Chapter 81 ….
The moment I opened my eyes, I had a premonition.
“Another new memory, huh.”
Fragments of memories returned every time I died and went back in time.
Usually, these memories would unfold from a third-person perspective or as if viewed through an external camera…
“But this is a little different.”
It was a first-person perspective, clearly looking out from within a body.
Yet one thing was certain: this was not my body.
…These hands, wrinkled and covered with scars, were unmistakably those of an elderly man.
“Why am I having these memories…?”
Just as I thought that, the figure standing opposite me shouted.
“How… how could you do this to me! I—I trusted you, relied on you like a father!”
Something about the voice, as if coughing up blood, seemed oddly familiar, so I looked closely at the face.
“No way… that can’t be…”
It was Sherlock Holmes, looking at least twenty years younger than he does now.
“So in the end, all I get is betrayal and deceit….”
Sherlock’s words suddenly cut off as he began emitting grotesque moans like a man losing his mind, clutching his head in agony.
“Uwaaah, uwaaah!”
The third man standing beside him looked helplessly at the body I was inhabiting.
“Master, Sherlock… Sherlock is acting strange. Did the experiment really succeed? He seems to be in so much pain—this can’t be—”
“Success.”
I looked down at the writhing Sherlock from above and said coldly.
The voice, matching the aged body, was rough and filled with phlegm.
“It’s normal for it to be painful.”
Uwaaah—
Sherlock rolled on the floor, eyes rolled back, whites fully visible, screaming in despair.
“Transforming a human into a beast is originally one of the forbidden spells. However…”
Watching this horrific scene, I felt nothing at all inside.
“It will liberate his mind and free his soul. Therefore—”
Sherlock’s body grew larger, grotesque claws sprouted from his hands, and his entire body became gradually covered in gray fur.
“He will gain power incomparable to before. I’ve always… wanted to witness this with my own eyes.”
At that moment—
Krawaaah!
A bone-chilling roar erupted from Sherlock Holmes, now fully transformed into a perfect beast.
His massive hand—or rather paw—struck my face with tremendous force.
Bwaaah!
There was a sound of tearing, my vision turned crimson, and a dizzying pain shot through my head… but then—
I had to question my own eyes.
“How… is this possible?”
Somehow, I was no longer in the elderly man’s body but observing the scene from the perspective of a third party who had been standing nearby.
Sherlock seemed to notice too and growled as he turned toward me.
“Grrr… I killed you, didn’t I… then why can I still sense your presence?”
“Hah… impressive, after all. You weren’t fully consumed by ‘it’. Truly remarkable, Sherlock, you are a great friend!”
His voice was completely different from before.
If the previous voice had been the hoarse voice of the old man, now it was that of a man in his forties…
‘It sounds like the voice of the man who was beside Sherlock, the one who called you “Master”, right?’
Sherlock’s mouth fell open.
“My god… you’ve been consumed.”
He breathed heavily but did not lose his grip on reason, stepping back cautiously in case I might attack.
“Please, regain your senses, Enoch. Expel that horrid soul from your body.”
Enoch?
Startled by the familiar name, I answered Sherlock.
“How amusing, Sherlock. Your concern for a friend is truly admirable… but futile.”
Heeheehee—the sound of my chilling laughter echoed.
“Enoch Bowen has agreed to give up his body long ago, after all.”
Wait, did he just say… Enoch Bowen?
“My dear disciple and my most successful experiment, Sherlock. We shall meet again someday.”
With Enoch Bowen’s maniacal laughter echoing, the brief dream ended.
“Ugh!”
I awoke, groaning, drenched in sweat as always after death and regression.
Hoo, hoo.
Taking deep breaths, I turned to look outside.
The morning sky was still pale, the sun not yet fully risen.
“What could this dream mean?”
Until now, I had only ever dreamed of my own past, but this was different.
This was a memory retrieved from another body, not my current one, Emily Carter.
Moreover…
“Enoch Bowen, huh.”
Sherlock Holmes and Enoch Bowen.
I never imagined there could be a connection between them.
‘Of course, I knew Sherlock was extraordinary from the very first meeting.’
Judging from this dream—or rather, memory—it seemed Sherlock and Enoch had been colleagues…
I wasn’t doubting Sherlock’s cooperation with Inspector Lestrade, but it was hard not to feel uneasy.
According to this memory, Sherlock was cursed into becoming a werewolf by a figure known as “Master” and, as a result, killed his “Master” in retaliation.
“But only his body died.”
The Master’s body was destroyed, but his soul transferred to a third party nearby—Enoch Bowen—and nested within him.
And, likely—this is my speculation—
“The Enoch Bowen who has caused so many incidents since is probably the Enoch who received the Master’s soul in his body.”
Everything seemed to make sense this way.
The only remaining mystery:
Why do I, Emily Carter, have the memories of this “Master”?
‘No… it can’t be…’
I shook my head violently, trying to deny the most horrifying, unimaginable possibility.
It was impossible.
As I denied it, suddenly—
“Ma’am! Ma’am! Get up immediately! Sir Charles—he, he—”
Sally burst into the room, panicked.
At that moment, I realized…
…We had returned to the morning of Sir Charles’s death.
‘Which means only one thing.’
Sir Charles Baskerville’s death was an unchangeable fate.
This time, I did not question “why?”
“Sally, are the police stationed at the manor, and is Miss Titania in custody?”
“How did you know that?”
Sally blinked in surprise.
The situation began to unfold exactly as I remembered.
Jimmy Barry returned pale-faced after the autopsy, explaining everything.
That evening, I was summoned by the inspector, questioned, and then released.
I comforted Henry, who had been deeply shocked by his friend’s sudden death…
“Ma’am! Ma’am! Mr. Holmes is here!”
A most welcome visitor indeed.
As before, Sherlock astounded the police with his detective skills, took over the investigation, and examined each piece of evidence, including Sir Charles’s diary, reaching the same conclusions as before regression.
“In the end, the only way to resolve this is to find the artifact mentioned in Sir Charles’s diary, obtained from ‘that person,’ and destroy it.”
“I agree.”
“The problem is, we have no idea what the artifact looks like.”
As Sherlock furrowed his brow, deep in thought, I quietly organized my own thoughts.
The talking board Jane had helped with.
From that attempt—which cost the lives of four people—we gained three pieces of information:
One: the entity called “The Hound” took Sir Charles’s life and threatens ours as well.
Two: The Hound is invisible in daylight and only reveals itself in darkness.
Three: The artifact Sir Charles brought from America “sleeps within a glowing stone.”
‘Sir Charles’s great-grandfather Hugo warned never to touch it.’
I have the ceremonial dagger used for countless magical tomes.
With it, I could surely destroy the artifact.
“Can you let me speak with Miss Titania?”
“With Miss Titania?”
“Finding the artifact is the top priority right now. For that…”
I paused, carefully choosing my words.
My goal was to learn what exactly the ‘glowing stone’ referred to.
“The only person who could give clues about the items Sir Charles cherished is Miss Titania.”
Sherlock nodded in agreement.
Miss Titania’s condition was worse than when I had seen her before regression.
“Sniff… sniff, Mrs., Mrs. Carter…”
“Call me Emily, Titania.”
“Emily… ughhh…”
Before regression, I had seen her a few days after Sir Charles’s death.
Now, not even a full day had passed.
I gently held Titania, who seemed ready to collapse at any moment.
After a while, her trembling began to subside, and she lifted her blotched face.
Though slightly embarrassed to cry in front of someone not very close to her…
“The police are gone now, Titania.”
I addressed her greatest concern first.
“Really?”
“Yes. From now on, Mr. Holmes will handle the investigation here.”
He is a licensed consulting detective and works with Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.
Most importantly…
“He won’t assume you are the culprit, so you can speak freely.”
Titania’s eyes widened, then she exhaled in relief.
Biting her lip, she swallowed back her tears again.
“It’s such a relief…”
In truth, it wasn’t just her cousin’s death that terrified her, but the fear of being immediately treated as the prime suspect.
“I thought… I’d be falsely accused and sent to prison.”
She even imagined herself on the gallows. Now, she was finally honest about her feelings.
A girl not yet twenty, mature and intelligent as she was, still felt small in comparison.
I hugged her once more.
“It’s okay now, don’t worry, Titania.”
“…Yes.”
A short while later, the maid brought tea and porridge.
After convincing Titania to eat, her face brightened.
“So, Titania, can you help me find the real culprit this time?”
I only wanted one thing from her: the glowing stone, somewhere Sir Charles had touched.
She tilted her head in confusion, but…
After a moment, she told me something I had never expected.
“Thank you, Miss Titania!”
“Emily?”
Yes. This might be the clue I had been looking for.
I ran immediately to find Sherlock Holmes.
“I’ve discovered the identity of the glowing stone!”
