Becoming Professor Moriarty's Probability

Chapter 204: The Five Orange Pips (10)

“Adler?”

As I gazed down at the page in my hand with a cold gaze, the princess held in my embrace, not being able to see the look in my eyes, began muttering in a trembling voice.

“... What are you saying now?”

“.....”

“M-My world? What in hell are you saying...”

As I stared coldly at her, I silently leaned in close to her ear and whispered in a low voice.

“... Go to sleep.”

“What... did you say? Oh...”

Staggering, her body soon relaxed and slumped down.

I wanted to keep her by my side to be prepared for any potential danger, but I had no choice but to converse with the main culprit without revealing my real identity.

If she were to eavesdrop on the following conversation, she would always be intimidated by whatever I say.

Then the few redeeming qualities of the sinister princess, like her tsundere nature, would disappear. But more than that, I wanted to be treated as Adler by the people of this world.

I didn’t want them to think of me as a god or their creator. That didn’t really suit me.

For a half-Asian, you’re quite gentlemanly to the ladies, aren’t you?

“... What?”

Anyway, I felt a bit hesitant to put the sleeping princess down on the floor writhing with innumerable tentacles, so I gently lifted her back into my arms and raised the paper again. The newly added content, however, seemed oddly ominous.

Well, the East is a more male-dominant society, isn't it?

“What is that again...”

After all, the East had very few outstanding women of the likes of Queen Arthur, Queen Alexandria the Great, or Empress Napoleon that the West has produced. It only makes sense that I think like that.

“.......”

Ah, an outlier would be Genghis Khan if I had to pick one. Of course, no one can be compared to the outstanding women of the West.

Something seemed off about the way the words were formulated on the paper. So, as I quietly observed with curiosity, the ensuing words made my head go for a spin on exasperation land.

What kind of character was behind the paper, spewing such overtly hateful remarks from the first encounter?

“... So, what’s your point in saying all this?”

My point? It's very simple.

Although I wasn’t sure about the reason, it was clear that the figure held a lot of hostility toward me. So, I asked the character with narrowed eyes; it didn’t take long before letters began scribbling up on the page.

Stop what you're doing right now and go far away. To your homeland in the East.

As expected, the content of the letter was threatening.

“Sorry, but that kind of talk only makes any intention of cooperating vanish from my heart.”

Of course, I had no intention of yielding to such threats now that I had come this far, so I scoffed and spoke.

Professor Moriarty, Charlotte Holmes, Gia Lestrade, as well as the three executives, and all the connections you have built up so far.

“........”

Do you not care if you lose them all?

Upon seeing the message scribbled on the page, my eyes opened as wide as plates.

Did you think I didn't know? I can peek into anything that happens in this world.

Then, in a frenzy of excitement, the writing began to accelerate.

I know when and how you met the professor. And how you gathered the three executives, and how you expanded your power in London. I also know how you've been with those women...

However, the furiously scribbled letters suddenly stopped.

“”.......””

And then an awkward silence descended.

“... You mean, you sneakily watched what I did with the professor and Charlotte?”

I didn't spy, just happened to read a bit...

As I muttered softly amidst the silence, the message that was being scribbled, swiftly vanished before it could be completed.

... Anyway, you're a variable. A single annoying lizard is already enough to ruin the story I want, I don’t want more pests.

“Is the lizard... the professor?”

You should have died long ago. But you survived and continue to persistently disrupt my story.

Ignoring my words, the letters began to threaten me once more.

Then, there was nothing to hesitate about anymore.

“Do you really think so?”

Though far inferior to Holmes or the professor, it was time for him to theatrically flaunt his narrow and meagre knowledge of characters.

.

.

.

.

.

Do you really think I wouldn't know who you are?

“Ha, I wondered what you were talking about.”

Even as the golden letters of Isaac Adler’s words were being written in her notebook, Lovecraft’s expression remained relaxed.

You're American, aren't you?

“.....?”

Not only do you use a different grammar than British English, but I can even detect a subtle Southern American accent in that brief conversation.

However, her face began to contort gradually with each letter that appeared before her.

And you're introverted, like to hole up in your room, right? You want to make friends but don't have the courage to go outside, so you just send letters everywhere.

“... I, I have lots of friends. Pen pals, but still.”

And if a story in a magazine even slightly displeases you, you write slanderous letters to the publishers as a part-time hobby.

“That’s because those bastards write utter crap...”

Plus, you have a tendency towards racial discrimination... That's really the worst.

“... No but, what the fuck do you even know about me to spout all this!?”

Eventually, Lovecraft couldn’t help but snap and shout.

What do I know about you?

“How dare... How dare you think you know anything about m...!”

Hey, you're young, aren't you?

“..... Ha?”

And you've had a tough family life growing up. You've attempted self-harm or suicide a few times, haven't you?

Her expression then turned to slight confusion.

You should be a teenager by now at least. It's truly sad that such a young soul like you had to face such hardships...

“You, what are you...?”

And then, with a baffled expression, she lifted her pen to the paper.

“How do you know tha...”

But as she was about to ask that question, the sight of Adler’s words already written on the paper froze her completely.

Isn't that right, Miss Lovecraft?

“.......!!!!!!”

An unknown amount of time passed as she looked at the paper frozen with fear and shock.

How long do you think it would take me to find someone with the unique surname of Lovecraft in America?

“Hee, heeeeeeek...!”

As soon as Adler’s words filled the last part of the page packed with dialogue, Lovecraft hurriedly slammed her notebook shut, her face turning pale as she stood up.

“What is this, what the hell.......!”

Then, she darted to the bed and, with a terrified expression, covered herself with the blanket, trembling as she looked at the now-shut notebook.

“H-How....”

- Brrrr...

“Does that half-Asian bastard know my name...?”

Thus, she faced the horror of the unknown she so loved head-on, spending the whole day holed up under the blanket, skipping school without anyone even noticing her absence.