Stories of grudges and hearsay in the martial world make the elixir tea fragrant.

-Henry Fielding-

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As soon as I opened the door and stepped out of the ballroom, Watson’s body collapsed.

“Huff, gasp.”

Watson, with a flushed face, knelt on one knee and gasped for breath.

“Watson…!”

“I’m fine… it’s nothing serious.”

-Tap tap

Watson immediately pressed the Renying acupoint1 on both sides to slow her pulse.

After supporting her for a moment and waiting, she rubbed her face as if embarrassed and stood up.

“I caused you unnecessary worry, Holmes.”

“…Could it be you…”

“That’s right.”

Her gaze, lowered to her waist with a subdued look, revealed an indescribable embarrassment.

“Before leaving the boarding house this morning, Mrs. Hudson tightened my corset too much…”

“You had seemed tense since breakfast was served.”

I seemed to understand why Watson’s condition deteriorated.

Mrs. Hudson had prepared a meal with several times the usual effort to cheer her up, and then tightening an unfamiliar corset tightly inevitably caused digestive problems.

I never thought I’d be reminded of the eternal veritas that excess in anything is bad in such a way.

“If it was unbearably uncomfortable, why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“Ah, but it’s the royal ball…!”

“I’ve told you repeatedly not to overdo it. No one is trying to compare you to the daughter of a noble family.”

Perhaps because she was sulking, Watson’s silhouette seemed to shrink smaller than usual.

“Aren’t you a war hero who served Great Britain honorably? Hold your chest high and act proudly, Watson.”

Her eyes met mine and began to regain confidence.

Now she showed the look of the true friend I knew.

“…You’re right. I need to pull myself together.”

“That’s good. Seems I was just nagging for no reason.”

Wearing an uncomfortable dress she usually wouldn’t wear and being exposed to extreme situations had temporarily destabilized her emotions.

Of course, it’s understandable. Everything she experienced today was a major incident.

No matter how strong Watson’s heart as a veteran is, in such an environment, it’s natural for her mind to waver.

“But I wonder if it was alright for just us to leave first. I hope the Special Maid Corps won’t take issue with this.”

Though Watson had regained her usual boldness, she couldn’t ignore the strict rules of the Forbidden Palace.

“Well, since no flowerpot has fallen on your head yet, I don’t think you need to worry.”

“Is that so?”

“We still have to go further to the tea room where the next event takes place. Unless we burst in without notice, they won’t say anything about resting briefly in the corridor.”

Watson’s face brightened a little.

What an easy-to-read friend.

“Above all, Buckingham must have realized around the time the invitation was sent that you were suffering from the Nine Yin-Qi Nails. They won’t dismiss you just for a slight condition issue.”

“My goodness. They investigate everything…”

“That’s because they cannot simply allow just anyone into the royal palace.”

I learned that the royal maid personally delivered invitations and royal decrees that day, but I had noticed that three top martial artists had been tailing me for a week afterward.

A few days after receiving the decree, I disguised myself as a patient and visited St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. Sensing a disconnect from some people’s refined behavior and shabby clothes, I concluded that Buckingham was also continuously monitoring Watson.

Buckingham’s meticulousness in deploying palace maids from the east and west wings, as well as butlers and attendants from the British Intelligence Butler Agency, to gather information on invitees was astonishing.

Mycroft, the sole director of the British Intelligence Butler Agency, would have known that Watson usually dressed as a man, suffered from Nine Yin-Qi Nails and a leg injury, and served as a military doctor in Afghanistan.

Yet when he first met Watson, he shamelessly greeted her as if knowing nothing, a truly sinister man.

“Indeed, to prevent suspicious people from entering Her Majesty’s residence, such precautions are necessary.”

Surprisingly, Watson did not seem offended.

Instead, she showed curiosity about a completely different matter.

“But as you said, if all invitees have verified identities, one question arises.”

“What question?”

“Why Buckingham failed to identify the criminal who tried to steal the royal decree.”

“…!”

A kind of curiosity mixed with hostility and suspicion.

“How did you find out that the prima donna, the woman named Irene Norton, was the thief who tried to steal the royal decree?”

The ballroom was still noisy and unsettled.

Watson’s voice flew through the noise beyond the wall.

“I don’t know how, but since she injured you with sound techniques, it’s clear she harbors hostility. Why haven’t you caught her with evidence?”

“That is—”

I thought I had cleaned and concealed the wounds and blood well, but it seems a doctor’s eyes cannot be deceived.

More importantly, what would happen if I told Watson the truth now?

There is only one purpose in investigating Irene Adler.

To obtain information about Europe’s only and worst Kung-Fu crime consultant who might have cooperated in her crime.

Bringing this up means I might have to share information about James Moriarty with Watson someday.

Perhaps even the fact that I am a traveler from another world across time and space.

Watson is an excellent assistant and friend, but I don’t want to involve her in my personal mission yet.

She is Jane Watson.

Not John Watson.

“Holmes?”

“Ah, sorry. I was just thinking about something.”

Should I reveal the existence of the nemesis I must bear alone?

Is it okay to let Watson bear part of this heavy burden?

After much thought, I reached an answer.

It’s still premature.

Just knowing about Moriarty’s existence could endanger Watson’s life.

‘I wonder if my master thought similarly.’

About the origin of the name Heavenly Demon.

About the enemy who exists as its opposite.

I recalled my master’s back, who never once mentioned specifics.

I felt conflicted.

A small resentment toward my master, who avoided answering saying I would know someday, surfaced in my heart.

Perhaps Watson is thinking similarly now.

Can one continue to trust someone who hides everything and bears it alone?

I can’t be sure, but it’s clear that giving no answer here would be the worst choice.

“How did you find out about Mrs. Norton’s whereabouts and identity, which even Buckingham didn’t know about? And if she did try to steal the royal decree, why haven’t you arrested and held her accountable?”

Fortunately, Watson’s questions still touched only on surface matters.

Yes.

There’s no need to tell her everything.

Just talking about Irene Adler’s crime would be enough, especially now when the Special Maid Corp’s eyes and ears are focused on the ballroom—

“Watson, actually…”

-Bang!-

As I opened my mouth, the ballroom door was violently thrown open.

Watson’s and my gazes simultaneously turned in the same direction.

The one who opened the door and stepped into the corridor was Irene Adler.

Following her, the masters who were not dismissed despite the phonograph stone terror lined up and exited the ballroom.

-Tadak

Irene Adler, leading the group, walked straight toward me at a brisk pace.

Her face, approaching as if indifferent to others’ gazes, wore a gentle and elegant lady’s smile.

It was the complete opposite of the tearful expression she had when she realized she had ruined the performance earlier.

She had calmed her anger and was acting as usual, showing a maturity and composure beyond her years.

It’s certain. She’s an opponent I cannot let my guard down against.

“Mrs. Norton, isn’t it? Do you have some business with me?”

For now, I casually asked her as if nothing was wrong.

But Irene Adler did not answer and kept walking while staring directly at me.

“That’s enough.”

Watson stopped Irene Adler, who was about to come very close.

Watson stepped between us, her right hand moving toward the handle of the Snow Halation Iron dagger.

“Watson…”

I spoke, but there was no answer.

Irene Adler’s eyes were still on me, but Watson, turning her back to me, stretched out her left arm to block her approach, forcing her to stop.

“…Do you know? This is the first time. For my stage to be ruined by someone.”

Irene Adler gathered her essence and stepped forward, pushing Watson with upper body strength without using her hands.

“Ah…!”

-Stagger

While supporting Watson, who lost balance from the unexpected attack, Irene Adler pulled out a new handkerchief and pressed it against my cheek.

“Sir, you seem to be sweating a lot.”

The next moment, the cold iron powder on the handkerchief moved and left a shallow wound on my jaw.

-Slash

A small amount of blood oozed out. It was a minor revenge taking advantage of my hands being tied while supporting Watson.

“…The texture of the handkerchief is unusual.”

I never imagined I would be attacked in front of the Special Maid Corps and others watching.

“Next time, I’ll wipe ‘something else’ for you. I have a personality that actively repays those who take my first.”

Irene Adler laughed endlessly and spoke in a suggestive tone.

I don’t know how it sounded to others, but the intention behind her words was clear.

A declaration that she would make me bleed, not sweat.

Though smiling, her eyes held a firm resolve to destroy me.

“St. John’s Wood. Serpentine Avenue. Green Willow Mansion.”

“…”

“This is a formal invitation. I’ll be waiting anytime.”

After saying that, Irene Adler struck my solar plexus hard with the handkerchief, then turned and walked back into the ballroom.

“That woman…!”

Watson, seeing the wound under my jaw, turned and tried to grab Irene Adler.

“It’s okay.”

I placed my hand on Watson’s shoulder to stop her.

“Let it go for now.”

“But—”

“We’ll see her again soon. It’s not too late to repay her then.”

Looking around, I saw people whispering while looking at me.

I felt the gentlemen watching me with jealous eyes.

Her strangely friendly attitude earlier was probably to provoke the other martial artists by using her fame.

Anyway, she seems like a woman I can’t let my guard down against until the end.

“Let’s move for now. There are too many eyes here.”

I turned my back on the group of gentlemen and ladies and walked with Watson.

Towards the royal attendant holding a guide flag waiting in front of the tea room entrance across the corridor.

“Hmm?”

It was then.

The door on the right side of the corridor opened, revealing a familiar face.

“Isn’t that Sir Henderson?”

“Little Heavenly Demon… so you were here after all.”

The large Chief of Police, with a more imposing build than any Scotland Yard officer.

Sir Edward Henderson, renowned in London Murim as a doting father, wore a troubled expression.

He seemed reluctant to get involved with me, but considering Irene Adler had unsettled the eyes of the gentlemen following her, pretending to be friendly with Sir Henderson might not be a bad idea.

Showing interaction with the head of Scotland Yard would help deter those who might attempt baseless slander or attacks.

“The Discharged Medical Maiden greets the senior of the martial world. Holmes is indebted to you at the Debutante Ball.”

“Don’t say that. Little Heavenly Demon and Scotland Yard cooperate with each other, don’t they?”

His reply to Watson’s greeting clearly showed he was conscious of the surrounding gazes.

His attitude had changed from when he called it an amateur Debutante Ball.

“Surely, that’s far too unkind a remark? ‘So you were here after all.’ Since Her Majesty sent me the invitation with the royal decree, it is only right that I answer the summons and attend accordingly.”

“Of course.”

“But why haven’t Sir Henderson’s children…”

Mentioning that none of his four daughters received an invitation to the royal ballroom event made the Chief of Police’s fist tremble briefly.

“Today, I came on official business to accompany Lord Gladstone, so don’t worry about it.”

“Is that so? If you came on official business, then…”

The moment I answered, I felt a strange sense of discomfort.

Prime Minister Gladstone maintains a notoriously strained relationship with Her Majesty due to their differing political directions.

For this reason, it is known that Home Secretary Harcourt usually attends events on his behalf.

Even though today is the royal ball, this would not change much.

Why did the Prime Minister himself appear instead of Sir Harcourt?

“…You mean the Prime Minister himself came? Then what about Sir Harcourt—”

“It seems you haven’t heard anything yet.”

Hearing Sir Henderson’s words, I froze on the spot.

“Sir Harcourt has been secluded in his office, refusing food and drink for nearly a month.”

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On a spring day in London, citizens cheered as the dismissed attendees of the royal ball were released one by one into the Thames via the sewers.

At a place in Westminster Palace by the Thames riverside, a gloomy atmosphere lingered.

A dark office with windows closed and lights off.

Home Secretary William Vernon Harcourt was staring at his attendant, Clark.

“Gah… ugh… uergauep…”

The madman, holding a brush and staring vacantly into space, kept uttering screams.

This change happened in just one night.

“…”

A month has passed since the incident, but no matter what was tried, Clark could not be restored.

Harcourt rubbed his face and looked up, glaring resentfully at the ceiling.

How did this happen?

He tried blaming God, but his trained reason kept punishing his own heart.

Harcourt shifted his gaze to the easel beside Clark.

On the canvas fixed to the easel, only grotesque scribbles remained, as if a child had drawn someone’s face.

“Clark…”

The aide who had long been the minister’s eyes and ears with excellent external Kung-Fu and stealth skills had become an idiot overnight.

On the very day he began drawing the portrait of the leader of the Church Of Asteroid.

1. TL/N: located on the side of one’s trachea ️