Stop trying to control me, Miss Moriarty!

Chapter 23 The Man with the Crooked Lips

Trafalgar Square, London.

Charlotte sat on a cast-iron bench not far from the Whitehall restaurant, reading today's copy of The Times.

The Times, September 8th

Her Majesty the Queen of Bohemia sent her condolences on the death of His Highness the Second Prince of Scandinavia…

Just then, a ship sailed by on the Thames River not far away, and a long, dull whistle sounded.

The jarring noise made her frown slightly.

The pigeons in the square seemed to have gotten used to it, cooing in agreement as they continued to search for food in the cracks between the stone slabs.

"Charlotte, I've got it done."

The familiar voice carried a hint of lightness that it hadn't felt before.

She looked up and saw that Asha had already walked out of the restaurant and was walking in her direction.

"So fast? I thought it would take you at least ten minutes."

"Plans can't keep up with changes." Asha shrugged and sat down next to her. "That guy even had traces of tincture of opium on him. He probably just finished catching his craving somewhere. I exposed him on the spot."

"Speaking of which," she smiled mischievously, "guess what happened next?"

This was practically an invitation to deduction handed to me.

Charlotte became interested, and her brows relaxed.

She took a closer look at her best friend, her gaze finally settling on a few water stains and flakes of skin on the cuff of her right sleeve.

"You seem to be in a much better mood than when you left," Charlotte concluded.

"So, you assaulted him? To be precise, it was after you splashed water on him that he became enraged or persisted in harassing you, so you had no choice but to take action?"

"..."

Aysa's smile froze slightly: "Charlotte, your wording sounds like you're implying that I'm the one with violent tendencies."

"That's not what I meant, you understand."

Asha could only smile helplessly: "The reasoning was completely correct. Mr. Hudson probably didn't tell that guy I used to be a military doctor, or maybe he's still a bit out of his mind, actually thinking of taking action. I had no choice but to dislocate both of his arms. As a result, he cried like a baby."

"Efficiency is a virtue." Charlotte folded the newspaper, then stood up. "Now that it's resolved, let's get going."

"Speaking of which, where are we going?"

Asha followed her, and the two walked east along Strand Street.

"Riverside Street, Opium Den."

These two simple words seemed to make the surrounding damp air even colder.

Asha paused, her expression instinctively showing disgust and wariness.

That's one of the most dangerous places in London, the setting for countless urban horror stories.

According to legend, the opium den was a living entity that could appear anytime, anywhere in London.

Countless missing persons cases occur in London each year, with bodies never found.

Charlotte noticed Asha's hesitation and began to recount the commission: "Five days ago, early one morning, Mrs. St. Clair saw her husband in this area. But when she followed him, Mr. St. Clair vanished into the fog, just like in a cheap horror novel."

"Mrs. St. Clair then called the police, and predictably, the incompetent London police returned empty-handed. Until yesterday evening, she received a handwritten letter from her husband..."

"Um?"

Her narration came to an abrupt end, and she suddenly turned her head to look at the other end of the street.

"What's wrong?" Asha asked.

"I just saw Erin Adler."

Charlotte squinted, trying to catch that fleeting glimpse of the silver-haired figure again.

Aysa followed her gaze and saw that at this time of day, there were not many pedestrians on the street, and there was nowhere to hide on the empty street.

She didn't see a single trace of silver.

“Not everyone skips class on their second day like you, Charlotte. Adler is still studying at the Royal Academy. Or perhaps—” Asha paused deliberately, “you’ve been thinking about him so much that you’re hallucinating?”

Charlotte looked away, frowning. "Aysa—"

"I know, I know," Asha said first, raising one hand in surrender.

"You have absolutely no special feelings for Adler. So I apologize, and ask for your forgiveness for my slip of the tongue, dear Miss Holmes?"

She blinked, her beautifully made-up face revealing an innocent expression.

"..." Charlotte stared at her silently for a few seconds, then turned her face away and muttered softly, "Your acting has improved."

"Hehe." Asha smiled happily.

.

After confirming that no one was following her, Erin turned into an alley between a clothing store and a tavern and dispelled the "disguise" spell.

Very risky.

Fortunately, he discovered Holmes first.

London has at least several hundred thousand people, and there are three blocks between Strand Street and Baker Street. How could they possibly run into her under such circumstances? That's incredible luck.

The "Bohemian Scandal" incident is now complete (120% complete).

[Reward Distribution: Magic Power Boost]

[Magic Leap: Increases current rank by one (limited to rank 3 and below)]

The side quest "Bohemian Rhapsody" is now available: You have a child with Ophelia Goethe-Sigismond von Olmsstein.

[Completion: 15.51%]

……Um?

Erin was somewhat as bewildered as Louis XVI.

He could understand the reason why the "Bohemian Scandal" suddenly emerged and why it had only just been settled, since Ophelia had only officially issued a statement today.

The rewards are quite good. If I look at my current situation in terms of data, I'm at about 60% of the second tier. I can definitely advance to the fourth tier in one go.

But what's with this side quest?

Why is there a completion rating?

And there are even whole and odd amounts?!

His lips twitched, and he decided to put this side quest, which was absolutely impossible to complete, out of his mind.

Then, they walked deeper into the alley.

"Hey! Adler! Are you a snail? Or did you sleep with some woman you saw on the street again?!"

A crisp, impatient sound rang out.

The little figure was no more than 1.4 meters tall, wearing an old-fashioned black dress, with two hair clips in her short pink hair.

She stood in the shadows with her arms crossed, tilting her doll-like, delicate face upwards, trying to project a stern expression as she glared at Erin.

But it will probably only make people think that this "child" is cute.

Erin pulled out his pocket watch: "Ms. Mistiltein, there are still twelve minutes until our agreed time. You've arrived too early."

The little girl paused for a moment, then snorted and turned her head away: "I don't care! You're just late! Time is money, and my time is more precious than diamonds!"

Judging from her youthful appearance and childish behavior, which make her look no more than twelve years old, it's hard to imagine that she is the foremost alchemist in London—Cornelia de Mistrald.

In reality, Mistilte's true age is twenty-five...

Thinking of this, Erin couldn't get angry at this completely unreasonable behavior; he just cast a pitying glance at her.

After all, at her age, there's simply no possibility of her growing any further.

"...Adler, what kind of look is that?"

Cornelia noticed his extremely rude gaze.

"I'm just admiring your outfit today; it's very elegant and brings out your extraordinary temperament."

"Hmph, at least you have some taste."

After being praised, Cornelia's attention was indeed diverted, and she raised her small chin with a hint of pride.

They're so easy to fool...

Just like in the game, although she is an old woman in age, she is clearly a brat who hasn't grown up yet in spirit.

"Madam, please make sure you hold onto my clothes tightly from now on."

"Huh? Why? I'm not a little kid who needs to be led around!" she protested immediately.

Erin could only explain as if comforting a child: "Entering the target location requires a special medium, and without direct contact, I can't bring you in with me. Of course, with your strength, you could force your way in, but that would go against your original intention."

"...Alright." Cornelia weighed the options for a few seconds, then reluctantly reached out and grabbed the corner of Erin's trench coat. "Then I'll reluctantly cooperate with you."

"Also, once inside, please avoid using any terms of address that could reveal your true identity."

The alchemical artifacts in Erin's pocket, which served as tickets, glowed faintly, and they passed directly through the wall deep inside the alley.

Suddenly, everything went black, as if I had walked into a cave-like passage leading downwards.

After about seventy steps, the view opened up again.

A magnificent golden building stands out starkly against the surrounding dark environment, its basic stone structure adorned with extensive use of reliefs, stained glass, and gold leaf.

The building is a mix of various architectural styles, including Rococo and Victorian, and looks like a nouveau riche desperately flaunting his wealth.

Above the main entrance, huge gilded characters gleamed under the ever-burning magic lamp.

——"Golden Sparrow Pavilion"

"Adler, are you sure you're not mistaken?" Cornelia tugged at Erin's sleeve, somewhat incredulous.

"That's right, the 'opium den' you know is a thing of the past."

The owner of this building acquired a huge fortune in the Americas through the opium trade and the sale of enslaved Africans. He then bought the original opium den and transformed it into its present form.

Later, in an attempt to clear her name, she married Viscount Burtis, a 70-year-old widower.

Just two years later, she successfully inherited her deceased husband's title...

It must be said that, at least in this era, marriage is indeed a shortcut to upward social status.

At the same time, both Erin and Cornelia felt a faint mist appear at the edge of their vision.

This is one of the many complex magical spells used by the Golden Sparrow Pavilion. It is a secrecy measure that can conceal the guest's appearance and alter their voice.

The only downside is that this is an outdated item from a few years ago and can no longer conceal body shape and height.

However, this was enough to give Erin the courage to step into this place.

Otherwise, given Erin Adler's extremely negative level of fame, his appearance in such a place would be no different from a turkey landing among a group of Americans who have been starving for a month.

It would probably be cut into countless pieces on the spot, then packed up and thrown into the Thames River next door.

"Welcome! Your two distinguished guests!"

The moment they saw them, the dark-skinned Indian doorman quickly stepped forward and handed them two hot towels.

It must be said that despite being an illegal place, the service was quite good.

In London's damp and chilly weather, a hot towel can indeed bring a brief moment of joy.

The doorman's gaze kept shifting between Erin and Cornelia, and he wore a lewd expression typical of Indians.

Erin knew without even guessing what terrible ideas this guy was having.

Fortunately, this cover-up existed; otherwise, he would have been truly ruined...

The ornate, heavy brass doors were pushed open by the doorman, and a warm breeze carrying a mixture of alcohol, cosmetics, expensive spices, and the smell of burning plants rushed out.

The lights on the first floor were deliberately dimmed, giving off a lazy, sickly orange-yellow hue.

The Golden Bird Pavilion's business now encompasses almost all of humanity's dark desires, ranging from gourmet food and casinos to special performances and the sale of various contraband.

But Lady Bourges seems to have stayed true to her original aspirations, as the main hall on the first floor still retains the original core business.

Inside, white smoke swirled, as dense as miasma above a swamp. Erin and Cornelia almost simultaneously chose to use magic to filter the air.

Rows of exquisite velvet lounge chairs were placed there, just like a beach crowded with sunbathers.

A variety of figures were lazily curled up on the deck chairs, some lying on their side, some hunched over, and some with their heads tilted back.

These listless, seemingly sickly people have empty, cold eyes as they scrutinize those who enter from every corner, occasionally taking a puff of various placebos.

They mostly remained silent, but occasionally unsettling whispers would break out, and soon they would start talking to themselves again, completely ignoring what the others were saying.

A waiter came up to them warmly: "Distinguished guests, please make yourselves at home! Someone will bring you calming tea shortly."

Erin waved his hand, his voice low and muffled as he spoke: "No need, we need a private room."

The waiter looked at Cornelia beside him, his face showing the same look of sudden realization as the one at the door: "I understand, I understand! Please come this way, go up the stairs to the third floor, there are private rooms prepared for distinguished guests."

They went up to the third floor.

The lighting here is much brighter, and there are no drug addicts around, but the environment hasn't become any more refined.

"Tsk, judging by their attire, those two new fat sheep seem to be quite wealthy."

"Forget it, they have that 'smell' on them...it's too much trouble."

"A magician? What a fucking disappointment..."

They made no attempt to conceal their malice, staring intently at Erin and his companions, and loudly engaging in vulgar discussions.

Besides these criminals, there were also some swaying, naked men and women who were not covered by any mist magic and were actively casting disgusting flirtatious glances at them.

Even worse, some people engage in sexual intercourse directly in public.

Cornelia let out a short scream, quickly closed her eyes, and tightly gripped Erin's clothes, almost shrinking to his side.

This immediately drew a burst of laughter.

"Ai..." she almost called out his name in her panic, then quickly corrected herself, "This...this place is...completely different from what I've heard?"

"Madam, times are changing far faster than we imagine." Erin turned slightly and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Besides, I already told you, but you were the one who insisted on experiencing this place. I'm just a guide."

He felt a sense of pleasure from seeing the little devil get his comeuppance.

If this guy hadn't insisted on bringing her to some opium den before agreeing to a second treatment, he wouldn't have bothered doing this.

"But...but..."

Cornelia stammered, her body trembling slightly under those sticky gazes. Her previous arrogance shattered, and she softly asked, "Can we go back?"

Ha, you brat.

However, seeing her clutching the hem of her clothes tightly, her small hands so pale they were almost bloodless, Erin suddenly felt a pang of pity.

"Madam, you just need to keep your eyes closed, and I will take you to a safe place."

"Okay, alright." Cornelia did as he said, clutching the hem of her clothes tightly with both hands and obediently trailing behind her.

Erin led her, walking steadily through those malicious gazes.

squeak-

"We've arrived. You can open your eyes now."

"call--"

Cornelia cautiously opened one eye, and only after confirming that she was in a seemingly normal enclosed room did she finally breathe a sigh of relief, stop trembling, and let go of her hand.

Erin also scanned the room.

The space is small, simply but cleanly furnished, with one window overlooking the rushing river and another overlooking the street.

Of course, to pedestrians, this is just an empty space.

This room looks exactly like the one described in the original novel's "The Man with the Crooked Lips" incident.

With the addition of magic to the setting, the Golden Bird Pavilion should have become the perfect stage for a brilliant mystery.

But those idiot screenwriters just wouldn't use it, which almost gave me a stroke!

He sat on the bed: "Madam, as agreed, I have brought you here. Now, you should begin my treatment."

"Oh...oh, okay."

At this moment, Cornelia was just like an obedient little girl, reaching out to put her hand on Erin's arm and channeling her magic.

"Um……"

"…Um?"

"...Hmm?"

Erin looked confused.

During the last diagnosis, Cornelia described his specific poisoning symptoms in just one minute and prescribed an alchemical potion for treatment.

But now, even without seeing her expression, Erin could sense that she was in a state of extreme inner turmoil.

Cornelia finally let go.

Beneath the mist, her expression was incredibly solemn, her emerald eyes filled with seriousness as she stared intently at Erin, declaring, word by word, "You are going to die."

"……ha?"