Chapter 204: The Five Orange Pips (10)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 204: The Five Orange Pips (10)
“Adler?”
As I stared down at the page in my hand with a cold gaze, the princess—still held in my arms and unable to see my expression—began to mutter in a trembling voice.
“…What are you saying?”
“…..”
“M-My world? What on earth are you talking about…”
I looked down at her coldly, then leaned in close to her ear and whispered in a low voice.
“…Go to sleep.”
“What… did you say? Oh…”
Her body staggered, then suddenly went limp as she slumped against me.
I had wanted to keep her by my side to prepare for any potential danger, but I had no choice if I wanted to converse with the culprit without revealing my true identity. If she eavesdropped on the following conversation, she would be perpetually intimidated by everything I said.
If that happened, the few redeeming qualities of this sinister princess—like her tsundere nature—would vanish. More importantly, I wanted to be treated as Adler by the people of this world.
I didn’t want them to think of me as a god or their creator. That role didn't suit me.
For a half-Asian, you’re quite gentlemanly to the ladies, aren’t you?
“…What?”
I felt hesitant to set the sleeping princess down on a floor writhing with innumerable tentacles, so I gently shifted her in my arms and raised the paper again. The newly appearing text, however, seemed oddly ominous.
Well, the East is a more male-dominant society, isn’t it?
“What is this now…”
After all, the East has produced very few outstanding women compared to the likes of Queen Arthur, Queen Alexandria the Great, or Empress Napoleon of the West. It only makes sense that you would think that way.
“…….”
Ah, I suppose Genghis Khan would be an outlier if I had to pick one. Of course, no one can truly be compared to the magnificent women of the West.
Something felt off about the way the words were forming on the paper. As I watched with quiet curiosity, the ensuing sentences made my head spin with exasperation.
What kind of character was behind this paper, spewing such overtly hateful remarks from the very first encounter?
“…So, what’s your point in saying all this?”
My point? It’s very simple.
Although I wasn’t sure of the reason, it was clear that this figure harbored deep hostility toward me. I narrowed my eyes at the page; it didn’t take long before more letters began to scribble themselves into existence.
Stop what you’re doing right now and go far away. Back to your homeland in the East.
As expected, the message was a threat.
“Sorry, but that kind of talk only makes any intention of cooperating vanish from my heart.”
I had no intention of yielding to threats now that I had come this far. I scoffed and spoke into the air.
Professor Moriarty, Charlotte Holmes, Gia Lestrade, the three executives, and all the connections you have built so far.
“……..”
Do you not care if you lose them all?
Upon seeing the message scribbled on the page, my eyes widened.
Did you think I didn’t know? I can peek into anything that happens in this world.
Then, in a frenzy of excitement, the writing began to accelerate.
I know when and how you met the professor. I know how you gathered the three executives and how you expanded your power in London. I even know what you’ve been doing with those women…
However, the furiously scribbled letters suddenly stopped.
“”…….””
An awkward silence descended.
“…You mean you’ve been spying on what I did with the professor and Charlotte?”
I didn’t spy, I just happened to read a bit…
As I muttered softly into the silence, the message being scribbled swiftly vanished before it could be completed.
…Anyway, you’re a variable. A single annoying lizard is already enough to ruin the story I want. I don’t want any more pests.
“Is the lizard… the professor?”
You should have died long ago. But you survived and continue to persistently disrupt my story.
Ignoring my question, the letters began to threaten me once more.
So I’ll warn you one last time. If you try to interfere with my story even a little more…
“What kind of story do you want to create?”
As I skimmed the content with a chill in my eyes, I could feel the creepiness and gloom seeping through the paper. I asked the character in a low voice.
“If it aligns with my plans, maybe I could actually help you. So, how about we negotiate instead of being adversaries?”
As I said that, the mastermind’s words appeared slowly, almost hesitantly.
I want to turn this world into a horror story.
“…..What?”
A world covered in unknown terror. Wouldn’t that be terrifying yet really cool?
Upon reading that message, I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
“Fine. The negotiation is off.”
Even though I had tried to negotiate, it was futile. As someone who loved mysteries more than anything in the world, I simply couldn’t bring myself to like horror.
Of course, there were instances where mystery was a major element of a horror story. However, in such cases, the thrill and the sense of horror usually diminished in turn.
It’s like the difference between the fear of an unidentified, masked murderer jumping at a protagonist and the fear felt when it’s revealed in the climax that the murderer was actually the frail old man living next door.
Horror stories emphasize the fear of the unknown. Hidden in darkness, the "unknown" is a concept completely at odds with "mystery," which seeks to clarify and extract the truth.
And yet, this mastermind was planning on turning my precious world into a horror story?
“I wouldn’t be caught dead watching that happen.”
I thought you would say that.
As I muttered in anger, the message written by the instigator began to slowly fill half the page.
Having observed you all this time, I did think that we were opposites.
“Really?”
Yes. Frankly, it’s quite displeasing. So…
Just as I thought the instigator would be unable to converse once the page was completely filled, a single word appeared.
Die.
“…….!”
Along with the ominous letters appearing on the page, a tentacle writhing in front of me suddenly flew straight toward my head.
“…Shit.”
Clicking my tongue, I prepared my magic, wondering if I would have to fight after all, when—
- Zzz…!
“Miss System?”
Suddenly, a system window unfolded like a shield in front of me, blocking the rushing tentacles. I stood there, stunned.
Again… another failure…
“…….”
Why can’t I kill you…?
At that moment, the instigator’s handwriting began to swirl beneath the large letters.
After all these years of effort to find a way to eliminate the professor…
At that moment, I began to realize something.
Why do you suddenly appear and ruin my story…!
The instigator’s claim to be able to observe everything in this world was a lie. At the very least, they did not know my true identity. Nor could they see the System blocking those disgusting tentacles trying to harm me.
“Hey.”
On the contrary, I had realized the identity of the person on the other side. To be honest, it was something anyone could have figured out with even a slight bit of prior knowledge.
“You think you’re safe beyond that paper…”
There was nothing to hesitate about anymore.
“Do you really think so?”
Though I was far inferior to Holmes or the professor, it was time for me to theatrically flaunt my meager knowledge of characters.
.
.
.
.
.
Do you really think I wouldn’t know who you are?
“Ha, I wondered what you were talking about.”
Even as the golden letters of Isaac Adler’s words appeared in her notebook, Lovecraft’s expression remained relaxed.
You’re American, aren’t you?
“…..?”
Not only do you use a different grammar than British English, but I can even detect a subtle Southern American accent in that brief conversation.
However, her face began to contort as each new letter appeared before her.
And you’re introverted. You like to hole up in your room, right? You want to make friends but don’t have the courage to go outside, so you just send letters everywhere.
“…I-I have lots of friends. Pen pals, but still.”
And if a story in a magazine even slightly displeases you, you write slanderous letters to the publishers as a part-time hobby.
“That’s because those bastards write utter crap…”
Plus, you have a tendency toward racial discrimination… That’s really the worst.
“…No, wait! What the fuck do you even know about me to spout all this!?”
Eventually, Lovecraft couldn’t help but snap and shout.
What do I know about you?
“How dare… How dare you think you know anything about m—!”
Hey, you’re young, aren’t you?
“…..Ha?”
And you’ve had a tough family life growing up. You’ve attempted self-harm or suicide a few times, haven’t you?
Her expression shifted to one of utter confusion.
You should be a teenager by now, at least. It’s truly sad that such a young soul like you had to face such hardships…
“You… what are you…?”
With a baffled expression, she lifted her pen to the paper.
“How do you know tha—”
But as she was about to ask, the sight of Adler’s words already written on the paper froze her completely.
Isn’t that right, Miss Lovecraft?
“…….!!!!!!”
An unknown amount of time passed as she stared at the paper, frozen in fear and shock.
How long do you think it would take me to find someone with the unique surname of Lovecraft in America?
“Hee, heeeeeeek…!”
As soon as Adler’s words filled the last part of the page, Lovecraft hurriedly slammed her notebook shut. Her face turned pale as she scrambled to her feet.
“What is this? What the hell is this…!”
She darted to her bed and, with a terrified expression, dove under the blankets. She trembled as she looked at the now-closed notebook.
“H-How….”
- Brrrr…
“How does that half-Asian bastard know my name…?”
Thus, she faced the very horror of the unknown she so loved head-on. She spent the rest of the day holed up under her blankets, skipping school without anyone even noticing her absence.