Professor Moriarty Wants to Retire.

The stairs leading to the basement were longer than Moriarty had initially expected.

Even after descending the dark stairs where the end couldn’t be seen, there was no sign of a basement or a glimmer of light.

Nevertheless, Moriarty’s footsteps continued steadily downward. The certainty that something was there drove him forward.

“……?”

Rustle. Moriarty, who had been descending the stairs relying on the small light from a lighter, lowered his head at the sound near his feet.

There was a paper there. An old paper that seemed to have been discarded long ago.

Picking up the paper, Moriarty soon realized it was a letter. The paper was densely filled with writing that, although in terrible handwriting, was somehow readable, and the content was in the form of a letter to someone.

‘….What terrible writing.’

The letter’s content, which began with “To Mr. Whateley,” was truly a mess.

It would jump from talking about the occult to suddenly discussing domestic troubles with his wife without any transition, or it would build up as if about to say something important only to end abruptly.

With poor handwriting and chaotic content, it was questionable whether this was really meant to be read by someone, but nonetheless, Moriarty did his best to interpret the letter’s contents.

After filtering out all the irrelevant information, Moriarty could understand that the writer of this letter was Whateley’s collaborator. A collaborator in the field of the occult.

The keyword “Necronomicon” appeared irritatingly frequently, along with praise that Whateley had come closest to the being called the Lurker at the Threshold.

The sender of the letter proposed collaboration with Whateley. Whether Whateley accepted this proposal or not…

Rustle—

The contents of the numerous sheets of paper that touched his feet would provide the answer.

――

Necronomicon.

The Greek version of Al Azif, a grimoire written by the Arab Abdul Alhazred, known to provide more extensive knowledge and power than any other grimoire.

However, it is said that since the original Al Azif was written, no one except the author Alhazred has truly known how to handle its power properly.

Whateley was one of the few who had read the Necronomicon and came close to this ultimate achievement.

The Lurker at the Threshold. The key and the door. An eccentric who reached the gatekeeper guarding the door to the outer universe beyond in human form.

Of course, except for a single entity, an ordinary human couldn’t contact the supreme being among the outer gods, the pinnacle and leader of the outer gods, without any preparation.

He thoroughly prepared himself not to go mad just by seeing that being, and finally succeeded in meeting the outer god with a sane mind.

Whateley pleaded to the outer god, ‘Please grant me your knowledge and power.’

There was no answer, but Whateley felt that just by facing that being, information to achieve what he wanted flowed into his mind.

“Fa… Father…”

“…”

When Whateley opened his eyes, he saw his daughter’s back. She turned away from him, her back fully exposed.

“It’s c-cold, and it hurts… H-How long do I have to…”

A pattern was engraved on Lavinia’s back—a pattern that couldn’t be seen in the Necronomicon, which had been translated from the original to Greek and then to English, with illustrations omitted.

It meant that only one step remained for Lavinia to be completed as a vessel to hold the seed of the outer god.

“Don’t worry. After today, you won’t be cold or in pain anymore.”

“….!!”

Whateley answered his daughter’s question for the first time in a very long while. Very kindly and benevolently, like a father.

For Lavinia, who had never heard a warm word from her father since he began preparing for the ritual, Whateley’s warmth was a great comfort.

“F-Father….”

“Everything will be fine, my daughter. Everything, if it all goes right…”

If the ritual is successful, Lavinia will conceive the seed of the outer god, and Whateley will be able to obtain everything he desires.

In return, Lavinia’s mind and body will be horribly twisted, suffer for a long time, and die miserably.

“Everything will be fine…”

Whateley didn’t care about such things. It was a sacrifice he could endure to gain the knowledge of the outer god.

That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons even death may die.

Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate.

“Usually, those who say such things have something fishy about them. At least in London.”

However, an uninvited guest who interrupted just as he was about to start the ritual distracted his attention.

“Especially those obsessed with pseudo-religions.”

Snow-white hair and azure eyes.

The freeloader his daughter had brought in, with pale skin and a small frame,

“Isn’t the wish you’re trying to fulfill by sacrificing your daughter too trivial?”

Was glaring at him with a twisted smile.

――

After reading and rereading numerous letters, Moriarty was able to understand whether the two correspondents collaborated, Whateley’s goal, and the content of the ritual they were trying to perform for this purpose.

“It’s not for me to say, having lived in London until recently, but don’t you think you’re treating your child quite harshly?”

If Moriarty’s impression of the content could be summarized in one line, it would be disbelief.

There are many people in the world who seek knowledge and power. The past Moriarty was such a person, after all.

But to offer one’s child as payment? And to willingly follow through with it?

“Offering a daughter not even twenty to a god sealed beyond the universe. As I felt before, are all these outer gods pedophiles?”

It may be called knowledge and power, but it meant nothing more than willingly becoming the servant of a being superior to oneself. Even offering a living sacrifice.

To Moriarty, who had fled to avoid being bound by the writer who wields the pen to write the world, Whateley’s desire was incomprehensible.

“M-Ms. Moriarty!?”

“Fix your clothes before speaking, Miss Whateley. Unless you want to welcome a monster from outer space as your groom.”

Standing between Whateley and Lavinia, Moriarty looked at the old sorcerer and the door behind him.

“….Who are you?”

“You already know.”

His gaze was eerie, but Moriarty didn’t particularly feel fear or suspicion toward him. They had already known of each other’s existence; they just hadn’t spoken about it. They had even made eye contact several times.

“I knew Lavinia had brought in a friend. But I left it alone.”

“H-How…!?”

“I felt an aura different from ordinary humans.”

Ignoring Lavinia, who was shocked to learn that her secret had been exposed long ago, Whateley continued.

“Whose blessing have you received? Which god has blessed you?”

“Speak properly. It’s not a blessing, but a curse.”

“No, it is a blessing.”

The trace of the outer god’s energy flowing through Moriarty’s entire body.

It meant that Moriarty had been completely reassembled and reborn by the hand of an outer god. This was also the future Whateley desired most.

“A God has blessed you. That’s why I left you alone. If you were directly created by a God, you could receive Their grace more easily than my daughter.”

“It sounds like you were planning to commit the same atrocity to me as you were to your daughter.”

Moriarty genuinely grimaced at Whateley’s words. He had already experienced something similar once.

“Fish people, and now monsters? Isn’t this too harsh a punishment for deviating from the story’s flow?”

Nevertheless, Moriarty grumbled complaints but didn’t run away. He never thought that the path of defying the Creator’s will would be easy.

“M-Ms. Moriarty… Why…”

Lavinia asked Moriarty.

“W-Why… You could have just run away…”

“….Hmm.”

Lavinia’s question was valid and sensible. Strictly speaking, Moriarty had no reason to interfere in the Whateley family’s affairs.

Unless he was a fool swayed by the embarrassing notion of friendship, Moriarty was colder and more cold-blooded than anyone. A man with a heart of steel, devoid of any trace of humanity.

“I just wanted to.”

No, he didn’t want to. Moriarty had no intention of interfering, whether Whateley summoned an outer god or did anything else.

James Moriarty would never have interfered because he was born with such a personality and such a nature.

“I wanted to do something that James Moriarty would never do.”

But that was set by the author.

Designed by the author to become Sherlock Holmes’ villain.

Therefore, Moriarty wanted to deny all of that. Everything about James Moriarty.

“I am a rebel.”

James Moriarty’s rebellion had just begun.