Chapter 199: The Five Orange Pips (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 199: The Five Orange Pips (5)
“Arrgghhhhhhhh…!”
“Kulluk… Kuk…”
The basement was filled with the desperate wails of the culprits behind the Silver Blaze attack.
“Stop… please, stop it…”
“Master, these guys are more tenacious than I expected.”
“Please… Aaaaaaaah!!”
“Honestly, I thought they’d confess the moment I dislocated their shoulders, but they’ve held out for quite some time. They must have received specialized training.”
While their screams were bone-chilling, Moran was far more terrifying. She was calmly reheating a crowbar to press against the culprits’ broken shoulders—over and over again.
Could she really be a girl in her early to mid-teens?
“…They were definitely trained. Likely ex-military.”
“Do you know these men?”
“No. But I know they are veterans of the American Civil War.”
I subtly avoided her gaze as I muttered the observation. Looking at the culprits, I saw their eyes waver. That reaction alone was enough to confirm that the history of the KKK in this world followed a similar path to my own.
“Shall we intensify the torture?”
“Eh?”
While I was lost in thought, Moran turned to me and asked the question with a flat, soulless expression.
“…I don’t mind, but are you sure?”
“Sure about what?”
“I know it’s a bit late to say this, but for a girl your age to be doing this…”
“……?”
Her cold, vacant eyes worried me, prompting me to speak up. But on second thought, it seemed meaningless to say such things to someone who had already killed countless people in cold blood.
“…If it’s too much, I can take over.”
“Ah…”
“If a child can do it, so can I…”
Still feeling a lingering concern, I stroked her hair and made the offer. Moran remained silent for a moment, looking up at me after I spoke.
“I’m not a child,” she muttered in a low voice, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “I’m almost as tall as Master now…”
“…Ugh.”
Just a few months ago, she had been as small as a little chick. Now, she seemed to have grown up in the blink of an eye.
Had I been feeding her too well and taking too much care of her, even if she was just a hound? No, it was necessary for her to be in peak condition to hunt effectively.
Actually, she’s not really a hound anymore, is she? That position was taken by the Hound of the Baskervilles not long ago. Moran is more like…
“Are you worried about my torture skills? If so, I can assure you there are no problems.”
As I scratched my head and looked down at Moran—whom I had grown quite fond of—she hurriedly began to explain in a hushed whisper.
“I have perfectly memorized which parts of the human body to target for maximum efficiency. I am as confident in my torture as I am in my sniping.”
“I—I see.”
“Until now, I was adjusting the intensity to suit civilians. But now that I know these men are retired soldiers…”
She turned a bone-chilling gaze toward the trembling men.
“I can extract the information properly.”
—Bzzzzztsst…
“So, leave it to me.”
A faint blue spark began to arc from the iron rod she held.
“She’s right, you know?”
Amidst Moran’s horrifying declaration, another cold voice echoed from behind us.
“Let’s not even talk about torture. A greenhorn who hasn’t even stained his hands with blood won’t be of any help here.”
“…Princess?”
“So, leave it to us.”
The Princess of Clay, dressed in light indoor clothes, licked her lips as she walked toward us.
“It is enough for only me to be here.”
“Trust the child to do what she’s best at.”
“…I told you not to call me a child.”
Moran frowned, her voice darkening with a hint of murderous intent at the word child. Their gazes collided in mid-air, sparks of tension flying.
“Both of you, let’s postpone the fighting.”
“”……..””
“…We have an important task right in front of us.”
When I whispered in a tone more serious than usual, they finally averted their eyes from each other.
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not because I’m following your orders,” the Princess grumbled, her pride clearly wounded.
“……”
“I just felt the need to focus on the prey, as you said. I haven’t fed in quite a while, so I might as well draw some blood for a power boost while I work…”
“Princess.”
I watched her quietly before tilting my head and asking a question.
“…You must have really grown fond of Miss Blaze, seeing you get this agitated.”
Silence fell over the basement.
“W-Wh-What… What are you talking about?”
In the quiet, Lady Clay began to fidget with her hands, her eyes casting downward as she stammered.
“I couldn’t possibly feel affection for such a foolish furball. If anything, I’ve been annoyed by her incessant attempts to be friendly. I think it’s actually worked out for the best that she isn’t here anymore.”
“Then why are you trying to intervene?”
“Didn’t I tell you? It’s purely to replenish my blood supply…”
“…Even though you’ve already collected more than enough blood?”
“Q-Quiet!”
Her face flushed red with anger as she shouted. It was slightly amusing, which prompted me to tease her further.
“The more blood, the better! That’s all there is to it!”
“…I see.”
Lately, I had realized she was a classic tsundere. Perhaps because I dealt with absolute maniacs day and night, she seemed relatively kind by comparison.
“…Anyway, is it enough to just make these guys scream in pain?”
Of course, in this apocalyptic London, "good" was a relative term, not an absolute one.
—Fzzzzt…
“If that’s the case, it’s my specialty.”
The aloof Princess had vanished, replaced by a predator gathering red mana in her hand as she approached the captives.
“By the way, their shoulders are quite the sight. Has the little child already formed such a nasty habit?”
“Master’s orders. The initials of their organization were burned into Miss Blaze’s right shoulder, after all.”
“…I see.”
A brutal conversation unfolded between two women specialized in murder and torture.
“How about we finish off the other shoulder too? I’ve learned that you should always pay back double what you suffered.”
“I was thinking about taking a leg. Wouldn’t it be more miserable to be unable to walk than to be unable to use an arm?”
“…Just blow off both. There’s no need to overthink it. Or is it because you’re still a child that you feel sympathy for these lowlifes?”
“Don’t call me a child.”
Listening to them, I couldn’t help but smirk at the criminals, who were now vibrating with pure terror.
…Really, why did you have to mess with Miss Blaze?
In truth, these men weren’t enduring the torture with superhuman mental strength. I had simply used magic to forcibly seal their mouths. It was a vicious act, but considering the scars on the inspector’s face and the wounds covering Blaze’s body, I felt no sympathy for these bastards.
Well, the time for feeling that emotion has long passed anyway…
After all, I had done far worse things in my previous life.
*
How much time had passed?
“I-I w-will sa…”
“What? I can’t hear you.”
“I… I said… I’ll tell… everything… please… spare….”
Among the men who had collapsed one by one after enduring horrific torture, the last remaining survivor began to mutter urgently in a barely audible voice.
“…I’ll tell you everything I know. Just please, spare my life.”
“You actually understood that?”
“When you spend hours torturing people every day, you pick up the basics, Master.”
Moran gave a small, satisfied smile as she translated the man’s gibberish. I leaned toward the pale-faced man.
“Who is behind this plot?”
“I… I was only following orders… Ahhhhhh!!”
As he trembled, the Princess of Clay, unfazed, drove a skewer into his side, causing him to writhe and scream.
“Do you still not understand your situation?”
“I really don’t know… I can’t make things up…”
“…Hmm.”
Despite his tearful persistence, I looked at him with disappointment.
“If you don’t know, there’s no reason to keep you alive.”
“Wait! Just waiiiit…!”
Frozen by that chilling statement, the man began to speak hurriedly in a raspy voice.
“I don’t know who’s behind it… but I know the next target…”
“The next target?”
“It’s… I’m in a minor position of… Ahhhhh!?”
The Princess of Clay pulled the skewer out of his side when he began to stutter.
“If you’re lying… you know what happens, right?”
“I won’t lie! I swear!”
“…So, who is the next target?”
As he began to go into shock from excessive blood loss, he answered my question with trembling hands.
“Ch-Charlotte… Holmes…”
Despite his garbled, uncertain articulation, the name that burst from his lips was enough to turn me instantly serious.
“I… I heard she was the detective who helped save the Silver Blaze…”
“…These bastards really crossed the line.”
*
That night, in an ordinary-looking house situated somewhere on the continent, not far from Britain.
“Hehehe… Hehe…”
A girl, hiding under her covers, let out a sinister giggle as she looked down at the manuscript on her bed. She began to murmur in a low, rhythmic voice.
“Alright, this is the end for Holmes…”
Late at night, Charlotte Holmes, in disguise, was wandering the back alleys on the outskirts of London, investigating a lead.
“…This time, even you won’t survive.”
Quietly following her, a figure began to creep up from behind.
Surprisingly, the manuscript the girl was looking at was being updated in real-time with black ink. However, Holmes, too engrossed in her investigation, failed to notice.
As she moved, the unidentified figure drew closer.
“Yes, that’s it… That’s it…!”
As the story approached its climax, the girl murmured excitedly.
The shadow quietly reached for Holmes’s shoulder. For some reason, Holmes still hadn't noticed a thing.
“……!”
The girl was about to let out a cheer, her hand over her mouth, but—
A few seconds later, as a hand touched her shoulder, Charlotte turned her head with a startled look. Her eyes immediately widened.
Regrettably, once again, what the girl wanted did not happen.
For some reason, Isaac Adler was standing there, smirking.
“Miss Holmes, shall we go on a dawn date?”
“…Ah, seriously.”
Lovecraft, her expression turning icy, immediately crumpled the manuscript pages. Her teeth clenched as she spat out words dripping with venom.
“That fucking half-breed Oriental motherf—”