Chapter 9
Interlude
After Dr. Grinstone was declared dead by the Sheriff, the Constabulary Knights were summoned to make a full investigation. With their help, we conducted a full inspection of his quarters. What we uncovered was a menagerie of venomous creatures—a lot more than just the snake he had already used in his schemes. The discovery led them to assume that the spider, like the snake, must have come from Grinstone's own collection.
Despite the oddity of its presence, the lack of evidence pointing to tampering or external interference led the investigators to a straightforward conclusion: the Doctor had simply tasted his own medicine.
------
As for the truth?
I don’t want to talk about this sh*t!
------
“Look at that restaurant!” John suddenly said, tapping the window.
After we had returned Raja to his owner, the atmosphere in the carriage had turned so awkwardly silent that even the sound of the wheels felt deafening.
Well, at least for me.
Because for ‘John Moriaty,’ that jerk didn’t even try to shut the f*ck up.
“The line is always long,” he continued cheerfully. “You’d need a reservation weeks in advance. But if you’re interested, I can get us in through the back entrance. I know the owner—he wouldn’t dare refuse me.”
“...”
“Alright, what about shopping?” His voice remained light, but his smile wavered ever so slightly. “You helped me handle my commission—anything you want, it’s on me.”
“...”
“Hey, please stop brooding,” He exhaled in frustration. “I can take you anywhere you like, as long as it makes you happy. Just… say something.”
If that’s really what he wanted to know, then fine.
“Home.”
John sighed, leaning back against the seat. His expression darkened. “Sherlin, I understand that you’re angry about my methods. But if your righteous way is truly correct, then tell me—why does your culprit keep slipping through your fingers? Is this the justice you seek for the victim? And what if he strikes again? What if next time, he succeeds?”
His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and unwavering.
Even though I pretended to watch the world outside, I could still see him through the reflection in the window.
“Wouldn’t that be neglect on your part?”
“Stop it,” I said flatly. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
“It’s not an excuse,” he countered. “It’s a justification. I won’t regret my decision to cleanse this world of demons.”
A bitter chuckle escaped me.
“Have you ever heard the saying? If one fights evil with evil, the world will always have one more evil to deal with. And even if that evil manages to cleanse all others, there will still be one final evil left standing.”
I closed my eyes, unwilling to look at him any further.
That was when John moved.
Stealthy as a shadow, he switched seats in an instant, slipping from across me to right beside me. The only warning he allowed me was the faintest vibration against the seat.
Only then did I turn—He was close.
Too close.
His face was inches from mine. His breath, warm against my skin.
“If that one evil left standing is me—then don’t worry.”
A slow, amused smirk played on his lips.
“If that’s what you desire… I’ll cleanse myself away too.”
------
My breath was nearly stolen away, and my heart pounded heavier with each moment of this intimacy. His deep blue hair gleamed under the dim carriage light, his features sculpted to perfection—an artist’s masterpiece given life.
But if you ask for my inside…
It felt like a dark creature had been unleashed straight from hell, sent to feast on my very soul. My warmth and my living energy was being siphoned away, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell, filled only with nightmare and suffering.
------
“Lady Hound, we arrived at the gate of your ma—”
------
Before John’s butler could even finish, I shoved John away, scrambling to get out.
“Thank you, Mister. Careful on the road.”
I leaped out of the carriage the moment the door swung open, my boots striking the cobblestone with a force that echoed through the silent night. I didn’t look back. I didn’t spare John a single glance.
The grand doors of Hound Manor loomed ahead, and I rushed inside, not bothering with pleasantries or parting words. The warmth of home enveloped me—golden chandeliers, polished marble, the ever-familiar scent of tea.
Yet, inside me, I felt nothing but cold.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
“Welcome home, my Little Lady,” Hudson greeted me as always, her voice calm and unreadable. “I trust your evening was—”
“ARGHHHHHH!!!!”
A guttural scream tore from my throat, echoing through the manor.
The response was immediate.
“Sherlin! What happened?” My mother’s frantic voice rang out as she rushed down the hallway, her nightgown billowing behind her. My father followed at a steady pace, his gaze unreadable as always.
I turned to him, my hands clenched into fists.
“FATHER! DO YOU KNOW WHO HE IS!?”
He arched his brow. “I don’t know him personally, but I see him for what he is—something fishy.”
“THEN WHY DID YOU LET HIM INTO OUR HOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE!?” I demanded.
His reply was maddeningly composed. “He saved you when you were in trouble, Sherlin. Considering the nature of him, a man like that shouldn’t leave his obligations unpaid for too long.”
My breath hitched. My voice cracked.
“But I just helped him… kill a man.”
“Helped him?” He crossed his arms, studying me. “That seems exaggerated. Please clarify.”
“He killed the man…” I swallowed. “The one I identified as the murderer.”
A flicker of understanding crossed his face.
“So, he acted only after you confirmed the man’s guilt?” My father mused. “In my opinion, that’s more ethical than most hired killers. And tell me, was the man’s punishment undeserved? Was he about to escape justice?”
“Yes, but… you’re missing the point—he still killed a man!” I snapped.
My father exhaled, almost amused. “Sherlin, I’ve also killed people, some even with my own hands. Your mother has killed far more in her career. Does that make us bad people?”
“Well, yes! But at least you served official organizations! And more importantly, you’re retired!”
He shook his head slightly, his gaze steady.
“I can still kill, if needed. And I imagine your mother would gladly go on a rampage for old times’ sake, should the opportunity arise.”
“URGH!!!” My frustration boiled over. “I don’t understand… why are you sympathizing with that human-skinned demon!?”
He let out a quiet chuckle.
“Sherlin, he’s practically who we were when we were young. How could I not understand him?”
“ARGHHHHH!!!”
I couldn’t restrain myself from screaming. My own voice rang in my ears, yet it did nothing to ease the turmoil within me. With a frustrated stomp, I marched straight to my bedroom, ignoring my parents' concerned gazes.
The door shut behind me with a dull thud, muffling the world outside. But I felt no relief. I wanted to rid myself of ‘the Death Scent’ that clung to me—thick, suffocating, inescapable.
Without hesitation, I strode toward the bath chamber, reaching for the silk ribbon that held my dress together. The layers of fabric peeled away, one by one, pooling at my feet in a careless heap. The moment my corset hit the floor, I inhaled deeply, as if I had been freed from an invisible noose.
A gentle knock interrupted my thoughts.
“My Little Lady, may I come in?”
“…” My answer was silent, yet Hudson entered anyway, carrying herbal shampoo and perfumed soap.
As I sank into the water, her hands worked through my hair, scrubbing gently, the scent of lavender filling the air. But no matter how much she washed me, I still felt that Moriaty’s presence lingered.
“Can the man who you only met twice really leave you with such a terrible experience?”
“Come on, Ma’am. He’s not the first person to leave a bad impression at first sight.”
“True. But nobody else has made you scream like a madwoman upon returning home.”
------
Yes, she’s right…
No one—not a single villain or scoundrel—has ever unnerved ‘Sherlin Hound’ like ‘Moriaty.’ Among every media adaptation, he has always been the greatest nemesis—the mortal enemy whose conflict with the detective would only end in the death of one side.
If Sherlin is the ‘Napoleon of Law,’ then he is the ‘Wellington of Crime.’ If she is Hannibal, then he will be Scipio, the one destined to oppose her at every turn. And if she dares to crown herself as the mighty Queen Arthuria, then he will rise as Mordred, the blade fated to shatter her empire.
Their rivalry is nearly constant in all universes.
Moriaty’s life purpose has always been the same—to make the Detective Protagonist suffer as possible. So, I have no reason to believe John is any different.
------
“If I say ‘Yes,’ Ma’am?” I asked Hudson with a desperate voice. “What should I do!? How should I get away from that creepy jerk!?”
Hudson continued massaging the herbal shampoo into my scalp, her fingers steady despite my outburst.
“I have an idea, but knowing your personality, I doubt you’ll like it.”
“Just say it! Whatever it is, spit it out!”
“Marriage, my Little Lady. Even if it’s a bit early for you, a betrothal could do the trick. There’s no better shield against men—than another man himself.”
------
Huh? This topic again!?
Even though I’ve accepted the fact that marriage is an inevitable matter for a noblewoman, I still can’t help but feel frustrated whenever it’s brought up. But if I think about it rationally… marriage isn’t just a pure trouble.
If used wisely, it could be a valuable tool.
The idea I got from ‘Romance Manhwa’ might seem completely out of place in a detective story, sure. But if other reincarnated protagonists chose this method and successfully secured their happy endings—then why shouldn’t I give it a try?
It’s called ‘Contractual Marriage’—one of the most classic plot devices in romance novels! Female leads use it to escape unwanted engagements, silence nagging aristocrats, or even secure their position in dire circumstances.
But my situation? It’s far more dangerous than any of theirs.
No matter their reason for forging such a contract, none of those heroines were being chased by ‘Moriaty’—a man who isn’t just some delusional suitor or noble a**holes. He’s a criminal mastermind with deadly intelligence, a mind that could only be matched by the brilliance of the original ‘Lady Sherlin Hound.’
So tell me—how the heck am I, the dumbed-down version of her, supposed to survive against a man like that alone!?
------
“Hudson, is it…” I bit my lip, staring at the reflection in front of me. “...really possible to choose a suitor on my own?”
“Your parents are open-minded, My Little Lady,” she said, her hands never faltering in their work. “They trust you to handle this matter yourself. In fact, it’s the reason you’ve never been dragged into any arranged dates or forced engagements. You’re free to decide for yourself.”
“So, what should I do?” I frowned, feeling uncertainty. “I mean, where do I even begin?”
“There are two ways you can proceed, my Little Lady. First, you could ask your father to open up suitor applications and wait. The daughter of a prominent Duke like you will certainly have a long line of suitors. In fact, many have already sent proposals to the manor before, but you’ve always complained about it, so they get rejected on their own. The second option is, if you’re more impatient, I’d recommend trying the services of the ‘Matchmaking Guild.’”
“The Matchmaking Guild?” I raised an eyebrow. “What on bloody earth is that?”
“Well, according to their official description, they claim to be a prestigious and highly reputable organization specializing in supporting people in forming personal unions. Their goal is to help build beautiful and healthy relationships within society,” Hudson explained. “But, if you ask me, it’s more like a place for youngsters to do blind dating on their own—with plenty of facilities.”
So, it’s like Steamburg’s version of dating apps, I see.
“But what about its trustworthiness in terms of privacy and security?” I raised my concern.
“Oh, such complicated things were never on my mind,” Hudson spoke nonchalantly. “I’ve only known that it’s very fun.”
