Sherlock Hermes

In the hallway of the Bureau of Supervision, a languid-looking young man with black hair and brown eyes leaned against the wall, staring intently at the newspaper in his hands.

He looked quite young. He was probably only in his early twenties, like a university student who had graduated not long ago.

He was thin, with a long, hooked nose. His thin lips were always pressed together, making him look somewhat caustic.

As he read the newspaper, Hai Na stood beside him, muttering on and on about something.

"...That's how it happened, Mr. Sherlock! I've already told you everything I remember, so can you answer that question for me now?"

Hai Na was clearly excited.

Not only had she earned merit, she had also been interviewed and made the front-page headline of the Glass Staircase Newspaper. She had probably even attracted the Queen's attention. The thought made her feel as though she were walking on clouds, lightheaded and dazed.

Once she realized she might have become famous, she gritted her teeth and spent every penny she had beyond her essential living expenses to buy up the entire issue of the Glass Staircase Newspaper. She planned to take them all home during the holiday and give them to her relatives and friends.

She happened to run into Consultant Sherlock at work today. Half excited to meet her former idol and half eager to show off, she asked him a question—

"...What question?"

Sherlock Hermes raised his head and said casually, "You mean, 'How did Mr. Iver figure out that something was wrong with that bartender?' It's simple. He's a very clever man.

"He knew the bartender's name, which meant he had been here before. Mr. Iver stood upright and sat with great poise, so it was easy to tell that he wasn't elderly. The condition of an old person's shoulders differs from that of a young person's. Of course, considering that the bartender might not understand human anatomy, I think the more certain and direct evidence was his boots.

"Handwoven Elven boots, made using the mystical techniques of alchemy and blessing. They eliminated odors, absorbed sweat, provided ventilation, were waterproof, and improved traction to prevent falls. A pair of shoes like that would cost at least one hundred and twenty Silver Crowns. Most ordinary knightly families couldn't afford them.

"Bars in Lloyd District were more or less involved in illegal dealings, so their proprietors were very good at reading people. There was no way he could have missed such an obvious feature. And although he clearly recognized Mr. Iver's identity, he deliberately called him 'old sir'... Do you think a bartender from Lloyd District could say something so polite and cultured?

"Besides, why wasn't he afraid when he saw you? One of the Bureau of Supervision's duties is to find people who appear not to have paid their taxes and forcibly collect them. You dig into the meager savings of these impoverished people. How could they not hate or fear you? People who do business are even more afraid of you than ordinary workers, because there's always something wrong with their ledgers.

"Then why wasn't he afraid of you? That meant he didn't care whether you demanded money from him. Or perhaps he simply wasn't a local—he might not even have been from Avalon, and therefore didn't realize what it meant in this country for a supervisor to suddenly appear before him without warning.

"The picture in the newspaper made it very clear, and the wheelchair further highlighted the style of his boots—not to mention his exquisitely crafted Elven-style wheelchair. The Elven script etched onto it was perfectly legible—Moriarty. No, here. Didn't you see it?

"I say, Miss Hai Na... The professor told me you graduated with high marks. I assume you passed Elven Language, didn't you?"

"...Ah, yes. I recognize it."

Hai Na said awkwardly, "I just didn't notice it."

She had originally been quite excited and proud, but now she had been thoroughly scolded. The excitement in her heart faded considerably, replaced by a sense of disappointment that said, I'm actually this incompetent?

There was something she hadn't mentioned—such as how Iver had brought a forbidden book to that bar on the day he was attacked. That was Mr. Iver's secret, and she was determined to keep it for him.

—Because they were accomplices who had read the same forbidden book, grasshoppers tied to the same rope!

As it turned out, even without knowing this crucial piece of information, Consultant Sherlock had still deduced the truth from the other details. And Hai Na truly hadn't noticed any of them.

It was just as astonishing as how Mr. Iver had deduced from the bartender's actions that the mastermind was hiding in the Underground Wine Cellar!

Hai Na was very excited, but also somewhat disappointed.

She felt as though she had fallen back into the state she had been in when she first entered university. She had believed herself to be an outstanding person, but once she encountered a broader world, she discovered that she might not be as impressive as she had thought.

If all those important details and pieces of evidence had been pointed out to her, Hai Na felt that although she would have been slower, she could certainly have deduced the truth as well. The problem was that she couldn't see those details at all. That was the greatest gap between them.

The difference seemed small, but in reality it was like a natural chasm.

"It seems you've already understood what makes Mr. Iver so remarkable. That's very good."

The young Mr. Sherlock gave a biting assessment. "Regrettably, you're probably still among the more capable workers in the Bureau. You can be called a clever person among idiots. The others, whose muscles have grown inside their heads, are nothing but a bunch of fools.

"They can never accomplish anything. All they do is make a mess of things. Even if I tell them the truth, I still have to explain it repeatedly before I can convince them.

"And this Mr. Iver—forgive my bluntness, but his powers of observation are stronger than those of more than half the Bureau of Supervision combined."

"...You think that highly of Mr. Iver?"

Hai Na was astonished.

She had basically only ever heard Mr. Sherlock say that one person was useless and another was stupid.

"Of course." Sherlock's expression was cold. "In my view, the fact that you were able to 'work together' to solve this case was entirely due to his observation and judgment.

"If you had been without him, you absolutely could not have solved the case. He, meanwhile, could have resolved the matter without bringing you along at all. You were merely the person pushing the wheelchair, and you didn't even fulfill your duty as a protector. When he explicitly told you to attack the enemy with all your strength, why did you hold back? Once you choose to trust someone's command, you have to trust it completely. Trusting only halfway while following your own ideas is more frightening than not trusting them at all.

"He has excellent powers of observation, sound reasoning, decisive judgment, steady execution, and a calmer and more mature mindset than you—as well as precise marksmanship. His talent, character, and abilities are all extraordinary. At only eighteen years old, he already surpassed ninety-nine percent of the people in this country by a considerable margin. He deserves to be addressed as 'sir.'

"I'm very interested in him. I heard he's a first-year student? Then I'll return to my alma mater and take a look at him. I have a feeling that working or conversing with him should be quite enjoyable."

With that, Sherlock folded the newspaper in his hands with perfect precision and returned it to Hai Na.

All four corners aligned perfectly, without the slightest deviation. It offered a glimpse of the perfectionism in Sherlock.

"Ah, he's actually taken two or three months off from school to recover at home. He hasn't started attending classes yet..."

Hai Na accepted the newspaper awkwardly.

The black-haired young man wasn't surprised by this result. He merely nodded calmly. "That's normal. Universities can't produce true talents. They're nothing more than nurses for knowledge, working hard to break it down into easily digestible mush and stuff it into the mouths of lazy people and idiots, trying to turn them into useful instruments of society. They aren't places that serve geniuses or specialize in teaching clever people.

"I imagine Mr. Iver's knowledge and wisdom came from the professor's personal instruction. Even throughout Royal Law University, Professor Moriarty is among the cleverest people there."

"...I see."

Hai Na replied sheepishly.

She felt somewhat disappointed... She had thought that being admitted to Royal Law University and becoming the girls' prefect from her second year onward was a rather impressive achievement. But she also knew that Sherlock had every right to say such things. He, too, had graduated from Royal Law University as its top student.

When Hai Na was a first-year student, Sherlock had been her senior in his fourth year. With neither scheming nor a powerful background, he had managed the student council's affairs in perfect order through nothing but his excellent academic performance and popularity. This was also entirely thanks to the many rules Sherlock had established back then.

They had both been top students, both student council presidents, and both had graduated with perfect scores. Yet there was still a vast difference between them. After all, the supernatural subjects were designed for ordinary people starting from zero. For supernatural practitioners whose supernatural levels were already fairly high, getting full marks was not actually that difficult.

"—Wait a moment, Mr. Sherlock," Hai Na finally couldn't help asking. "I have a question. Since you think the Bureau of Supervision is full of fools, and you even rejected internship offers from both the Bureau and the Inspectorate when you graduated... why did you come to the Bureau now to serve as a mere consultant?"

Even if he performed well as a "consultant," he had no way to advance any higher. All the credit belonged to Director Kent, while at most, he could receive one or two books from the director as private gifts.

If he had chosen to join the Bureau back then, he might already be a deputy director by now. And sooner or later, he would have become director. By then, the entire bookshelf would belong to him.

"...A mere consultant?"

Sherlock turned around in surprise at that.

After looking Hai Na over carefully several times, he understood what she meant and sighed.

The young man shook his head and lowered his voice. "Remember not to say things like that to anyone in the future.

"A believer in the Path of Authority shouldn't be so concerned with 'promotion' and 'prospects.' A supervisor shouldn't have such clear 'ambition.' That means you have an aptitude for the Path of Transcendence.

"In Avalon, people who want to rise in rank will never be promoted. Do you understand what I mean?"