Chapter 7
The Case of the Speckled Band (1)
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The bitter taste of fabric spread across my tongue, muffling my words into nothing but frustrated groans. My hands were bound behind my back, my wrists burning as the ropes bit deeper into my skin. The more I struggled, the more knots tightened.
This was such an indignity!
Why—why must I endure something like this in my own house?
More importantly—why him!?
Whoever let this bastard in should be fired on the spot!
“MRPHHHHHH!!” I cursed at him.
Sure, my words were unintelligible, but a so-called genius like him should be smart enough to understand exactly how pissed I was!
John let out a deep, amused sigh. “Sherlin, my dear, could you please calm down? I came here to discuss a professional matter.”
“(And what about the gag and rope, you c*cksucker!?)”
I replied in groaning language. But somehow, he understood.
“Oh, these?” He gestured lazily toward my restraints. “Precaution.”
“(Precaution!? Precaution, my foot!)”
John shook his head, as if I were the unreasonable one. “There’s no one to blame but yourself. You were the one who screamed without listening to me properly. If you promise to behave like a good Demoiselle, I’ll remove the gag.”
I glared at him, but seeing no way out, I gave a reluctant nod.
Satisfied, John reached forward and pulled the handkerchief from my mouth. The moment I could breathe freely again, I took a deep, furious inhale—“GUAR—!”
Before the scream could fully escape, the gag was shoved right back in.
John sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. “See? So predictable. And you still expect me not to take precautions?” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “But really, Sherlin, all this is only going to make your throat sore. I already introduced myself to your parents and explained that their dear daughter might …overreact… upon seeing me. So, considering that you are heavily in debt to me, they agreed that it would be best to ask your attendants to stay away from this garden for a while.”
“GRRRRRRR…”
“Now, now, my dear Sherlin. There’s no need to growl at me like some caged animal.” John sighed dramatically. “Because, like you, I also run a consulting office—but in a very different field. Recently, I received a troubling commission. Normally, I wouldn’t be so inconvenienced, but it involves matters of investigation, which happens to be your specialty. So, I thought—why not outsource it to someone more… qualified?”
“MRPH…?”
“Oh, come now. Could you be a little more active in our business discussion?” He feigned disappointment. “I really need your help, Sherlin. If you refuse, I won’t be the only one in trouble—my client is in a desperate situation as well.”
What absurdity!
How did he expect a bound woman to negotiate anything?
I gave him a frustrating glance, but John was keeping unfazed. He simply stretched and made himself comfortable, sinking into the client’s chair as if this were some kind of psychiatric session.
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My client is an heiress from a wealthy family.
Her name is Helena Stonehenge.
Her older sister—and fellow heiress—Julien Stonehedge died under mysterious circumstances in a locked room. No signs of forced entry. No visible injuries. No trace of poison. And yet, somehow… she perished in an unnatural manner.
The only clue was the Victim’s dying words: ‘Speckled Band.’
The doctor who examined the body was utterly baffled—nothing in medical knowledge could explain her death.
And now, my client, Helena, fears she will be next.
Right now, her mind is in shambles.
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“So, if you don’t care about my sake, at least consider hers. Besides, you still owe me favor, don’t you?”
“(Wait, did you just say…) MUMMPHMPM!?”
John blinked. “Uh… Are you trying to say something?”
“(I mean, DID YOU JUST SAY…) MUMMPHMPM!?”
His brow furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
You know what!?
This was a communication disaster!
I let out a muffled, exasperated groan.
“Alright, alright,” John sighed. “I’ll ungag you again. But this time, please… act like a civilized person.”
The moment the gag was removed, I wasted no time.
“I asked you to repeat—was her last word really ‘Speckled Band’!?”
“Yes, but I don’t see how this random phrase from a dead person is significant,” John said with a shrug.
“Well, it is significant! Only a true detective would realize its importance.”
John raised an eyebrow. “Then… explain.”
“Explain? Uh…” oh no, there wasn’t any client as pushy as him before!
How was I supposed to explain that ‘The Speckled Band’ was just a title from ‘The Adventure of Lady Sherlin Hound’—a story that technically didn’t exist in this world!?
The only way to do that was to reveal my reincarnation secret.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Yeah, no way!
He’d either think I was completely mad, or perhaps, try to dissect my brain for answers.
So, instead, I straightened my back and declared, “No, I won’t explain. It’s a trade secret! But if you follow my instructions to the letter, everything will come to light.”
John gave me a long, unimpressed stare. “I must say, I really don’t like that answer… but fine. If this is your way of working, I’ll hear you out.”
“Good! Now, release me.”
“Nah.”
I blinked. “Excuse me!?”
John leaned back, completely unbothered. “You only need your mouth to give instructions, not your hands. So just stay like that until we’re done.”
“You—! GRRRRRR!”
John leaned back, smirking as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Now, can you talk? Your mouth is free because it’s still useful—don’t make me start thinking otherwise.”
“Hey!” I shot him a glare. “If you gag me again, how the hell am I supposed to give you a consultation!?”
“Hmmm…” He hummed, tapping a finger against his chin. “I’m sure we’d figure something out.”
“ENOUGH!” I snapped. “I already have a theory in mind, but I can only prove it at the crime scene. That means the only option is for you to bring me to your client’s house.”
John raised a brow, his smirk widening. “Oh? Bring you to my client? Why do I feel like my credit is about to be stolen?”
I clenched my fists. “Do you want my help or NOT!? I’M DEAD SERIOUS! Either take me there, or just gag me again, because I won’t tell you a single thing otherwise!”
For a moment, John simply watched me. Then, with a low chuckle, he reached for his cane, drawing a concealed blade from within and slicing through the ropes binding my wrists.
“Alright, alright. I’ll bring you there,” he said, putting the blade back into his cane. “But remember—this is my commission. I’m the one in control.”
I rubbed my sore wrists and shot him a sharp look. “No. I don’t trust you with this. If you handle it alone, I worry someone else will die. Until the mystery is solved, I’m the one in control.”
“Fair enough. Shall we go today? The longer we leave this unsettled, the worse my client will suffer.”
“Yes, we can go…” I nodded, before adding, “But first—I need your help acquiring a very specific animal.”
“Oh? What kind of animal?”
“A mongoose.”
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Mongooses are not native to the Home Continent.
In fact, they are an invasive species that's supposed to be banned from import and ownership. However, in this era, regulations on exotic creatures are practically nonexistent. Besides, the dominion of the Steam Empire spans a quarter of the world, with each continent holding a portion of land under its rule. It’s a difficult task to enforce strict border controls.
For those who know where to look, a mongoose is not impossible to find.
As for John, he surprisingly appeared to have a royal connection…
He was acquainted with an Eastern Prince residing in Steamburg on a diplomatic mission. In his homeland, mongooses were not only used for pest control but also as a safeguard against assassins who might attempt to slip venomous snakes into royal chambers.
Thanks to this connection, the prince graciously allowed us to borrow his trusted companion. And look at him—he was so cute!
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“Who's a good boy? Yes, it’s you, Raja!”
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Inside the carriage, the mongoose chirped, wriggling in my arms as I scratched beneath his chin. He was absurdly energetic, his tiny claws occasionally gripping onto the fabric of my sleeve as he tried to climb higher. Every so often, his little nose twitched, sniffing at my hair before nudging into my collar like he had claimed me as his own.
I cooed, running my fingers through his soft, tawny fur.
Raja let out an eager ‘Churr,’ tail flicking in delight as he playfully nibbled at my glove. He was warm, lively, and utterly adorable. It was hard to believe that such a tiny creature was, in fact, a terrestrial, murderous animal!
John watched with amusement, one brow slightly raised as he observed my clear fondness for the little creature. “I never expected you to be good with animals.”
“Why? Do you think I wouldn’t be?” I scoffed, lifting my chin. I shifted Raja into my palm, letting him scurry up to my shoulder, where he promptly curled his tail around my neck like a fur collar. “Especially Feliformia—the ‘Cat’ carnivores.”
“So, you like cats?”
“When compared to other pets? Absolutely.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Alright, then. When exactly did you adopt a cat?”
“It’s…”
Oh, s*ht! It’s my past life!
“Uh… uh, I don’t personally own one, but I’ve always admired them. Anything with the grace of a cat—tigers, lions, lynxes, leopards—they’re the true deadly beauties of the wild.”
Raja let out a sharp chirp, as if protesting my neglect in mentioning the Mongoosekind.
John smirked. “I see. And dogs?”
“Those needy, dirty creatures? So much energy, so little discipline.”
Raja, seemingly agreeing with me, flicked his tail dismissively.
John chuckled. “If trained well, they’re hardly a problem.”
“Hm,” I narrowed my eyes on him. “Don’t tell me… you’re a dog lover?”
“I think I’m starting to like one.” His smirk deepened. “Though, I do wonder if ‘She’ is more ‘Cat’ than ‘Dog’?”
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“Ah, that explains a lot! No wonder we’re so incompatible.”
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The carriage rolled to a smooth stop, the steady clatter of hooves fading into silence. A sharp click sounded from outside as the carriage door was pulled open. John’s butler in a well-fitted coat stood by the entrance.
“Young Master, Lady Hound,” he bowed slightly. “We have arrived at the destination.”
John stepped out first, his polished cane tapping lightly against the carriage floor. The moment his feet touched the gravel, he adjusted his top hat with effortless grace, a picture of refined elegance. Then, with a gentleman’s poise, he turned back toward me, extending a gloved hand. I hesitated for a second before accepting it, while Raja held firm on my shoulder as we stepped out together.
The air carried a crisp chill, mingling with the scent of damp earth and aged stone—what a perfect setting for a murder mystery.
Before us loomed Stonehenge Manor, its towering silhouette stark against the overcast sky. It lacked the grandeur of noble estates, but its Gothic architecture—arched windows, ivy-covered walls, and spire-like rooftops—exuded an eerie, brooding presence, as if it held secrets within its ancient stones.
Waiting at the entrance was a woman dressed in a modest yet elegant black morning gown. Shadows clung beneath her eyes, her expression composed yet visibly burdened by grief. No doubt the weight of her sister’s sudden death had taken a toll on her, both mentally and physically.
The moment she spotted him, John’s client wasted no time closing the distance.
“Thank goodness you’ve come! So, have you decided to accept my commission, Mister Mor—”
“Ahem!” John cleared his throat lightly, cutting her off before I could catch his so secretive surname. “My commission will be decided later, Ms. Stonehenge. However, to make a proper evaluation, I’ve brought someone with expertise in investigations.”
He gestured toward me with a subtle smile.
“Allow me to introduce Lady Detective Sherlin Hound.”
“A… Lady? Detective?” Helena’s eyes widened in shock before she quickly leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Sir, is this truly a good idea? Won’t she cause… complications for your work?”
John smirked. “I was the one who invited her. If anyone can handle her, it’s me. Besides… Ms. Julien’s death is questionable. I won’t let ambiguity cloud my decision.”
“Very well, if you trust her…” Helena hesitated for a moment before nodding, though there was still unease in her expression. “But… that man, Rochette, is still here.”
John laughed, this time out loud. “I see. Then this is the perfect opportunity.”
Turning toward me, he flashed a mischievous grin. “What do you think, Partner?”
That is uh… such a nuisance…
But, “Well, if that man resided in this house at the time of Ms. Julien’s death, could you please summon him to Ms. Julien’s room? And while you’re at it, inform the local authorities. Once I finish my setup, I will explain everything.”