Professor Moriarty Wants to Retire.

The idea of Napoleon of Crime giving his all against mere ignorant children might seem quite amusing if you just read the sentence.

Even Sherlock Holmes, who knows Moriarty better than anyone, would probably not be able to hold back his laughter if he actually saw the scene.

“Aaaaah!!! I surrender, I surreeender!!!!”

“I don’t recall ever saying I’d accept surrender, though?”

“Gyaaaaaaaaah!!!!”

The children involved would have a very, very different perspective, of course.

After all, how could children, more sensitive to pain than adults, withstand joint locks?

“To think I’d finally use what I learned in my youth. Life is truly full of unpredictable things.”

As always, the four idiots trying to bully Lavinia never dreamed they’d end up crawling on the ground, crying and sniveling.

“You… you..!! I’m gonna tell my mom about thiiiiis!!??”

“Go ahead and tell her. Don’t forget to dry your pants before you go home.”

Moriarty showed no mercy, of course, by children’s standards. This was nothing compared to what he normally did.

Meticulously and carefully, Moriarty made sure the children felt maximum pain while ensuring they weren’t actually injured.

This was partly to avoid potential repercussions from injuring residents, and partly because Moriarty, cold-blooded as he might be, wasn’t the type to shed unnecessary blood.

“Um, excuse me…”

However, from the perspective of a third party, Lavinia, it was quite a bizarre scene in many ways.

A quartet of groans and screams. How very occult-like.

“Hmm? Ah, are you alright with your wound, Miss Whateley?”

“The bleeding has stopped, but…”

“We should treat it properly when we get back. If left alone, it might leave a scar for life.”

A surprisingly polite and kind attitude from someone who had just mercilessly twisted people’s joints.

Lavinia felt fear at this side of Moriarty…

“…Yes…”

…However, fear wasn’t all she felt. If it were just fear, her heart might race, but her cheeks wouldn’t have turned red.

Rather, Lavinia felt a more complex mix of emotions as she looked at Moriarty’s doll-like, expressionless face.

Regardless of its form, Moriarty’s actions were the first help Lavinia had ever received from another person in her life.

A girl born and raised as a loner, shunned even by her parents.

Moriarty was the first person to ever take her side. Even if it was in a very violent manner.

“Miss Whateley?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Let’s go back.”

Lavinia, who had been staring blankly at Moriarty’s outstretched hand for a while…

“…Yes!!”

Soon, she grasped her hand with an even more excited expression.

‘They’re ugly in all sorts of ways, these kids.’

As Moriarty carefully examined the faces of the fallen delinquents, Lavinia’s face didn’t register in his gaze.

――

“C-Can I come in?”

“Do as you please.”

The first thing Moriarty did upon returning to the mansion was to change clothes.

For the penniless Moriarty, the only clothing left was the dress he received in Innsmouth, and for him, who had not yet lost his identity as an English gentleman, the dress was an object that induced shame just by wearing it.

So when Moriarty arrived at the mansion’s wardrobe guided by Lavinia, he had to struggle for a while.

It was called a wardrobe, but he had to find wearable clothes among piles that had been neglected and unmanaged for a long time.

There were worn-out, ill-fitting, and even bizarrely styled outfits that would be difficult to wear in one’s right mind.

It took time to find relatively decent, fitting, and normal clothing among these outfits.

“How is it, Miss Whateley? Does it suit me?”

“…It’s, it’s stylish. Like a gentleman.”

He finally found something, but…

“But, um, isn’t it uncomfortable? No, I don’t mean the clothes are strange, just…”

“It’s fine. I always dressed like this in England.”

The clothes Moriarty chose were similar to what he often wore when he was a man, an old English gentleman.

Attire that might seem stuffy at first glance, with a suit and even a coat.

“I’m so used to wearing such clothes that I feel uncomfortable in loose clothing now.”

“I-I see. England… So you’re from England, Ms. Moriarty…”

Stories from other countries were inherently interesting to young Lavinia, who had never left Dunwich in her life.

“What, what kind of country is England? It must be different from Dunwich, right?”

“Hmm…”

There are certainly many differences between England, London and Dunwich.

As the capital, London was strongly influenced by industrialization and is full of all kinds of facilities and people, completely different from the closed rural village of Dunwich in every aspect.

“Well, it’s not as different as you might think.”

But Moriarty shook his head and answered Lavinia’s question.

“In the end, all places where people live are the same. I don’t know what you expect from London, but whatever you expect, you’ll probably be disappointed.”

“I-I see…”

Whether it’s London or Dunwich, England or America, it doesn’t matter. His thought was that the nature of the human species is all the same.

“…Hmm.”

“Ah…?”

However, after briefly looking at Lavinia’s clearly disappointed face, Moriarty patted her head and said,

“If you really want to go, I’ll take you there later. If I have the leisure…”

Right now, he’s beyond lacking in both financial and time resources, practically having none, but if he gains some leeway, stopping by briefly would be no big deal.

Of course, it wouldn’t be right for Moriarty, who had thrown everything away to avoid his fate as a villain, to stay in London for long, but for a very short while…

“R-Really? Really, to London…”

Lavinia smiled brightly at Moriarty’s promise. Her cheeks flushed noticeably, perhaps due to her pale skin.

“Hehe, hehehe…”

“If you laugh like an idiot like that, I might not take you—”

BANG—!!

A sudden loud noise echoed through the Whateley mansion, which had been quiet except for Moriarty and Lavinia’s voices.

“…?”

“Th-This sound… surely…”

Moriarty looked at Lavinia’s face, which had been full of expectation for London just a moment ago, and now was distorted with fear in the blink of an eye.

“Ah… Father… Quick, hide..!! If Father finds you…!!”

Moriarty, pushed into the wardrobe where he had been searching for clothes until just now by Lavinia’s hand, heard footsteps slowly approaching.

Footsteps too unstable to be those of an ordinary person, wobbling as if uncomfortable somewhere.

“F-Father…”

Moriarty’s eyes caught the sight of the frightened Lavinia through the slightly opened wardrobe door.

“Is… is your work… all done?”

“…”

There was no answer. He could tell that someone was in the direction Lavinia was looking, but the narrow view through the wardrobe door crack didn’t allow him to see someone’s appearance.

“F-Fath— Eek!?”

At that moment, Lavinia disappeared from view. That presence had pulled her.

Moriarty could see part of his appearance for the first time, an unnaturally skinny and long arm.

“Wh-What are you doing!? Father, Fath—!!”

Ignoring Lavinia trying to stop him, Lavinia’s father strode over. He stopped right in front of the wardrobe where Moriarty was hiding.

Finally, the appearance of that silent being came into Moriarty’s view.

Strictly speaking, the term “being” is more suitable for monsters like the Deep Ones.

He had an appearance that could at least be called human compared to the Deep Ones. If the comparison group shifts to the residents of Innsmouth, the story might change a bit, though.

“…”

The first thing that caught the eye was skin as white as Lavinia’s, yet different.

Unlike Lavinia’s skin, which was basically very white but still felt like human skin to some extent, this color felt closer to a statue than a person, as if painted on.

Unknown characters carved into that skin as if cut with a knife made his impression even more eerie.

He was bald, with dark circles deeply set around his eye sockets. No, are those even dark circles? They look closer to being painted with black ink.

In contrast to his completely bald head, his beard was very full, and the aura flowing from his black eyes was closer to that of a demon than a human.

His skinny arms boasted a length about 1.5 times that of his torso, and his legs were even longer. His sunken belly and protruding ribs were like those of a starved corpse.

“…”

The man didn’t say a word. It wasn’t clear whether he couldn’t speak or just didn’t talk much.

“…”

After standing still for a while like that, the man eventually turned and went outside. As the footsteps gradually faded away, finally the BANG—!! sound was heard again.

“Phew…”

Lavinia sat down, seemingly relieved. The relief of not having been caught with her new friend was clearly visible on her face, beaded with sweat.

“…”

Watching Lavinia like this, Moriarty decided not to reveal the fact.

At the very last moment, the man’s gaze had turned towards the wardrobe.