Stop trying to control me, Miss Moriarty!

Chapter 31 This world shouldn't be like this

Erin turned away without answering.

"Miss Holmes, are you following me?"

Charlotte shook her head. "No, Adler, I just found a few illogical folds in this case. I wanted to talk to you about them and iron them out."

When no one else is around, does Holmes simply stop using the title "Mr."?

What an impolite guy.

"I'm sorry, Miss Holmes," Erin said curtly, "You're right, I do have other matters to attend to."

He turned and left.

"If I keep following you," Charlotte said, starting to walk as well, "it seems you won't be able to get those things done."

Erin turned back again, her voice lowering several octaves: "May I take this as a threat, Miss Holmes?"

"That's not the case." Charlotte smiled slightly. "The right to freedom of movement is a fundamental right of every London citizen. You can't decide where I am."

Erin just stared at her.

one second.

two seconds.

"...Ten minutes." He finally relented with a helpless expression. "This isn't the right place to talk."

"Okay." Charlotte pointed out the window.

"Let's go there."

Trafalgar Square.

Erin sighed. "Miss Holmes, are we really going to talk here? How about finding a café? Or perhaps the nearby Whitehall restaurant? I can treat you."

"Is there a problem?" Charlotte countered. "I've already set up a stealth spell; no one else can hear what we're saying."

"...Then listen carefully."

Compared to the early morning, Trafalgar Square at 5:45 pm reveals its mundane yet vibrant side.

A street performer played "God Save the King" on his accordion, while several newsboys hawked their evening papers. Flocks of pigeons, like patches of moving gray moss, crowded together at the feet of the crowd, foraging for food.

The largest group of people were naturally those leaving get off work.

Instead of hurrying home with their briefcases, they stopped and stared at a bench next to Nelson's Column, at the two people sitting on it, whispering among themselves and their companions and even passersby.

"My friend, are those Miss Holmes and Erin Adler?"

"He's finally going to be brought to justice? Thank God! I'm going to buy a halibut to celebrate!"

"No, look at them, sitting so close, face to face..."

"What?! Even Sherlock Holmes?! Lord! Why haven't you punished Adler yet?!"

Erin rubbed her temples in frustration: "Miss Holmes, you seem to lack any awareness of your role as a public figure. If this continues, new scandals will soon be flying all over London."

However, Charlotte only gave him a slightly surprised look: "I don't care about these things, but you do?"

She raised her hand, and the shimmering pure white magic, like fireflies, enveloped the two of them once more.

"Alright," she said, "I've added an extra layer of magic, so now they can neither hear nor see."

what?

Something's not right here, is it?

Isn't this just a blatant attempt to cover up the truth?

He suddenly felt powerless.

Forget it.

Erin finally decided to give up arguing, took out his pocket watch from his coat pocket, and prepared to press the timer button.

Charlotte interrupted him: "Before we officially begin, I have one more question, Adler, are you sick?"

"...Huh? You must have seen wrong, right?"

Charlotte explained, "Ordinary people might not be able to sense it, but your life force is quite weak."

Erin knew very well that his days were numbered, but he shouldn't have shown it yet, otherwise Moriarty would have noticed long ago.

So, is this a unique ability of Sherlock Holmes?

—An "Apocalypse"?

He thought of this almost instantly.

That's right, as arch-rivals, there's no reason why Moriarty should be the only one to possess this.

Erin understood immediately, and smiled, a relaxed and lighthearted smile: "Oh, I see. That must be due to excessive indulgence."

"..."

Seeing Charlotte's silence, he pressed the timer button on his pocket watch and urged, "Time is money, Miss Holmes."

"Okay." Charlotte nodded.

She bowed slightly, her fingers interlaced, and said in a steady voice, "Then I'll be frank. This entire commission was orchestrated by Professor Moriarty from beginning to end."

Erin tilted her head: "Why do you have that idea?"

"Your acting is very good." Charlotte's tone was anything but a compliment. "It's almost flawless, but you made two mistakes."

She held up one finger.

"First, when you asked about Hugh Boone, you used the words 'red hair, black eyes, crooked mouth, and a scar on his upper lip,' a very precise description of his appearance. But if you really had a good relationship with him as you said, it shouldn't have been in that way."

She held up her second finger.

"Secondly, your reminders are always perfectly timed. Every time Ms. Mistrold or I are about to veer off course, you throw out a question or a hypothesis at just the right moment, bringing everything back on track. The first time was a coincidence, the second was luck, and the third and fourth were scripted."

She lowered her hand, looked directly at Erin, and her lake-blue eyes showed no confidence or pride.

"In conclusion, I have reached the same conclusion as before. As for the purpose, that professor probably wanted to use me to attack Jinqueting and then take it over."

Charlotte paused, then said finally, "That's basic reasoning, Adler."

Erin looked at her, gave her a genuine smile, and then began to applaud.

"Brilliant reasoning, but unfortunately I have no bouquet to offer you, Miss Holmes."

But his flattering attitude only made Charlotte frown: "As expected of a professor..."

however.

The next instant.

Those crimson eyes seemed to have been swept by the polar winds, freezing all the frivolity and mockery into ice in an instant.

"I am very disappointed, Miss Holmes."

Charlotte, interrupted, frowned even more deeply: "What do you mean?"

Erin slowly rose from the bench, not answering immediately, but smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt like an opera singer preparing to go on stage.

He lowered his head and looked down at Holmes.

The corners of his mouth turned up.

That joyful smile was exactly like Moriarty's.

"Every step of your reasoning is correct. But often, just a tiny error is enough to cause the entire edifice of logic to collapse like the House of Cards."

Charlotte looked up and met his gaze, a hint of uncertainty on her face.

"……mistake?"

"You've missed the most crucial point."

Erin leaned slightly forward, shortening the distance between them, like a teacher correcting a student:

"In my relationship with my professor, I am the one in control."

Charlotte also stood up from the bench.

At this moment, the two looked at each other again, their lake-blue and rose-red gazes meeting in mid-air.

"Adler, I don't think you can do that." Her tone was serious. "By any measure, that professor is far superior to you."

"That's right."

Erin readily admitted, but her smile grew even more delighted, "But I have a weapon she can't defend against."

His voice was light and cheerful, as if he were showing his guests a family treasure: "Like other noblewomen in London, I bound the professor with chains called 'love,' controlled her, and made her strength, wisdom, and everything else work for me."

"certainly."

His smile took on a different quality, his tone filled with undisguised sarcasm: "This is probably something that London's genius young detective cannot comprehend at all."

three seconds.

Five seconds.

After a brief silence, Charlotte's expression returned to calm.

"There's no one else here. You don't need to say those things to deliberately provoke me, nor do you need to put on that incomprehensible performance. What I said in the academy still stands. If you're forced by a professor, I'll save you."

"Hahahaha—"

Erin heard the funniest joke in the world and started laughing uncontrollably.

His shoulders trembled violently, and he bent over like a ripe shrimp.

"I'm sorry, Miss Holmes."

His voice was filled with sincere apology as he stood up and wiped away the tears that had welled up from his laughter.

But his next words turned icy cold: "You're really an egoist. I need your salvation? Is this some kind of third-rate farce about to unfold?"

"Adler, you can't fool me. You simply can't explain why you wanted to become my assistant, and—"

"Stop, Miss Holmes, stop making me laugh." Erin interrupted her for the third time.

He suddenly became as calm as a mirror: "I often think that this world is unreasonable. And the reason I do this is very simple: because it's interesting."

"Seeing you, the embodiment of logic, London's top detective, running around and racking your brains over the 'puzzle' I designed, isn't that the most interesting drama in this absurd world?"

"And," he said, a gentle smile curving his lips, "this was a trial. Although you lost once, you still successfully obtained your ticket to the amusement park."

Charlotte paused for a moment, then said, "Hegel said, 'What is rational is real.' Things exist..."

"I'm not discussing philosophical issues with you."

Erin didn't even look at her; his gaze swept over the bustling crowd in the square, over the pigeons, newsboys, off-duty office workers, and street performers.

He pointed to the towering chimneys in the distance: "Miss Holmes, what do you think that looks like?"

Charlotte was somewhat puzzled, but she still answered him, "A chimney in an alchemy factory is just a chimney, what else could it be?"

"You really lack imagination."

Erin's gaze was focused and delicate, as if he were admiring a masterpiece in a royal museum:

"Don't you think that looks like a blood transfusion tube?"

"The blood and sweat of the poor are extracted, filtered, purified, and decolorized to become pure wealth, and then continuously transported to the rich and nobles on the other end through those few pipes."

"Speaking of which," he turned back to Holmes, "do you know how much a worker in the alchemy factory earns per week?"

Charlotte's face no longer showed any sign of relaxation.

"I've done my research, and the average worker's weekly wage is about one pound and ten shillings."

"One pound and ten shillings."

Erin repeated, "As expected of you, such precise figures. Enough for a family of four to buy dark bread, pay rent, and occasionally have a bowl of bean soup with bacon on Sundays, but that's about it."

He continued, "So, do you know how much the cancer rate among the workers has increased since the gold refinery was built in the North District?"

Charlotte's voice lowered even further: "...126.4%."

"One pound and ten shillings, and 126.4%. What an interesting antithesis."

Erin's smile was full of mockery:

"Our workers risk cancer to work hard every day, but their wages are barely enough to support their families."

"Do you know where the women in London brothels come from? These working-class women, once they lose their jobs or fall ill, need their mothers, wives, sisters, or even daughters to sell their bodies in order to survive."

"For them, the real cancer is poverty. Of course, neither the Ministry of Roads, which approved the gold refining plant, nor the officials who profited from it would care about these things."

He even smiled and said, "So, is this kind of world really reasonable?"

That smile sent chills down Charlotte's spine.

It wasn't a performance, much less the madness she imagined, which was deliberately staged to provoke her.

That was something older, more essential, and more awe-inspiring.

Her fingers clenched: "Adler, what exactly are you trying to say?!"

"It is this country that has cancer, and it is already terminally ill."

"I will establish a completely new order, build a criminal empire beneath London, and create a playground for criminals. I will strip away everything the nobles are proud of, bit by bit, until they are drenched in blood!"

Erin smiled as he spoke: "Speaking of which, I've been thinking about naming things. What do you think of the codename 'Minister of Crime'?"

"..."

Charlotte fell silent again.

This silence lasted for a long time.

Erin took out her pocket watch: "Miss Holmes, I must remind you, there is less than a minute left."

"...You're insane." Charlotte finally spoke, her voice trembling without her even noticing: "The cabinet, the nobles, the royal family, the big business owners...you'll be standing against all the vested interests! They will never allow this to happen!"

"So what?"

Erin looked indifferent. "I admire the first person to try something new, because it might be poisonous."

He reached out and stroked Holmes's head through the wool of his deerstalker hat, as if petting a wary cat: "There is never anything absolute in this world. Even the Imperial Building, which has existed for thousands of years, will eventually collapse."

His gaze shifted from Holmes to the distant horizon, his eyes focused yet unfocused.

"And the fireworks display when a magnificent building collapses might be even more dazzling than a supernova explosion, right?"

Click.

The pocket watch emitted a crisp mechanical sound, like the sound of a curtain falling.

Erin's pupils refocused, and he withdrew his gaze. "It's time, Miss Holmes. I'll take my leave now."

"Adler!"

Charlotte slapped his hand away, gritting her teeth: "Before that, I'll definitely put you in jail!!"

"OK!"

Erin smiled again.

A gentle yet manic laugh rose from the depths of her lungs, gradually amplifying until it resounded throughout the small space shrouded in hidden magic.

His eyes reflected the twilight and Charlotte Holmes's tense yet resolute face.

"Having passed the test, you already have a ticket to the amusement park."

His smile was almost pious.

"Come and stop me if you dare!"

His voice sounded like he was making a wish.

"Then kill me—"

He turned and left.

"Sherlock Holmes".