Chapter 14
His First and Only Problem (2)
A hideout, by definition, is supposed to be hidden. And even if it were discovered, its security should never be compromised. The traps should deter intruders or, at the very least, trigger an alarm.
Yet, my hideout had failed on every level.
And the one who effortlessly breached it was none other than the close associate of that Lady Detective.
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The woman arched an eyebrow before offering a slow, elegant bow.
“Maid?” she echoed, amusement flickering in her tone. “I believe you misunderstand my status. Allow me to introduce myself properly: My name is Hudson—or you may call me Madam Hudson, if you prefer. I may serve the Bakerstead household, but my role is that of Little Lady Hound’s governess.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Isn’t a governess still a form of servitude?”
“Indeed,” she admitted, placing a hand over her chest. “I serve my Little Lady, but in the way a teacher serves a student. I provide lessons, including etiquette. I do not pamper her, as I suspect you’re imagining.”
Sebastian crossed his arms, grinning. “Sounds like the perfect job for me. But I worry my young master will stop paying me.”
Hudson’s lips curled into a smirk. “Mister, I’d do it for free if you like.”
I waved a dismissive hand. “No. I don’t. Whoever she is, Sebastian, dispose of her.”
The moment the words left my mouth, Hudson moved.
A blur of motion—far too fast for a woman in a dress—and suddenly, her left hand clamped onto my collar. Before I could react, she lifted me clean off the ground.
Where the hell is she getting this kind of strength!?
Gritting my teeth, I drew my hidden knife and drove it straight into her arm.
But the blade struck something solid—Clang!
And it wasn’t just an armguard…
When I forced the blade in deeper, expecting to pierce flesh, there wasn’t a single drop of blood—only hard, unyielding material beneath a layer of the artificial skin.
A prosthetic arm!?
Seriously, who the hell is this woman!?
I darted my eyes to Sebastian—he was already reaching into his pocket for his gun.
Hudson’s smirk deepened. She plucked the knife from her arm with ease, then flicked it toward Sebastian’s chest. If not for his armor, the strike would have been lethal. But because he did, the blade pinned itself in the crest on his coat, forcing his pocket shut—trapping his gun inside.
“Perhaps I’ve been too harsh on my Little Lady,” she mused. “Some children seem to require more discipline than her.”
Suspended in midair, my feet barely skimming the ground, I could only stare at the woman holding me by the collar. Meanwhile, Sebastian—ever the professional in both soldering and butler duties—plucked the knife from his chest plate with absolute calm. Despite the obvious threat looming before him, he straightened his coat, adjusted his tie, and addressed her with composed elegance.
“Madam Hudson,” he said smoothly, bowing his head. “I ask your permission to dismiss myself.”
Hold on a second… WHAT!?
“Permission granted. You may go.” The woman gave a small, approving nod.
I snapped my head toward him. “Hey, Sebastian—if I die, nobody’s going to pay you.”
Without hesitation, he remarked, “If I die, I won’t be able to receive any paycheck either.”
Look at the loyalty of henchmen these days!
And just like that, the bastard made a swift exit, leaving me alone in the steel grip of this menacing woman. Hudson’s grip didn’t waver as she studied me with sharp, knowing eyes.
“You’re ‘John,’ aren’t you?” she asked.
But wasn’t that an obvious question? Come on, what would she have done if she’d knocked on the wrong door and found some clueless mobsters instead?
Would she have beaten them up just like she was beating me now!?
I exhaled sharply, forcing a smile.
“We’re strangers, aren’t we? Shouldn’t you call me by my last name—Moriarty?”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Then by that logic, Mr. Moriarty, shouldn’t you also address my Little Lady properly as ‘Lady Hound’?” Hudson tilted her head, an amused glint in her eyes. She pulled me closer. “However, you insist on calling her by her first name. And, more curiously, you demand that she calls you ‘John.’ Are you implying that the two of you are... close?”
“Nonsense,” I scoffed. “We’ve only met three times.”
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed me toward my desk. My body went airborne, bouncing off the table before crashing onto the floor. Even my armchair failed to stop my momentum, toppling over with me. Gritting my teeth, I scrambled to my feet, shooting a glare at the woman who had thrown me as if I weighed nothing.
But Hudson barely paid attention to me. Instead, her interest had shifted elsewhere—her fingers now flipping through the pages of my memoir.
“That is a lie,” she said without even glancing up.
“Do you really think I haven’t been watching over you?” She turned another page of my memoir. “You were one of the boys who used to watch my Little Lady from a distance for quite some time.”
“Oh?” I scoffed. “If you knew, then why didn’t you do anything about it?”
Hudson finally looked up, smiling as if the answer was obvious. “Simple. You posed no threat to her. I don’t have time to deal with every boy who has a crush on her.”
“Not a threat!?” My fists clenched at the absurdity of that insult. “I am her Nemesis! I am the greatest threat to that so-called Lady Detective!”
“Oh?” Hudson closed the book, tapping her fingers lazily against the cover. “Nemesis, you say?” Her smirk deepened. “Is that your peculiar way of confessing your good feelings toward my Little Lady?”
“Of course NOT!!!” I barked.
Hudson didn’t react to my outburst immediately.
Instead, she studied me—her gaze slow, calculating.
“Your pupils dilated,” she noted, her voice maddeningly calm. “Your face flushed. And you had trouble swallowing just now.”
She took a step closer. “A criminal mastermind like you should be a skilled liar. So tell me, Mr. Moriarty—why is it, when it comes to my Little Lady, you fail so miserably?”
What kind of governess did this family even hire to raise their child!?
She didn’t just physically destroy me—she roasted my very soul with her sarcasm. Good grace, was Sherlin really raised by this abusive nanny? If that were the case, then surely her childhood wasn’t all sunshine and warmth.
I pity her now.
I took a breath, forcing some composure. “Could you please tell me you didn’t attack my hideout just to get acquainted?”
“Why would I? You are the ‘Blackcharple Orphan,’” Hudson tilted her head, amused. “One of Lady Lyria’s adoptive children, and also her favourite son.”
“Former Blackcharple Orphan,” I corrected. “And I am not her favourite son. Among every Blackcharple Orphans, nobody is her favourite. You don’t know anything about my ‘Mother.’”
“That’s true,” Hudson admitted.
“As a field agent of Bakerstead Estate, I don’t have clearance for such delicate information. However, a Spymaster like Duke Silas Hound certainly does. Your mother’s strengths, weaknesses, what she values most… As one of the Empire’s most prominent crime lords, he must have studied her extensively as precaution.”
“Can you not drag my ‘Mother’ into this? We cut ties the moment I left her guardianship.”
“Alright, if you insist, I’ll leave your family out of this,” Hudson raised a hand in mock surrender. “But you’d do well to listen to my offer.”
“Fine. I’m listening. Just tell me why you’re here.”
“In about two weeks, it will be my Little Lady’s birthday.” Hudson folded her arms. “As always, we want to celebrate this special day for her. However, no matter what we prepare, I’ve never once seen her truly enjoy it.”
I raised a skeptical brow. “And this concerns me… how?”
Hudson blinked. “Wait. You do know what a birthday is, don’t you?”
“I know it’s the day someone was born. But why does it need to be celebrated? It’s not like she’s a Saintess or an Empress—her birthday isn’t some national holiday.”
“Seriously? You have no clue about this? Don’t you have a birthday?”
“I’m an orphan. I don’t even know who gave birth to me. So, forgive me if I fail to see the need to celebrate the anniversary of being dumped into this miserable world.”
“You are totally hopeless,” She sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. If you want to get along with my Little Lady, you should at least start by understanding basic social customs.”
“Y—YOU!!!” My eyes twitched. “You know what? Just tell me what you want.”
“Hm, as a Criminal Consultant, you’re quite the schemer, aren’t you? I have a commission for you—if you’re interested.”
“Yes, I am a professional schemer,” I narrowed my eyes. “But what does that have to do with the Lady Detective’s birthday?”
“Are you really a genius? I’m starting to worry. My request is simple: I want you to create a birthday she will finally enjoy.”
“That’s the most nonsensical commission I’ve ever received! What makes you think a top-notch mastermind like me would take part in this absurdity?”
“Oh, what a pity,” Hudson shook her head.
“Among all gentlemen who came into my Little Lady’s life, you are the first one whom my Little Lady could… tolerate. Both I and Duke Silas have high hopes for you. We believe you were our best bet for this impossible task.”
She turned slightly, as if talking to herself.
“Hm… but since you refuse, I suppose I should try my luck with other suitors…”
“What do you mean suitors!?” I slammed a hand on the desk.
“Suitors are suitors. I don’t know how else to explain it,” she raised a brow. “If anyone can make my Little Lady happy—even for a day—shouldn’t they be considered a qualified candidate?”
No, I could not allow…
The Lady Detective was mine to play with—and not anyone else!
“Alright! Fine!” Gritting my teeth, I made a decision. “I’ll do it! I’ll create the perfect birthday—just as you wish! So you can stop bothering those ‘Suitors’!”
“Good. If you don’t change your mind,” Hudson gave me a triumphant smile, “I’ll inform Duke Silas Hound that you’ve agreed to take full responsibility for everything to come.”
“Still, before I start, can I ask you one more thing?”
“Of course, Mr. Moriaty. You may ask anything from me.”
“Can you explain what exactly people do on birthdays?”
