Chapter 40: Holmes & Co.
Ding!
The doorbell rang as the door was pushed open, followed by Francesca stepping into the front office.
But then, barely a second later, she scrunched her nose because the first thing she noticed was the smell.
’It stinks in here.’
Now, the odor wasn’t that pungent, nor was it too overwhelming. It was just that Francesca had a remarkably good nose. She tried to pinpoint the scent. It smelled of rot or death, a strange mix of tobacco, stale tea, damp wool, and something metallic, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it.
There were filing cabinets, stacks of yellowed documents, leather armchairs, and all the standard stuff one would see in a private investigator’s office. Looking ahead, there was a large mahogany table, and despite being called Holmes and Co, there was only one man in the place.
For some reason, when Francesca’s eyes met his, a chill ran down her spine. This was the first time she was seeing someone so pale he almost looked like a corpse. The man, who looked to be in his early twenties, had short messy dark hair, black eyes, iron studs in his ears, and a dull, expressionless stare.
There was a silver chain around his neck, holding an eight-pointed star-shaped black emblem that rested against his chest, which signified to anyone seeing it that he was an Apostle of Night.
Barely a few seconds after Francesca stepped inside, the man stood, leaned against the edge of his desk, and offered a warm pleasant smile.
That smile seemed to make Francesca, who had been on guard ever since entering this place, suddenly feel at ease.
"Welcome to Holmes & Co. Please, take a seat," he said, gesturing toward one of the deep leather armchairs across from his desk.
Francesca moved over to the stand by the entryway and dropped in her dripping umbrella. As she walked over to the desk to sit down, the man asked politely.
"Would you like some tea? We have Amber Black Sand, or just standard black tea if you prefer."
"No, thank you," she said, sinking back into the leather armchair.
"Okay then." The man smiled pleasantly and sat down, before clasping his hands together over the mahogany desk. "I’m Holmes. How may I be of service today, Signorina?"
’Holmes... he’s the one!’
Francesca contained the flood of emotions welling up inside her and, without wasting a second, immediately peered into the man, searching for his mana core.
Just as it was easier for high priests to sense divine energy than mana, it was far easier for mages to sense mana in another being than divine energy.
It didn’t even take long for her to realize that there was nothing!
’It’s just like the vast, empty void I felt when I tried to peer into my brother!’ At this point, she could barely contain her excitement.
After so many years, she had finally found someone else with the exact same condition as her brother.
She was certain it was a condition because it didn’t feel like a simple absence of a core, nor did it feel empty. It was like standing at the edge of a boundless expanse that naturally sucked in mana, but because it couldn’t hold onto it, it ended up dispelling it anyway.
...A broken mana core.
At this moment, she could recall what her mother who had been through several Tests of Faiths had told her.
She had said that when facing the divine creatures in those sacred spaces, they all radiated a similar feeling if one tried to peer through them.
If not for the impossibility of the thought, they would have declared Dante a pure divine being. But since no human could ever be divine, they had resigned themselves to labeling it an unknown condition.
While she was still lost in her thoughts, she noticed Holmes narrow his eyes in suspicion. That caused her to immediately put her thoughts aside. Then, using the script she had prepared beforehand, she cleared her throat, adjusted her glasses, and began her pitch.
"When I was ten, my father used to bring home a friend. The man, Jacob, was very close to us, but the last time we saw him, he told me something I didn’t believe. He said that he had heard that there were people with a condition that made it impossible for them to wield mana."
As she spoke, she paid close attention to Holmes’s facial expressions, and indeed, she saw the man’s smile slowly fade.
Still, she continued. "I’m curious. I want to know if there are really people with such a condition, and if so, I’d like to ask them a few questions. Would you take the commission to help me find out if this is true?"
She framed it this way so that if the man wanted to talk about it, he could, but if he did not, she wouldn’t press further and could just leave the matter be.
Of course, the man had no way of knowing she was a mage who could sense mana cores in other people and had peered through him. For all he knew, she could be a rogue or a warrior.
It was silent for a long time after her question.
So silent... that it made her feel as though she had asked something she shouldn’t have.
That caused her to frown.
After a while, the man’s polite smile returned, and he spoke in a calm voice. "What is your name, Signorina?"
Francesca stayed quiet for a few seconds. She had considered lying, but when she remembered what Professor Laurent had said about the man being skilled enough to uncover whatever he wanted, she changed her mind. She replied truthfully to avoid sparking any unnecessary suspicion.
"Francesca Fioravanti."
The man tilted his head back slightly. "Ah... the Fioravantis."
His smile seemed to grow wider. When he brought his gaze back to her, he rested his chin on his interlaced fingers. "And what about this man? Jacob. Who is he?"
"Oh," she replied smoothly, not missing a beat. "He’s dead. He died when I was twelve."
The man’s smile didn’t fade. "I see."
He regarded her in silence for a moment before speaking again. "Let me give you a piece of advice, young Signorina."
His smile slowly dissolved as he tilted his head to the side. "Forget about this matter. Do not ever try to look for those with this... condition, as you call it."
’So there really are other people out there with this condition?’ she thought, her heart skipping a beat.
But the man’s next words caused her to shiver slightly.
"I’m serious, Signorina. You might end up inviting serious trouble into your house. If you love your family, don’t even speak of this to others. Let it be."
Francesca swallowed.
’What? Trouble?’
So many questions ran through her mind. She couldn’t help but stammer, "M-May I ask why? Trouble with whom?"
She was nervous. If even speaking about it meant inviting trouble to her house, what about her brother who actually had the condition?
However, rather than giving a reply, the man exhaled and leaned back against his chair.
"I’m afraid that is all I can say, Signorina."
Francesca was at a loss for words. But right at this very moment, she decided in her heart that she would drop the matter.
Despite the many questions in her mind, her curiosity, and her worry, none of it was worth pushing further and putting her family in danger.
She would rather stay in the dark than invite trouble into her house.
Of course, she knew her family was powerful. But there were many other forces in this world that even she had yet to understand.
"Okay," she finally mumbled.
The man smiled again. "You are a smart one." He paused before asking, "Is that all you came here for?"
Francesca nodded softly, adjusting her glasses again.
"Then have a wonderful evening, Signorina," the man said, gesturing toward the door.
A brief moment passed before she stood, gave a nod, and began walking out toward the door.
The bell rang above her as she opened it, and then, a silence fell over the office.
Detective Holmes Poirot exhaled and muttered to himself, "What an interesting turn of events. Who’d have thought I’d receive a visit from a Fioravanti today?"
He shook his head with a slight smirk before reaching into his coat pocket. Then he took out a Toscano cigar and a flip-top lighter.
After lighting the tip, he took a long puff and leaned back into his leather chair, watching the smoke drift toward the ceiling.
Just then, green wisps of smoke began to flow out of his body to the side, coiling together until they coalesced into a beautiful woman in her twenties.
This woman had curly dark hair pinned in an elegant updo with loose tendrils framing her face, green eyes that glowed softly, and lips that were painted a deep plum burgundy. She was dressed in a dark high-collared lace gown, and her nails were painted black as night.
She reached over and took the cigar from the man, then took a slow drag. As she exhaled, she murmured softly, "I’m curious, Master."
The man’s gaze shifted to her.
But the woman, who was now leaning casually on the table, continued in the same dreamy voice, "Why did you attach a ghost onto her? Isn’t that risky? You can just kill her if you are worried that she might continue to dwell on the matter."
The man chuckled before answering. "Why are you worried? You should know that the specter is wrapped in my divine energy. Even High Priests who are good at sensing things like that, along with others, won’t be able to sense it that easily. Unless she suddenly runs into one of a high tier, which I doubt she would. Also, Jamal is a cautious fellow."
He took the cigar back from her. After taking another drag, he continued. "Besides, I’m not worried. The Fioravantis are doomed anyway. You can say I’m more curious about how their events are going to turn out."
He chuckled and leaned back. "They remind me of a funny friend I used to know. He once tried to wipe out what was left of that family solo but failed..."
He looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought.
"Ah... I wonder how you are doing, Michael."