"So you came."
After leaving the hospital lobby and heading to the café where Professor Moriarty had been waiting, she greeted me with a sip of freshly served coffee.
"Good work. How does it feel to have made the Queen your sla—"
She suddenly stopped mid-sentence, scrunching up her features in a frown, then rummaged through her pocket.
"...This coffee is bitter."
Before long, Professor Moriarty pulled out a portable packet of sugar cubes from her pocket, tore it open, and ruthlessly dumped the sugar into her coffee.
"Mr. Adler. Do you know what sugar and crime have in common?"
While I watched the sight in a daze, she tore open a second packet and spoke.
"I'm not quite sure."
"They both stimulate the brain's pleasure center, flooding it with dopamine as a reward."
With that, Professor Moriarty took another sip of her heavily modified coffee, her expression blissful as she shook her head from side to side.
"Hmm... Won't you have some of this natural drug too?"
An ordinary, cute sight—a woman in her early twenties giggling to herself while eating sweets. If one looked at only that, she seemed no different from anyone else.
"So, what you're saying is that this is how you feel when committing crimes."
"It's actually several times more intense. A shudder runs through my entire body to the point where I lose control of myself."
But no matter how cute she looked, Moriarty was Moriarty. An embodiment of pure, untainted evil.
"But recently, I had lost that feeling. Even after dropping twelve sugar cubes into my coffee, there was no joy in life."
And such a woman placed her coffee down beside her and began to stare at me piercingly.
"Did you not appear before such a person? You, who stimulate my pleasure center merely by being in my sight."
Her gaze deepened. It was hard to explain, but if forced to put it into words, it was shining darkly.
"It was truly an emotion I hadn't felt in a long time."
Though I felt a chill for some reason, I maintained my composure as best I could. The professor drummed her fingers on the table and muttered.
"I didn't even subjugate the Queen with my own two hands, nor make her lie prostrate with her belly to the ground, and yet my heart pounds like this."
Her voice was as agitated as when we first met.
"And this isn't even murder, kidnapping, or false imprisonment. Truly a remarkable thing."
"...Isn't enslaving the queen of an entire kingdom a serious enough crime?"
"Is it? Well, this must be the charm of criminal consulting. I certainly understand now."
The feeling of personally staining Moriarty—who still retained the clumsy, inexperienced air of a new member of society—with my own hands was strange. It wasn't enough to feel immoral, but somehow, I felt as though I were being swept away by a massive current together with her.
"Professor."
I had closed my eyes for a moment at that indescribable emotion, but I soon opened my mouth again to change the subject.
"You'll gain weight at that rate."
At that, she tilted her head while drinking her sugared coffee, then froze solid.
"...Do I look like that now?"
Honestly, she didn't look like she had gained weight. Given her usual diet, it seemed the sugar she consumed didn't go to her stomach but rather straight to her chest.
"...A little?"
But if she collapsed from poor health before she could become the final boss, the world would be in danger, so I said that. Professor Moriarty fell into serious thought.
"From now on, I shall reduce it by one packet each time."
With a slightly sullen expression, she made that declaration and rose from her seat.
"Then shall we take our time leaving the crime scene?"
It was time to leave this place slowly, as she said. Holmes was still over there. It would be a disaster if the Professor and Holmes met and everything got tangled up.
"So, how was today's criminal consulting?"
Rising from our seats simultaneously with Moriarty and walking the streets of London, she threw a question my way.
"Shall I give you an evaluation?"
When I asked in return, she put on an interested expression.
"It's my first time being evaluated by anyone."
"Before that, I have a question."
To her looking at me with expectant eyes, I posed a question.
"What exactly were those documents?"
When Professor Moriarty received my contact this morning, there had been only a few hours left until dawn. Yet just before the Queen arrived, she had successfully bribed a nurse and handed me documents summarizing various misdeeds of the prince who had been the Queen of Bohemia's betrothed.
How on earth had the Professor acquired those documents, which had played a decisive role in subjugating the Queen?
"They're documents I roughly fabricated."
"What?"
"Even I can't obtain legally recognized evidentiary documents within a few hours, after all."
Professor Moriarty's answer was shocking.
"But now, the contents of those documents will become facts."
"Why is that?"
"By now, the second prince of Scandinavia must have departed this world, having been poisoned by an unidentified mana from an anonymously delivered letter."
"........."
"The cause of death will be announced as a drug overdose. The evidence the Queen submits will become established fact. The dead cannot argue back, after all."
In short, she had killed him to silence him.
And mana, of all things. Could it be that Professor Moriarty was also a mana user?
"How was it, Mr. Adler? This perfect crime I designed specially for my assistant."
While I was lost in quiet thought, the professor asked with an expression swollen with expectation.
"The score for this rehearsal..."
If I wanted to make her into a plausible final boss, I had to come on strong here.
"Out of one hundred points, it's only fifty, Professor."
At those words, Professor Moriarty's eyes went wide and she tilted her head to the side.
"Why is that?"
"Why do you think?"
"...Because I killed a bad person?"
To her, whose way of thinking seemed somehow different, I began to speak in a tone like scolding a child who had done wrong.
"It's because you directly intervened in the incident yourself."
"Aha."
"Because of the curse, all of your crimes automatically become perfect crimes, do they not? If you abuse that as a trick, you'll soon grow bored of it."
"I see. You are right."
She nodded with an expression of understanding.
"But Mr. Adler looked to be in danger, so I had no choice."
"........."
"I can't have my portable sugar melting away already, now can I?"
At her following words, I could only close my mouth.
"What is it, Mr. Adler? Are you ill?"
"No."
"How unexpected. To think you, who could throw any woman who catches your eye in London into bed within a day, would make such a reaction."
"Please stop with the sexual harassment, Professor."
"Haha, hahaha..."
With her hands behind her back and her head tilted, she burst into laughter at my words, as if something was terribly funny, and took the lead.
"Professor. Though I said fifty points earlier, actually the rest was beyond reproach."
"...Is that so?"
"The lines you instructed me to say, and you grasped the Queen's psychology well since she still had feelings for me. As long as you don't step forward personally from now on, it will be fine."
"Then what am I to do when something like this happens again?"
Having heard my words, she suddenly turned around and asked.
"I hate to be marked down by you again."
I pondered briefly at her words, asked with a smile, then soon answered in a low voice.
"Let's slowly begin weaving a web in the back alleys of London."
"A web?"
A plausible final boss is bound to have charming executives.
"We are criminal consultants. We need subordinates who will dirty their hands in our stead."
"........."
"Let's create an underground organization that will one day plunge London into darkness, Professor."
Professor Moriarty's eyes began to shine darkly once more at those words.
"As expected, you are the best assistant."
That gaze slowly growing familiar—was it a good sign, or a bad one?
* * * * *
A few days after the conclusion of the 'Scandal in Bohemia.'
> This is a story about a scandal that shook the Kingdom of Bohemia, and of Charlotte Holmes's ingenious plan that was mercilessly shattered by a single man.
At the boarding house on 212B Baker Street, Rachel Watson was tapping away at a typewriter with a focused expression.
> Holmes had often sneered with her characteristic arrogant smile, saying that men lacked wisdom, but after this incident occurred, she was not heard making such remarks again.
Soon, upon reaching such a passage, she focused on writing while pursing her lips to suppress laughter.
> And when speaking of Isaac Adler or that half-cut photograph, Holmes always used the honorable title of 'that man'...
"I say, Watson."
"Eek?"
From behind her, Holmes's flat voice suddenly rang out.
"Huh? When did you get here?"
"Just now. By the way, didn't you promise the Queen? That you wouldn't publish that case as a novel."
"I'm just writing it as a hobby. So that future descendants might read it someday."
"...Must you really write it?"
Watson answered Holmes, who asked with a furrowed brow, with a mischievous smile.
"It's the story of our young Holmes's first love, so of course I must leave a record."
"You seem to be misunderstanding something. I don't love him. He's merely an unsolved mystery..."
"Sure, sure. Then let's change it to the story of the 'first defeat.'"
Hearing that, Holmes spoke with a straight face.
"Watson."
"Hmm?"
"I haven't lost yet."
And silence fell.
"I was issued my academy admission documents just now. I should be able to enroll within a few weeks. So, if I enter there and meet him, the one who ran away... then..."
Watson stared fixedly at Holmes, who averted her gaze to the side mid-sentence, then pursed her lips again and muttered internally.
'So Holmes had such a cute side to her, too.'
Since they first met, Holmes had been an arrogant genius of a girl who disparaged Dupin, the founder of Auguste Academy, as a dim-witted woman. And as if to prove that remark was not wrong, she was a monstrous child who had solved countless cases in mere days, donating most of the credit to the police like charity. She always used adult-like speech ill-fitting for her physique and age, seeing through everything with languid, haggard eyes, and until just a few days ago, she had been an existence beyond Watson's reach.
"...If I do that, it's at least a draw. Do you understand me a little now?"
But that child, who had seemed as though she had seen everything the world had to offer, was now talking with the flared-up passion of a teenage girl hitting puberty.
'Thank goodness.'
Holmes had always lain around listlessly when there were no cases, continuing dangerous manastone experiments no matter how much Watson scolded her. But recently, such a side of her could no longer be seen. The current Holmes was burning with passion thanks to Isaac Adler, the existence who had dealt her the first defeat.
'...But that man is a dangerous person.'
Yet Watson was also worried about such a Holmes. It was true that she had confirmed an unexpected side to Isaac Adler during this case, but the fact that he was still London's number one scoundrel and good-for-nothing remained unchanged.
"And it's not solely because of 'that man' that I'm going to the academy."
"What?"
"Rumors are circulating about suspicious incidents occurring within the academy recently. So I'm going partly to investigate..."
"Yes, Holmes. Everything you say is correct."
Therefore, Watson, who had been observing Holmes with slight worry, soon put on a sly smile and struck a fighting pose.
"Good luck!"
Now was the time to believe in Holmes. Though still mentally immature, the fact that she was London's greatest detective remained unchanged.
"Hmph."
And Holmes, who had been watching Watson with narrowed eyes, proved that fact once again.
"Now isn't the time to tease me, Watson."
"...Hmm?"
"It's not I who has acquired a man, but you."
Hearing those words, Watson froze with her hands still on the typewriter.
"Wh-what? Th-that, what do you mean by that? Charlotte?"
"Suppose I were you, secretly meeting a man. When rushing out in the middle of the night claiming an emergency patient had arrived at the hospital, I wouldn't reek of perfume."
"Th-that? It's just strong perfume from the daytime..."
"Nor would a bouquet of flowers be poking out of my sloppily shouldered medical bag in place of a stethoscope."
"............"
"If such a situation continues for weeks, even that ignorant Inspector Lestrade would notice, let alone me."
"Wh-what are you saying?"
Watson, whose face grew redder as Holmes's words continued, hurriedly rose from her seat and pushed Holmes out the door.
"Come, you should get going now. You said you were getting your uniform fitted."
"I just had it fitted."
"Then go have a meal downstairs. Mrs. Hudson has prepared food."
And so Watson sent Holmes, scratching her head, out of the room.
"Even if I said we're not dating..."
After glancing around briefly, she began typing again with a flush on her face.
> It's been a while, my dear.
"By the way, I am worried about Holmes after all."
Switching the typewriter from composition mode to receive mode and inserting a low-grade manastone, she spoke.
"...If only Isaac Adler were a kind and pure child like him."
* * * * *
"What's wrong?"
"........"
As I was about to enter Auguste Academy after arriving with Professor Moriarty, a sudden incident occurred.
[It's been a while, my dear.]
I absentmindedly raised my hand as it began to tingle, and discovered the message floating upon it.
[Evening of the 21st. Let's meet at the usual place at 7 PM.]
Feeling my consciousness grow hazy, I squeezed my eyes shut.
"...Who the hell are you."
I had completely forgotten that the original Irene Adler had a fiancé.