vanished into the shadows.
"""............"""
As the creature disappeared, a profound, suffocating silence descended upon the midnight moor.
*
- Tzzzzzz...
Some time had passed since the encounter.
- Grrrrr...
"Hmm."
The unidentified monster that had vanished into the darkness reappeared. Surprisingly, it was now standing inside the mansion, right next to Isaac Adler, who had returned to his room after evading the servants.
- Grrr...
"..........."
The creature still exuded a terrifying aura, its icy glare and sharp fangs enough to stop a man's heart. However, Adler merely looked at it with an indifferent expression.
- Swish...
"Well done."
Adler reached out his hand with a smile, and an unbelievable scene unfolded.
"But, I was wondering..."
The creature, which had quietly accepted Adler’s hand stroking its head, suddenly flopped over. It exposed its belly and began wagging its tail enthusiastically.
"You’re a female, aren't you?"
- Woof?
A naive, high-pitched sound—completely at odds with its monstrous form—escaped the creature’s throat. Adler stared at it with a skeptical smirk.
"...This is just absurd."
- Pant, pant...