Chapter 1
Prologue
----------------------------------------
Imagine yourself ‘Reincarnated’ into the cradle beneath the roof of a noble family’s house. Your father is a respectable Duke, who bestowed upon you the title of ‘Lady’ at your birth, and your mother is an attractive woman, who passed on her elegant chestnut brown hair and natural beauty. Though they both have quite unique characters, your family is perfect as they are, adoring you more than anything in this universe.
With wealth and privilege at the start of your life, it seems like an ideal beginning. And, despite this realm was inspired by Victorian culture and architecture, it is infused with a ‘Steampunk’ theme that lays the foundation for the Empire’s technological superiority. Beneath a sky where armadas of airships soar above skyscrapers and machines fueled by clean and efficient energy, trust me, their innovations have somehow progressed far beyond what’s supposed to be, making life convenient even for someone with memories from another world.
Still, if you ask me, shouldn’t I just be satisfied with the luxury of this new life?
-----
NO!!! ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!
-----
In this incarnation, I wasn’t born into the body of an Otome game’s ‘Heroine’ or a ‘Redeemed Villainess,’ destined to meet my soulmate or build a rom-com reverse harem. Instead, I’ve been reincarnated into the body of ‘Sherlin Hound,’ a legendary Lady Detective Protagonist. A prodigy chosen to embark on perilous adventures, solve unsolvable mysteries, fight criminal organizations, and occasionally save the world—especially in high-budget film storylines.
But, oh, what about my true self?
Well, when comparing to her, I am nobody!
No talent for disguises, no mastery of Bartitsu, no violin skills, and certainly none of her signature Powers of Deduction—I don’t share even a fraction of the Protagonist’s true intelligence.
So, how have I managed to ‘Survive’ this far?
Alright, I admit my guilt: I’m a Fraud…
Like cramming for an exam, sometimes the easiest way to find the correct answer is simply to remember it. In my case, most of the ‘Answers’ to the cases I face are already stored in the collection of stories I read in my previous life.
-----
It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night, when I had been summoned out to somewhere in the capital’s outskirts. And, I must say that it wasn’t the opulent garden of a noble estate, where most ladies were supposed to enjoy the nightlife in their elegant dresses. Rather, I was standing in the middle of a wilderness, wrapped in my coat over a set of hastily thrown-on pajamas.
Urgh, this should already be bedtime for a teenage girl.
But my father’s friend, Chief Inspector Henry Lestrade of the Metropolitan Knights, was clearly distressed when he called on me at my house. Facing that circumstance, it left little room for excuses or polite refusals.
And yet, as I stepped down from the carriage, the whispers began, carried on the cool night breeze like the rustle of restless leaves.
“Why, of all people, did we summon her?” one knight grumbled. “I mean, she’s just a girl.”
“Careful, Sergeant,” another voice interjected, sharp with authority. It carried the weight of command—likely an Inspector. “That girl has solved more unsolvable cases for our department than you’d care to admit. Some of the superiors trust her judgment more than even ours—and let me remind you, she wouldn’t be out here if we didn’t desperately need her aid.”
“How many cases could a girl like that possibly close on her own, I wonder?” another knight chimed in with a scoff.
“More than what most of our Investigative Knights could manage, I dare say,” the Inspector retorted without hesitation. “If women were officially allowed to serve in the Metropolitan Knights, she’d probably outrank you before her first year was out.”
-----
Remember the case where the victim was struck down by a harpoon? She deduced the culprit was a seaman simply by observing their leftover drinks. Who else would think a preference for rum could mean anything to an investigation? Or what about the mechanic who lost his thumb? Everyone assumed it was just an accident until her questions uncovered an entire counterfeiting operation!
And let’s not forget the Norwood case. That businessman who faked his own death and framed his secretary for murder? We’d have hanged an innocent woman if it weren’t for her intervention!
-----
“Sounds like you’re quite admiring her, Inspector.”
“Shut it, Sergeant! Look at her intelligence, her confidence—and her vain beauty, if you must. Only a fool would fail to see the diamond in the rough!”
**AHEM** It was time to make my presence known. With a theatrical cough, I drew their attention.
Their reactions were priceless.
One knight stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet, while the others stood straighter, their guilty expressions plain to see. Whether knights or ladies, gossipers were all the same—They all are flustered when they get busted!
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I said with composure. “Would you kindly lead me to the scene? Surely, there must be something urgent for the Chief Inspector to summon me in the dead of night.”
“R-right away, my Lady!” The Inspector stammered, his face flushing with embarrassment as he gestured for me to follow. The other knights scattered like startled pigeons, suddenly eager to look busy.
“Goddess bless us!” There he was—Sir Henry Lestrade. Worry was deeply craved into his weary face. “Lady Hound, thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m afraid the department is in crisis once again.” Oh, poor Lestrade! Though he was only a year away from retirement, the weight of responsibility still rested heavily on his shoulders. However, I suspected there were external pressures making his burden even worse.
“What? A girl?” a voice boomed nearby. “Sir Lestrade, is this the help you’ve asked me to wait for?”
I turned to see an older man standing apart. Unlike the officers clad in full uniforms or the detectives in modest plain attire, this man was dressed in a luxurious silk smoking jacket and slippers. To be fair, his condition wasn’t much different from mine, but it was clear he hadn’t come here to assist in solving the case.
“Yes, Baron Ross!” Lestrade replied, standing straighter as he addressed the man. “Allow me to introduce Lady Sherlin Hound. Despite her youth, she is one of the most intelligent individuals I’ve ever had the privilege to work with. She has assisted the Metropolitan Knights in solving countless mysteries, and I trust her insights will prove invaluable in this matter.”
“Hound? Have I heard that name before?” The Baron’s eyes narrowed curiously, but then waved the thought away. “Whatever! I don’t care who she is or what she’s done. Just find my precious boy before dawn, or I’ll make sure this incompetence reaches the Noble Council!”
“Sir, please calm down,” I said, stepping forward with professional composure. “Who is this ‘Precious Boy’ you speak of? Is this an abduction case?”
The Baron scoffed and turned away, leaving Lestrade to explain.
“Not exactly, my Lady,” Lestrade began. “From what we’ve uncovered, it appears to be a case of Theft-related Homicide.”
-----
Victim Name: Johann Starker
Age: 48
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Time of Death: Estimated around midnight last night.
Occupation: Horse trainer, employed by Baron Ross for several years.
Cause of Death: The victim sustained a single, forceful blow to the front of his face, resulting in severe head trauma and a broken neck. Preliminary assessments suggest a blunt object, wielded with significant force, as the murder weapon.
Discovery: The body was found earlier this evening in the wilderness just outside Baron Ross’s estate. The Baron had dispatched a search party after Starker failed to return from his duties. Upon discovering the body, Baron Ross immediately contacted the Metropolitan Knights.
-----
“And what about the theft?”
“Oh, right!” Lestrade added. “The victim wasn’t the only thing missing. A search party is also looking for the Baron’s prized racehorse. We suspect the theft may be the motive for Mr. Starker’s murder.”
“How so?”
“My precious boy is no ordinary horse,” Baron Ross interjected sharply. “He’s an expensive Thoroughbred—tall, strong, handsome, and the champion of countless cups. His silver mane is smooth and beautiful. You can’t imagine how much time, money, and effort it takes to groom him!”
A racehorse?
Wait a minute… “What’s his name?”
“I named my boy Silver Blaze! Surely, you’ve heard of him!”
If he meant in this life, then no—I’ve never heard of it before.
But in my previous life, ‘The Abduction of Silver Blaze’ is one of the most famous detective stories that’s hard to forget! Of course, it’s part of ‘The Adventures of Lady Sherlin Hound’ series, and it’s just another mystery the original me has solved.
The conclusion of the story is a real twist!
However, if you’ve read it before, you might already know how it ends.
“Baron Ross,” I said, maintaining my composure, “I’ll need more details about the caretakers of your horse. Other than your horse trainer, Mr. Starker, surely you have a stable hand to manage the daily chores?”
“Yes, young lady,” the Baron nodded, confirming. “We have a boy named Ned who takes care of such things. He’s supposed to check on the horse first thing, even before dawn. But, oddly enough, this morning no one could wake him until he stirred on his own around noon. He said he was just overly tired, but it was unusual.”
“Hm, interesting,” I mused. “And aside from the stable hands, don’t you have other security measures? Perhaps guard dogs?”
“We do, of course. Several, in fact,” Baron Ross said. “They’re well-trained to protect the estate. But for some reason, not a single one of them barked last night. It’s as though nothing disturbed them!”
“Ah, that’s precisely the detail I needed, Baron Ross.” I turned to the Chief Inspector. “Sir Lestrade, during your investigation, did you find anything unusual? Evidence that seems out of place?”
“Well,” Lestrade began, “we did find a knife. But since the cause of death is severe head trauma, it clearly isn’t the murder weapon. It’s small, more like a medical tool than anything else. I don’t see how it could have been used for violence.”
“Of course, Sir Lestrade, such a tool wouldn’t fit with victim’s injury. But it could still serve other illicit purposes.”
“Finally, Lady Hound!” Lestrade excitedly interjected. “You can solve this mystery now, can’t you?”
“Regarding the death of Mr. Starker—Yes,” I said with quiet confidence. Even my lip couldn’t resist smiling. “I now understand everything. The truth behind Mr. Starker’s death is different from the Metropolitan Knight's ‘Theft-related Homicide’ theory. Actually, you can’t say it is ‘Homicide,’ since the killer isn’t human at all!”
“Wait!? Not human? Please tell me that you didn’t mean…” Baron Ross was stunned by my revelation.
“Yes, Baron Ross, it’s Silver Blaze who killed Mr. Starker. But, don’t worry, even if he were a person, your precious boy won’t be hanged for this.”
-----
The conclusion of this story is straightforward.
The fact that the man responsible for checking on the animal was unusually sleepy, and that none of Baron’s guard dogs barked, points to an insider’s involvement. The culprit must have had access to the estate to drug the stable hand, and he must have been familiar with the dogs, so they wouldn’t have alerted anyone when he moved the horse out.
Of course, the deceased, Mr. Starker, fits this profile.
He is the culprit who stole Silver Blaze.
When he arrived, he was equipped with a small medical knife, as described by Sir Lestrade. His intent was to sabotage Silver Blaze, likely by inflicting an undetectable injury. However, Silver Blaze, being highly intelligent and instinctive, sensed that something was wrong. In a panic and desperate to defend himself, Silver Blaze struck Mr. Starker with a powerful kick to the face. The resulting trauma was enough to cause the fatal head injury—the reason the initial assessment pointed to blunt force trauma.
-----
“Johann…” Baron Ross frustratingly groaned. “URGH!!! You traitor bastard!”
“Now, to find a motive,” I continued, unfazed by his outburst, “I suggest you check Mr. Starker’s finances. I believe he was struggling financially and might have placed a large bet on another horse—which would likely win, if Silver Blaze lose. That would explain his actions. Sir Lestrade, I trust you will take charge of the case from here. So, gentlemen—Good Night.”
“Wait, Lady Hound,” Lestrade interjected, his voice rising in real urgency. “You can’t go yet! Where’s the horse?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said casually, brushing off his concern and preparing to leave. “Maybe he’s escaped into the wild.”
“What!?” Baron Ross exploded, his face red with fury. “Lestrade promised me that you would help get my precious boy back!”
“Oh, I see,” I turned to face him, my patience wearing thin. Does he really think he’s the only one who’s upset here? “Instead of spending my time in bed with enlightening books and novels, I’ve been dragged out to this wilderness to find a damn horse. Let me be honest, I’m annoyed—by your demeanor, your attitude, and maybe even your face! And also, I’m no fan of gambling. I believe the only reason you’re so concerned about your ‘Precious Boy’ is because you’ve placed a huge wager on him!”
The Baron flinched at my words, but I wasn’t done.
“And you, Lestrade!” I snapped, turning to the Inspector. “Don’t you have more important priorities in your work? Isn’t your job to investigate a crime, not to go fetching after some noble’s lost property?”
-----
“Gentlemen,” a measured voice sliced through our heated conversation like a well-honed blade. It was both calm and commanding. “I must apologize for the misbehavior of my Little Lady. She is an extraordinary girl, yet she still requires discipline to shape her into the perfect woman.”
-----
All eyes turned toward the approaching figure.
A woman stepped gracefully from the shadows, her presence commanding attention despite her modest black-and-white maid’s dress. Her aura of authority was palpable, enough to unnerve even the seasoned Chief Inspector. With a piercing gaze that seemed to weigh and measure everyone in the group, she exuded an almost maternal sternness. Her posture was impeccable—rigid and disciplined, like a soldier standing at attention.
“M—Madam Hudson!?” Lestrade blurted, his usually steady demeanor faltering.
“Um… Who is she?” Baron Ross inquired with curiosity.
The woman turned to the Baron with a polite bow of her head. “Greetings, my Lord. My name is ‘Hudson’—or you may call me ‘Madam Hudson,’ if you prefer. I am the governess of Lady Hound. My duty is to take care of her, which includes teaching her manners and, on occasion, keeping her at bay.”
“Tsk…” I muttered under my breath, crossing my arms. Teaching manners and keeping me at bay? “Oh, my good Madam, while I am here, where were you, then?”
“My Little Lady,” she replied with a calm, almost condescending smile, “you are my mistress, but you are not my employer. Your father is the one who pays my salary, and he assigned me to an urgent task which, I must say, directly involves you.”
With a measured gesture, she extended a sealed envelope toward me. For some reason, the air was suddenly thick with tension. Fighting against my fear, I kept my calm as I tore it open, revealing a folded slip of paper.
Oh, it’s just—a betting ticket.
THE HECK?! It’s a betting ticket!
Madam Hudson’s lips curved slightly as she started to explain. “Duke Silas asked me to urgently place a bet on Silver Blaze. He foresaw that you might be reluctant to involve yourself in finding a horse, so he thought this might… motivate you.”
“300 gold coins?!” The number practically exploded out of my mouth.
“Indeed,” Madam Hudson said serenely. So serenely, in fact, that it sent a chill down my spine. “A substantial sum, wouldn’t you agree?”
Of course, in this world, that’s a large sum of money that any sane person would not ignore. But, “Hmph! Even if the bet is lost, I don’t see how it would affect our family finances.”
If this was just another trickery Father thought up to control me as he wanted, then I must disappoint him at all costs!
“Quite true,” she agreed smoothly. “However, you may find this particular wager more personal. You see, this sum happens to be your next monthly allowance.”
Wuh… “WHATTTTT!?!?”
Now, that’s gone too far, even for Father and her!
“What do you mean, my allowance?! What kind of father throws his child’s money into gambling?! And what kind of governess supports such an idea?!”
“Oh, please, my Little Lady,” Madam Hudson’s expression didn’t falter for even a moment. “You are not a girl struggling in poverty. Even without your monthly allowance, our household will still provide you with meals and a roof over your head.”
My jaw clenched, but before I could speak, she continued, “However, in the matter of optional spending—such as novels and other indulgences—I regret to inform you that it must be suspended, if Silver Blaze fails to win, of course.”