We must handle weaknesses with care.
For frailty and strength are two sides of the sa 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-
-CRASH!
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 a headache.”
“Surely what we just saw is the hand behind the Phantom Fist case? How do you an to face a monster like that?”
“So long as one is human, one has weaknesses. It would be troubleso if he were not.”
“……”
Watson’s expression turned subtle.
Having once faced the extre life-form called Louise Carroll, she seed to suspect that Moriarty, who had just vanished above the clouds, might also be sothing beyond the human category.
In truth, I was thinking much the sa.
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 seed 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 temperant of hating losses above all seed 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 mont we fell together at Reichenbach Falls, he never expected I would attempt to take him down with .
Moriarty regarded as his nesis.
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, seed 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 sowhat—the true nature of Jas 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 ticulous 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 ans 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 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 ssages 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 so reason, Moriarty mistook for an Afternoon Tea Party man.
And since he told to ‘tell the leader,’ he clearly regarded as soone 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 pavent 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 eting 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 soone who knows that information live, least of all Jas Moriarty.’
And I intended to use that to draw Irene Adler onto my side.
After Moriarty vanished, the situation was brought under control quickly.
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 sothing with Ol’ Dirty Bastard, and then disappeared. Though the suspicious look he shot as he turned away bothered 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.
anwhile, the Dragon Head’s reply that he would collect the debt from the Ho Secretary seed to carry two anings.
First, since he could not show Londoners this precious scoop, he would demand compensation.
Second, since he had stopped an unknown fiend, the governnt 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 Ho Secretary.’
Sir Henderson’s suspicious look likely ca 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 so 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.
Jas Moriarty was my nesis—Sherlock Hols’s—not Phileas Fogg’s.
Above all, for reasons unknown, my master had distributed the internal energy he had accumulated to , Mycroft, and the maid Jean Passepartout through succession.
By now, he would be weakened to a degree incomparable to his pri.
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 ant that, to topple Moriarty, there were not many options besides my becoming as strong as he was.
Gathering multiple Unrestrained Realm masters was one thod, but persuading them would also require to beco 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 ti 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 ant he had no desire to face the Queen and Europe’s many masters.
That he did not kill the Ho Secretary was likely to avoid a troubleso 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 anyti soon.
He had shown his face to the Ho Secretary and even the Holess Clan’s Dragon Head, so for a while he would likely send subordinates instead of acting personally.
However, he might very well co in person to et Irene Adler.
‘Tell her to wait at the place we t before. I will co to her.’
The problem was that I did not know which place he ant.
Since he said we would et ‘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 .
“From now on, answer honestly what this old man asks you, Afternoon Tea Party man.”
“…?”
“Yes.”
As he slowly drew up his energy, a quiet anger could be felt.
“Where are the beggars you lot kidnapped?”
“Kidnapped…?”
It seed Moriarty was not the only one who had mistaken my identity.
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