Chapter 68: Ayre (1)
When Papiyas came upon the king, the boy took up the harp and played, and Papiyas departed from him.
–Old Testament1
Moriarty has placed spies all over Europe to serve as his eyes and ears.
In contrast, the only resources I can mobilize are a few young members of The League of Gentlemen and Scotland Yard.
The former has a limited range of investigation, and the latter will not work as I desire unless conditions are met.
If the Afternoon Tea Party were to cooperate by becoming my eyes and ears to gather the necessary information, it would be an invaluable tool.
Borrowing the power of those who have long traded valuable information in the gray areas would make everything much easier.
Of course, I cannot rule out the possibility that they are already under Moriarty’s control, so I must proceed with caution.
“Oh no. Another side effect―”
It was then. Without warning, a sharp headache began to pierce my temples. The hallucinations began to encircle my ears again.
Returning to bed, I sat in the lotus position and began a short session of Breath Control.
While I succeeded in absorbing the elixir’s energy into my elixir field to suppress the side effects to some extent, a serious problem still persisted.
Entering my mental world and observing the Mind Palace, I saw the first page of a large black book that I hadn’t seen before.
“…So it’s finally started.”
The hallucinations I experienced were, as expected, a sign my master had warned about.
Having been exposed to the Demonic Qi of Sebastian Moran, the second side effect of the Lionheart Method was about to fully manifest.
I knew it was something that would happen eventually, but it was not a welcome situation.
Fortunately, having previously heard my master’s advice, I had prepared a countermeasure long ago.
-Pop!
While I was in the Mind Palace, I organized a few new books and unlocked the restrictions on my internal energy before finishing my Breath Control.
‘It’s time to keep my promise.’
The clock hands pointed to 6:20 a.m.
As soon as I returned to reality, I pulled out a long case from under the bed.
When I opened the dust-covered case, an old faded friend appeared.
This is my secret weapon prepared to control Papiyas2.
“I’m really glad I asked for Mrs. Hudson’s understanding in advance.”
I rose resolutely and stared at the mirror.
Then I spoke to Sherlock Holmes reflected in the mirror and to the dark shadow whispering in my mind.
“Prepare yourself, worst of neighbors. I shall teach you the true terror of noise from above.”
It was now time to confront the ghost of King Hamlet.
Watson dreamed.
The beginning of the dream is always the same.
When her second brother, John Watson, was still with the family.
The memories of days spent reading Kung-Fu books together and sharing their insights.
John, as the second son, received the family’s expectations and attention in place of the lazy and evil eldest, Henry.
With outstanding Kung-Fu talent and diligence, John, even back then, stayed up all night to acquire knowledge in various fields including medicine and pharmacology for his younger sibling who suffered from Nine Yin-Qi Nails.
Considering he was not even nine years old, it was a remarkably mature mindset.
Jane always felt grateful and apologetic for such a kind brother.
And at the same time, Jane feared the shadow that occasionally appeared on John’s face.
Her brother’s face always had a faint sadness or forlornness.
As if he thought it was his fault that his twin was born with the cursed constitution of meridian blockage disorder, unlike others who possessed a healthy body without any issues.
Despite this baseless sense of guilt weighing down on her, there wasn’t much the young sibling could do.
At best, she could pray for her sick body to heal quickly and ask her brother, who was born a few minutes earlier, not to overexert himself as she was fine.
However, even such attempts couldn’t prevent John Watson, who was suffering under the pressure, from collapsing.
At some point, John lost his expressions.
The once-kind brother began to treat his family with eyes as if looking at strangers and began keeping his distance.
With a hollow face, he stared blankly into the void, mumbling incomprehensible words, truly like a madman.
They took him to a famous doctor, but the professor was only interested in opening John’s skull.
The reason being that Watson had rambled about an exceedingly interesting story on the day the symptoms of delirium appeared.
A fortunate misfortune was that after that, John slowly came back to his senses.
But the once happy family had already begun to slowly fall apart.
The parents, who tried every way to cure Jane’s condition, resorted to loan sharks.
The eldest, Henry, spent his days drinking and gambling until he ultimately took his own life.
Watson, after many ups and downs, somehow graduated college with his sister and was preparing to enlist in the military, also left the family.
The day after she retrieved her brother’s only heirloom, a watch, from the pawnshop, he disappeared without a trace, leaving no signs in the empty room.
As if no one had ever lived there to begin with.
The only evidence of John’s existence there was his name engraved with a silver needle on the back of Henry’s pocket watch.
The parents who lost two of their three children did not want to lose their only remaining youngest daughter, but they no longer had the means or strength to treat the meridian blockage disorder.
Giving Jane the missing John’s family register and enlisting her in the military was a desperate measure they came up with after much deliberation.
It was the result of following the advice that staying in a group full of Yang qi for a long time could at least delay the onset of the meridian blockage disorder.
‘…Is it starting again today?’
A sensation as if photos projected by a magic lantern were passing one after another before the eyes.
Since it was a dream she had seen dozens of times, Watson was aware that she was asleep.
She knew better than anyone that she couldn’t return to those happy days.
Nevertheless, Watson was watching the dream running toward the final moment, like someone regretting the river flowing through their fingers.
Even if it always ended in a nightmare where her legs were pierced by a sword aura, she did not voluntarily try to wake up.
No. She couldn’t.
Once the dream began, waking up before reaching the final scene was impossible.
The symptoms of Nine Yin-Qi Nails tormented Watson relentlessly.
On nights without dreams, severe pain disturbed her sleep, and on days trapped in nightmares, she couldn’t easily wake up due to the reduced metabolism caused by the Yin qi.
It’s true that the symptoms eased thanks to Holmes’s treatment.
Fortunately, she hadn’t had nightmares for a long time.
However, Watson knew.
Before long, she would once again experience the painful moments she faced in Afghanistan.
And the fact that she can only wake up from the dream after she let out a pathetic scream and roll off the bed.
Somehow, Watson was walking through the wilderness of Maiwand, dressed in military uniform and marching in line.
With each step forward, the pain that showed no signs of becoming familiar, no matter how many times it was repeated, was also approaching her.
In the distance, the soldiers who were torn apart by the Sword aura of the markswordsman could be seen.
This nightmare does not end until she is to fall among them, bleeding.
Watson had long resigned herself to this.
Because there is no way to escape this nightmare unless the cursed condition of Nine Yin-Qi Nails, the demon that slowly eats away at her life, disappears.
She was thinking that.
‘…?’
In Watson’s nightmare, which had shifted the stage to the barren land of Afghanistan with swirling dust.
Amid the loud noises from the Fingertips and Jezail Sword Technique, an incongruous sound of music began to be heard.
A vague melody lingered in her ears.
Carried on the wind was the sound of a violin.
‘What is this sound—’
Someone was playing a violin.
The faint volume was incomparable to the majestic performance of the military band she had heard at the departure ceremony.
But the mournful sound of the string instrument gradually grew, beginning to engulf the desolate sand dune that trapped Watson.
The means of communication used long before humans mastered English, soft like Indian cotton yet sharp like the thorns on a Lancaster rose, was speaking to Watson.
-Gulp.
The Essence within her body seemed to churn before it began circulating through the acupuncture points on its own.
Watson’s body, which had been heavily oppressed by the overwhelmingly dominant Yin qi, gradually began to warm up and awaken from slumber.
“This is―”
In front of Watson’s eyes, accustomed to waiting helplessly for the impending pain while trapped in a dream, appeared the familiar scenery of the bedroom.
From beyond the closed door, a melody that awakened her from sleep was heard.
A simple melody. Occasionally mixed with harmonies through double stops.
“Ah…”
As if mesmerized, Watson opened the door and walked into the living room.
The hazy dawn sunlight. In the backlight, the familiar figure of a man was visible.
The next moment, his unrefined voice flowed unexpectedly from his mouth, beginning to form a unison with the instrument’s melody.
-O Lord, whose mercies numberless
-O’er all thy works prevail:
-Though daily man Thy law transgress,
-Thy patience cannot fail.
-If yet his sin be not too great,
-The busy fiend control;
-Yet longer for repentance wait,
-And heal his wounded soul.
.
.
.
A faint Qi Frequency was emanating from Holmes, who sat by the window with his eyes closed.
Unlike typical performers, he continued to play with the violin resting on his knee, and each time the bow’s internal energy caused friction with the violin’s strings, Watson felt her own lower abdomen resonate and tremble.
The lyrics praise the mournful tune and the healing power descending from the sky.
The sounds evoked by slender fingers and voice filled the room like gently flowing seawater, creating a large flow.
Was it because she had just woken up, or was it the magic of sound manipulation?
Captivated by the dreamy sensation of floating above the water, Watson walked to the center of the living room to listen to the music.
As the internal energy circulated throughout her body, her cold hands and feet regained warmth.
She felt the pain she tasted in her nightmare gradually fading away.
The muscles that had been tense while continuously recalling past memories even during sleep relaxed.
Her breathing deepened, and her head, now receiving sufficient oxygen, found peace.
When she looked up, she saw Holmes, who had finished playing, smiling softly at her.
The clear ash-colored eyes watching her had a strangely reassuring power.
“…Handel, Opus Number 53. Oratorio Saul Act 1, David’s aria. ‘O Lord, Whose Mercies Numberless’.”
Right after their eyes met, Watson, surprised by the unfamiliar sensation, touched her face.
“It’s a song to banish the devil.”
Why was it?
Hot tears were flowing down her cheeks.
- TL/N: Original excerpt: And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took a harp, and played with his hand: so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him ️
- TL/N: Inner demon ️