Heavenly Demon Holmes: London’s Subjugation

Silence is a supreme secret art in conversation. One who knows how to seal his own lips is no mere novice.

–William Hazlitt, <Characteristics of the Martial Artist as Seen Through Rochefoucauld-Style Aphorisms>

“I’m sorry, but that area isn’t…”

“It’s alright. I have some knowledge when it comes to perfumes.”

I recalled the scent from the clothes of the man who had just left the shop and continued.

“Are you aware that the British royal family has designated the French perfume company Houbigant as their royal perfumer for the past 43 years?”

“I’ve heard of the name.”

Founded by Jean-François Houbigant, the company sold exquisite perfumes, offering products crafted with the finest ingredients to a select clientele.

A pioneer in what is commonly known as niche perfume. And the scent I detected belonged to a specific lineup of Houbigant’s products.

“Last year, Houbigant hired a new perfumer, Paul Parque. The scent I detected earlier is a prototype of a signature perfume he is currently crafting, and there is only one person in all of Europe using it. The late Tsar, Alexander II, who was killed in a terrorist attack last month.”

Alexander II. Upon hearing his name, the two gentlemen lowered their heads in a moment of silence.

“…Who would have thought that such a transcendent master would die so easily?”

“Indeed. It was something no one could have predicted.”

Though the atmosphere had become somber, I felt the need to conclude the conversation, so I resumed speaking.

“There aren’t many Russians who can inherit Alexander II’s cologne and have an important event ahead. The customer who visited earlier was a male from the Romanov family. Among them, someone who would go so far as to wear a thick metal plate inside his coat and be accompanied by two highly skilled bodyguards, wary of an attack, could only be the next Tsar, the emperor of immense strength known as Romanov’s Hercules, Alexander III.”

Though the topic was heavy, the shopkeepers of the Kung-fu attire store were looking at me with eyes as if they had discovered a spiritual creature.

“Right after the passing of his predecessor, he rushed to the prison to execute the terrorists, demonstrating extreme filial piety, so his father’s death must have been a great wound. He likely kept this visit secret because if it became known that he went abroad to acquire protective Kung-fu attire before the late emperor’s funeral was over, public opinion might turn unfavorable. He might also have feared being assassinated like his father if his movements were revealed.”

Right after I finished speaking, I felt a sense of unease.

It felt as though the shopkeepers’ gazes were directed not at me, but at something behind me over my shoulder.

“Is there something of concern behind me…?”

“……”

Feeling a bad premonition, I turned my head and saw a large head peeking through the half-open door of the Kung-fu attire store.

“I came back to retrieve the cane I left behind, but I’ve stumbled upon an interesting spectacle. Continue speaking. I am quite lenient with jesters.”

“……”

Alexander III was staring at me.

“……”

“……”

A heavy silence descended inside the Kung-fu attire store.

To be honest, it was an unexpected situation.

Engrossed in my deduction, I didn’t even notice the carriage returning.

No, upon reflection, it was impossible to detect someone’s approach by hearing the carriage return in the first place.

Unless it was a vibration transmitted through the building floor, all external noise was blocked by the soundproof formation spread across the Kung-fu attire shop, whether the windows were open or not.

Above all, the fact that he hid his presence and Qi Frequency despite his massive size and eavesdropped on my deduction indicated that the Tsar was a master who had achieved Social Facade1.

In other words, the discourtesy I committed this time was unavoidable.

“No response. Even my subjects tend to speak less when they stand before me. If my face looks as if I would kill someone, that would indeed be regrettable.”

The Tsar, having removed his hat, left his bodyguards outside and strode confidently into the shop.

Despite the showroom’s ceiling not being particularly low, the emperor’s enormous presence filled the interior.

-Tadak.

The heaviest sound of shoe heels I had ever heard.

The sight of the Kung-fu attire shop’s old masters using Poltergeist to move the mannequin to the wall was reminiscent of people clearing the way for the Tsar’s procession.

“Do not be afraid. I have no intention of blaming you.”

The Hercules of the Romanov family, who had approached us, looked down with a bored expression.

Even though he suppressed it with a thick coat and internal energy, the chilling aura emanated just by standing nearby, befitting someone who had mastered the Epiphany Ice Dive, one of the two great ice arts of the martial world alongside the North Sea Ice Palace.

The energy possessed by an emperor, which intimidates those before him regardless of the master’s intentions.

I could realize this indirectly by experiencing the feelings of the subjects who usually deal with the Tsar.

Earlier, I suggested that this man might have secretly come to England fearing he would be assassinated like his father, the former Tsar, Alexander II.

However, having confirmed up close, Alexander III was certainly not the type to fear for his life.

“In a place without a king, what the lower ones discuss is none of my concern. How can one continue a dull life without the pleasure of vodka or wine in such a country? I’d rather bite my tongue and die.”

“…It seems there has been a small misunderstanding.”

What was needed to speculate the prowess of a master was experience and intuition.

I have faced absurdly strong individuals, including my master, a few times.

And Alexander III was undoubtedly a considerable strongman, if not as much as my mentor.

A monarch with a strong and cold heart befitting his massive physique.

It was hard to imagine such a person fleeing before a terrorist.

Unless he was tearing apart an assassin with his bare hands and tipping a bottle over their corpse.

If I were to guess why he would hide his movements, it might be to avoid political chaos that could arise in his country due to the absence of the sovereign.

Perhaps the Tsar came to England not just to tailor his clothes but for another purpose. Thɪs chapter is updated by noveⅼfire.net

Such were the thoughts that crossed my mind.

“You don’t need to make excuses. After all, you are not my subjects. More importantly, there, I would like you to hand me my cane. I am late for my next schedule.”

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to blame me, but it’s hard to discern what he’s thinking from his eyes.

“Yes, over there. There it is.”

The emperor’s outstretched finger pointed to a corner of the showroom.

Turning my gaze, I saw a wooden cane, much larger and thicker than my Heavenly Demon Cane, lying on the floor.

Even if the Tsar wanted to pass by himself, the indoor space was too cramped for him, making it difficult.

Someone else had to pick up the cane and bring it to him.

“Understood.”

I turned around and walked toward the dressing room curtain where the cane was placed.

Logically, in this situation, as a customer, I shouldn’t have to step in instead of the shop owner, but this time, there was no choice.

Handing items to royalty using Poltergeist is considered a serious breach of etiquette.

It would be inappropriate to make elderly masters who haven’t trained in external arts pick up such a large and heavy cane, so I thought it was right for the youngest to fetch it.

Of course, behind this action, there was also an unintentional apology for bringing up his family history in front of the Tsar.

“…Hmm?”

As I approached the dressing room and tried to lift the cane, it didn’t easily come off the floor.

The Tsar’s cane wasn’t made of ordinary wood.

‘The balance is excellent. But what’s inside…’

A high-weight cane that couldn’t be lifted without concentrating internal energy on the limbs.

It was a formidable object, weighing at least 200 pounds, or to put it simply, equivalent to the weight of two Watsons.

Considering its weight, it’s certain that another core material is embedded inside.

The material is Black iIron. No, perhaps a metal even heavier than that.

Without showing any effort, I handed over the cane, and Alexander III grasped it with a relaxed expression.

With one hand.

Moreover, there was no sense of him using any internal energy.

He was holding a cane that weighed as much as two Watsons combined, using pure physical strength alone.

Strangely, there was no sign of strain on his face.

Truly an astonishing display of strength.

There seemed to be a reason why he was called the Hercules of the Romanov dynasty.

“Thank you.”

The ruler of Russia graciously said, with a faint smile.

“You’re welcome.”

I bowed my head slightly in response, and Alexander III turned and began to stride towards the exit.

A large back filled my view. Each step the emperor took on the floor sent a heavy vibration, as if a gigantic and civilized beast was strolling before my eyes.

“Oh, by the way.”

Before leaving the store, the Tsar turned his head to look at me.

“Come to think of it, you seem to have figured out a lot just by briefly observing my belongings. You have quite an intriguing talent.”

A voice like the sound of scraping iron emitted from the Tsar’s mouth.

The force in his voice made the windows of the store vibrate.

“Yes. As you can see, I live with pride in having an uncommon talent.”

“There is no one among my subjects with a mind as brilliant as yours.”

“Rest assured. The subjects of other sovereigns are likely the same.”

When I replied, the Tsar burst into hearty laughter.

“Your courage is indeed remarkable. Even among the warriors of Russia, who have grown up in the cold of Siberia, there are few like you.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

As the hearty praise, which didn’t quite match his cold expression, continued, I carefully tried to distill what the Tsar wanted, when he suddenly got straight to the point.

“Swear your loyalty to me, Englishman. I promise you the best treatment.”

A proposal possible only for someone who has never been refused in their life.

Even though an emperor of a nation was extending his hand, it didn’t feel particularly appealing to me, who wanted to live my life as a Free-Lancer, setting my own goals.

Moreover, I still hadn’t specifically figured out what the Tsar wanted from me.

Perhaps I could solve Alexander III’s concerns without having to sign an exclusive contract and become a Russian.

I prepared the business smile I always showed to clients or potential customers and asked,

“May I first hear what you want from me?”

1. TL/N: London Murim’s term for Return to Origin ️