Moriarty the Patriot (憂国のモリアーティ)

So, this is where you've been hiding, El, huh?

Mm.

I was calling for you just now. Didn't you hear?

I couldn't answer you. Things are about to get good.

What are we gonna do about this voracious appetite for books?

Let's see. What's the latest distraction?

A Sherlock Holmes mystery, huh.

I never could quite understand the appeal

behind these detective stories.

Our story is about the man who managed to

confound even the world's greatest detective.

The genius criminal mastermind

known as Professor Moriarty.

Now there's been a seventh victim.

"The townsfolk tremble at the faceless assailant."

Thoughts?

A dreadful affair, William. Simply awful.

Indeed.

They target young boys for their amusement.

And afterwards, slaughter them.

It's hard to believe a human could do that.

Most people don't want to think a man capable of this.

It's a natural response.

"With the culprit still at large,

the public grows dissatisfied with law enforcement."

According to this,

there're no clues for the police to follow.

Oh, but there are clues.

Some within this very article.

Looking at the child victims

and the occupations of their parents,

do you notice the emergence of a pattern?

We have a clock smith, a hatter, a jeweller,

a horse keeper, then a tailor.

And whilst the father

of the latest victim's business is unknown,

the deceased was a messenger boy.

People aren't taken in by the things outside of their view.

Most of us tend to covet what we've seen.

For example, the omelettes you make are exquisite.

Even when I'm working in the field,

they're the first thing I crave when hunger sets in.

Really? I'm touched.

Now, look. There.

There are people across the globe

that likely have no knowledge

that a dish called an omelette even exists.

Nor do I suspect

they'd have the appetite for one.

Those occupations you listed--

the one element they all share

is that they frequently find themselves

at the service of nobles and aristocrats.

When a nobleman purchases meat,

he'll send a servant to the butcher shop

before ever going himself.

That said...

He will visit shops to purchase his jewellery and clothing.

Even the stables,

because he has to board his carriage there.

Naturally. Providing opportunities

to encounter members of their families.

It's not unusual for a shopkeeper's son

to serve as an apprentice for his father's business.

Nor would it be unusual to

encounter messenger boys at prestigious clubs.

Indeed. Whoever the murderer is,

he never has to wander far in order to find his next victim.

He's successfully fed his appetite

on those he comes across within his social sphere.

We covet what we see every day.

Had it been a few victims,

a coincidence would have been feasible. Not now.

After five bodies,

his modus operandi has become all too apparent.

You mean...?

I think it's about time

we involved ourselves in this case, Louis.

It's odd.

There is one victim that doesn't fit the profile.

An orphan who slept on the streets.

What of him?

It is odd.

Noblemen and orphans--

two positions in society that couldn't be further apart.

But they met.

The outlier might just provide us

with the clue we need to solve this mystery.

Lord Albert.

I beg your pardon.

A pleasure to see you in my shop, as always.

What might I be able to help you with today?

The tuxedo you ordered?

Unfortunately, it isn't quite finished yet.

No. That's not the reason for my visit.

Oh?

Condolences for the fate that befell Roddy.

If you had let me know, I would have attended his funeral.

Out of the question. An earl such as yourself,

coming to a funeral for commoners?

It'd be undignified!

Imagine what people would say.

You're looking a bit careworn.

Shouldn't you be getting some rest?

I appreciate your concern, truly.

You see, work is one of the few retreats

from this overwhelming grief.

I saw him here in the store a number of times.

Roddy was a good lad.

He was.

Forgive a father and his reminiscing,

but there wasn't a more obedient or dutiful boy.

For him to meet such a gruesome end,

it makes you question if there's true justice in this world.

I wonder...

Hm?

...what I'd do to the one who did this.

If you have a moment, I'd like to have a word.

You don't mind, do you?

Sorry for how I'm lackin' in table manners, sir.

So, what is it you wanted to ask me?

That concertina didn't always belong to you, did it?

Even though it's your livelihood,

you're not particularly skilled when it comes to playing it.

Uh! You're not the police or something, are you?

If I were, would I have gone through the trouble of

bringing you to this place?

You got a point.

A real bobby woulda hauled me down

to the station without sayin' a word.

That 'ol thing used to belong to Cass.

You've heard about the murders, right?

Don't know why they chose him,

but he was killed like the others.

Anyway, I was his mate.

So, it only seemed fittin' that I inherit his business.

Had to relocate though,

seeing how that corner was cursed.

On that note,

where exactly did Cass routinely perform?

Hm?

Why? There's nothin' there.

But if you really wanna go, head two streets over.

Was he spotted from a carriage?

No. The boy was chosen as prey.

Meaning the hunter had the opportunity to study him.

Then, the killer saw him from the window?

That is the most likely scenario, yes.

So, he gazed down at the square,

unable to tear his eyes away from that unfortunate waif.

And then he struck.

Have you found out who owns the house?

Actually, it's not a private residence.