Chapter 25

Still, Watson is nice, so I’ll give him a chance.

What a show-off this Object is.

A flying gaslamp—Watson’s first impression upon seeing it was exactly that.

At a glance, its attitude seemed arrogant.

Plus, it smelled of blood, wasn’t cute at all, had a creepy voice, and frankly, wasn’t interesting in the slightest.

Even though there was little interest, it seemed necessary for the detective to figure out the mirror’s location, so I quietly listened to its story.

Otherwise, I’d probably have given it a good whack…

Watson, who had been boastfully rambling on to the detective, suddenly froze when our eyes met and took an entirely unexpected action.

Smoke endlessly poured out from the lamp, enveloping the camp.

It felt like we were inside a cloud.

This cloud not only swallowed sounds but also made the clamor of the detective and his junior sound distant, as if coming from far away.

The moment complete silence fell, crimson lightning flashed within the cloud, creating an eerie atmosphere.

Is this some kind of ghost house attraction? I wondered just as a massive shadow began to loom within the fog.

With a mountainous body towering over us, Watson looked incredibly powerful and commanding.

But to me, he just looked like an adorable pufferfish puffing up out of fear.

“’Eyes,’ perhaps?”

“Definitely ‘eyes,’ right?”

“Am I mistaken?”

Watson glanced at me and spoke.

Since I’m playing the concept of a non-communicative object, I could only tilt my head and pretend not to understand.

“Lacking intellect? How can something with ‘eyes’ lack intellect?”

“No precognition, no千里eye, no mind-reading ability either.”

“But still, I feel ‘eyes’? Am I mistaken?”

‘Eyes’? If by ‘eyes’ he means something special that sees, then I do possess one too.

An eye that sees methods to kill targets.

The colossal Watson circled around me, inspecting before dissipating the smoke and leaving.

It somehow felt like a bothersome story, but since communication was impossible, it seemed he left.

Indeed, the concept of being unable to communicate is correct!

***

The sudden smoke Watson released engulfed everything before quickly vanishing.

“Senior, what happened just now?”

“Hmm, doesn’t seem like much has changed…”

The startled junior clutched a hammer tightly, ready to strike anyone approaching.

The Gray Reaper still watched Watson with a disinterested expression.

Watson appeared calm but clearly cared about the Gray Reaper’s gaze.

“No, something definitely changed. Watson’s attitude seems different.”

Though Watson initially gave off an air of condescension, after releasing the smoke, there was a hint of caution.

Caution or maybe even fear?

Watson shifted his gaze from the Gray Reaper and continued speaking.

[If you cheat, death is the only outcome, but…]

[I’ll give you a chance.]

[Holmes is special, after all.]

“What kind of chance are you talking about?”

Upon deep thought, Watson replied to my question.

[A very light penalty.]

[You must never leave this camp until the request is completed. You cannot exit until the mission is done.]

[This feels like a reasonable penalty to me.]

[If Holmes fails the request, they will die here.]

[They’ll burn along with a missile!]

Watson’s so-called ‘light penalty’ was indeed light.

With less than 24 hours left, venturing outside wouldn’t yield any effective solutions anyway.

Rather, it might be best to resolve this while staying inside the sinkhole.

However, unchanged difficulty doesn’t guarantee a solution.

One idea struck me.

Watson can communicate.

He possessed a clear sense of self.

Objects demanding payment often go beyond their abilities when sufficiently compensated.

Could Watson be considered among such objects?

Moreover, being intelligent and communicative makes trading possible.

No, trading is essential.

“Watson, let’s make a deal! Tell me the location of the object that creates butterflies!”

[No.]

[Are you trying to avoid trials?]

[Are you giving up on the case?]

Trials, giving up, requests, cheating—these are Watson’s obsessions.

The ‘Holmes’ Watson speaks of lacks consistency but seems to represent someone overcoming tough trials to solve cases.

Then, the key to negotiation lies within that word ‘Holmes.’

“Watson, let’s make a deal! I’ll complete another trial worthy of Holmes. So tell me the location of the butterfly-making object!”

[Trial?]

[Our trial might be harder than this case.]

[Holmes can actually handle this request, you know?]

[You might turn a 0.1% chance into a 0%.]

“Alright, I still want to make a deal!”

I momentarily doubted if I was making a mistake but decided to trust my instincts.

I had a gut feeling that finding the object directly would be impossible.

Even if found, it’d likely be after the 24-hour mark.

[Alright, then I’ll give you a trial.]

[A trial for Holmes!]

[Fail the trial, and Holmes is mine.]

[Pass, and I’ll destroy that object for you.]

Watson grinned meaningfully and revealed the trial.

[Such a difficult trial. So hard.]

[Holmes isn’t lucky today.]

[Just choose the object Holmes is looking for from these pictures.]

***

Watson’s trial was simple: pick a picture.

The detective stared intensely at the photos, pondering various variables.

The junior, holding the hammer, assisted but seemed to be getting nowhere.

‘Object that produces butterflies’

Finding the answer among over 100 pictures with such vague clues? Based purely on probability, it’s less than 1%.

While a large door-like object could be interpreted as producing butterflies, or a cocoon-like object birthing them… logically deducing the answer seemed impossible.

Of course, I knew more information, which allowed logical deduction.

I’m aware the butterfly-producing object is the ‘Black Mirror.’

Still, I didn’t reveal my knowledge.

Who knows how Watson would react.

I’d rather observe how the detective handles it first.

***

Watson’s trial was absurd.

Exactly 152 pictures were lined up, and among them, we were supposed to select the target object based solely on the clue: an object that produces butterflies.

That’s not a clue—that’s guessing.

Choosing based on the hint that it produces butterflies isn’t reasoning—it’s called ‘guessing.’

Watson was right.

Impossible to guess correctly.

Should I rely on luck and take a shot?

Relying on luck would’ve been better than searching the camp without trading.

Better odds than 1/152!

Who relies on luck for something this crucial?

“Haaah…”

Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself.

Even the junior was intently examining the pictures, trying to uncover something.

If I lose focus here, I don’t deserve to be a senior.

If I must rely on luck, I need something.

I pulled out the ‘Coin of Measured Luck’ and flipped it.

Catching the coin mid-air, I opened my palm to check.

The number 20 appeared—a perfect number for this decisive moment.

At that instant, I had a thought.

Was I missing something?

The worried junior beside me carefully inspected the photos.

The Gray Reaper observed me with keen interest.

It felt like a professor watching students solve problems.

The look of someone who already knows the answer, confirming whether the student selects the right one.

Does the Gray Reaper know something?

“Watson! Do I have to choose the photo myself? Can the junior or the Gray Reaper solve it?”

[The junior solving it is allowed.]

[Reaper?]

[Without ‘eyes’ or borrowing ‘eyes,’ it should be fine, right?]

[Yup, the Reaper solving it is also allowed.]

I trusted my observational skills.

Rather than relying on less-than-1% luck, I’d trust my observations.

“Gray Reaper, help me.”

As I said this, the Gray Reaper, who had been staring at me, faintly smiled and walked toward the pictures.

Thud-thud.

The Gray Reaper picked up a picture and held it high above his head.

The picture depicted the ‘Black Mirror.’

[Holmes should solve it, right? Is it okay if a companion solves it?]

[‘Eyes’?]

[Did we approve this?]

[‘Eyes’ aren’t involved, right?]

[Not cheating, right?]

[Strange.]

Watson mumbled confusedly.

The distorted shadow wavered chaotically, oozing streams of red blood.

And suddenly, the distortion halted.

[Holmes, congratulations.]

At that moment, butterflies reflected in the monocle collectively flew into the sky.

Following that, the sound of a mirror shattering somewhere in the camp echoed.

Clap-clap-clap

Watson’s applause rang out.

[Trial passed.]

[See you next time.]

[Guess you survived today, huh?]

With those words, Watson instantly disappeared.

The Gray Reaper gazed blankly at the sky.

Looking up, I saw shredded black butterfly corpses filling the sky.

“Junior! Run fast!”

To avoid being swept away by the endless rain of butterfly corpses, we sprinted out of the camp.

The Gray Reaper had already vanished.