Professor Moriarty Wants to Retire.

Finding clothes that fit was easier than expected. The old fisherman readily complied with the request to bring suitable clothes.

“…Only clothes fit for a young child.”

They suit you well, why not? You could keep dressing like that from now on.

“I’ll pass.”

The problem was that all the clothes fitting Moriarty’s transformed body were suitable for young children.

Moreover, the fisherman had only brought clothes for young girls. Of course, who could expect an old Englishman to be inside someone who outwardly looked like just a pretty young girl?

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt such intense self-loathing in my life…”

Wearing a fluttering dress, Moriarty barely suppressed the urge to hang himself right then and there.

If anything, it was fortunate that no one in America could recognize him. If someone who knew Moriarty saw him now.

“…It’s truly fortunate that Mr. Holmes can’t see me in this state.”

Especially if that person was Holmes, Moriarty would have immediately taken his own life out of shame.

But fortunately, this was some coastal area in America, and there was no possibility of Sherlock Holmes, who would be in London, chasing him to this remote fishing village.

“So… do you really not intend to tell me where this is? If it was your intention to bring me here, I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

As I said before, you need to figure that out yourself. It’s not for me to interfere. Should someone nicknamed the Napoleon of Crime or whatever rely on others’ help?

“I’m not a fool who needlessly stands on pride.”

The outer god’s attitude was uncooperative, and Moriarty found himself in a situation where he had to find out everything on his own.

“This feels like I’ve become a detective. That’s Mr. Holmes’ role, though.”

Crime consultant and detective, James Moriarty and Sherlock Holmes.

Clearly opposites, but ironically, like two sides of the same coin, always stuck together.

Moriarty wondered. How would Holmes deal with and act in this situation?

“..I should go outside first.”

The answer was obvious: investigate in person.

“To think I have to run around myself at this age…”

Stop whining. You’re not in an old body anymore. When I transformed your body, I cleaned out all your ailments, like osteoporosis, so don’t worry.

“Well… I appreciate it.”

While he certainly felt his body was much lighter than before, Moriarty had no intention of thanking the outer god.

He was tired of the tactic of bestowing unwanted favors and then acting as if it was a great kindness.

“…”

Given that Moriarty himself was one of those malicious individuals who used this tactic whenever the opportunity arose, there was much room for reflection on whether he could rightfully say such things.

How shameless.

“Be quiet.”

Brushing off the outer god’s jibe, Moriarty stepped outside.

――

There’s such a thing as atmosphere.

Lively, gloomy, things like that.

Places have their own atmospheres, which are usually determined by the tendencies of the people who live there.

For example, even in London, while the area near Buckingham Palace has a relatively classic atmosphere, Whitechapel, a slum, exudes an end-of-century atmosphere that could be described as hellish.

And if asked whether this fishing village was closer to Buckingham Palace or Whitechapel, Moriarty’s answer would definitely be the latter.

In fact, to be honest, there were aspects that made him feel Whitechapel might be better.

Unlike Whitechapel, which felt violent but still human, the atmosphere of the fishing village was gloomy, as if something not human, something terrible and frightening, was living and breathing there.

There is a terrible fishy smell, the scent of the sea. The sky is dark and covered with black clouds, and strange sounds are heard from all directions.

As Moriarty looked around the fishing village, which seemed like a place where ordinary people would disappear without a trace if they set foot in it, he soon discovered a sign lying on the ground.

“Innsmouth…”

Only then did Moriarty learn that the name of this fishing village was Innsmouth. As someone uninterested in occult rumors circulating in society, he couldn’t recall rumors from across the Atlantic about a foreign place just by hearing the name Innsmouth.

But even Moriarty, who knew nothing about the rumors, could sense something was wrong about this fishing village.

“….The appearance of the residents is somewhat…”

Hideous and ugly?

“…”

Although he hadn’t gone that far, Moriarty somewhat agreed with the outer god’s words.

Hostile and wary gazes felt from all directions. When he turned his head towards these gazes, he could vaguely see the figures of residents hiding in the shadows.

Protruding round, large eyes and narrow skulls. Very wide foreheads and shrunken ears as if degenerated. Noticeably thin hair as well.

The residents Moriarty saw shared common physical characteristics regardless of whether they were men or women, old or young. Very ugly, deformed, and unsettling characteristics.

“….Is this the result of inbreeding?”

Moriarty, who hadn’t earned the title of professor for nothing, guessed that these deformed yet common characteristics were the result of long-term inbreeding. The fact that inbreeding causes deformities was a true proposition proven by the Habsburg family’s long history of protruding jaws.

Moreover, in isolated regions cut off from other areas, cases where genetic diseases manifest more in later generations due to consanguineous marriages are not uncommon in academic circles.

From Moriarty’s perspective, even if Innsmouth wasn’t completely cut off from other regions, it was a very rare, closed-off area, and the occurrence of deformed children due to inbreeding in such a closed society was entirely possible.

The inference was complete, and it was time to confirm whether it was true through conversations with locals.

However, all the residents seemed hostile to outsiders, and it didn’t look easy to seek cooperation from such residents.

“….?”

As Moriarty was looking around, his eyes suddenly caught an old man who collapsed on the ground, clutching a bottle of alcohol and mumbling something.

Although it was hard to make out due to his unkempt hair, beard, and drooping head, upon closer inspection, the old man’s face was normal, unlike the other residents’.

“They’re…. coming…”

As Moriarty approached him, he slowly deciphered the old man’s slurred speech, intoxicated with alcohol.

“They’re… going to swallow us up. Rising from the depths, those sea monsters sitting on the Devil’s Reef…”

But none of it was easily understandable, full of incomprehensible words. Devil’s Reef, sea monsters.

“…..”

Suddenly, Moriarty remembered what the outer god had said on the cruise ship. More precisely, he recalled the words spoken by the being that had thrown him into the sea after the explosion on the cruise ship.

The old man’s eyes were hidden behind his hair. Eyes empty and trembling like aspen leaves, filled with indescribable terror.

“…What are—”

“It, it’s coming up, up from the depths!! It, that thing!!!!”

Although quite flustered by the old man’s sudden screaming and convulsions, Moriarty could guess there was something to the keyword “depths.”

“From the sea, from its kingdom, from Y’ha-nthlei!! Ahhh, ia, ia!!!!”

Moriarty calmly memorized each word of the old man screaming while clutching his head. Sea, Y’ha-nthlei.

“The window!! The window!!!!”

With these incomprehensible final words, the old man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

“…He hasn’t stopped breathing.”

Only his labored breathing proved he wasn’t dead.

If he could, Moriarty wanted to wake this old man immediately and interrogate him about the depths he mentioned and what this “it” he so feared was.

“…Hah.”

But Moriarty soon gave up and decided to hide. The old man’s fit intensified the already focused gazes, along with hostility and wariness.

If he stayed, he might suffer some harm. It’s not uncommon for outsiders to be harmed in closed societies.

Having made this judgment, Moriarty quickly left the place.

――

I’ll continue to see a lot of fish-men

That I guarantee.

For the fish-man I really fear

Is the one who’s in the mirror

And he looks like me.

He looks just like me.