Professor Moriarty Wants to Retire.

I had a strange dream.

Terrifying yet ecstatic, dizzying yet sweet.

A dream I didn’t want to wake from. A dream I couldn’t wake from.

Eternally–

–You shouldn’t dream that. Where do you think you’re going?

――

“….Hah…!!”

With a pathetic death rattle, James Moriarty bolted upright, awakening from sleep.

“Cough…hack…urgh..guh…!!”

How filthy, retching and spitting up saliva and stomach acid without having eaten anything.

…Ahem, anyway, Moriarty finally came to his senses, groaning as he clutched his head in terrible pain.

“What on earth… happened…”

Moriarty tried to recall and piece together his memories from before losing consciousness.

What had happened? Where was this place?

“Ugh…!!”

But his memories were hazy. No, to be precise, he couldn’t remember anything at all. As if a huge hole had been punched through them.

There was a blank in his memories. He no longer remembered what happened after frightening Y’golonac’s spawn. Because…

I erased them.

“!?”

Turning his head at the whisper right next to him, Moriarty saw an Outer God sitting demurely beside him, staring into space.

“What… what did you do to my memories…”

Don’t resent me for erasing your memories, okay? Honestly, I might not be able to hold back my anger if you act so ungrateful.

Even without turning its head towards him, Moriarty could tell from its profile that the Outer God’s face was unusually inorganic and serious, unlike its usual demeanor.

If I had preserved your memories, you would have undoubtedly gone mad. No, perhaps you would have become part of the cosmos before even going mad? Frozen cold and shattered, maybe becoming a rock that no one would ever observe.

“….”

Moriarty had no choice but to silently listen to the Outer God’s words. Despite his memories being completely erased, the headaches and sense of terror that accompanied any attempt to recall them made him acquiesce.

And… even though I erased your memories, it doesn’t erase the fact that you met that being. Don’t you feel something strange about your vision?

“…My vision… I see.”

Only then did Moriarty realize that his vision had become blurrier than before, that he couldn’t see as well as he used to.

“Has my eyesight… deteriorated?”

It has deteriorated. And it will continue to do so. You’ll probably go completely blind in about 10 years. Maybe even sooner.

I’m not sure if “the lifespan of your eyes has been drastically reduced” is the right way to put it. Your eyes have been given a death sentence? Is that better?

Anyway, as the price for facing an Outer God, Moriarty lost his eyesight and will continue to lose it in the near future.

You should be grateful. Thanks to being reborn through my hands, you got off with just deteriorating eyesight. If you had been an ordinary human, your soul would have shattered into pieces when you faced that being.

“…”

Rolling his stiff eyeballs this way and that, Moriarty tried to get used to his changed vision.

“What happened to Miss Whateley? Her father?”

“Lavinia Whateley? She’s right next to you.”

At those words, Moriarty turned his head and found Lavinia collapsed to his right.

“…Is she asleep?”

At least she’s not dead. Whatever the purpose, she was very carefully modified by her father. She held up well even as Dunwich was obliterated entirely.

“Dunwich obliterated entirely… Wait, what did you say?”

In response to Moriarty’s question, the Outer God silently extended its hand, pointing somewhere.

And turning his head in that direction, Moriarty…

“…What on earth is that…”

Witnessed it.

A basin where only dust blew, as if it had been entirely erased or torn away.

Dunwich… no, should we call it what was once Dunwich?

“That’s… Dunwich?”

Just a few dozen minutes ago, it was Dunwich. Now, it’s just a basin with no trace left.

Where a small town once existed, nothing remained anymore. No buildings, no animals, not even people.

Only the unnaturally broken road hinted that something had once been there.

The ritual wasn’t originally supposed to be on such a grand scale, so his collaborator must have pulled some trick.

Whether it was Y’golonac himself or a priest who worshipped Y’golonac, Whateley had a collaborator related to that disgusting defiler.

The ritual, which was originally supposed to impregnate Lavinia with the seed of an Outer God, grew in scale to the point of offering the entire town to the Outer Realms.

Don’t feel guilty thinking it’s because you intervened. Of course, you’re not the type of person to feel guilty about people dying anyway.

Moriarty is evil by nature. Even if he hadn’t entered the underworld, his future would have been assured, yet he chose the path of evil, willing to be pursued by someone.

So even if he tries to do good, his nature will reject it. Because that’s how the character of Professor James Moriarty was designed.

Oh, and… I won’t be intervening in your story anymore from now on.

“…After toying with me all this time, suddenly?”

At the Outer God’s words, Moriarty didn’t even try to hide his inner suspicion, displaying it openly.

I think I’ve intervened too much. From now on, I’ll stick to my role as narrator.

“Narrator?”

Yes, there is such a thing.

The Outer God will no longer be involved in his story.

I will no longer be involved in James Moriarty’s story.

As long as your story doesn’t end, you won’t see me again… probably.

Muttering this, the Outer God suddenly threw something at Moriarty.

“This is… a metal mirror?”

Something of an ancient style, so old it was impossible to even guess when it was made.

If his face hadn’t been reflected on the front, Moriarty might not have recognized it as a mirror at all.

It’s the Mirror of Nitocris. A relic that will protect the weak Moriarty.

“…This mirror, you mean?”

You look like you don’t believe how a mere old mirror could protect you.

That mirror has a set way of using it. You’ll figure it out as you carry it around.

“… Shouldn’t you at least tell me that much? How am I supposed to know what kind of object this is…”

You should figure that out on your own, Professor James Moriarty.

He will soon discover how to use the mirror even without being explicitly told.

Well then, see you next time.

Because that’s the kind of person James Moriarty is.

“Wait…”

Before Moriarty could say anything, the Outer God’s form scattered like sand and disappeared.

“…Doing as you please until the very end.”

“What do you mean?”

“!!”

And as soon as the Outer God vanished, Moriarty hastily turned his head at another voice.

“There’s no need to be so wary. I’m not a suspicious person.”

“You look plenty suspicious to me.”

“That’s quite sad to hear.”

The owner of the voice was a middle-aged man who appeared ordinary at first glance.

A lean yet sturdy man with an unkempt beard and a crooked cigarette was quite striking.

“Wasn’t there a village here? I remember there being a village called Dunwich, not this basin.”

“…A lot has happened.”

“I see.”

The man, who had been gazing at the desolate basin where Dunwich once stood, then handed Moriarty a business card and said:

“Could you accompany me for a while?”

“I have quite a lot I’m curious about.”

――

How unexpected.

The Outer God, who had quietly observed the human, spoke.

No, can we call that speaking? It doesn’t even have a mouth. Though it could make one if it wanted to.

Anyway, what’s unexpected?

That you would protect such a thing.

You know well that I love humans, don’t you? Even if you don’t understand it.

You’ve never protected a human who has come this far before. You’ve often lured humans directly into space or the Dreamlands to break them, though.

That’s true.

Certainly, in the past, while I cherished and loved humans, I didn’t prevent their minds from breaking.

No, it wouldn’t be wrong to say I even encouraged it. Because I loved even their breaking.

Well… this child is special.

How so?

Because this child knows what you and I know.

James Moriarty has grasped the existence of the Author. He has witnessed and comprehended the Author.

Of course, it seems a bit different from the Author we know. You know, that tall, lanky human.

Different appearance?

It’s not just the appearance that’s different.

Our Author is American, and Moriarty’s Author is British.

Our Author died in pain, and Moriarty’s Author closed his eyes after enjoying honor and glory throughout his life.

The important thing is that this child, who is just a mere human, has reached the same level as us. He has seen the ‘truth.’

I see.

Our Author created us as omniscient and omnipotent beings, so we both knew of the Author’s existence from the moment we were born.

Compared to that, what about this man? No matter how intelligent he is, he’s still human in the end. A human born ordinarily and destined to die ordinarily.

That’s why he’s precious.

This child has reached the same eye level as us, who are not human, as a human.

That’s why I have expectations.

For the new story this child will write.