The key to unlocking the Mind Palace exists only within.

–Georg Hegel1

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“It has become very interesting.”

The Inspector had already informed me that it was a locked room murder, igniting my curiosity.

Moreover, if the Home Secretary had to summon me directly, this case must be—

‘A banquet itself.’

Drowsiness vanished as a strong desire began to surge.

I could already feel my ravenous brain clamoring for sustenance.

“If what you say is true, the story changes.”

I uncrossed my legs.

As soon as my brain became active, the side effects of the Lionheart Method hit me.

Weakness spread through my body, and a craving for elixirs began to dominate me.

“…Before we get to the main point, may I have a cup of tea? Preferably with elixir.”

“It’s regrettable. Do you really think I’m the kind of rude person who wouldn’t offer a cup of tea when I’ve summoned someone?”

No sooner had the Secretary spoken than the office door opened, and the attendant entered.

I had seen him just behind us moments ago; when did he leave and return?

He hides his presence far better than the assassin who visited in the afternoon.

Indeed, it seems someone of the Home Secretary’s stature can employ such a capable man.

“I have prepared Fortnum & Mason’s Blending Herbal Tea.”

The attendant fixed the wheels of the cart and poured the contents of the teapot into a teacup, placing it on the table.

The clear, invigorating aroma sharpened my senses just by inhaling it. I could feel the side effects of the internal energy method receding.

“It’s a blend of Mandragora and Nilgiri tea with slices of dried Amalfi Lemon.”

“Indeed. It’s wonderful.”

The tea is brewed with elixir and black tea. The floating fruits are also elixirs.

The taste, aroma, and energy contained within are beyond imagination.

Watson, sitting beside me, also took a sip of the tea and her face brightened.

“I’m glad you liked it. We have few visitors, so we have leftover tea leaves. Take a couple of tins with you when you leave; Clark.”

“I will prepare them without fail.”

The attendant placed a light snack-filled cake stand from the cart and then left the room.

To be given such a high-quality blended tea. The Secretary is indeed remarkable.

“If I could receive such hospitality every time, I might have to cause incidents just to visit Westminster Palace often.”

“Even as a joke, don’t say such things in front of me. If my workload increases, I might have to ask the Prime Minister for a duel to the death.”

“Your rival has departed for the hereafter, so this would be a good source of vitality for you.”

I didn’t miss the Secretary’s lips twitch slightly for the first time.

It’s clear that besides his original duties, Gladstone is making him do various things.

“Now, let’s hear why this case has become a headache for you, Secretary.”

The Secretary nodded.

“Open the window and take a look outside.”

Wondering what it could be, I walked to the window.

I unlatched and opened the window, letting a chilly breeze, cutting through the end of spring, ruffle the curtains.

“…That.”

Leaning out, a bizarre sight came into view.

To the east of the Palace, on Westminster Bridge, men and women in black suits and dresses were lined up holding placards.

Earlier, since I came from Baker St. and entered through the west entrance of Westminster Palace, I didn’t see it, but the number of people looked to be in the hundreds.

They were silently staring at Westminster Palace.

Their arms were raised rigidly, as if they had written everything they wanted to say on the signs they held, exuding a bizarre atmosphere.

Then, focusing my energy on my eyes to see what they were claiming, I was momentarily at a loss for words.

“Huh.”

The content of the signs was as follows:

The telephone is the invention of the Heavenly Demon Diablo.

Ban the use of telephones.

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“This piques my interest. I’ll head there right away.”

Seeing the protesters on the bridge and estimating the magnitude of the incident, I took the case records handed over by the Home Secretary and boarded the carriage.

As soon as I sat down, I noticed the can of Jacksons of Piccadilly prepared by Sir Harcourt’s attendant.

When I opened the lid of the can containing the blended tea, a restrained fragrance filled the carriage.

“The proportion of elixir blended is twice that of the tea leaves. There’s no need to worry about side effects for a while.”

Perhaps because my brain was activated by the intriguing case I encountered, the side effects of the Lionheart Method felt more intense than usual.

If the Home Secretary’s attendant hadn’t served the tea, I would have had to commit the discourtesy of smoking in the office.

“No wonder, I thought it was unusual when I drank it earlier. Surely, they don’t provide this to every visitor, right?”

“I’m sure they give out such souvenirs regularly.

Her Majesty’s government is wealthy.”

-Knock, knock.

Before I could finish speaking, the coachman tapped on the small window connecting to the driver’s seat.

“Where shall I take you?”

“Please take me to Bexley.”

“Understood. We will depart immediately.”

The carriage promptly headed east, crossing the Westminster Bridge adjacent to the Palace.

While crossing the Thames, an intriguing sight caught my eye outside the window.

Ban the use of telephones.

Conversing as if two distant people are nearby is an attempt to encroach on the domain of the Omnipresent Lord.

Through the soot-covered carriage window, I saw a group dressed in black holding signs.

They appeared to be members of a new religious group, standing on the bridge railing, quietly gazing up at the Westminster Palace towering along the Thames River.

The telephone is the invention of the Heavenly Demon Diablo.

“Heavenly Demon? I’ve definitely heard that somewhere…”

Watson, sitting next to me, seemed intrigued by the content of the signs.

“Wasn’t your nickname Little Heavenly Demon?”

“You remember well.”

“Then surely not—”

At least she has some sense.

“That’s right. Heavenly Demon was my master’s moniker.”

“I never expected your master to be the Great Hero Alexander Graham Bell, Father of the Deaf!”

“Don’t speak nonsense. How did you end up with that misunderstanding?”

“Well, didn’t you just say your master’s moniker was Heavenly Demon?”

Watson spoke, observing my expression as if bewildered.

“Since the sign said the Heavenly Demon invented the telephone, I thought it was another nickname for Bell the Great Hero.”

My friend Watson was adept at using his imagination in directions far from the truth, and his twin sister was not much different in this regard.

Hmm. Where should I start correcting this?

“You have a few misunderstandings. First, Alexander Bell did not invent the telephone.”

“Is that true…?!”

Having just returned from Afghanistan, I expected she might not be aware of how the world is turning, but this was surprising.

“Even Her Majesty the Queen used his telephone to successfully make the first long-distance call in the British Empire, as I recall.”

“Your reaction is exactly what the fraudsters want.”

Borrowing authority from reputable figures is a common old trick of criminals.

Alexander Bell merely stole someone else’s achievements; he is merely a merchant with a talent for deceiving others.

“Then who actually invented the telephone? Your master?”

“There are a few candidates, but that’s not important. What is certain is that my master has nothing to do with the telephone.”

“Then why are those people over there…?”

Watson reached out and pointed at the group of heretics slowly moving away.

I had a vague idea why the word ‘Heavenly Demon’ was used on their banner.

“I’ve heard. Some emerging religious groups with their own scriptures prefer the term ‘Heavenly Demon’ over ‘Devil’2.”

“Indeed. Then it makes sense that your master has nothing to do with the telephone.”

It was not uncommon for new religious groups that did not belong to Catholicism, Anglicanism, or Protestantism to mislead the public under the name of a church.

Swapping out nouns or phrases from scripture with those of other religions to make absurd claims was a routine occurrence.

The words ‘Heavenly Demon’ written on the sign most likely refers to the demon Mara Papiyas from Buddhist scriptures and has nothing to do with my master.

However.

“The issue is that this case is related to telephones.”

“Do you mean telephones are involved in the serial murders?”

I nodded.

The telephone is a new invention that allows people to converse with those far away without using a telegraph.

However, its annual usage fee is not cheap, so it is not widely distributed.

Places with telephones installed are limited to a few aristocratic or wealthy residences, offices of companies or professionals, or the offices of high-ranking officials.

Nevertheless, it was easy to predict that if rumors about this case spread, uncontrollable chaos would engulf London.

“Take a look at this.”

I opened the first page of the case records and handed it to Watson.

“This is…what…”

A dizzying sigh escaped from Watson’s mouth as she confirmed the outline of the case summarized in four lines.

“Can something like this really happen?”

“Isn’t it our job to answer that question?”

I could feel my brain, heated with anticipation for the case, absorbing the excitement.

The fact that I would be trapped in a carriage for at least another hour was unbearably painful.

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Six twenty, the time when the sun scatters its faint light as it disappears beyond the horizon.

The carriage arrived at the eastern end of London, in Bexley.

“Wake up, Watson.”

“Uh, have we already arrived?”

Thanks to the comfortable cushions, Watson had been asleep for the entire hour.

She had been sleeping so defenselessly that I had to suppress my urge to talk and just waited.

“No. But we’re almost there. Stay still for a moment. There’s dust on your face.”

I took out a handkerchief and wiped the drool from the corner of Watson’s mouth, who was staring at me blankly.

I didn’t bother to tell her the truth, as she would probably be anxious all day if she knew she had drooled on Sir Harcourt’s private carriage seat.

-Clatter!

The carriage, having entered the residential area, stopped in front of a well-maintained mansion.

As expected, the Scotland Yard officers had arrived at the scene before us.

“Hmm.”

I noticed a distinct difference from usual.

“Watson. Doesn’t it seem a bit different from last time?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Their attitude.”

“Ah…”

Finally understanding my meaning, a sigh escaped from Watson’s lips.

She, too, realized it.

The fact that the way the officers looked at me had changed quite a bit from before.

1. TL/N: The original quote is as follows—Das Selbst ist die Reflexion in sich, die Wendung des Selbsts nach innen / The goal to be reached is the mind's insight into what knowing is ️

2. TL/N: The term ‘Devil’ is often written as ‘Evil Demon’ in Japanese, Korean, and Chinese ️