Chapter 11
Even Death Don’t Let Them Apart (1)
“Hey, Sherlin… wait!”
As soon as the ‘Blind Confession’ ended, I started leaving.
John rushed to grab my right arm, but I reacted quickly—slapping his face with my free hand. The sound was loud enough to draw a few surprised gasps from the onlookers.
SMACK!
“This is for bugging me every single time we meet!”
Frustration that had been building up over the day finally exploded. I grumbled under my breath as the crowd leaned in, eager to see what would come next.
SMACK!
“This is for tying me up that day. You have no idea how much that makes me MAD!”
Hearing, the crowd gasped even louder.
SMACK!
“And this—this is for tricking me into taking part in your mur—MRPH!!!”
Before I could finish the word ‘Murder Plot,’ John’s hand shot up to cover my mouth.
“Sherlin, I must ask you to refrain from ranting further,” he whispered, his voice low, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Revealing that story would surely jeopardize my position in society and force me to disappear from it. But, I assure you, if I have to be a missing person, I’ll make sure you are missing with me.”
His tone shifted, even colder now, as he leaned in closer.
“So, calm down, and talk civilized, will you?”
John’s hand loosened, allowing me the ability to speak again. When I could finally talk, I did what seemed the most civilized thing an angry person could do.
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“Ms. Marigold! I’m leaving!”
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“L—Lady Hound, you cannot do that! According to the rules, the couple who makes a ‘Blind Confession’ must schedule a date for at least two hours.”
“And what if I refuse? Do I need to pay a penalty fee or something?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Well, yes…” the guildmaster answered.
“Great! Just send me the bill later!” I huffed.
Whatever the cost, it would be a cheap price for my sanity!
However, “My Lady, you don’t understand the situation!” Marigold interjected, looking distressed. “A penalty fee is a payment to the partner.”
“And what’s the problem?” I frowned to the question.
Marigold hesitated, her gaze flickering toward John. “Mr. Moriarty… isn’t the type to accept money.”
I turned to John, who simply smiled.
“Ms. Marigold, that’s enough,” John interrupted smoothly. “You shouldn’t inconvenience Lady Hound further. She is, after all, your customer. If you wish to address the real issue here, perhaps you should evaluate your service first. However, if there’s a fundamental flaw in your ‘Matching System’ that negatively affects customer satisfaction, I may have to reconsider our business partnership.”
Marigold’s face went pale.
“Mr. Moriarty! Please, don’t do this!”
“Hey, you jerk!” I snapped. “Are you seriously holding people’s business hostage just to get what you want?”
“It’s my investment, so it’s my liberty,” John shrugged.
“Fine!” I clenched my fists. “How much of the shares do you own? I’ll buy them myself!”
Marigold’s jaw dropped in shock.
Even John blinked, clearly caught off guard.
“Hold on a second—what do you think you’re doing?”
“You heard me.” I glared at him. “How much of the shares do you have? I’ll buy them.”
John let out an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head as if I had personally wounded him. “What is this, Sherlin? Do you really hate me that much?”
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Look at him—he’s ‘Moriaty’!
The archetype of a criminal mastermind. The epitome of villainy!
If you’ve ever read a detective novel, you don’t even need context—just hearing his name alone is enough to set off alarms.
‘Narcissistic.’
‘Manipulative.’
‘Menacing.’
‘Obsessive.’
‘Completely devoid of moral restraint.’
And if a man like this were the protagonist of a romance novel? Oh, he’d be the walking ‘Red Flag’—the kind of Male Lead who forces some twisted, non-consensual romance onto the Female Lead. Maybe he’d make her his captive, keeping her locked away just long enough to incubate ‘Stockholm Syndrome.’
I am not playing Shakespeare’s ‘The Taming of the Shrew.’*
So—f*ck him!
(*Runny Note: For those unfamiliar, ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ is one of William Shakespeare’s works, categorized as a Comedy. But, it’s understandable if it’s not really funny to somebody, since it’s quite controversial. Because the story is about a domineering man who ‘Tames’ his strong-willed wife into submission. You could say it’s the Renaissance ‘Toxic Relationship’ romance comedy.)
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“Yes, I hate you, you jerk!”
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John exhaled sharply, his usual teasing demeanor faltering. “I don’t know why you despise me to this extent, but shouldn’t you at least follow your own wisdoms to not judge a book by its cover?”
“Oh, about that?” I shot back, remaining unfazed. “I’m treating you like this because I’ve already read your synopsis, prologue, and first chapters. And let me tell you—it’s way too disturbing to keep reading!”
“I see…” his eyes darkened, his usual amusement draining away. “So, it’s because I’m a ‘Villain’ to you.”
“Of course!”
His gaze bore into mine, unreadable now.
“Then… don’t you think that you should at least try to redeem me first?”
For the first time in this argument, I froze.
This was different. It wasn’t the usual witty banter, nor was it his playful, calculated manipulation. For the first time, there was something genuine beneath his words, and it was ‘Resentment.’
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I could not immediately retort.
Should I apologize? Double down? Pretend I didn’t hear it?
But before I could decide—A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air.
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“MURDER! There is murder!”
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“JOHN!!!” I screamed at his face.
“...What?” he asked, clearly confused.
“What have you done!?”
“Wait—what?!” John recoiled, clearly caught off guard. “We don’t even know anything yet, and you’re already accusing me?!”
I pointed a finger at him. “You are the most suspicious person in my eyes!”
“What on bloody earth—?” For a brief moment, he looked genuinely offended, but then, as if switching gears, that insufferable devilish smirk returned. “Hey! I was right there with you the entire time in that booth!”
As much as I hated to admit it, he had an airtight alibi.
And, unfortunately, that alibi was me.
“URGH!!! Let’s see what’s going on,” I snapped, stomping forward.
“Oh? A sudden change of heart? Don’t you hate me anymore?”
“WILL YOU COME OR NOT!?” I spun around and shot him a glare.
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“Staff, please close the Guild until further notice, and keep the customers contained until the authorities arrive. Call the Guildmaster and contact the authorities. In case you worry that alerting them might lead to a scandal, notify the close associates of Chief Inspector Henry Lestrade. They know how to discreetly handle the situation.” The woman’s voice was authoritative and organized, much like the way she managed things at Bakerstead.
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“Wait, is that... Hudson?” I murmured, a bit caught off guard when I spotted her.
“Oh, my Little Lady! How’s the service today?” Hudson greeted me at the door with her usual cool smile. Her eyes quickly flicked over to John, who had followed me in. She raised an eyebrow. “Is this gentleman the one you—”
But she paused mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as recognition hit her. “Wait… isn’t this man the reason that you’re finding ‘an Investigative Partner,’ who can pose as a suitor?”
“What does she mean, I’m the reason?” John jumped in, trying to join the conversation.
“Ahem!” I immediately interrupted him, cutting him off before he could dig deeper. “Uh, hey, what exactly are you doing here?”
Hudson glanced at me, raising an eyebrow before responding. “If you're asking why I’m here... Well, I came for the services, of course. My Little Lady is heading out elsewhere, so I asked the Duke for a day off. But, as for what I’m doing here…” She paused, her gaze briefly shifting to the scene behind her. “I’m helping my dating partner organize the staff to respond to the situation.”
“Wait a minute... Dating partner?” I blinked.
Is this one of the people with a weird ‘Governess-fetish’ that Marigold mentioned?
“Madam Hudson, is everything alright?” a deep voice called from inside.
“Yes, Henry, everything’s under control. Ms. Marigold is here,” Hudson assured, her tone as calm as ever. Then, with a small smirk, she added, “and you’re in luck—you have some extra assistance here.”
Henry?
Who is this Henry?
“What do you mean?” the man replied, his footsteps hurriedly approaching. “Wait, let me see for myself!”
The moment he stepped into view, my eyes widened.
“Oh, it’s Chief Inspector Henry Lestrade (the older and the father),” I muttered, recognizing him immediately.
But then, something hit me.
Wait… WAIT!!!
“He is your dating partner!?” I blurted out, unable to hold back my shock.
“Huh—Lady Hound!?” Lestrade visibly recoiled as if he had just seen a ghost. “What are you doing here!?”
“Oh, no! Don’t you dare turn this on me! The real question here is—how is a married man and father, like you, one of those ‘Governess-fetish’ people?!”
“M—My Lady, what’s wrong with that!?” Lestrade sputtered, turning red. “Gregory’s mother has been dead for many years! I am not owned by anybody anymore!”
My brain short-circuited.
That wasn’t a denial.
What he replied was asking me back, ‘What’s wrong with that?’
What the hell happened to people here!?
“My dear Sherlin, shouldn’t you concentrate on the urgent situation?” John amusingly interjected.
Lestrade, still flustered, turned his attention to John.
“Who is this gentleman, Lady Hound?”
I crossed my arms, saying. “He’s a jerk.”
John, ever the opportunist, smirked. “A jerk who she willingly made a ‘Blind Confession.’”
I shot him a glare. “My dear John, shouldn’t YOU concentrate on the urgent situation!?” I threw his own words right back at him.
“Alright, what can you tell ‘Us,’ Chief Inspector?” John asked a question.
Lestrade let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple, preparing a long speech.
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The Crime Scene is this private dining area.
The crime scene is this private dining area. It’s divided into five rooms, each designed strictly for two people—and reservations are only accepted for couples. At the time of the crime, only two rooms were occupied—mine and Hudson’s, and the victims’.
So, there were only four people here total, aside from the staff.
The first sign of trouble came from two waitresses on their way to serve our table. They saw a woman stumble out of that room, clutching her stomach. Her steps were unsteady, her face pale and drenched in sweat. She staggered forward as if trying to call for help—but after only a few seconds, she collapsed to the ground.
One of the waitresses panicked and screamed, which is how we realized something was wrong. Hudson immediately took control of the situation, directing the staff to maintain order, while I rushed to the woman’s side.
By the time I reached her, she was already in severe distress—it’s already too late to save.
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John, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke. “This private dining area is only available to couples, correct?”
Lestrade nodded.
John tilted his head. “Then where’s her partner?”
“Oh, him?” Lestrade exhaled sharply before leading us inside the area. “He’s still inside the room. But he’s dead too.” Hudson remained at the door, continuing to handle the situation with Marigold.
The hallway stretched before me.
The elegantly dressed woman—the first victim—was slumped against the wall, just a few meters from the room she had left. She hadn’t made it far. Her body lay still, her face twisted in pain. In her hand…
“Lestrade, may I?” I knelt down, asking the Chief Inspector.
“I see, that might be important, but could you wait until—” Lestrade's words were cut short as he suddenly shouted: “MISTER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”
“John, stop!” I snapped, but it was already too late.
He had pried the paper from her cold grip.
“Oh, sorry. I saw your interest in this paper, so I helped.”
“What’s wrong with you!?” I shot back. “You’re tampering with evidence!”
John gave me an unimpressed glance. “Didn’t you just ask the Chief Inspector if you could do the exact same thing?”
“That’s the point—I asked for his permission!”
“Then, should I put it back?”
“Yes! Exactly! And make sure it’s the same—every fold, every finger position!”
“Understood,” he replied, completely unbothered, before casually adding, “But since I already pried it out, don’t you want to see it first?”
“URGH!!! Just check what it is!” I groaned.
John unfolded the paper and skimmed over it. “A marriage certificate.”
The ink was fresh—not just signed today, but very recently signed.
I exhaled sharply and turned toward the doorway.
“Hudson, my dear Madam, if you’re with Ms. Marigold, tell her to pull up the records of two clients—Genevieve Leclair and Cornelius Aldenworth. I want both profiles and their service history.”
Then, I looked back at the scene before me.
“Even standing at the edge of death, she still clutched the marriage certificate so hard? I wonder what she thought?” John mused. My gaze followed his words, landing on the gentleman slumped at the dining table, his mouth foaming, frozen in his final moments. "Did she intend to take it to her husband in the Afterlife?"
A newlywed couple, dead at the same time.
Their cause of death was clearly poison.
But, uh… and then what?
“This isn’t good,” I murmured under my breath.
John must have noticed something in my reaction because he smirked. “What’s the matter, Lady Detective? Is your blessing failing you today?”
“In a manner of speaking… yes. My blessing won’t work today.”
This mystery was fresh to me.
It might never have existed before, or perhaps, I had just simply never read it.
John mockingly chuckled. “Oh? And what will you do? Surrender?”
“Of course not,” I scoffed.
At least, not in front of him.
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Investigation is just like taking an exam.
If every question had a pre-memorized answer, it would be easy. But sometimes, professors are stern as hell. They won’t just hand out grades for regurgitating the textbook.
Exams should be ‘Analytical Testing,’ they said.
The ability to ‘Problem-Solve’ and ‘Apply Knowledge’ must be evaluated.
With my previous normal brain, even remembering straightforward answers was already hard enough, so don’t expect me to have ever excelled at those infernal trick questions. While I agree that these values made modern education more efficient, I must admit that they also turned my past academic life into an absolute nightmare.
But now…
I no longer have that normal brain.
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“There are two different concentrated substances appearing on the body of each victim,” I said, taking a slow breath to steady myself.
John furrowed his brows. “Two?”
I nodded. “Each substance must be the cause of their deaths.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Oh? And how exactly do you know that?”
I hesitated for just a moment before meeting his gaze.
“I have a sense…”
