Heavenly Demon Holmes: London’s Subjugation

We must handle weaknesses with care.

For frailty and strength are two sides of the same coin.

To pull up the weed called ‘weakness’ is to tear out the roots of that person’s strength as well.

Therefore, if you wish to fell the strong, you must study how to handle their weaknesses.

-Oliver Goldsmith-

Moriarty displayed a transcendent feat, leaping above the clouds in a single bound.

I had to spread a Qi-barrier to shield Watson from the dreadful shockwave.

“I hate to say it, but that thing truly isn’t even human……”

Watson gave her blunt impression after our brief, intense encounter. “Indeed. Just thinking that we must oppose him from here on gives me a headache.”

“Surely what we just saw is the hand behind the Phantom Fist case? How do you mean to face a monster like that?”

“So long as one is human, one has weaknesses. It would be troublesome if he were not.”

“……”

Watson’s expression turned subtle.

Having once faced the extreme life-form called Louise Carroll, she seemed to suspect that Moriarty, who had just vanished above the clouds, might also be something beyond the human category.

In truth, I was thinking much the same.

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson… no, Louise Carroll, had displayed absurd abilities, freely altering her body, and remotely retrieving bits of flesh that had fallen from it.

She could replicate not only face and voice, but even the very clothing of the person she impersonated using pieces of her own body.

Considering that the Moriarty we just saw wore an outfit perfectly matching Sir Harcourt’s servant’s, it seemed that, unlike Louise, he could alter only build and face.

Face-changing technique and Bone Folding art still within the bounds of common sense.

Compared to Louise Carroll’s bizarre Kung-Fu, it was almost cute.

Yet the eerie art of vaulting over clouds in a single leap, and injecting essence to turn air into a hard, heavy solid, flatly denied the definition of ‘human’ that I knew.

But fortunately.

‘His rational streak remains. Instead of killing the one who was rude, he left to check a private money house’s secret account.’

He behaved like a villain, through and through.

I still needed to investigate what his ultimate goal was in this world, but his temperament of hating losses above all seemed no different from the Moriarty I faced before my regression.

‘Even in my last life, I could kill him only because of that excessive rationality.’

Right up until the moment we fell together at Reichenbach Falls, he never expected I would attempt to take him down with me.

Moriarty regarded me as his nemesis.

And so it never crossed his mind that the one person who could oppose him would achieve his aim even by throwing away his life.

He likely never understood it, even as he died.

That even a man of great talent can value a mission above his own life.

Rationality was Moriarty’s sole weakness.

That, at least, seemed unchanged even in this world.

‘In the end, what is needed to fell him is an irrational move. One that rational thinking could never predict…’

It would be neither easy to conceive, nor easy to use to strike where he least expected, but I had undeniably taken one step toward the goal.

I had played one of the cards I’d been saving for later in order to survive the crisis, but in return I succeeded in grasping—at least somewhat—the true nature of James Moriarty in the London Murim, which had been so unclear until now.

‘His realm is at least the Unrestrained Realm. The account information has not changed from the prior world. As his personal force has grown, his caution has faded, but he remains thoroughly selfish, and still treats his own gain and loss as the absolute principle of action.’

What I recited before Moriarty was one of the many accounts I had tracked in my previous life.

Moriarty cherished his wealth to an appalling degree, and his meticulous prudence of always responding swiftly to changes of the age and managing his portfolio bordered on art.

He divided his holdings into real estate and liquid assets and dispersed them thoroughly. Among those, securities, jewels, and cash were kept across multiple offshore banks in Switzerland and other countries.

Nominee accounts and secret accounts, and on top of that, private vaults prepared for the bank’s VIP clients.

The liquid assets he guarded with every available means were, for the most part, ‘clean’ money laundered by professionals through places like Monaco’s casinos and elsewhere.

There were not even any linkages between the dozens of accounts.

In other words, the wealth he hid in banks was money he could draw upon at will whenever he needed.

He must have been at ease, believing it was a safe asset that could never be traced, so hearing me bring up his account information surely rattled him.

Otherwise, why would he say, ‘I will reward her’?

Was it not utterly out of character for Moriarty?

‘…No. He would never offer a proper reward.’

In my head, the Direct Messages Moriarty sent kept circling endlessly.

‘…After the rude vermin of the Afternoon Tea Party, now the beggars’ kingpin.’

‘Tell the leader of the Afternoon Tea Party.’

‘Tell her I will reward her soon.’

I deceived him by acting as though I were a subordinate of Irene Adler, who had dealt with Moriarty.

Yet for some reason, Moriarty mistook me for an Afternoon Tea Party man.

And since he told me to ‘tell the leader,’ he clearly regarded me as someone close to that leader.

All these clues pointed to a single conclusion.

‘So Irene Adler is the leader of the Afternoon Tea Party.’

I had spent so long pounding the pavement to find the Afternoon Tea Party, only to seize its true shape like this.

Tracking Moriarty, and seeking the help needed to find John Watson.

All of it could be resolved by meeting Irene Adler and striking a deal.

The problem was that Moriarty would soon be after both Irene Adler’s life and mine.

‘Even if it’s the smallest account, he would never let someone who knows that information live, least of all James Moriarty.’

And I intended to use that to draw Irene Adler onto my side.

Sir Harcourt was transported to a hospital, and an exclusion order was issued around Westminster Palace.

Dozens of Scotland Yard inspectors stood guard nearby together with Whitehall’s Kung-Fuists, and the roads were sealed.

“Then I leave it to you, sir.”

“Hmph… I’ll collect this debt from Sir Harcourt.”

Sir Henderson arrived late, discussed something with Ol’ Dirty Bastard, and then disappeared. Though the suspicious look he shot me as he turned away bothered me a little.

I could guess what Sir Henderson asked of the great hero Twist.

He must have requested that no article be published about this incident.

Meanwhile, the Dragon Head’s reply that he would collect the debt from the Home Secretary seemed to carry two meanings.

First, since he could not show Londoners this precious scoop, he would demand compensation.

Second, since he had stopped an unknown fiend, the government ought to be grateful.

Both were grounds Sir Henderson and Sir Harcourt could readily accept.

In truth, I believed my role in the latter was greater, but I had not driven Moriarty off to claim credit, and to clarify the full truth would require exposing information I did not wish to reveal, so I chose to keep silent.

‘Later, I should leak a small portion of Moriarty’s information to the Commissioner and the Home Secretary.’

Sir Henderson’s suspicious look likely came from thinking the note he delivered was connected to this affair.

If I kept my mouth shut in this situation, it was obvious how my relationship with those two would go.

I had no intention of hoarding all vital information to myself as I did before my regression.

To build a joint front, I would have to provide them with some of what they needed.

I had seen only a tiny fraction of Moriarty’s power, but I could say with certainty that he was stronger than any Kung-Fuist I knew.

Perhaps my master, the Heavenly Demon Red Dragon Phileas Fogg, an outlier beyond outliers, might be an exception.

But for anyone else, facing him alone would make defeating him impossible.

Nor would it be solved by simply finding my master.

James Moriarty was my nemesis—Sherlock Holmes’s—not Phileas Fogg’s.

Above all, for reasons unknown, my master had distributed the internal energy he had accumulated to me, Mycroft, and the maid Jean Passepartout through succession.

By now, he would be weakened to a degree incomparable to his prime.

No matter that the quantity of power one holds does not directly equal a Kung-Fuist’s strength, it would be hard to compare him to Moriarty.

Which meant that, to topple Moriarty, there were not many options besides my becoming as strong as he was.

Gathering multiple Unrestrained Realm masters was one method, but persuading them would also require me to become strong enough. So all I could do was continue to strive.

‘For now, perhaps it is fortunate the minister is safe…’

His purpose in revealing himself this time was solely to find who uncovered the truth of the Phantom Fist case.

That he appeared in the middle of London without starting a killing spree meant he had no desire to face the Queen and Europe’s many masters.

That he did not kill the Home Secretary was likely to avoid a troublesome situation, such as being hounded by the ‘Righteous’ Murim’s persistent pursuit.

He did not get what he wanted, but I did not think he would return to London anytime soon.

He had shown his face to the Home Secretary and even the Homeless Clan’s Dragon Head, so for a while he would likely send subordinates instead of acting personally.

However, he might very well come in person to meet Irene Adler.

‘Tell her to wait at the place we met before. I will come to her.’

The problem was that I did not know which place he meant.

Since he said we would meet ‘when the predecessor’s death anniversary draws near,’ I had to learn when the previous leader of the Afternoon Tea Party died.

As expected, it was a problem that could not be solved without swaying Irene Adler in the near future.

As I was thinking that—

“Hey. You there.”

Without warning, Oliver Twist drew out his golf club and leveled it at me.

“From now on, answer honestly what this old man asks you, Afternoon Tea Party man.”

“…Me?”

“Yes.”

As he slowly drew up his energy, a quiet anger could be felt.

“Where are the beggars you lot kidnapped?”

“Kidnapped…?”

It seemed Moriarty was not the only one who had mistaken my identity.