Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Sherlock Holmes (4)
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Life is an endless chain of novelties, forever unpredictable.
Some say we walk a path with a fixed beginning and end.
Others claim they can observe fate itself.
Either way, there's no way for an ordinary person to know.
That was me.
"Tsk. Is this right?"
This was already the third time.
The ink on the quill had smudged, forcing me to toss out two pages of manuscript.
No, make that three now.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair.
Staring up at the ceiling, I let out a deep breath.
"It was the same with A Study in Scarlet, but quills really don't suit me."
It had been fine at first.
Mistakes happen, and I was burning with creative passion.
Besides, I hadn't cared much back in my grad school days either.
But now, with my first book raking in serious money, I was starting to notice the discomfort.
Ah, is this how getting comfortable makes you lazy?
I flipped through the sales ledger on the corner of my desk.
It showed hundreds of gold marks—out of the first print run of a thousand copies, only 324 remained unsold.
In other words, I had well over ten million in hand now.
And that was just two weeks after the initial release!
They were talking about a reprint soon, so all that was left was to keep the money rolling in.
Yeah, honestly, I'd gotten a bit complacent.
Complaining about how uncomfortable the quill was.
"Wait a minute. Why not just invent a quill replacement?"
Thinking back to my original field of study.
I'd devoured all sorts of disciplines and unveiled new theories and technologies.
In one word, I was a magitech engineer.
I sat up straight and brainstormed a quill substitute.
A pencil?
Too simple, and it doesn't use ink.
Besides, something similar already exists.
What about a ballpoint pen, then?
"Hmm, but that requires precision machining..."
I pushed the manuscript paper aside and pulled out a blank sheet.
Recalling what I'd invented before and the current foundations available, I began sketching a plan.
If the Sherlock Holmes fans knew about this, they might come after me with pitchforks.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ It was a truly peaceful day.
Birds chirped from morning, under a clear blue sky.
Something good was surely waiting.
The guard on duty believed it without a doubt.
He donned a light helmet and alloy greaves.
With a padded cloth vest underneath, he looked the part for patrol duty.
"They say this is an improvement, huh?"
He knew some noble had invented an engine that boosted logistics efficiency.
And it had helped pave the roads too, from what he'd heard.
The guard wondered who this person was.
But as a mere guard, he'd never get the chance to meet them.
Especially not a commoner meeting a noble.
He shook his head, dismissing it as tales from another world.
"Time to get to work."
He had to work to make a living.
Not that he'd catch the lord's eye, but he didn't want to get in trouble either.
So today, like always, he arrived ten minutes early.
At the guard headquarters in the territory, he signed the attendance log.
"Great. I'm first again today."
Feeling pleased for no reason, he hummed a tune as he headed to the inner storeroom.
Guards could keep their armor personally, but weapons were stored at headquarters.
He grabbed a spear from the storeroom and stepped out in high spirits.
Waiting for his colleagues to arrive.
"Huff! Huff! Guards! Anyone here?"
"Hm? What's going on?"
He'd been waiting in the break room for the night shift to return and day shift to muster when he jumped to his feet.
A frantic voice made him frown as he headed to the lobby.
"Y-yes, I'm here. What seems to be the problem?"
Not officially on duty yet, he responded with a touch of annoyance.
But the panting man who rushed in shouted without pause.
"It's a murder! Blood everywhere, and...!"
"W-wait, calm down! I can't understand you."
The guard couldn't make out the slurred words.
The man looked frustrated but took a deep breath as instructed.
Once his breathing steadied, he spoke again.
"A murder happened! You know Beta's inn nearby? Second floor, third room—someone's dead in there!"
"What? Hold on, I'll be right back."
The guard sat the man down and turned toward the captain's office.
Sighing deeply along the way.
"No wonder today felt too good to be true."
Ugh, a case before the shift even started.
Cursing the Goddess irreverently, he knocked on the captain's door.
"Captain Birent, urgent report."
"Come in."
The guard entered and swallowed nervously.
The captain was intimidating to deal with.
Partly due to his low rank, but mostly the rumors of him being a tough boss.
Swallowing his tension, he reported to Birent.
"Reporting: Someone was murdered at Beta Inn. A local resident reported it."
"A murder? Why 'presumed' resident?"
Birrent glared at the guard for skimping on details.
His face paled in fear.
"S-sorry! The reporter was in bad shape; I had to calm him down...!"
"Fine, whatever. Where's the reporter?"
"In the lobby. I'll bring him."
Unlike entering, he marched out stiffly at attention.
Birrent ignored him, lost in thought.
I don't know the details yet, but this is exactly the situation I've been waiting for.
He loved reading books in his spare time.
He'd bought everything his pay and status allowed.
And lately, one book was rising fast.
Edn's Sherlock Holmes.
Not widely known yet, but Birent was sure it would explode in popularity soon.
He knew it the moment he turned the last page.
The story ended on a suspicious note, but it still delivered a fresh shock.
The brilliant characters' feats.
Accomplished through meticulous investigation—it hit him just right.
Even characters with unforgivable acts but justifiable motives tugged at his heart.
And that final page.
Fictional folk or not, taking initiative to claim credit was praiseworthy for a guard captain.
Waiting for recognition was foolish.
He'd risen to captain by impressing superiors and bowing his head.
Edn might disagree vehemently, but unfortunately, he wasn't here.
"Perfect, just perfect."
"Something good happen?"
As they walked the hall, the relaxed guard teased.
He meant to mock the whistling despite a murder report, but Birent didn't catch it.
Or perhaps, in good spirits, he pretended not to.
"Indeed. I got my hands on a great novel lately."
"This is him."
Fortunately, the reporter hadn't vanished.
He paced anxiously but stayed in the lobby.
Spotting the guard, he approached—then startled at Birent beside him.
"C-Captain Birent?"
"That's me. Now, tell me the details."
"D-details?"
The man looked puzzled, not grasping.
The captain realized his mistake and rephrased.
"What happened, where, and the state of the scene."
"Ah, got it. Let's head to the inn; I'll explain on the way."
Guiding them, the man began recounting what he'd seen.
"I'm the inn's cleaner. Went in for morning cleanup today, and holy hell—blood all over the floor! Table overturned like there was a fight, decorative vase shattered."
"Where was the body?"
"Facedown on the floor."
Birrent organized the info and probed further.
"Anything else come to mind?"
"Hm, oh! The victim was a man. Must've taken someone big and strong to kill him."
"We'll see. Could be a mage."
"Haha, true enough."
Birrent figured he'd gotten all he could from the cleaner.
Next: inspect the scene, question the innkeeper and guests.
Suddenly recalling something, he shot a piercing glare.
"No one touched the scene, right?"
"Of course not. The innkeeper blocked it off."
Good—no major obstacles to the investigation.
At the inn, they quickly found the owner.
She rushed out at the call.
"Busy as hell here—what? Oh, guards!"
Her irritation flipped to relief upon recognizing Captain Birent.
Birrent smiled faintly.
"Here on the cleaner's report. Can I see the scene?"
"Of course, follow me."
She led, Birent followed.
He instructed the trailing guard to gather everyone for questioning.
"Got it. I'll assemble them downstairs."
"Good man."
He patted the guard's shoulder encouragingly and proceeded.
"What's your name?"
"Pete. Hope you wrap this up quick."
"Don't worry. We'll solve it fast."
"Thanks. Here we are."
Up to the second floor, third room from the stairs.
Barricaded with ropes to keep people out.
Pete deftly untied them, letting the captain enter.
"Look around as you please. I'll be downstairs."
"Appreciate the cooperation. Stay on the first floor—your testimony's needed too."
He softened "interrogation" for smooth relations.
Pete nodded, catching only the last part.
"Understood. What a mess this is."
She headed down, and Birent opened Room 203.
"Good lord, gruesome."
A nose-stinging stench of blood.
Fresh red pooling on the floor.
Birrent declared it the worst scene he'd ever witnessed.
"Lost this much blood—probably every drop in his body."
He stepped inside slowly.
His iron-shod boots grew wet, but he ignored it.
Crouching, he began examining the corpse.
The investigation of a Sherlock Holmes superfan had begun.