Bailonz Street 13

I didn’t have time to ponder the question. I alternated my gaze between the hand my mysterious conversation partner had gripped and the direction they had disappeared, then turned my head.

“Driver!”

I heard the sound of the horse’s hooves slowing. The carriage driver greeted me as I boarded the carriage, and his voice came from beyond the wall.

“Where to?”

“Bailonz Street. I’ll need to stop briefly along the way, so please wait for me.”

“Yes, of course!”

My heart pounded loudly. I rummaged in my pocket and pulled out my notebook. The leather-bound notebook was still filled with my handwriting. There were various conversation records and brief notes about the people I had met. I updated one of the slots.

At least with this visit, it seemed I had gained something helpful. It felt like Plurititas had been useful for the first time.

If he had known, he probably would have told me to get lost after breaking my wrist.

On my way back, I stopped by Herschel’s house. The driver said he’d wait for me at the front gate.

“It won’t take long. Ten minutes at most.”

“Take your time to chat.”

“One passenger can determine my livelihood, so I can’t afford to.”

The driver laughed brightly at my response. I intended to give him extra compensation for the time I was taking anyway.

I hoped Herschel was home. I needed to apologise for the anger I showed that morning and tell him about Dahlia.

Crossing the garden, I knocked on the door. Herschel, surprised to see a young man standing there, brightened up when I lifted my hat slightly.

“You had quite a good disguise. Especially the cigarette smell.”

“Thanks to a good teacher. I smoked a cigar, something I normally wouldn’t do.”

“…Was it a Cuban cigar, one of his cherished possessions?”

I didn’t know much about cigars. Even less about where they came from. Unlike Liam Moore, I couldn’t identify a cigar’s origin just by its ashes.

“If it had a black background with a gold band, it probably was.”

Herschel wiped away non-existent tears, saying, “Poor Liam.”

“Don’t worry, Professor. Liam would understand.”

“Of course, he would…”

Herschel didn’t ask much about why I had come looking like this, but I explained anyway.

“There were too many reporters outside.”

“I understand.”

“There were really a lot.”

Herschel laughed, saying, “They’re like sewer rats living in London.” The thought of sewer rats rushing towards sensational food made me shudder. It was truly dreadful.

“They even carry cameras. Those big ones.”

I wanted to avoid articles like ‘J Miss’s Sorrow! The Relationship Between Detective and Assistant!’ I mean, our relationship was a bit strange. An unmarried man and woman living under the same roof, sometimes being overly comfortable with physical contact—it was no wonder people got confused.

But if such an article spread all over London, I’d kill the journalist who wrote it and then myself.

“If you request, the police can disperse the reporters.”

Herschel said, taking my coat.

“Then they’d think there’s really something going on and follow even more closely. That’s their nature. Have you eaten?”

Was it my imagination, or did the house look disorganised? It was a bit chaotic yesterday, but today it seemed even more neglected. Herschel had always been a gentleman who meticulously managed his appearance, so it felt odd.

Herschel, who seemed lost in thought, responded.

“What did you say just now?”

“I asked if you’ve eaten.”

“Oh, yes. One must eat well, for bone health…”

This was strange. Even though I hadn’t known him long, Herschel always paid attention to what I said. He wouldn’t be this absent-minded.

I hid my doubtful expression as best as I could and followed Herschel into the kitchen.

The sense of déjà vu grew stronger. The deeper we went into the house, the more chaotic it seemed. There was no warmth in the house. It didn’t feel like a place where someone lived.

Though Herschel Hopkins said he had eaten, the stove was covered in dust, and there were no signs of food preparation. The dishes were neatly arranged, and the fireplace was out, making the kitchen feel like an icebox. The cupboards, too, were empty. It looked like someone had rummaged through them and left. There was nothing that could be considered food.

What could he have eaten here? More importantly, could a house fall into this state in just one day?

I worried that the cookies Herschel ate yesterday might have been his last meal.

“Um,” I hesitated before asking, “Professor, are you alright?”

Herschel looked puzzled. But what else could I say? That his house was in disarray? That he seemed off? I had no way to explain my sense of unease further.

At this point, I felt I shouldn’t tell Herschel about meeting Plurititas.

So I roughly changed the subject.

“Have you received any gifts recently? Particularly white flowers. Dahlia.”

“No…”

He responded quickly.

“Dahlia? Is that in vogue these days?”

Vogue?

“Someone at the social club mentioned receiving those flowers…”

I silently cursed.

This is a big problem. Another person dying is out of the question. I couldn’t understand why someone would kill people so quietly.

“Ha…”

If they wanted to distribute dahlias, they should just give the flowers. Why kill innocent people? I sighed, rubbing my face with my hands.

“Do you know that person’s address?”

“Wait a moment…”

Herschel rummaged through his pocket notebook and handed me a piece of paper. It seemed to have a member’s address written on it. As soon as I sat down, I stood back up, prompting Herschel to ask worriedly.

“Are you alright? I have an appointment later…”

“Yes, I’m fine. Take care, Professor…”

Herschel smiled softly as he handed me my coat. He also handed me my hat.

Noticing his empty left hand, I asked without thinking.

“Professor, where is your ring?”

He didn’t answer. I asked again.

“Professor?”

“…Miss Jane.”

The atmosphere suddenly became heavy. Something felt off. I didn’t know what, but something was wrong.

He mumbled dreamily, unfamiliar words spilling from his lips. He seemed lost in thought, not fully present.

He took a step towards me, eyes wide open, looking like someone under the influence of drugs. His eyes gleamed fiercely like a beast’s.

“Professor, is there something you want to say?”

Instinctively, my hand gripped my cane. I could hit him under the chin and subdue him. But something was strange. The emotion I sensed from him made it even stranger.

This wasn’t just hostility; it was a clear intent to kill. One of the emotions Herschel Hopkins would never show me.

Herschel wanted to kill me? That was impossible. I thought maybe he wasn’t really Herschel.

My mind raced with all sorts of thoughts, and then his hand reached out. It was aiming for my neck. It looked like it was about to grab me. My back hit the wall.

‘Should I hit him or not?’

I shouted one last time.

“Professor! Snap out of it!”

Herschel blinked twice, like waking from a dream. He looked at his hand reaching for my neck, then quickly withdrew it with a pale face. His forehead was covered in a cold sweat. He panted heavily.

“What have I done…”

His murmured voice was filled with shock.

Then, with a terrifying momentum, he rushed forward and pushed me out of the house. I was almost dragged out. The grip on my shoulder was strong, feeling more like the grip of a man in his prime than a middle-aged man.

My right thumb throbbed. The ring Plurititas gave me glowed and squeezed my finger. The pain was so intense, it felt like my finger was being cut off.

Though Herschel regained his senses, his hand continued to twitch as if convulsing. It felt like he was desperately suppressing something. It seemed like if he let his guard down, he would choke me.

I was thrown out of his front door. Only after I was completely outside did he step back. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I knew Herschel Hopkins was not in a good state.

Herschel spoke.

“Don’t come back here.”

“What?”

I was stunned.

But he didn’t explain further and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

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