Chapter 138: A Case of Identity
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 138: A Case of Identity
“…Tsk.”
As the weekend drew to a close, the warm morning sunlight finally graced the city of London.
“Why does the sun have to be so blindingly bright this early…”
For the residents of London, who had endured a sharp drop in temperature due to a sudden influx of monsters, this warmth was a welcome relief. However, to one woman, the cheerful sight was nothing short of an eyesore.
“Normally, it wouldn’t be this bright…”
That woman was Rachel Watson. She was currently trudging toward her consultation room at the hospital, her expression the picture of gloom.
Until recently, she had been floating on air. The mere thought of becoming a married woman—having already submitted her part of the marriage registration—had filled her with bliss.
“…Even if it warms up now, it won’t make me feel any better.”
The source of her misery was simple: the marriage registration form from her fiancé, Neville, which she was certain would arrive by this weekend, was nowhere to be found.
“Ah…”
It meant, ultimately, that she had been rejected.
The happy married life she had spent the last few days dreaming of, the baby clothes and cookbooks she had excitedly purchased over the past week—it was all for nothing.
Based on how things had progressed that day and the overall atmosphere between them, she had been certain they would soon be living a long, happy life together. Watson, who prided herself on an elite career that was the envy of others, was currently reeling from one of the greatest shocks of her life.
“Ugh, I don’t want to go to work…”
An ordinary person might have drowned their sorrows in a bottle, but Watson’s job was to save lives. She couldn’t even resort to that; she had to cope with the crushing stress entirely on her own… and with a sober mind, no less.
“…I wish Holmes would just forcibly drag me away to solve a case.”
Watson continued her walk, her nerves frayed and ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
“Excuse me…!”
“…Yes?”
At that moment, a desperate voice called out to her.
“Are you Rachel Watson?”
“…Who are you?”
A girl had approached from a distance, gasping for breath as she skidded to a halt right in front of her.
“I need you to come with me right now.”
“What?”
“It’s urgent. There’s a critical patient, and he needs your attention. Please, quickly…”
“What are you talking about?”
Watson was bewildered. While she was indeed an elite doctor working at one of London’s largest hospitals, she wasn’t so famous that random people would hunt her down in the street. Unless she ran a private clinic, there was no reason for someone to approach her like this when a hospital was right there.
“Who is the patient…?”
The only remaining possibility was that the patient was an acquaintance. Even so, there was no reason for the girl to be so secretive, but it was the most rational conclusion Watson could reach.
“…I—I can’t tell you that.”
“What?”
“Due to certain… circumstances, I can’t reveal the patient’s name… but I can pay you whatever you want. Please, hurry…”
“Hmm…”
As the girl spoke, her face pale and her eyes darting around nervously, Watson’s suspicion grew.
This seems incredibly fishy…
If the girl had named a friend, Watson would have skipped her morning shift in a heartbeat to help. But she couldn't even reveal the name? At this point, it smelled like a trap.
Having worked with Holmes over the past few years, she had helped apprehend a fair share of criminals. The possibility of an ambush was never off the table. And even if it wasn't a criminal, it could be a scheme by that insufferable womanizer, Isaac Adler. Or, failing that, perhaps an illegal organization related to Neville was trying to take her hostage…
…Wait.
Watson’s heart sank as her thoughts shifted.
Neville…?
An unexpected possibility took root in her mind.
What if the patient is Neville…?
It was undeniably strange. A young, elite doctor in her early twenties had gone out of her way to propose, yet there had been no response. Despite his promise to contact her frequently, there had been absolute silence.
The Neville she knew was kind. Even if he intended to reject her, he wouldn't just vanish without a word.
Could it be…
A terrifying thought dawned on her, drenching her in a cold sweat.
What if Neville, after much deliberation, had decided to marry her and went to confront his boss—Professor Moriarty? There were only two likely outcomes to that confrontation: being silently eliminated by the Professor, or barely escaping that villainous woman with fatal injuries.
“I—I can’t say who it is… but I was told I must bring you…”
“……”
“Y-You… only you can cure him…”
The girl’s urgent plea snapped Watson out of her trance.
“Neville…!”
Shuddering, Watson didn't hesitate. She spun on her heel and sprinted—in the opposite direction of the hospital.
“Neville…!!!”
“Wait! I need to tell you where to go first—!”
Watson ran desperately toward the man she imagined was waiting for her, bloodied and in dire need of a doctor, unable to call for help for fear of exposing his location.
*
“…Ta-da~”
A few hours later.
“………”
Watson burst through the door of the mansion the girl had led her to, only to freeze. She stared at the scene before her with a dazed, hollow expression.
“It was actually Adler…”
The person lying on the living room sofa, pale-faced and coughing up blood, was frustratingly not her fiancé. It was the insufferable Isaac Adler.
“…Are you joking?”
“It’s not a joke. I really feel like I’m dying right now…”
“Just die.”
Her dazed expression sharpened, turning colder than a slab of glacial ice.
“Just fucking die already.”
“Isn’t that a bit harsh to say to a patient…?”
“Die. Die. Die.”
She continued to curse him for a long while.
“…Where’s Neville?”
“Your fiancé?”
As she aggressively seized Adler by the collar and shook him, he scratched his head and answered.
“He told me last time that he’s leaving Britain.”
“…Lies.”
“It’s true. Why would I lie about that?”
“Lies!!!”
Tears began to stream down Watson’s face as she shook her head in denial.
“Here, take this. The engagement ring.”
“Ah…”
“He asked me to pass it on to you. It’s truly unfortunate that it came to this. My condolences.”
As Adler handed over Neville’s engagement ring, Watson’s face went ashen.
“This… This is the ring I gave him…”
“…A ring that even a doctor’s yearly salary might not cover. Personally, I would have accepted it, but alas, things had to unfold in this bleak fashion.”
“Ugh… ugh…”
Despair welled up in her eyes.
“Ugh… ughhhh…”
“…Dear me.”
Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor. Watson finally burst into tears of pure agony. Adler watched her with a look of pity, occasionally spitting out a bit more blood.
“Heartbreak is always painful.”
“Ughh, uwaaagggghh…!”
“…Excuse me, but I really do feel like I’m about to die. Could you please treat me now?”
Ignoring Adler’s plea, Rachel Watson pulled a small bottle from her pocket.
“Hey, don’t—”
Glug, glug, glug, glug…
Realizing it was brandy—the panacea of the 19th century—Adler reached out to stop her. It was too late. A massive amount of alcohol had already disappeared down her throat.
“Love and all that… I don’t need it…”
“…….”
“From now on, I’ll eat well… live well… hic…”
Minutes later, Watson’s eyes were glazed with intoxication as she began to rant.
“Maybe this will be enough.”
Adler observed her face, waved a hand in front of her eyes, and then quietly rose from the sofa. He walked toward a corner of the living room.
“…Hey, listen.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
“I was hoping you’d explain just what the hell is going on here…”
Lupin, who had been watching the entire spectacle coldly from the shadows, finally spoke.
“Depending on how convincing you are, your future treatment might change. Consider this a warning…”
“Here, take this.”
“…Hmm?”
Lupin whispered with a faint, crazed gleam in her eyes, but she paused as Adler handed her a document. She took it with a dazed expression.
“This is……”
“A contract. It states that I will become your permanent property.”
Leaning close to her ear, Adler whispered in a low, smooth voice.
“Just grant me one request, and I’ll sign it right now.”
As Adler gave her a flirtatious, sly wink, Lupin’s eyes began to gleam with an ominous light.
*
Creeeak…
“Heugh… sob…”
An unknown amount of time had passed.
“Neville… Neviiiiiille…”
“Excuse me.”
Watson, who had been sobbing over her desk while incessantly wailing the name of her runaway fiancé, slowly opened her eyes. She lifted her head at the sound of the voice.
“Why are you calling me…”
“…Hehe.”
“…What?”
Watson blinked rapidly, staring at the scene unfolding before her.
“Oh…”
Her face froze—this time for an entirely different reason.
“Darling.”
Her fiancé, Neville St. Clair—the man she thought had returned her ring and fled the country—was kneeling in front of her desk, looking up at her with a cheerful smile.
“It’s really me.”
“…Lies.”
As he spoke with an awkward grin, Watson’s eyes flickered before she began shaking her head vigorously.
“You’re just Isaac Adler in disguise, aren’t you?”
“Hmm?”
“You… you think I’d be fool—”
She stopped mid-sentence, her expression turning vacant.
“Do you really think that?”
“……..”
Adler, wearing somewhat loose clothing, walked out from the inner room with a slightly flushed face.
“My thoughts are a bit different, though…”
As he tucked his underwear, which had been peeking out, back into his trousers, he muttered with a face that grew redder by the second.
A heavy, profound silence settled over the cottage.