Episode 13 — The Red Mana League (2)
“…Holmes?”
On her day off, having closed the clinic early and returned to the boarding house, Rachel Watson called out.
“Were you talking with the client?”
Spotting a girl on the sofa, shivering head to toe, she tilted her head and asked.
“W-w-who a-are you?”
“Miss Wilson. This is my assistant and partner. You can relax.”
At that, the girl squeezed her eyes shut and began to murmur in a small voice.
“T-two… There are two people… in here…”
“……….”
“Haa… haaa… L-let’s calm down…”
Watching her in a daze, Watson quietly spoke to Holmes, who sat in a chair.
“So who exactly is this kid?”
“Let’s see.”
Holmes began to murmur, eyes that seemed to pierce straight through.
“All I know is she’s an academy student who mistakes herself for a member of the Freemasons, is steeped in various conspiracy theories and the occult, and has a keen interest in Chinese culture.”
As she finished, Watson—well used to this—pulled a notebook from her breast and began jotting things down, while the girl under analysis stared wide-eyed at Holmes.
“C-could you be… a mind reader?”
Diana Wilson stammered the question.
“No. I only cut out all the intermediate deductions and told you the starting point and the conclusion.”
“Pardon?”
“Well, if you press me, you could call it a slightly cheap form of mind reading. Let’s just go with that.”
As Holmes wrapped it up and the girl slumped weakly against the sofa, Watson asked in a low voice,
“How’d you figure it out?”
“The knockoff lapel pin on her chest made of the Freemasons’ square and compasses. The fish tattoo on her right wrist. The countless superstitious gestures she made on her way in. Put it all together and it’s simple.”
“Aha…”
Nodding as if convinced, Watson then knit her brows slightly and asked again,
“But you’re oddly prickly today, aren’t you?”
“Watson, dealing with a client whose style is the polar opposite of mine—the very embodiment of logic—someone stuffed with illogic and fantasy—is harder than you might think.”
“You’re saying that to her face…”
“And this client mentioned ‘That Man.’”
Watson, about to chide Holmes, stopped short at that and looked startled.
“…Isaac Adler?”
“D-d-do you know him?”
At the uncertain mention of Isaac’s name, Miss Wilson reacted violently.
“What on earth happened…?”
“Senior Wilson, I’m sorry, but could you start again from the beginning?”
As curiosity came over Watson’s face, Holmes, beside her, propped her chin in her hand and made a suggestion.
“It’s such an odd story that I want to hear it again and整理 my thoughts. And sometimes Watson points out angles I hadn’t considered. I’m sure it will help.”
“Y-yes. If it helps solve the case, I’ll say anything.”
Watson and Holmes fixed their eyes on the girl, who straightened her back and steadied her voice.
“The first time I met Isaac was two weeks ago.”
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“So, this Isaac Adler.”
When Miss Wilson’s flushed-cheeked account ended, Watson—wearing a blank look—spoke quietly.
“He knocked, you opened the door, and he suddenly blushed and confessed to you?”
“Y-yes. He said he’d had a crush on me for a long time…”
“…That doesn’t sound like him.”
Tilting her head in puzzlement, Watson asked in place of Holmes, who had her eyes shut, lost in thought.
“What reason did he give?”
“A-at the library… he said he fell for me when he saw me reading a romance novel…”
“And you accepted that?”
Miss Wilson lowered her head, face burning.
“It was the first time. Anyone ever approached me first.”
“……….”
“S-so I froze and missed the timing to refuse… and after that, he kept coming to my room…”
Knowing Isaac Adler’s infamous reputation, Watson frowned hard as she looked at her, then asked with concern,
“He didn’t do anything weird, did he?”
“N-no!”
She shook her head vigorously.
“O-on the contrary, it was fun. H-he brought books from the library I hadn’t had the courage to go to lately… and sometimes we p-played board games together.”
“……….”
“A-and… he talked with me. At first I was so scared I babbled about anything… but as we went on, it was actually fun…”
Listening to her ramble, Watson shot a sidelong glance at Holmes.
“………..”
Holmes already had her eyes closed, off in her own world.
“He was pure and kind, not like the rumors.”
“…I doubt that.”
“W-when we were together he got more embarrassed than I did. A-and that shyness was kind of cute…”
Miss Wilson’s face went crimson to the tips of her ears.
“Sounds like a romance novel. ‘London’s Rake Goes Clumsy Only Before Me.’ Perfect title.”
“T-that… might be a hit if it got published.”
“Well, with that face, if he pretends to be clumsy, who wouldn’t fall for it…”
Thinking it made no sense—and then remembering that Adler’s face itself is plausibility—Watson muttered it to herself.
“All right, the love story’s plenty. Now please focus on why you came here.”
“Y-yes!”
Playing at detective in place of Holmes, who was still thinking, Watson asked; Miss Wilson pulled something from her bosom.
“It was about a week ago. As usual, he came to see me and handed me this.”
Watson’s eyes fell on a club notice from Auguste Academy.
“A Mock Criminal Consultation Club?”
“Yes, a club newly formed a week ago. Isaac is the club president.”
“What did he say when he gave it to you?”
“H-he told me to take a test…”
Beads of cold sweat formed, as if she were nervous all over again.
“I-I meant to refuse, of course. I could handle Isaac now… but other people still scared me…”
“Your anthropophobia sounds severe.”
“Yes, but he said this: he’d gotten very busy with club work lately, so he might not be able to see me as often.”
Clenching her hands, she murmured,
“I didn’t like that.”
“Hm.”
“Holding up in my room like in the old days wasn’t fun anymore. At some point I found myself waiting for the time when he’d come.”
Her voice, trembling since she’d arrived, grew calm.
“I had a good reason.”
“And what was that?”
“I’ll tell you after I explain the whole incident.”
Passing over that for now, she began, in a clearer voice than before,
“Anyway, taking advantage of the quiet evening hours, I went into the interview room on the third floor. They were all waiting for me.”
“Do you remember who was there?”
“Um… let me think…”
She searched her memory and answered, stammering to Watson,
“Professor Jane Moriarty, Isaac, and… Victoria Spaulding.”
“I didn’t get to ask earlier because things were so jumbled, but who is Victoria Spaulding?”
For the first time, Holmes opened her mouth to ask.
“She’s a student who works part-time at my mother’s shop. Before I got close to Isaac, she was about the closest thing I had to a friend.”
“Hm… and she belonged to the Mock Criminal Consultation Club.”
“Right. She greeted me with a happy face and offered to shake hands—it startled me.”
“…You shook hands.”
Miss Wilson nodded, glanced at Holmes—eyes shut again—and continued,
“After I finished shaking hands with Victoria, the professor told me to demonstrate my mana.”
“Because of the special clause written on the notice?”
“Yes, well… I have orange hair, so I didn’t expect much.”
She paused.
“…Strangely enough, it came out. Red mana.”
Scratching her head, she opened her hand and made orange mana flicker as she went on,
“I tried several more times after that, but I couldn’t reproduce that fiery color.”
“Hmmm.”
“But at the time—even to my eyes—it was a perfect red. And I passed on the spot.”
Watson eyed the orange mana from different angles, scratched her head, and spoke.
“No matter how I look at it, that’s orange…”
“Exactly. I have no idea what happened. At this point I wonder if I was hallucinating…”
“It wouldn’t have been a hallucination.”
Holmes cut in again.
“Ah, please continue. I was talking to myself.”
“Y-yes. Anyway, after that I was assigned a very strange role in the clubroom…”
“Copying down formulae whose import and meaning you couldn’t understand, exactly as they were?”
“R-right! Did I say that earlier? Or is it mind reading again?”
“…Please continue.”
Eyes sparkling at Holmes, Miss Wilson coughed and resumed,
“I had no idea how it related to criminal consultation, but I didn’t mind. They paid a fairly generous stipend, and more than anything, it let me see Adler for longer.”
“……….”
“But today—the fourteenth day of that modest happiness—without warning this happened.”
She pointed at a much-crumpled note she’d set on the table.
[Due to the club president’s personal circumstances, the Mock Criminal Consultation Club is dissolved as of today.]
“…Oh dear.”
Watson finally noticed it and let out a sigh.
“Of course I went looking for Adler. But he was nowhere to be found.”
“…Wait, but isn’t it possible something simple and unavoidable just came up?”
Tilting her head, Watson asked, as if a thought had occurred.
“This will change your mind.”
Miss Wilson took something from her pocket.
“What’s this…?”
“An occult ornament?”
What she produced was none other than an hourglass, golden sand smoking faintly as it fell.
“It’s not just any occult. M-Miss Charlotte Holmes, you should know by now—magic and the mysterious aren’t fiction anymore.”
“Sadly, I can only agree.”
“This shows the subject’s remaining lifespan.”
“…Pardon?”
Holmes, frowning at the appearance of an occult item, widened her eyes at that.
“Of course you need the other party’s blood and this and that… and if there’s outside interference, fate can change…”
“Is that even real?”
“It is. I have one for myself.”
She took out another hourglass from her pocket.
“Um—Miss Wilson, yours is almost—”
“I suffer from an incurable disease of unknown cause.”
“…Ah.”
“I tried everything to fix it, even dabbled in all kinds of occult. In the end, nothing worked.”
Only then did Watson understand
why the girl before her had fallen for Adler so easily.
“I don’t have much time left.”
“Then that’s why you accepted Adler…”
“…Who knows. Maybe because he brought laughter to the little time I have left, which had been empty and listless every day.”
Forcing a smile, Miss Wilson pushed the hourglass forward.
“This hourglass was very hard to obtain. I don’t know if it’s enough as a fee, but…”
“I’ll take the case.”
Before she could finish, Holmes tore a page from her notebook and began writing a receipt.
“You want Isaac Adler found and his fate changed, correct?”
“Ah…”
“We’ll accept those two hourglasses as payment.”
Miss Wilson’s mouth hung open; tears pooled in her eyes.
“Th-th… thank you…”
“……….”
“Truly… thank you…”
For some time, the boarding house echoed with her tearful words of thanks.
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“What do you think of this case, Holmes?”
“………”
After Diana Wilson bowed repeatedly and left, Watson posed the question gently.
“It’s too abstruse even for you, isn’t it?”
A faint smile began to play at Holmes’s lips.
“Cases that seem abstruse are precisely my favorites, Watson.”
She rose, shrugged, and began to walk.
“Finding the thread that leads to the truth is terribly hard—but once you’ve got it in hand, things unravel in an instant.”
“You mean…”
“There are questions yet unanswered, but it seems I’ve definitely seized the thread.”
She took her going-out coat from the wall and put it on, slipped a pair of arresting cuffs into her pocket.
“I’m going to verify that thread now. From Miss Wilson’s home—the pawnshop—to the academy, I’ll be stopping at many places.”
“Mhm. I see.”
“It’s still early morning. If I move quickly, I should be able to confirm everything before evening.”
Heading for the door, she put out a hand to stop Watson, who was about to rise and follow.
“And I’m sorry, but this time I need to handle it alone. Because this time…”
“All right. Go get ’em, Charlotte.”
Holmes, about to scratch her head and ask for understanding, scowled at Watson’s satisfied expression.
“Why that face again…”
“Don’t be too jealous just because your crush is two-timing you. She’s got a sad story, you know.”
“Watson. For the hundredth time, I—”
“Charlotte, look at your face right now.”
When Watson called her name and pointed to the mirror, Holmes turned to it.
“Mm…”
On the face that was always cool and composed, a small, sulky pout had bloomed.
“Our Charlotte is cute.”
“……….”
“The great Holmes, jealous. Live long enough and you’ll see everything. I thought you might skip puberty forever.”
“Be quiet, Watson.”
With that, Charlotte set off for the exit—and quietly murmured to herself,
‘…You won’t get away this time, Adler.’
From within her coat, the cuffs she’d just taken clinked.
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Quite some time later.
Dusk had begun to fall.
“Miss Holmes, it’s already this late.”
For some reason, Charlotte was pressed close to Isaac Adler—the very man the client had so desperately sought—matching his stride as they walked through the darkening streets of London.
“How was cross-verification in the company of a suspect?”
“………”
The two of them had their wrists joined by a pair of cuffs, drawing stares all day long.
“If you’ve had your fun, would you kindly keep your promise and take these cuffs off now?”
For the record, the key to those cuffs was in Charlotte’s possession, not Adler’s.