Chapter 15
At the End of Harvest... (1)
Three days left until my 15th birthday…
And everything was quiet—too quiet, if you asked my opinion.
It felt like someone had declared an official holiday for the underworld. But crime never sleeps. It shouldn’t. And yet, at this level, it was as if someone had strangled it to death. No desperate clients came knocking. No urgent requests from the Metropolitan Knights. Even the newspapers were disturbingly dull—no ruthless murders, no grand heists, not even a petty scandal for these two weeks.
I knew I shouldn’t see it as a bad thing, but I couldn’t shake the suspicion that this stillness was unnatural.
This is ‘Detective’s Universe,’ you see!
So, how the heck there is no crime!?
I don’t believe that the government had miraculously reduced the crime rate overnight. But, what else should I believe, if not that? Had I unknowingly been abducted by aliens and placed in some closed-off artificial environment for study? Or maybe, some shadowy organization had staged a secret coup and was now spreading propaganda to keep the masses docile?
Of course not.
That’s ridiculous, even if I live in a fictional world.
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“My Little Lady, did you have time to spare?”
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During a week of nothingness, I isolated myself in Bakerstead’s Library. Every day, I spent my time indulging in the only hobby I could truly enjoy in this incarnation: Novels. I brought a pillow, bedroll, blankets, and dolls from my bedroom to create a makeshift camp where I could temporarily stay.
Among all people, Madam Hudson was the only one who maintained contact with me. She fed me, handled a few chores, and, if she decided I was too stinky, dragged me to the bath.
“Oh, do you see me have anything else to do?” I muttered, my hand flipping another page.
“Very well,” Hudson said, ever composed. “I have something for you to see.”
I finally lifted my gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Hm. Is it about my birthday?”
“Well, my Little Lady, even if it is, this should be a surprise.”
“Of course, of course—even if it is, I will pretend to not know anything then.” I yawned, stretching my arms before reluctantly dragging myself off my pile of pillows and blankets.
My hair, unbrushed for at least three days, tumbled over my shoulders like a bird’s nest that had survived a storm. My pajamas—soft, loose, and undeniably comfortable—had become my official uniform of self-imposed solitary confinement. However, the moment I stepped out of the library, I realized how busy the outside world had become.
Servants rushed through the halls, carrying fabrics, decorations, and what suspiciously looked like banners. Boxes of unknown contents were being transported in and out of rooms. Even the usually quiet gardens were alive with a noise of activity.
“Alright, what’s going on?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Didn’t you say you would pretend not to know anything?”
“Yes, I said that. But don’t you think this is a little too big to keep a surprise?”
“Then perhaps you should ask the lead organizer himself?”
“Whoa, lead organizer?” I blinked. “You actually hired someone for this?”
Hudson paused for a moment before responding.
“Since he refused to take a single coin for his service, I don’t think it’s appropriate to say that he was hired.”
I crossed my arms. “Alright, then—who is this generous figure?”
“You can personally meet him. He should be with Duke Silas by now.”
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That was suspicious.
Really, really suspicious.
Still, I couldn’t say if I cared much about it. Whatever grand scheme they were planning, it had little to do with me. My birthday—actually, Sherlin Hound’s Birthday—might be important to people around me, but for myself, I don’t share their enthusiasm.
One’s incarnation cannot begin without the end of a previous one.
That’s why celebrating my birthday feels less like marking another year of life and more like commemorating the anniversary of my own death. On that day, without warning, I was taken away from everything familiar, with no chance to prepare, no chance to say goodbye.
That is the nature of Death, I know.
It doesn't warn you, but it will come eventually. However, understanding this fact doesn’t mean that I can easily make peace with it.
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Hudson brought me to the Duke’s study room.
To my surprise, even my father’s working area was also busy.
“The Imperial Chamberlain himself has come to visit me. Is this all about the upcoming event?” From his desk, Duke Silas was speaking with a man in a ceremonial uniform, who was surrounded by several attendants.
“Yes, Your Grace,” the guest replied. “His Imperial Majesty has confirmed that an envoy will be sent for your daughter’s birthday.”
My father raised an eyebrow. “For the tournament?”
“Well, I must admit. Given the short two-week notice, we expected difficulties, but as it turns out, both the Knights and the Imperial Academy Squires are quite eager to participate. They see this as an excellent opportunity to test their skill.”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“I appreciate your assistance, my lord,” my father leaned back, folding his arm. “But surely a letter or an errand boy would have been sufficient to relay this response?”
“You’re right, Your Grace. However, His Imperial Highness tasked me with conducting a survey on one matter.” Then, the Imperial Chamberlain shifted his gaze to me. “My Lady, may we take a photograph of you?”
“Whoa!!! No, no, no!!!” I took a step back, waving my hands defensively. “My lord, if you have even a shred of kindness in your heart, please spare me! Just look at me—I’m in a miserable state!”
Father let out an exasperated sigh.
“Sherlin, this is Lord Rupert Throne, the Imperial Chamberlain of the Imperial Palace. Whatever he asks is likely tied to Dynasty business.” He narrowed his eyes. “Listen carefully. If you get accused of lèse-majesté and thrown into the palace dungeon, even I might not be able to save you.”
I gasped. “Hey, Father, I am your only child!”
He smirked. “Don’t worry. I think I can make another one.”
“Fine…” I turned to the Imperial Chamberlain, accepting my fate. “Please, I beg you—make me look at least somewhat presentable.”
“Oh, it’s not necessary,” Lord Throne chuckled. “Your beauty is natural. Trust me, it will be just fine.”
His men moved swiftly, setting up the camera in the corner of the room. It was one of those bulky models, just like the earliest version in my previous world. I knew by myself that it would take time.
But at least it was faster than sitting for a traditional portrait.
“My Lady, please give us a fine posture…”
Fine posture? Seriously?
In this condition? What’s fine posture supposed to mean?
Still, I forced a smile, lifted two fingers in a ‘V-sign,’ and waited for—FLASH!
Urgh… my eyes…
A blinding burst of light swallowed my vision, leaving me momentarily stunned. By the time the white spots faded from my sight, the Imperial Chamberlain and his men were already making their exit.
“That will do, Your Grace. My Lady.”
And just like that, they were gone—swift, efficient and professional.
With the formalities out of the way, I didn’t hesitate to make myself at home. Strolling toward my father’s desk, I casually took a porcelain teacup from his tea set. I took a sip, tasting the warm drink before speaking.
“So, what is this all about?” I asked. “How is the Imperial Dynasty involved in my birthday? Are they the ‘Organizers’ Madam Hudson mentioned?”
“Oh no, they are just our sponsors.” My father shook his head.
“Sponsors?” I raised an eyebrow. “Since when was my birthday important enough to ask for government funding?”
“Sherlin,” my father let a chuckle out. “There are many ways to provide sponsorship beyond money. In this case, the Imperial Dynasty is offering support in the form of staff, equipment, and—most importantly—endorsement. With their official approval, many prestigious figures have become eager to participate in the tournament we’ve arranged for your birthday.”
Tournament, huh?
So, they’ve turned my birthday into the Olympics?
I narrowed my eyes. “Father, what on earth made you think this was a good idea? You do know I’m not a fan of sports, right?”
“Of course, I know my own daughter’s preferences.” He gave me a knowing smile. “But I assure you—this isn’t the kind of tournament you’re thinking of.”
Without another word, he rose from his chair and made his way toward the window. With a practiced ease, he grabbed the heavy velvet curtains and, in one smooth motion, pulled them open with dramatic flair. After a week of isolation, this was my first glimpse of the sunlight and outside world.
Ah, yes…
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WHAT THE F*CK IS THIS!?
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The grand spectacle before me made me choke on my tea.
The once-empty land beyond my manor backyard had been completely transformed into a tournament field straight out of a medieval period drama. Large stands and towers had been built, their structure covered in vibrant checkered fabric. At this final stage of preparation, workers scrambled to finish the details—hoisting banners, hammering decorations into place, and setting up rows of colorful tents and festival booths.
“Seriously, Father! Which age we are in!? You said you only started planning this last week—so, how is this even possible!?”
Before my father could respond, another familiar voice answered instead.
“Creativity, connections, and of course, money…” the man stepped in with an infuriating smile. “But mostly, money does the work.”
My spine shivered, a cold chill spreading through my body as ‘the Death Scent’ alarming my instinct. It’s ‘John Moriaty’—him, again! No matter when or where I encountered him, his presence radiated pure negative energy at me.
“Hudson!” I immediately turned to my governess. “Remove him at once!!!”
She, however, merely tilted her head and let out a calm sigh.
“I’m sorry, my Lady. But since he is your father’s guest, I cannot fulfill that request.”
“Sherlin, don’t be rude,” my father joined. “This gentleman is the lead organizer of your upcoming event. He has put a great deal of effort into making this happen.”
“Wait. You let HIM organize my birthday party!?” I blinked. No wonder I’d had a bad feeling about this! I pointed at all the things outside the window. “How much gold have you let him burn on this circus!?”
John adjusted his gloves, completely unfazed. “Two million gold coins.”
I choked. “TWO MILLION!?”
“All mine, not your father’s,” he added casually. “I had to shut down multiple fake accounts just to pool the funds. If anything, you should be grateful—you just helped reintegrate a large sum of dirty money back into the national GDP.”
“You… URGH!!!” I stared at him in disbelief, grasping for words. I turned sharply to my father. “I refuse to take part in this nonsense!”
“I’m sorry, Sherlin—you don’t have a choice,” John sighed, shaking his head with a pitying smile. “The Imperial Dynasty has already given their public endorsement. Prominent nobles, foreign dignitaries, and military figures have all accepted their invitations. Most importantly, I’ve made sure that you’re the center of the tournament. Every knight and squire will be competing in your honor.”
“YOU DID WHAT!?”
“You heard me,” he shrugged. “I may have spiced things up a little bit too much. But, right now, the event is far too big for you to get away from.”
My dear goddess, could you just make me faint?
Everything today had been too much. Even as I rubbed at my temples, the throbbing in my skull only grew worse. And yet, I knew this wasn’t the end. The universe was never done tormenting me.
Right on cue, the door opened.
My mother, Duchess Mycella, swept into the room with far too much joy for my liking. I instantly knew that—of course—she, like everyone else, had a hand in this grand conspiracy.
“Oh, dear. You’re all gathered here?” she said sweetly, as though she hadn’t just walked in to deliver yet another blow to my fragile sanity. “What perfect timing! The dressmaker just sent over the draft for your birthday gown!”
With an overcharging burst of her energy, “Tadaa!” She unrolled a large sheet of paper in the air, holding it out for all to see with pride.
Everyone leaned in to admire it.
But I didn’t.
After everything kept punching me without a single pause, I had no choice but to sink into the nearest armchair—before I truly got knocked out.
“That’s a beautiful gown,” my father commented. “If I didn’t have to keep the Imperial Dynasty’s face, I might just find myself a crown to fit with my daughter’s princess’ attire.”
“See, see!” She smiled wider. “Even your father likes it, Sherlin! It’s already finished! But the dressmaker asked you to try it on at her shop.”
“Huh!!!” I groaned, tossing my hands in the air in order to unleash all accumulating frustration in my head. “Whatever makes you both happy—Father! Mother!”
I wasn’t even trying to win anymore.
Let the madness roll over me, if that’s what it takes to make it end.
“Then, Mr. Moriaty,” my father shifted his gaze to John. “Then, Mr. Moriaty, can I entrust you with escorting her to the city?”
John and I replied in perfect unison.
For him, it was “Yes,” and for me, it was “No!!!”
