novelraw Chapter 15 Irrationality
Chapter 15 Irrationality
As the clear, melodious chimes rang out, the students gradually awoke from their tranquil slumber, and the Royal College of London, shrouded in a thin mist, once again stepped into the bustling world.
A gentle autumn breeze rustles the marigolds in the courtyard, bringing a delicate fragrance of flowers and grass, and lightly touches the water's surface, creating ripples on the artificial lake in the college.
And right there by the lake, in that dormitory building that combines Victorian elegance with modern style—
"...Damn it."
Erin scratched her already messy silver hair in frustration, tossed the heavy directory aside, and the sound of the hard cover hitting the table echoed in the room.
The mysterious contact in his magic communicator, whose contact name was "girlfriend," had been bothering him all day.
In the original novel, Irene's fiancé, Godfrey Norton, is a practicing British lawyer.
According to the company's plan, most characters with names and surnames will retain their original surnames after gender swapping.
He had already checked the lists of law students and practicing lawyers in all colleges across London, and there was not a single woman with the surname Norton.
For this reason, he even made a special trip back to the mansion to tentatively inquire with the maids.
But their reaction was only blankness and confusion, clearly unaware that the young master had a girlfriend.
Left with no other option, he had to skip his date last night, but his mysterious girlfriend still hasn't sent him any messages.
"Who is it?"
The current situation, with no clue what to do, gave Erin a headache.
He sighed deeply, threw himself back onto the bed, placed his right hand on his forehead, counted the patterns on the wallpaper above him, and began to sort out his thoughts.
Ideally, this mysterious girlfriend would be completely disappointed by his broken promise yesterday and would never contact him again.
After all, she was most likely just like those noblewomen who sent letters signed "Colonel Ross," "Baroness Stoner," and so on—poor women who had been deceived by Erin Adler's sweet talk.
Anyway, let's go to sleep first.
He barely rested while investigating this matter.
Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, the magical communicator on my bedside table started vibrating annoyingly.
Moriarty: Adler, come to the lab.
As if to emphasize the seriousness of the matter, a second message followed immediately.
Moriarty: There is something very important.
"well--"
Erin sighed, struggled to break free from the warm and inviting embrace of the bed, and began to wash up.
He seemed to be able to foresee the arduous life that lay ahead.
I miss my first day back at work.
.
Good morning, Adler.
Jessia sat upright behind the large mahogany desk and waved to Erin.
She was still dressed in her signature outfit today: a Prussian blue velvet coat paired with a white shirt and black suit trousers, and her long blonde hair was braided into an elegant French braid.
It suits her identity as a young professor, while also subtly conveying a sense of classical authority, showcasing the majesty of a "Napoleon of the criminal world."
Erin replied with a greeting: "Good morning, Professor. What urgent matter do you have to discuss with me?"
Jessia put down the Times: "We'll talk about this later. First, get me a cup of black coffee."
She had perfectly assumed the role of the supervising professor and had begun to treat her only graduate student like a slave.
"……yes."
The hand-cranked coffee machine emits a regular and reassuring low hum, as Ethiopian coffee beans meet boiling water, releasing a rich and intense aroma that diffuses with the steam.
A few minutes later, Erin carried a tray and placed the honey jar, milk jug, and black coffee steadily in front of Moriarty, then sat down facing her.
Jessia's delicate nose twitched. "Adler's cooking is really good."
"You flatter me," Erin replied calmly, her thoughts drifting back to her past life.
During a repair of the company's expensive, fully automatic coffee machine, a large number of suspicious brown protein fragments were discovered inside. Since then, the coffee machine in the break room has been replaced with an old, classic hand-cranked model whose structure is easily recognizable.
Erin and his colleagues were happy with this, as it gave them a lot more legitimate time to slack off.
Thanks to this, he became an expert at brewing animal and cow beverages.
"Professor, can we get down to business now?" Erin changed the subject.
Jessia didn't answer immediately. Instead, she picked up the honey jar and poured almost a lethal amount of honey and milk into the coffee until the original dark brown color turned into a suspicious amber.
As she stirred the almost viscous liquid, she asked, "What do you think I'd like to talk to you about next?"
"..."
Erin tried hard to keep her expression calm.
Riddler, get out of London!
He quickly outlined the possibilities: "Is it about the plans for criminal organizations and crime counseling that we mentioned last time? These things can't be accomplished overnight, Professor, you need to be more patient."
"Hmm..." Jessia drawled, her expression somewhat disappointed, "Do you really think of me as such an impatient and hasty person?"
After taking a sip of coffee (?), she once again showed a childlike expression of happiness, and even shook her head slightly.
Then, she put down her coffee cup, her purple eyes deepening once more: "First, I want to apologize to you, because I tried to investigate your past. The result is that I'm now incredibly curious, almost to the point of madness."
How come this woman's emotional changes are even more unpredictable than the tides of the Thames?
"...My past?"
Erin frowned slightly.
He investigated Erin Adler earlier than Moriarty.
The father was a successful textile merchant in London, and the mother was a famous ballet dancer. Nine years ago, the couple died in a tragic carriage accident, leaving behind a large estate, including their mansion on Victoria Road.
Erin Adler inherited her mother's performing talent and possessed an exceptionally beautiful face. From her first stage appearance at the age of three, she became a household name in London as a child star.
Later, probably due to the blow of his parents' early death, Erin Adler, as he grew older...
Hmm, maybe it's a bit of an Oedipus complex.
The thought of those London ladies who sent letters and gifts every now and then gave Erin a headache.
In short, due to his early fame, Erin Adler's life trajectory has been almost entirely exposed to the public eye, and apart from the number and identities of his lovers remaining a mystery to this day, there seems to be no special secret.
"Professor, I don't quite understand what you're talking about. My past—" Erin paused.
The first adjective that came to his mind was "reasonable," but it felt strange to use that word, so he changed it to: "It's normal, nothing special."
"On the surface, that's certainly true." Jessia nodded slightly, took a neatly arranged paper document from her desk drawer, and pushed it in front of Erin:
"Your birth certificate, performance contract, notarized property certificate, past experiences... all the public and non-public information I could find is here. It is logically consistent, interconnected, and perfectly presented."
"However, there are a few tiny details, like loose threads on fabric, that puzzle me." Jessia tilted her head, her eyes brimming with curiosity.
"First, you're just a moderately famous actress, so why were you invited to the birthday banquet of the Third Princess of Bohemia? Second, you're a household name in London, so why did you suddenly retire and choose to study at the Royal Academy? Third, and this is what interests me most—"
She narrowed her eyes slightly, and the familiar pressure spread from her body once again:
"The playboy who's rumored to be able to get into bed with a woman in just three minutes maintains an inexplicable gentlemanly attitude when dealing with the young maids in the mansion. According to my investigation, you've never crossed any lines with them."
Jessia rested her chin on her hands, tilted her head, and let her golden braids fall over her shoulders. This innocent and carefree gesture, combined with her gaze and aura, appeared extremely eerie.
"It seems as if an invisible hand has deliberately embellished your past to make your present situation seem plausible. Can you satisfy my overflowing curiosity, my dear accomplice?"
"..."
Although Moriarty was using a classic presumption of guilt, Erin had to admit that her logic was clear, rigorous, and very convincing.
Perhaps Erin Adler really does have some unknown hidden identity behind the scenes.
The problem is—
I knew absolutely nothing about it!
How do you explain this?
Should I confess, "I'm sorry, Professor, I'm a transmigrator who didn't inherit any memories, so I don't know either"?
memory……
Suddenly, a brilliant idea flashed through my mind.
Erin looked up at Moriarty with a resentful expression: "I can't explain it, but it's all your fault, Professor."
"Oh?" Jessia pointed to herself with interest. "My question?"
"Yes." Erin nodded, his tone sincere: "After waking up in the warehouse, my memory was severely fragmented. I still can't recall many things and details from the past."
"...I see." Jessia lowered her head, thinking briefly.
She hadn't actually tested the side effects of the potion, because the few people who tried it all died quickly and peacefully.
However, one of the main ingredients in the formula, "Dark Mushroom," does have neurotoxicity and may cause nerve damage and memory loss.
After a moment, she looked up again, a puzzled expression on her face: "Okay, this is indeed my problem."
Erin had just breathed a sigh of relief when another question followed: "So, what did you see in the illusion magic I set up?"
"The academy headmaster's corpse." There seemed to be no point in hiding this question, so he answered truthfully: "If I'm not mistaken, that magic would make people see the scene they fear most."
"Absolutely correct." Jessia nodded in satisfaction.
"But," she smiled, "why did you see him? To most of the teachers and students at this school, the dean is just a respected, somewhat old-fashioned, and kind elder. But you seem to know his true abilities very well."
Is this even possible?
Why is he pretending to be an ordinary old man? Is the dean living a leisurely retirement life?
"I just happened to see the Dean's portrait in the corridor earlier," Erin could only offer a reason that even she herself found perfunctory.
"Alright." Jessia's smile remained unchanged. She wasn't in a hurry to expose this blatant lie, but instead posed a follow-up question:
"So, where did you get the information about my panic when you first saw me, and your understanding of that alchemist and Milvolton? Before that, you and I, and they, had no interaction whatsoever."
Erin felt a dryness in his throat. He looked up at the pure white ceiling. But unfortunately, there were no clues or answers.
He gritted his teeth and offered his final reason: "I heard all this information, including yours, from the ladies of London. You should know that they, who are keen on hosting salons, are sometimes the most well-informed group."
"Oh? That's a good reason too." Jessia's tone was light and airy, her smile growing even sweeter. "One last question: where did you learn duet chanting?"
"Professor, you've already asked..."
wrong.
Erin stopped speaking.
Moriarty could never have forgotten their conversation from a few days ago, so why did she ask it again?
His mind raced, considering all the possibilities.
Wait a moment……
Could it be that...?
As if reading his thoughts, Jessia opened the desk drawer again, took out a stack of beautifully bound manuscripts that still smelled of fresh ink, and gently placed them on the table.
Erin glanced at the cover—
"A Study on the Universality Principles and Magical Circuits of Dual Chanting: Theoretical Construction and Preliminary Empirical Evidence"
Author: Jessia Moriarty
Jessia slowly began, "This is the final draft of my thesis. Just yesterday afternoon, I officially submitted it to the Royal Magical Society in London for this year's 'Maple Star Award' judging."
"Then, my dear accomplice, please tell me again—" She tilted her head, her smile growing even brighter, "where exactly did you learn this technique?"
"..."
Erin's guess came true.
In the original story, a young Moriarty secured a professorship with a paper on the binomial theorem.
The game also adopted this setting, but changed the binomial theorem to a double chant that fits the story background.
So, what does it mean that Moriarty, who has already become a professor, has not yet published a paper?!
They're clearly paying homage to the original work, so why make changes in this way?!
Have those screenwriters at the company gotten their brains filled with London smog?!
"Excuse me, is this Professor Moriarty's research lab?"
Just as Erin was sweating profusely and desperately trying to figure out how to get through this, a familiar voice rang out from outside the door.
Then, the oak door was gently pushed open a crack, and a hand wearing a black leather glove rested on the door frame.
A black-haired girl wearing a deerstalker hat, a royal academy uniform, and a brown trench coat peeked out.