Ch.BONUSSide Story – Clarice Holmes, The Leaden Study (8)

Madness filled Isabel’s eyes. Clarisse smirked mockingly.

“Did they promise you the Legion of Honor medal?”

“…Yes, they did. I do like medals.”

“Just for being Desiree’s telephone line?”

“Of course not. What they wanted was you, Clarisse Holmes. Just as they captured me, they wanted to have you too. I wanted the medal, and they craved you… so I came to want you too. My real goal was to take you to them. So.”

Isabel blocked Clarisse’s left hand. Only that newly created left hand could pierce Isabel’s body. The other parts were inferior in every aspect.

“Kuk!”

Isabel’s other hand grabbed Clarisse’s slender neck. She couldn’t shake it off with just her right hand.

“You just need to look at the mirror with me, Holmes.”

Isabel’s legs entangled Clarisse’s lower body. Her stiffened hand bent Clarisse’s neck backward. Clarisse’s back gradually arched backward. Isabel tasted Clarisse’s chest as if licking something sweet.

“How… dare you… you worthless…”

“Ah. It’s sweet. Like candy.”

Isabel bit into Clarisse’s body. Her head was tilted back almost vertically.

The ‘mirror’ was, as expected, on the ceiling. It swirled and rippled slowly, containing distorted flows that warped the mind and thoughts of anyone who looked at it.

Just looking at its edges was painful. More painful than Isabel biting into her stomach and chest like a hungry beast.

Clarisse’s entire body convulsed. Nothing responded to her control. Screws came loose, and blood and lubricant spurted out uselessly.

“Ah, how hungry I was! Sweeter than chocolate!”

Isabel, her hair and face wet, cheered. Her once beautiful face now glistened obscenely.

Clarisse’s eyes slowly rolled back. Her half-exposed clockwork heart emitted sharp waves. Isabel’s eardrums burst and bled, but even that seemed to be pleasure for her.

“Mirror, oh mirror, bind us together, make us one body!”

Isabel pushed her lips and tongue into Clarisse’s body. A hissing sound came from Clarisse’s half-broken neck. Her right arm, having lost control, hung limply, while only her left wrist trembled.

Isabel kissed her in an intimate place.

Clarisse’s extremely arched back shattered. Her wide-open eyes met the center of the swirling mirror.

A white arm extended from the center. Rotting, crumbling fingers caressed Clarisse’s face. The stench of withered flowers and the freshness of preservatives were thick.

‘Come with me.’

The mushy thumb gently wiped away Clarisse’s tears.

‘Now come with me. Let’s rest peacefully. Peacefully…’

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Her heart rang out.

* * * * *

That day. Clarisse was there.

The day the sky opened.

The day when hideous things from the world, things beyond the boundaries of language, fell from the sky.

But Clarisse couldn’t move a finger.

Even with her intelligence, even with her remaining instinct, she couldn’t define what ‘that’ was. It didn’t matter whether it was called a vortex or a beast.

Something incomprehensible was flying to the other side of the sky. Yet it looked at her as if with pity. Clarisse ‘understood.’

That ‘it’ was sympathizing with ‘her.’

‘Why?’

For the first time since dedicating herself to machinery, Clarisse posed an empty question.

‘Why do you…? I don’t even know what you are, how can you…?’

It didn’t explain. It just existed there. Just floating through the sky, looking down at Clarisse.

Because it existed, Clarisse existed too.

If it didn’t exist, neither would Clarisse.

“I.”

Barely. Just barely, Clarisse mechanically muttered.

“I exist as myself.”

The moment she answered a question no one had asked, she realized.

That which she had stored away since long ago, when she was human.

The emotion that distinguishes humans from machines.

Many machines speak of love.

Many machines say they will give affection.

But nowhere in the world is there a machine that feels fear.

Fear is the privilege of the living.

Clarisse feared ‘that thing from the other side.’

* * * * *

“Heeeeee…seeeeee…”

Clarisse could no longer even make proper noise. Isabel murmured, overcome with happiness.

“Does it feel that good? But what should we do? There’s still so much more to go. Come on. Tell me, senior. How good it feels.”

Isabel firmly gripped Clarisse’s lungs and respiratory pump. She enjoyed feeling the intense vibrations of her beating heart.

“So this is all you amount to, Isabel.”

“You were talking about work earlier, and now you’re showing off? You really don’t read the room.”

“To fall for such a trivial thing.”

The smile disappeared from the traitor’s face. Isabel looked up at Clarisse. Her damaged face still looked cold. But even while staring directly at the ‘mirror,’ she… wasn’t collapsing.

“…How did you do it?”

Isabel grabbed Clarisse’s mechanical heart. She looked ready to tear it out. But Clarisse’s face was full of nothing but mockery and derision.

“Because I am Clarisse Holmes,”

Her limp right arm moved as if having a seizure. Isabel, focused only on the left arm and heart, couldn’t catch the movement in time. Wire strands extended from Clarisse’s right hand.

“The one who stands at the pinnacle!”

The mechanical heart rotated violently with a rupturing sound. Startled by the sudden overheating, Isabel let go of Clarisse’s heart. Clarisse fired wire strands from her left hand pointed toward the sky. Unable to penetrate the mirror, they bounced back uselessly.

“You think you can do anything to me with such a thing…!”

Isabel easily caught the left hand’s wire with her right hand. But the next moment, the wire wriggled like an eel and entangled Isabel’s entire right arm.

“What…!”

Instinctively, Isabel reached out with her left hand. But it was too late. While Clarisse had distracted her with the left hand, her right hand had spun a web-like structure around the room. The sharp tip extended like a viper and tightened around Isabel’s left arm.

“Wh-what?!”

Isabel was thrown back ungracefully. Clarisse swung both arms roughly. The wires densely spread throughout the room tightened firmly around Isabel’s entire body.

“Your dance was truly beautiful!”

Clarisse moved her fingers and arms as if playing an instrument. Isabel’s body moved like a marionette according to the control. She tried to escape somehow, but couldn’t shake off the wires firmly entangled in her joint movement parts.

“Wh-why! How! It was perfect, it was a perfect plan!”

Isabel flailed as she was forced to dance. Clarisse mocked her thoroughly.

“Yes. You are perfect, Isabel. You were the most perfect among all the ‘Isabel’ models I’ve met so far. You’re right. You were destined to become a superior product. So rejoice, Isabel. Your next Isabel will be better than you are now.”

“What does that…! No, it’s a lie, it’s a lie! You’re deceiving me. You’re telling me lies!”

“You were destined to become a traitor, Isabel. Her Majesty the Queen made you that way.”

“No! No! No!”

“You were ‘made’ to be a traitor. To find and fill the gaps in the Empire!”

“Ah, Mother, Mother! How could you abandon me! Mother…!”

Something slithered out of Isabel’s body. It looked like paper burning in flames, like seaweed strands hanging from a ship’s side, like the legs of a squid dragging a large sailing ship down to the deep sea.

But Isabel’s hands were now touching her own chest. More precisely, her heart. Her hands moved down as if caressing, as if it might open.

“You couldn’t defeat me. You couldn’t handle me. This is a lie.”

Isabel couldn’t escape Clarisse’s strings at all. Blades sprang from her trembling fingers. She cut into the flesh of her chest and grabbed her own heart.

“True. I can’t. But you can. There’s a passage in Emily Brontë’s book: ‘It’s not I who tore your heart. You tore your own heart while tearing mine apart!'”

Isabel’s hands finally pulled out her own heart. The traitor’s heart was torn in half in mid-air by her own hands. The hands that faced her true heart finally turned red.

Clarisse used her last strength to pull both arms hard. Isabel’s motionless body crashed violently into the mirror on the ceiling. The mirror shattered, dripping black blood.

There was a loud noise from downstairs. The sound of the police tactical unit breaking down the door. Command shouts, the sound of military boots, and the second-floor door was knocked down. Lestrade’s face was clear among the police officers with flashlights and shotguns.

“My, my, Holmes.”

Director Mycroft Watson walked through the crowd of police.

“This is a complete mess.”

* * * * *

A few days later. Buckingham Palace.

A Red Coat, the Queen’s guard, opened the door. Befitting the closest security detail, he had something like a trumpet instead of a head.

Beautiful music could be heard.

“Agent Clarisse Holmes, the Queen welcomes you.”

A man whose head was half human and half radio attached greeted her gently. Somehow his greeting also sounded like singing. Clarisse, in formal uniform, gracefully returned the greeting.

“I am honored to meet Your Esteemed Presence.”

The man sang a beautiful song. It was music in machine language. The ‘ascended ones,’ those who received the Queen’s favor, were like that.

The Queen loved peace and harmony, so she conveyed her will through music. It was machine language corresponding to musical notes. Therefore, those who could understand these words needed to have deep knowledge of music. The Queen’s ‘favor’ was the ability to understand, comprehend, and use this beautiful language.

“The Queen wonders if Lord Holmes is ready to accept ascension. You have already shown humble words and actions many times.”

“I have indeed.”

“If you refuse again, Her Majesty might be a little displeased.”

Though his tone was gentle, the man’s words were a clear warning. It was a consolation, if any, that the Queen couldn’t understand primitive languages like English. Of course, making such dissonance in the Queen’s presence was itself disrespectful.