Chapter 26: The Secret of the Speckled Band
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 26: The Secret of the Speckled Band
“Hmm?”
It was an unfamiliar ceiling.
“...?”
No, actually, it was a somewhat familiar one.
A bedroom I felt I had visited once before unfolded before my eyes.
“Are you finally coming to your senses?”
I was blankly taking in my surroundings when I turned my head toward the voice beside me. I froze instantly.
“You’ve been unconscious for several days after being stabbed.”
“Ah...”
“We even suspected some mental abnormalities based on your last response, but fortunately, it seems that’s not the case.”
The reason I froze was simple: Rachel Watson, Charlotte Holmes’ soul partner, was sitting beside my bed with her chin resting on her hand.
“Holmes is out investigating with a fire in her eyes, convinced your injuries are dire. If it wasn’t for her request, we wouldn’t even be allowed in this VIP room...”
“Dr. Watson?”
“...You know my name? Even though you’ve never seen me before?”
As I stared blankly and murmured her name, Rachel Watson squinted at me, her voice laced with suspicion.
“I saw the name tag on your medical gown.”
“The gown with that name tag is hanging by the door right now. It has nothing to do with what I'm wearing.”
“I should also mention that your fingertips smell of disinfectant, there’s a faint mark from a stethoscope on your neck, and I can see the slight trace of a gunshot wound on your shoulder.”
“...Hmm.”
“And on that medical gown by the door, there is a Medal of Honor. All of these characteristics match the description of Dr. Watson from the recently popular case files.”
Upon hearing my explanation, Dr. Watson looked herself over for a split second. She made a face that said I see, then quietly scratched her head.
Only then did her appearance clearly enter my field of vision—for the very first time since I had arrived in this twisted world.
She was the epitome of what one would call a Lady of London, diligent and neat in appearance. Short brown hair tinged with a hint of orange framed her beautiful face. However, there was an unexpectedly tough edge to her, befitting a military officer.
It was indeed the Rachel Watson I had investigated and seen during the game’s development phase.
“You’re using a style of deduction I’ve seen many times already...”
She cleared her throat and spoke again.
“It’s the style of someone I’ve watched over and over. I liked it so much that I’ve managed to somewhat mimic it.”
In reality, I had simply quoted lines from the game, but I couldn’t say that, so I fumbled my response.
“You...”
Suddenly, Watson’s eyes turned icy cold.
“Tell me the truth.”
“...Yes?”
“What’s your real intention behind getting close to Charlotte?”
Unbefitting the image of a refined Lady of London, she crossed her arms and legs, looking down at me with a chilling gaze.
“What intention are you talking about?”
“Well, you’re trash. You...”
Then came a comment that actually stung a little.
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“Is it? Is that something a man who approaches vulnerable women just to replace everything in their lives with himself—only to leave them without a backward glance—would say?”
“........”
“Moreover, you even enjoy watching the women you’ve ensnared crumble into pieces after you’ve abandoned them.”
The problem was that, from Rachel Watson’s perspective, every word of that was completely true.
“You human garbage...”
“.........”
“Just die already.”
“...Is that something a doctor should say?”
“You should have just ended up in a vegetative state.”
Hearing such a cold statement from the most diligent lady in all of London was, truly, strange.
“..........”
“I’m sorry, but making a pitiful face won’t work on me.”
As I quietly scratched my head and looked at Watson with a sullen gaze, she suddenly whispered, wagging her finger from side to side.
“I already have someone I’ve given my heart to.”
As she delivered that line, she looked down at me with a self-assured expression. A single fang even protruded from the corner of her mouth—she was clearly smug about her declaration.
“I’m sorry, but you’re not my type either.”
“Hmph, you’re pretty good with words. To someone like me, who’s been through an elite course and usually doesn’t lose to anyone...”
“If you were to marry a gambler who dumps half their military pension on horse races, you’d never know when you might be kidnapped in their stead.”
Upon subtly leaking information from the original Sherlock Holmes stories, Watson’s expression shifted to one of pure shock.
“H-How do you know...”
“Even the timing on the betting slip sticking out of your pocket is perfect for a romantic weekend evening. It seems you prefer horses over a romantic partner.”
“No, that’s not...”
“Or perhaps, do you have some hidden self-destructive tendencies?”
“Be quiet!”
As I looked at Watson—whose face was utterly flushed with a crippling sense of embarrassment—I whispered to her in a hushed tone.
“Shall I ruin you, Dr. Watson?”
“A-Are you threatening me right now?”
“Secretly plotting behind Holmes’ back when she is always beside you... Wouldn’t that be... thrilling?”
Watson, seemingly unaccustomed to such talk, trembled and stood up from her seat.
“I already had my suspicions, however slight, when Charlotte gave up smoking and experimenting with mana stones... As expected, you’re utter trash.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“Enough. You’re a rude person.”
So, did this mean I would have to go through a sham marriage with this righteous and upstanding lady?
“If you truly love Charlotte Holmes even a little, in that dark and wretched heart of yours, it would be best for you to give up on her and disappear completely.”
Just as my outlook was darkening due to this absurd condition, Watson’s icy voice hit my ear again.
“And keep this in mind.”
“.........”
“I will never fall for your tricks.”
It was precisely at that moment.
—Bang!!!
“Ah!?”
The door to the VIP hospital room burst open, and a towering woman walked in.
“........”
With a single glance, she subdued the flustered nurses behind her. Exuding an aura that gave me chills, she stepped into the room.
“So...”
She was also someone I knew quite well.
“Who is Holmes here?”
The culprit from The Secret of the Speckled Band incident, Lady Grace Roylott, was glaring at Watson and me, her focus alternating between us.
.
.
.
.
.
Her attire was wildly inappropriate for 19th-century London—bronzed skin and toned muscles were on full display. She looked both fearsome and beautiful, akin to an Amazonian queen.
“I won’t ask twice.”
Wrapped around her legs were guards, and in her hand, she swung a whip commonly used for hunting. With a voice full of menace, she repeated her question.
“Among you two, who is Charlotte Holmes...”
Lady Roylott shifted her steps, her face suddenly adorned with a feral, cold smile.
“Never mind. There’s only one woman here, after all.”
“Wha-What are you...”
Just as Watson started to back away, breaking into a cold sweat under that overpowering atmosphere...
“It’s me.”
Adler raised his hand, speaking with a thin smile.
“I am Charlotte Holmes.”
“...No matter how I look at you, you look like a man from every possible angle.”
“When I was young, I was quite frail, you see. My parents tried to twist fate by giving me a female name.”
Having finished his explanation, Adler looked toward Watson and whispered softly.
“This is my assistant, Dr. Watson. I apologize, but could you step out for a moment, Watson dear?”
“...What?”
“I have a visitor who has come looking for me. I’d like to speak with her privately.”
Upon hearing that cunning request, Watson hesitated. She saw Adler’s discreet gesture telling her to get out, and she stepped outside, cold sweat drenching her forehead.
“..............”
With only Lady Roylott and Adler remaining in the room, a heavy silence ensued.
—Slap!!
“Speak now.”
Breaking the silence was the sharp sound of Lady Roylott slapping Adler across the cheek with all her might.
“Where is my daughter now?”
As her sudden action prompted a sharp intake of breath from behind the door, Lady Roylott gripped Adler’s collar, unfazed by her own violence, and questioned him again in that fierce voice.
“Are you talking about Helen Stoner, the young lady who caused a knife disturbance on the street a few days ago?”
“What did she say to you?”
“The weather has gotten quite cold lately.”
“You think you can gloss over this?”
A brief, nerve-wracking standoff followed.
“...Ugh.”
“Holmes, you lapdog of the London police.”
The tension escalated as Lady Roylott, still gripping Adler’s collar, climbed onto the bed and began to strangle him then and there.
“Ugh.....”
Just as Adler was on the verge of losing consciousness...
—Buzz...
“...Hm?”
Gray letters began to appear on Lady Roylott’s hand.
｢This is not Holmes, Roylott.｣
“...Hmm.”
Staring intently at the message—which seemed hastily written despite its elegant script—she finally let go of Adler’s throat, her expression shifting as if the air had been let out of her.
“What a waste of effort.”
With that, she twisted her wrist and stepped down from the bed.
“Are you an associate of Holmes?”
“...........”
“If so, then convey this to her...”
At that moment, a message appeared before Adler’s eyes.
“Withdraw from this affair and...”
“...This shouldn’t be happening.”
“What?”
Upon reading the message, Adler tilted his head, adopting a serious expression for the first time.
“You bastard, when someone is talking...!”
“Madam.”
Just as Lady Roylott was about to unleash her pent-up anger, Adler pulled himself up from the bed, his eyes lighting up in an instant.
“I have a favor to ask.”
“What...”
—Buzz...
Lady Roylott, who had been tilting her head at Adler’s sudden change in demeanor, widened her eyes as Adler’s eyes began to glow a fiery red.
“...Please make me a part of your collection.”
Adler, revealing his true form as a pureblooded vampire, whispered those words while gently swaying his tail from side to side.
.
.
.
.
.
Rachel Watson
Charlotte Holmes
Professor Moriarty
As soon as I dared to make those statements, a flood of messages appeared before my eyes.
[Probability Error!]
[Description: The conclusion probability of the canon event—The Secret of the Speckled Band—is severely lacking!]
But at this crucial moment, with the fate of the world hanging in the balance, I had no time to pay attention to such messages.
[If the probability is not maintained, the world's Erosion Rate will increase!]
[Current Case Progress: 56%]
[Warning!]
[Erosion Rate — 5%]
An increase in the Erosion Rate in this world was fatal.
Therefore, in the current situation—where my plans had gone awry because I’d been incapacitated for days by a mere knife wound—I had no choice but to forcefully intervene in the case.
“...A vampire?”
“A pureblooded one at that.”
And the way to do that was to become part of Lady Roylott’s collection.
Inheriting elements of the original setting, she was London’s top collector and trainer, a woman who would lose her mind over rare animals and magical beasts.
Seeing my true form, she was completely captivated.
“What are you scheming?”
As I wagged my tail eagerly, the lady asked with a glint in her eyes.
“I find myself in a rather dangerous situation.”
Her eyes, which had been fixed on my chin as she lifted it, trembled at my words.
“...So, I would like it if you could raise me in secrecy.”
As I finished my sentence, gray and black letters began to shimmer on the palm of my hand, tingling as they appeared.
“Alright.”
However, there was no time to look at them.
—Click...
Lady Roylott pulled a spotted collar from the travel bag she had brought and whispered as she carefully fastened it around my neck.
“Get into the bag.”
“...Alright.”
As I felt her murky mana spreading around my neck, I stepped into the bag.
“........?”
As the zipper closed, I watched the light disappear. I quietly tilted my head at the sudden notification.
[Warning!]
[— Probability of ??? — 10%]
What could this mean? I wondered, sitting in the darkness of the silent bag...