"What are you doing, Mr Adler? Crawl back inside."
"-ow."
"Dear . Cats can't understand human speech and act upon it. And you’re a cat now, aren’t you, Mr Adler?”
While waiting in the lounge of the mansion to et the professor's fiancée, for the reconstruction of the case, Jane Moriarty played with a certain golden cat she had snatched from Mycrony Hols.
"... ow."
"Does that an you'll keep ignoring and resist? You'll surely regret it."
She busied herself watching the antics of the dilemma-stricken cat in the confines of her clothes, a smirk on her face. However, her concentration soon shifted, quietly turning her head at the sound of the door opening from behind.
"Are you the guests who ca looking for ?"
"... You're quite fortunate."
Noticing the research assistant in front of her, Moriarty murmured as she pushed the struggling cat deeper inside her clothes.
"Are you speaking to ?"
"Not exactly, but it makes sense from your point of view."
"We ca here before you ssed up the job. You can consider yourself lucky among the multitude of failures in London."
As she and Mycrony Hols spoke in unison, their leisurely tone both clear and ambiguous, the research assistant's eyes grew wary with each passing mont.
"Excuse , but who are you two?"
"I am Jane Moriarty, a professor at the August Academy."
"I'd rather not say who I am, as knowing might endanger your life~"
A simple exchange of nas soon took place between them.
"... What brings you both to my humble abode?"
"Gregory Freud. I enjoyed the book your father published a few days ago."
Beyond suspicion, the research assistant began showing clear signs of displeasure as he spoke in a frigid tone upon learning of the pair of won’s identities. However, Professor Moriarty only responded in a soothing, gentle tone, seemingly not minding the crass in his tone.
"The Interpretation of Dreams, that's certainly a book capable of creating significant ripples in academic circles. To create the concept of unconscious using dreams as material… Ingenious."
"........."
"Perhaps, the na— Sigmund Freud will find its place in the biographies of great people decades from now. That's not just empty flattery."
The young man nad Gregory Freud, as addressed by Professor Moriarty previously, listened blankly to her rapid-fire praises.
"In fact, even my fellow professors are interested in the content of that book..."
"Excuse . It’s all a bit sudden and my head isn’t functioning quite as I’d like to at the mont.”
He barely managed to interrupt Professor Moriarty, clutching his throbbing head as he asked,
"Surely you didn't co here just to discuss the book my father published, right?"
"No, not exactly."
"Then why are you here? I don’t have the luxury of ti to deal with soone as leisurely as you. I have three papers to finish imdiately, and etings to attend in the afternoon..."
Just as he was about to get up from his seat, a tired look that scread that he did not have the ti for their charade,
"Lillia Presbury."
".........."
A cold voice burst forth from the leisurely professor, freezing him, resulting in an awkward stance.
"Your fiancée, who is 30 years your senior. I’ve heard that the wedding is planned for this year."
"What is this all about..."
"Sit down, Freud."
His voice trembled as he tried to argue. However, it was difficult to counter the professor whose very presence emitted a chilling intensity that made it feel like he was being frozen from the inside out.
"Well done."
"......."
"Despite appearances, you seem to follow instructions well. I hope you didn’t accept Professor Presbury’s proposal under duress?"
His legs trembled for a long while, his mind unsettled about what to do. However, he chose to sit down at the end, obeying the professor’s words. Seeing him sit, a satisfied smile graced Moriarty’s lips as she muttered.
"W-Why would you say sothing like that…”
"Because it doesn’t make any sense."
Professor Moriarty’s head tilted to the side, eyes gleaming as she posed the question to the young man.
"How can a young man like you willingly accept a woman who is 30 years older?"
And then there was silence.
".........?"
Eyes arcing into crescents, Professor Moriarty waited patiently for Gregory’s answer. However, sensing all the gazes directed at her, a puzzled look soon overshadowed her previous expression.
"Why the sudden stare?"
"... Are you genuinely asking because you don’t know?”
"ow."
Mycrony Hols’ eyes squinted as she observed Professor Moriarty from the side. Even Adler in his cat form poked his head out from the confines of Moriarty’s clothes and gazed at her.
"I am in my twenties."
Moriarty mumbled in a low voice, having roughly figured out the reason.
"I do not have a single wrinkle, nor do I wear heavy makeup like Professor Presbury. Not to ntion, I don’t have children old enough to attend university like she does. We have nothing in common"
However, when she saw that their gazes remained unchanged, she added in a cold voice,
"... And I am cute."
The mont those words hit their ears, both Adler and Mycrony Hols’ faces stiffened.
"And it’s not like Adler ntioned that only once. Whenever he sees , he has always called cute, so there’s that.”
Amid the tense atmosphere, the blushing Moriarty was intently watched by the shocked elder Hols sibling. Soon, she couldn’t help but shift her gaze toward the cat out from Moriarty’s chest.
"What on earth did you do for a mythical creature to turn into that?"
"... ow."
.
.
.
.
.
"Haa, don't speak carelessly."
"........."
"I accepted her proposal because I genuinely love Professor Presbury."
"... Ahem."
In the slightly awkward atmosphere that had settled in, Freud bravely spoke up after assessing the situation for so ti.
"That's good to hear. It appears there is no falsehood in what you say."
"O-Of course! I, I was the one who confessed first actually!"
"Right, right. I perfectly understand that you love the professor."
Gazing at him, a aningful smile plastered Jane Moriarty’s face.
"... I think I understand the whole story now."
"What?"
"It's ti I tell you why I'm here."
Anxiety coloured Freud’s face as he looked at her smile, but he still listened quietly to her words.
"I've recently co across so very interesting information about your fiancée."
"W-What information?"
"... That she turns into a dog and crawls around the mansion at night."
Instantly, his face stiffened as he registered those words.
"Ho… How did you…"
"I've secured the evidence. Just a word from , and you'll find so interesting news in the newspapers tomorrow."
The confidence in Moriarty’s voice led him to tightly close his eyes shut.
"I knew the professor's situation wasn’t good, but I didn’t know it was to this extent."
"........."
"... What can I do to protect the professor's honour?"
"It seems you are misunderstanding sothing."
In response to his query, Jane Moriarty leaned her head forward and said.
"The interesting news I spoke of isn’t the trivial affair of Professor Presbury crawling around her mansion."
"Then..."
"Why do you continue to pretend that you don’t know?"
All of a sudden, the temperature in the room seed to have dropped drastically.
"Tomorrow's newspaper will feature the arrest of Gregory Freud, the son of Sigmund Freud— the author of The Interpretation of Dreams."
"... What did you just say?"
The reason was none other than Freud's gaze and countenance. His previous expression which appeared to be naive and a bit lost had transford in an instant, becoming as unnerving and chilling as Professor Moriarty’s.
"Have you heard of Charlotte Hols?"
"... The detective frequently ntioned in recent newspapers?"
"She's on this case, and she’s already getting to the heart of the matter.”
ntioning that information, Professor Moriarty's excitent showed a visible spike, even her articulation had gotten faster than before.
"She might just barge in here with her colleagues not long after we leave. When that happens, it's ga over for you."
"........."
"Your cri was quite delightful and ingenious, as far as I’m concerned. Unfortunately, it's on the verge of being uncovered."
"... Are you threatening right now?"
"Does this look like a threat to you, Mr Freud?"
Freud posed a sharp question to Moriarty. Upon witnessing Professor Moriarty's confident deanour, however, he quietly furrowed his eyebrows and chose to listen to her words carefully.
"As I said earlier, you are very lucky."
"........"
"Thanks to my status and connections as a university professor, I was able to pinpoint your location slightly faster than Charlotte Hols, allowing to arrive here before her."
Professor Moriarty whispered to him, her voice saccharine sweet.
"... It’s fortunate that I can now advise you on your cri before it's too late."
"Oh, how terrifying~"
While Mycrony chuckled softly at her declaration, Freud only showed a puzzled face before asking in a subdued tone.
"Why would an ordinary university professor like you engage in such acts?"
"Well, it can't be helped. I am currently being blackmailed by an unknown entity to advise you. That entity holds soone precious to hostage; my hands are tied."
"........"
"Thanks to the ssy and exploitable laws of the British Empire, the probability of legal loopholes is overflowing. So, you needn't worry about ."
Having said that, Moriarty quietly rested her chin on her hand and gazed at Freud.
"... Mr Freud, do you know what day it is today?"
Just then, Freud heard a fellow researcher’s voice coming from afar.
"We have a few more guests."
"... Nas?"
"Um, one of them was called... Hols, I believe."
Cold sweat dotted Freud’s forehead at those words. On the other hand, a broad smile stretched Professor Moriarty’s lips as she spoke up again.
"Now, it's ti to choose, Gregory Freud."
"........."
"Will you take my advice? Or will you plunge into the abyss?"
A mont later, his lips began moving, slowly.
"... What should I do?"
.
.
.
.
.
Several minutes later,
""........""
Upon being inford of the prior appointnt of Gregory Freud, Charlotte and her colleagues waited in the lounge for a while. When they finally got the call, Charlotte Hols and Gia Lestrade’s faces imdiately stiffened as they entered the room.
"For such a renowned detective, don’t you think it took a bit too long to arrive here?"
"My Charlotte is getting cuter by the day~"
The fiancée of Professor Presbury was nowhere to be found. Instead, Jane Moriarty and Mycrony Hols were seated there to greet them.
"... ow?"
Just then, Isaac Adler poked his head out from Professor Moriarty’s clothes, making a cheerful cat sound as a bonus.
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