Stop trying to control me, Miss Moriarty!

Chapter 24 The Man with the Crooked Lips

earlier.

The lobby on the first floor of the "Golden Sparrow Pavilion".

Charlotte frowned; the seemingly magnificent building looked more like a gilded tomb to her.

A waiter greeted us warmly, repeating the same greetings he had said countless times.

“No need, I’m here to see someone,” Charlotte interrupted him. “Did a male guest who was about five feet three inches tall come by recently?”

"I'm very sorry." The waiter bowed his head. "The cornerstone of Golden Sparrow Pavilion is the protection of the privacy of every distinguished guest. I cannot disclose information about other guests to you."

But based on his micro-expressions, Charlotte had already gotten the result she wanted.

She calmly uttered a number: "One hundred pounds. Tell me where he is."

This enormous fortune was like a heavy hammer, instantly shattering all pretense and pretense.

The waiter immediately looked up, subconsciously licking his lips. When he saw the stack of ten-pound notes, the greed in his eyes became even more undisguised.

He adopted a fawning expression, strode over to Charlotte, and said softly, "Just a few minutes ago, a guest matching your description did come by. He also brought a minor... uh, exceptionally petite female companion, and they went straight to the third floor. As for the specific room number, I really don't know."

Charlotte said nothing more and threw the huge sum of money at the waiter as if it were trash.

"Gentle and beautiful lady! Thank you!"

She ignored the waiter's comical, tearful expression of gratitude and headed straight for the stairs.

"Charlotte..." Asha quickened her pace to catch up, her eyes filled with worry.

Although the mist obscured her appearance and made it impossible to see her expression, one could still sense the gloomy aura emanating from Charlotte.

She reminded him, "You told me on the way here that the target is about six feet tall."

"That's right." Charlotte continued climbing the steps without stopping. "But now, the 'puzzle' that I need to solve has escaped here."

A puzzle?

Asha pondered the word, then suddenly understood: "You mean, that man is here too?"

"Hmm." Charlotte's tone was flat. "So, I didn't hallucinate on Strand Street earlier."

Erin Adler, that guy is here too.

No, it's perfectly reasonable for a scoundrel like him to be here.

The thought of what the waiter had just said made her unable to contain her anger.

She had seen too many children ravaged by war and the evil of humanity on the battlefield in Afghanistan, and she had a deep-seated hatred for such behavior.

"Scumbag." She squeezed out the word through gritted teeth.

At the same time, Asha's gaze toward her best friend grew increasingly worried.

It was a mistake for Charlotte to become interested in this guy from the very beginning...

In the ensuing silence, they reached the third floor.

"These two girls may not look like they have much money, but they're pretty fun to play with..."

"Don't even think about it, the shorter one has a certain 'flavor' too."

"Damn it, why are all the people here today magicians, such unlucky stuff..."

Upon seeing the newcomers, the rioters gathered here immediately began discussing similar topics with unbridled eyes.

Charlotte ignored the useless filth and the greedy, malicious stares, and led Aysa directly to the room area.

She quickly scanned the two closed doors on either side.

The light shining from inside the door, the scratches on the paint on the door panel, the shine of the door handle...

A vast amount of details gathered in her mind, were analyzed, and then eliminated one by one.

Finally, she stopped in front of the third room, which was closest to the Thames.

"This one," she said with certainty.

Asha had been examining the door with them, but she hadn't noticed anything different: "How were you so sure?"

"Through this," Charlotte stepped closer, pointing to the brass handle, and began to explain:

"The doorknobs in the other rooms were more or less covered with sweat, grease, and unidentified powder, but this one was exceptionally clean, clearly having been carefully wiped. And the only person who would be so careful as to leave no trace could be that man."

Then, she gestured for Asha to step back, crouched down, and put her ear close to the gap in the door panel.

Although the soundproofing of the third-floor rooms was quite good, you could still hear sounds coming from inside if you calmed down.

"You're going to die."

hum-

Charlotte once again experienced the same sense of emptiness she had felt during the fire.

death.

This word was not unfamiliar to her.

I have dissected a total of seventeen corpses on the dissection table at St. Bartholomew's Hospital alone.

In the pile of cases at Scotland Yard, it was nothing more than lines of objectively recorded text.

But now, the person who rescued him from the scorching fire, who deceived him twice, and whom he only officially met yesterday...

I still can't understand his logic. He's the only peculiar and interesting example among all the fools in this world.

After the word became associated with Erin Adler.

Her once-proud rationality gradually faded away, replaced by a vague, inefficient, and inexplicable sense of unfamiliar emotion.

Charlotte bit her lip and clenched her right fist.

It doesn't seem like sadness...

I cannot possibly feel sad because of Adler.

What exactly is it?

"Charlotte?"

If Charlotte had previously displayed a girlish restlessness, now she gave Asha the feeling of an old woman in her twilight years.

She remained in the posture of listening intently, but her body was as stiff as a statue.

"Are you alright? What did you hear?"

The worried voice seemed to come from the depths of the water, bringing color back into Charlotte's blank thoughts.

She slowly raised her right hand, signaling Aysha to stop talking and calm down, focusing her attention on the conversation behind the door.

·

Under the gloomy sky outside the window, the Thames River flowed silently towards the sea, its waters a dark blue.

Death?

Clearly, Cornelia had no reason to deceive herself.

Erin's gaze lingered on the water's surface. For a few seconds, his consciousness seemed to drift away, becoming hazy.

But perhaps because he had already "died" once, or perhaps because he had only been in this world for a short time, he didn't feel much of a sense of belonging.

The shock and confusion in my heart quickly faded, and I accepted reality with equanimity.

As for fear, it was as if it never existed.

What will the professor think when he hears this news?

It seems she doesn't need to do anything...

How strange, this is the first thought that popped into my head.

"…Hey, what's with your reaction?" Cornelia noticed his unusual behavior, her tone full of confusion and dissatisfaction. "A normal person wouldn't react like this when they hear they're about to die, right?"

Erin looked away from her and asked with some curiosity, "Madam, you seem to have seen many people like this? What are their reactions?"

"Of course, I'm London's number one alchemist." Cornelia slightly raised her chin, recalling past cases as she spoke:

"Some broke down on the spot, crying and begging my grandfather to save them; others fell off their chairs and collapsed to the ground in a panic; and some simply couldn't accept reality and fainted."

She looked straight at Erin: "There's one person who's just like you, the Duke of Westminster. He also spaced out for a while, and then calmed down... well, like he'd heard the weather forecast say it'll rain in London tomorrow. No, not quite. You seemed a little upset, but it was more like you missed out on a scone at afternoon tea."

Erin chuckled at her strange analogy: "I can't possibly compare to that gentleman."

"...How can you still laugh out loud?" Cornelia muttered softly.

"Okay, maybe I'm a little weird." Erin scratched his head.

However, Reinhard Westminster Lina Wesley...

He inherited one of the most prestigious surnames and titles in Britain, but instead of basking in the glory of his father's past, he displayed a sharpness and ambition unlike that of other aristocratic children from a young age.

He entered the Royal Academy as a commoner, living in seclusion, and later joined the Army. It wasn't until he became a major general that the world learned of his true identity.

During the chaotic era of demon invasion that followed, he slaughtered countless demons. Legend has it that he personally killed as many as five demon lords.

His glorious deeds are still recorded in all school history textbooks, but it is regrettable that he died for unknown reasons the year after the war ended, without leaving any offspring.

To be honest, this person does have some connection to me.

After the war, he rejected a marriage offer from the royal family, which was tantamount to rejecting the status of a prince, and firmly chose the lover he met and fell in love with at the academy.

And his wife now also has a prominent reputation.

—"The Iron-Blooded Chancellor"

Why is he spacing out again?

Cornelia frowned, realizing that she couldn't understand this boy who was only fifteen years old at all.

Erin, having regained her composure, asked curiously, "Madam, do you know the cause of that gentleman's death?"

The death of the eighth-order saint in the prime of his life is shrouded in mystery, and the cause of death of the Duke of Westminster remains a mystery to this day, with scholars offering various theories.

The person in question is right here; there's absolutely no reason not to ask.

Cornelia shook her head: "Grandfather didn't tell me."

"Alright." Erin said with some regret, steer the conversation back on track: "When you diagnosed me last time, my condition wasn't particularly serious. Why did it suddenly worsen to this point?"

Cornelia rested her chin on her hand and began to explain: "First of all, the magical energy circulation throughout your body is inexplicably in a mess, and I don't know why..."

"This is probably because I disobeyed your orders and overused my magic."

"I knew it! How could you...?"

Cornelia's voice rose instantly, but then lowered again after remembering Adler's condition: "If that's all there is to it, it's just a minor problem. He can recover in a month or two without magic by drinking some potions."

"The two toxins in your body last time were also troublesome, but one was acute and the other chronic, which created a fragile balance. According to my plan, it should be resolved in a month at most."

She paused, her brows furrowing beneath the mist, her right hand twisting the hem of her skirt. "And now, the balance has been broken. Because you now have another toxin in your body, the main ingredient of which is 'Drops of Night Mist,' which is causing your magic to disintegrate, coupled with the circuits..."

Once she entered her field of expertise, she became visibly excited, and like a calculus teacher, she began to talk incessantly about the complex interactions between the three toxins.

Erin listened quietly, nodding occasionally in agreement.

Well, he didn't understand at all.

However, at least one thing became clear.

—A third type of toxin has appeared in my body.

But the second prince is already dead, so who could it be?

Moriarty, Holmes, Schulto, the noble ladies who sent letters, the remaining maids in the mansion...

Countless figures flashed through his mind.

But in the end, the clues were still insufficient, and the jumbled thoughts failed to piece together a definite answer.

He simply abandoned this pointless guess and looked at the small figure standing in front of him:

"Madam, in your opinion, how much longer do I have to live?"

Cornelia, who had been interrupted, pouted.

She looked at Erin and held up three fingers: "Three..."

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled one back: "Two..."

Erin's eyes widened.

What does that mean?

"It will take about two to three years, but during that time you must obediently accept my treatment and you cannot use any magic. Every time you use magic, it will accelerate the spread of the toxins in your body, thus shortening your lifespan."

After speaking, Cornelia avoided Erin's gaze, lowered her head, and looked at the lace on her skirt.

Was he still somewhat sad?

Perhaps finding those words too cruel, she added, "Actually, it's not entirely hopeless. As long as we can find the 'Dragon's Blood Crystal' or the 'One Night Flower,' it will be fine. I'll try to find a way!"

She continued, feigning nonchalance, "Besides, alchemy and magic might experience a second technological revolution in a while, so you don't need to be too nervous, haha."

Seeing Cornelia's clumsy attempt to comfort herself, Erin smiled silently.

Although this kid has a terrible personality, he's still a good kid at heart.

Unfortunately, he typed out the details of "Dragon's Blood Crystal" and "One Night Flower" word by word, and they were things that only existed in heroic epics and fairy tales.

"Thank you anyway, ma'am."

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Immediately afterwards, a voice that could barely be identified as female came through:

"Open the door, I know you're in there."

Could it be some dumped ex-lover showing up at my door?

Erin subconsciously looked out the window, considering the possibility of jumping out to escape.

"...?" Cornelia turned her head in confusion. "Adler, you're really strange. You're not even afraid of death, so why are you acting like this now? It's like a mouse encountering a cat..."

Erin lowered his voice and put his index finger to his lips: "Madam, please keep quiet for now. Also, don't call my name."

He tiptoed silently toward the door and peered through the peephole to observe the situation outside.

Brown trench coat, deerstalker hat, walking stick.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Oh, it's Sherlock Holmes... You scared me!

and many more!

Sherlock Holmes?!

How did she get here?!