Zuckerberg & Co.’s Fountain Judge Pen is mightier than the sword.

–Markus Zuckerberg, Head of the Zuckerberg Family

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“You’ve arrived. We’ve been expecting you.”

Inspector Gregson was the first among the stationed officers to greet us.

Judging by the tense expressions on his and his subordinates’ faces, it seemed they were uneasy about the fact that I was here on the Home Secretary’s request, rather than from the Yard.

It was a fresh reminder of how my standing had risen since the Debutante Ball murder case.

Harcourt lending me a carriage was likely intended to facilitate smoother cooperation with the Yard officers.

“Where’s Lestrade?”

“He’s managing information at another site. It’s easier to draw attention when multiple inspectors are together.”

Commissioner Henderson had insisted this incident must not become fodder for Reuter or other news agencies.

Gregson added.

“Certainly, Chief Henderson has a reason to be concerned.”

Lestrade and Gregson being in the same place on the same day indicated a significant incident, something most reporters were aware of.

However, my comment wasn’t specifically about the severity of this case.

“Even if reporters don’t know what Harcourt’s carriage looks like, they can recognize your backs, can’t they?”

And the Yard inspectors had such distinct physiques that they could be identified from a distance.

“When you put it that way… I can’t argue.”

Gregson’s shoulders slumped with a sullen face.

His dejected expression made his large trapezius muscles seem deceptively smaller than usual.

“Each person has their own role to play. I would like to inspect the room where the murder occurred.”

“Understood.”

When I spoke, Gregson smirked with resignation and led us to the second floor of the mansion.

“Come to think of it, the officers from the Yard are all quite robust. Is there some secret to it?”

As we were passing through the garden and ascending the stairs, Watson asked.

“Only those types of people can become police officers in the first place.”

I dodged the question.

Even though she was speaking in a low voice, Gregson is a Scotland Yard inspector with keen senses.

I honestly didn’t want to discuss their secrets within earshot of him.

If it reached Commissioner Henderson that I was displaying knowledge about the Yard, I might get dragged into annoying matters again.

‘When it comes to building strength, endurance, and a solid body, the martial arts of the Kingswood Rangers is the best.’

The Scotland Yard officers

learn martial arts passed down by the rangers of Kingswood.

The secret technique is called Bulk-Up & Cutting, and as the name suggests, it specializes in altering the size, quality, and shape of muscles.

Due to the nature of Bulk-Up & Cutting, which pursues the extreme of external martial arts, the bodies of the officers who trained in it were robust and had fast recovery.

Because their physique changed noticeably during this process, it became difficult to conduct investigations through stealth or infiltration to avoid or deceive criminals.

Of course, this did not particularly trouble the Yard.

Their job was to persistently pursue and subdue the criminal, not to sneak around.

However, that too would only be possible if someone who knows how to use their intellect properly—like myself—were to uncover the truth of the case.

In other words, Scotland Yard is a half-baked police group that struggles to move quietly and is clumsy with using their brains.

“This way.”

On the second floor of the mansion, Gregson stopped in front of a door guarded by two officers.

As the heavy wooden door opened, a cozy study carpeted with rugs came into view.

A luxurious interior that starkly contrasted with the modest office of the Home Secretary I saw earlier.

The animal skins and ornaments on the walls were from Africa, and the porcelain was of top quality.

The globe on the table, the well-worn notebooks stacked beside it, and the souvenirs collected from around the world created an exotic atmosphere in this impressive space.

Drinking tea here and occasionally reminiscing about past travels must be a great pleasure for the mansion’s owner.

However, there is one factor in this room that could disrupt that peace.

It would likely be the corpse lying in the middle of the carpet and the bloodstains.

“…Is this the first victim?”

Without being asked, Watson approached the deceased male before me and began a simple post-mortem examination.

A much more proactive stance than before. A face befitting a detective’s assistant.

“Horrible.”

However, Watson’s first words were somewhat distant from a professional opinion.

Considering the state of the corpse was not in good condition for conducting a Kung-Fu Forensic examination, it was understandable.

In other words, to put it bluntly.

The corpse was missing a head.

“Sir Harcourt had every reason to be in an uproar.”

The victim’s head was shattered into its components like the skull and brain, scattered in a fan shape.

It looked as if all moisture had dried up, resembling a cat’s long-abandoned vomit.

“This is…”

“Do you have any clues, Watson?”

“I just recalled the body of a comrade who fell to the Jezail Sword Technique of the Pashtun Markswordsman while in Afghanistan.”

“Indeed. A direct hit to the head with the Jezail Sword Technique results in something similar.”

Watson’s approach wasn’t bad.

However, to my eyes, this corpse didn’t seem to have fallen to a markswordsman.

“But, according to the records, this room was a perfectly locked room. Am I correct, Gregson?”

“Yes. The owner of the estate returned from a trip with the servants, discovered traces of an intruder, and reported it. When I arrived, both the door and window of the study were locked.”

Gregson added that the alibis of the household were verified.

This meant that when the murder occurred, there was no one in the estate except the victim and the perpetrator.

“Strangely, nothing was seen near the estate before the owner’s return except the victim. The owner has no clue about the identity of the body either…”

“…This is peculiar.”

Hearing Gregson’s words, Watson approached the window and door to check the locks.

“Both can only be locked or unlocked from inside. If the perpetrator killed someone here, how did they get out?”

“Well, there are a few possibilities. First, we need to check if it’s a suicide disguised as murder.”

I put on gloves and grasped the wrist of the corpse.

After channeling a small amount of internal energy to probe the pressure points, I couldn’t help but smile.

“A body that hasn’t learned martial arts.”

“Does that mean it’s not suicide?”

“Exactly.”

It is impossible for someone who is not a gentleman to smash their own head without the help of any tools.

Based on the direction and range of the scattered brain matter, it’s suspected that the victim was attacked from the right side and their head was smashed.

“The key is the telephone, isn’t it?”

The hand of the corpse, stiff with rigor mortis, was gripping the receiver.

The victim was undoubtedly standing at the desk, talking to someone on the phone when they died.

“There’s a testimony from the exchange office staff in the case records. The victim didn’t make the call?”

“Yes. We’ve confirmed that someone else requested the exchange office to connect a call to this mansion.”

“So, the victim broke into a stranger’s house, answered the phone, and then died?”

At this point, several hypotheses came to mind.

One was an utterly absurd possibility.

The other was quite realistic.

“Could the culprit have lured the victim by phone, then used the Jezail Sword Technique or a projectile to shoot them from outside the window?”

Before I could speak, Watson opened her mouth.

“Impossible. If that were the case, the window would have had a hole in it.”

“That’s…”

Hearing Gregson’s answer, Watson groaned in thought for a moment and then clapped her hands.

“Poltergeist! The culprit must have killed the victim and then used Poltergeist to lock the window!”

“To think there was such a method!!”

As Watson raised her voice in excitement, Gregson, listening, joined in the commotion.

Meanwhile, I calmly examined the lock on the study door and the window’s locking mechanism.

Pattern-welded Damascus steel, using the method of layering and twisting steel to create a wavy pattern on the surface.

The surface of the metal window frames and bars was the same.

“Indeed.”

A brief touch and flow of internal energy revealed that Watson’s deduction was incorrect.

“Poltergeist? I never imagined. Truly the assistant of Holmes. Impressive…!”

“It’s nothing. I happened to recall it because Sir Harcourt displayed Poltergeist―”

“Impossible.”

Watson, whose deduction was abruptly denied, looked at me with eyes as wide as a rabbit’s.

“What is impossible, Holmes?”

“Regrettably, it means that this lock cannot be moved with Poltergeist.”

“A lock that cannot be moved with Poltergeist? Does such a thing really exist?”

“Allow me to explain.”

-Clack clack.

A young man, whom I had never seen before, wearing glasses and holding a lollipop, entered through the open door.

“It is I, the England branch manager of Zuckerberg&Co―”

-Bang!

With a loud noise, the uninvited guest folded the folding white feather fan in his hand.

“Ulrich Zuckerberg.”

Ulrich Zuckerberg.

Introducing himself as such, the man pushed the bridge of his glasses up with his folded fan.

His words were irritating, but it seemed true that he was a member of the Zuckerberg family.

The glasses he wore were made of a substance known as Smoked Glass, a colored glass processed by exposure to smoke.

Judging by the sheen of the color, it was undoubtedly coated with the expensive Black Fragrance Jade.

Surely, only the nobility or the direct heirs of the Kung-Fu Noblesse would see fit to plaster themselves in such a manner.

Yet, regardless of one’s standing within the Kung-Fu Noblesse, it is quite unacceptable for an unrelated party to brazenly intrude upon the scene of a crime.

“Gregson. Since when has Scotland Yard allowed those not directly related to a case to enter the scene?”

Before the inspector could answer, Ulrich pulled something from his pocket.

It was an envelope stamped with the Home Secretary’s seal.

“Sir Harcourt has personally granted access. It involves the honor of our family, you see.”

Regardless of the minister’s permission, the nuisance of this person’s presence remains unchanged.

I should either gather the necessary information and send him away.

“It seems rather urgent for someone like the branch manager of Zuckerberg & Co. to visit a murder scene.”

“Embarrassingly, that is correct.”

“Could you tell me the reason?”

“I can’t help it. However, before that, there’s something I’d like to briefly mention…”

Ulrich unfolded his fan with a coy expression, covered his mouth, and continued in a calm tone.