Ch.199Chapter 199 – Five Orange Pips (5)

“Ughhhhhhhh…!”

“Kuhak… kuk…”

The screams of the culprits behind the Silver Blaze attack fill the basement.

“Stop… stop it…”

“Master, these guys are more stubborn than I expected.”

“Please… aaaaargh!!”

“Honestly, I thought they’d confess something when I blew off their shoulders, but they’re all holding out quite well. They must have received some training.”

The sound was quite chilling, but what was several times more frightening was Moran, who was heating up a metal rod and pressing it against the tattered shoulders of those men.

Is she really a young girl in her early teens?

“…They probably did receive training. They must be veterans.”

“You know these men?”

“No. Just that they’re likely veterans of the American Civil War.”

I quietly avoid her gaze and mutter this while looking at the culprits, whose eyes waver slightly.

Judging by their reaction, it seems the history of the KKK is similar in this world too.

“Should I increase the intensity of the torture?”

“Huh?”

As I scratch my head thinking about this, Moran quietly turns her head and asks me.

“…I don’t mind, but are you okay with it?”

“Pardon?”

“It feels a bit awkward saying this now, but for a girl your age…”

“……?”

I started with that out of slight concern for her soulless, cold demeanor, but then I realized it was probably meaningless to say such things to a killer who had already taken countless lives.

“…If it’s difficult, I can do it instead.”

“Ah…”

“Even something a child can do, I can certainly handle…”

Still feeling somewhat concerned, I pat her head and make the offer, and Moran stares at me silently.

“…I’m not a child.”

She blushes slightly and mutters in a low voice.

“I’m almost as tall as you now, Master…”

“…Ugh.”

She was definitely as small as a chick just a few months ago, but I don’t know when she grew so much.

Did I feed and care for this hunting dog too well? But that level of care is necessary for good hunting, isn’t it?

‘Actually, she’s not really a hunting dog anymore. That position was recently taken by the Demon Hound of Baskerville. Moran is more like…’

“Are you perhaps worried about my torture skills? I can guarantee there’s no problem.”

As I scratch my head quietly, looking down at Moran, whom I’ve grown quite fond of, she tilts her head and begins to explain.

“I’ve perfectly memorized which parts of the human body to inflict how much pain on for maximum efficiency. I’m as confident in this as I am in my sniping skills.”

“I-I see.”

“Until now, I was adjusting the intensity for ordinary people. But now that I know they’re veterans…”

As she says this, she gives the trembling men behind her a cold look.

“I can properly extract information now.”

– Crackle…

“So please leave it to me.”

At the same time, faint blue sparks begin to fly from the metal rod in her hand.

“The girl is right.”

And amidst all this, a chilling voice comes from behind.

“A greenhorn who’s never even gotten blood on his hands, let alone tortured someone, won’t be much help.”

“…Lady?”

“So, leave this to us.”

Lady Clay, who had entered the basement in casual attire, was walking toward us, quietly licking her lips.

“One of me is enough for this.”

“How can I trust a job done by a brat?”

“…I told you not to call me a brat.”

Looking at her with a slight frown, Moran mutters with a dark gaze and emits a slight killing intent at the word “brat.”

Soon, the gazes of the two women quietly clash in midair.

“Both of you, save the fighting for later.”

“”……..””

“…We have important business right in front of us.”

But when I speak in a serious tone unlike my usual self, they soon avert their gazes from each other.

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not following your orders.”

“……”

“I just feel the need to focus on the prey in front of me, as you said. I haven’t had a proper meal in quite a while. So while torturing them, I’ll draw some blood to replenish my strength…”

“Lady.”

Watching her grumble beside me, seemingly hurt in her pride, I tilted my head and asked her a question.

“…You seem to have grown quite attached to Miss Blaze during your time together. Seeing how fired up you are.”

And then came the silence.

“Wh-wha… what are you saying?”

In that silence, Lady Clay begins to mutter with her eyes lowered, fidgeting with her hands.

“How could I possibly feel attached to such a foolish ball of fur? If anything, I think it’s for the best, as she was always trying to be friendly without knowing her place, which was annoying.”

“Then why are you stepping in?”

“I-I told you, didn’t I? This is just to replenish my blood…”

“…Even though you already have more than enough blood stored.”

“Sh-shut up!”

Finding her reaction slightly amusing, I press a bit more, and she finally blushes and shouts.

“The more blood, the better! That’s all there is to it!”

“…I see.”

Something I’ve been feeling lately is that she’s truly the epitome of a tsundere.

Perhaps because of that, after dealing with lunatics almost every day, she now seems relatively kind in comparison.

“…A-anyway. So I just need to make these guys scream in pain?”

Of course, in this end-of-century London, there are only relatively good people, not absolutely good ones.

– Crackle…

“That’s my specialty.”

The thought that crossed my mind as I watched the Lady, all traces of her tsundere behavior gone, approaching with red mana gathering in her hand.

“By the way, you’ve done a fine job blowing off their right shoulders. Already developing such twisted habits at your young age?”

“It was Master’s order. They had burned their organization’s initial into Miss Blaze’s right shoulder.”

“…I see.”

And so began the brutal conversation between women specialized in murder and torture right before my eyes.

“Then how about we blow off the other shoulder too? I was taught that if you receive something, you should return it twofold.”

“I was thinking of blowing off their legs instead. Isn’t it more miserable to not be able to use your legs than your arms?”

“…We could just blow off both, so there’s no need for such pointless deliberation. Or is it that you still have some compassion left, being a child?”

“I told you not to call me a child.”

Listening to their conversation quietly, I gave a bitter smile as I looked at the culprits trembling in terror.

‘…Well, why did you have to target Miss Blaze of all people?’

In truth, these men aren’t enduring the torture with superhuman willpower.

I’ve simply magically sealed their mouths shut.

It’s quite a cruel thing to do, but considering the scars on the Inspector’s face and the wounds all over Blaze’s body, I don’t feel even a shred of compassion.

‘Well, I’ve long since passed the point of feeling such things…’

I’ve done much worse at my previous workplace.

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How much time had passed like that?

“I’ll… I’ll tell you everything…”

“What did you say? I can’t hear you clearly?”

“I’ll… tell you… everything… please… spare my life…”

Amidst the people who had one by one lost consciousness and gone limp during the prolonged, horrific torture, the last man standing desperately mutters with a voice that has just begun to return.

“…He says he’ll tell us everything if we spare his life.”

“You understood that quite well.”

“When you torture people for hours every day, this becomes basic, Master.”

After patting Moran’s head with a slightly sympathetic smile as she translated, Adler brings his face close to the pale-faced man.

“Who’s behind this incident?”

“I-I don’t know… I just did what I was told… Aaaaargh!!”

As the man trembled and answered Adler’s question, he twisted his body and screamed as Lady Clay calmly stabbed a skewer into his side.

“You still don’t know?”

“I-I really don’t know… I can’t… make it up…”

“…Hmm.”

Adler looks at the man, who continues to maintain his position while sobbing, with slightly disappointed eyes.

“If you don’t know that, there’s no reason to keep you alive.”

“W-wait! Just a moment…!”

The man, who had frozen at those chilling words, urgently speaks with slurred pronunciation.

“I don’t know who’s behind it… but I know the next target…”

“…Next target?”

“A-actually… I have a somewhat high position… Urrrgh!?”

Lady Clay pulls out the skewer that was stuck in his side.

“If you’re lying… you know what happens?”

“I-it’s true! I swear…!”

The man, who was beginning to enter a state of excessive blood loss, answers Adler’s question with trembling hands.

“Sh-Sharlotte… Holmes…”

Although his pronunciation was still slurred and uncertain, the name that came out of the man’s mouth was enough to make Adler instantly turn serious.

“I-I heard she’s the detective who helped save Silver Blaze…”

“…These bastards are really crossing the line.”

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That night, in an ordinary-looking house somewhere on the continent, slightly away from England.

“Hehehe… hehe…”

A girl, covered with a blanket and wearing a sinister smile, looks down at the manuscript paper on her bed and begins to mutter in a low voice.

“Good, this will be the end of Holmes…”

– Late at night, Sharlotte Holmes, disguised, walks through an alley on the outskirts of London, investigating something.

“…This time, even you won’t survive.”

– Behind her, a shadow quietly begins to follow.

Surprisingly, on the manuscript paper she was looking at, a story written in black ink was being added in real-time.

– But too absorbed in her investigation, Holmes fails to notice this fact.

– With each step she takes, the unidentified figure gets closer and closer to her.

“Yes, that’s it… that’s it…!”

As the content begins to reach its climax, the girl mutters with an excited expression.

– How much time had passed like that?

– The shadow, now right behind her, quietly reaches out to Holmes’s shoulder.

– For some reason, Holmes still showed no sign of noticing anything.

“……!”

She was about to cover her mouth and prepare to cheer, but.

– And a few seconds later, Sharlotte turns her head with startled eyes as the stranger’s hand touches her shoulder.

– Her eyes widen.

Unfortunately for her, once again, what she wanted didn’t happen.

– For some reason, Isaac Adler was quietly smiling with his eyes right in front of her.

– “Miss Holmes, shall we have a dawn date?”

“…Ah, really.”

Immediately crumpling up what must have been the umpteenth sheet of manuscript paper with a cold gaze, Lovecraft grinds her teeth and mutters.

“This fucking Oriental half-breed bastard…”