Becoming Professor Moriarty's Probability

"... Tsk."

At the end of the weekend, the warm morning sunlight had finally made its appearance in the city of London.

"What’s up with the sunlight being so blinding this early in the morning..."

For the residents of London, who had seen a sharp drop in temperature due to the sudden influx of monsters, this warm sunlight was welcoming. However, there was one woman who found this welcoming sight to be nothing short of an eyesore.

"Normally, it wouldn’t have been this bright..."

That woman was none other than Rachel Watson, on her way to her consultation room at the hospital with a gloomy expression.

Until recently, she had been filled with happiness at the thought of becoming a married woman, having already submitted her marriage registration form.

"...Even if it warms up now, it won't make me feel any better."

The reason behind her glum mood was that the of her fiancé, Neville, which she had believed would definitely arrive by this weekend, was nowhere in sight.

"Ah..."

It meant, ultimately, she had been rejected.

The happy married life she had been dreaming of for the last few days, the baby items and cookbooks she had excitedly purchased over the past week— they were all for nought.

Based on the way things had progressed that day, and the overall mood, she was sure that she would be soon living a long and happy life with the love of her life.

Watson, who prided herself on living an elite life that was the envy of others, naturally received one of the biggest shocks of her life due to this incident.

"Ugh, I don't want to go to work..."

While an ordinary person might have drowned their sorrows in alcohol, Watson, whose job was to save lives, couldn't even resort to such tactics and had to cope with the stress on her lonesome… that too with a sober mind.

"... I wish Holmes would just forcibly drag me away to some solve case."

Thus, Watson continued her walk, her nerves already on edge, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

"Excuse me...!"

"... Yes?"

At that very moment, a desperate voice called out to her.

"Are you Rachel Watson?"

"... Who are you?"

A girl had approached from the distance, now gasping for each breath as she stopped right in front of her.

"I need you to come with me right now."

"What?"

"It’s urgent. There's a critical patient, and he needs your attention, so quickly..."

"What are you talking about?"

For Watson, it was a slightly bewildering situation.

Although she was indeed an elite doctor – working in one of London's largest hospitals, if not the largest hospital – she wasn't so renowned that patients would seek her out personally as the girl did.

Unless she ran a private clinic, there was no reason for anyone to approach her when there was a hospital right in front of them.

"Who is the patient...?"

Then, the remaining possibility was that the patient was one of her acquaintances.

Even so, there was no reason for the girl to come so secretly and in person, but it was the most rational conjecture she could come up with at the moment.

"... I, I can't tell you that."

"What?"

"Due to certain… circumstances, I can't reveal the patient's name... but I can pay you however much you want. Please hurry..."

"Hmm..."

However, as the girl spoke with a pale complexion, glancing around with nervous eyes, Watson couldn’t help but show a troubled look.

It does seem a bit suspicious...

If the name of an acquaintance had been mentioned, she would have skipped her morning shift to help the girl out, but she couldn’t even reveal the name of the patient?

At this point, it was highly likely for this to be a trap.

Having worked with Holmes over the past few years, she had encountered and apprehended a considerable number of criminals, so the possibility of a trap wasn’t entirely out of the equation.

And even if it wasn't necessarily a trap set out by the criminals, it may as well have been put out by that insufferable womaniser, Isaac Adler.

If even that went out the window, then it might be an illegal organisation related to Neville trying to take her hostage...

… Wait.

Watson's heart sank as her thoughts reached up to that point.

Neville...?

An unexpected possibility had suddenly taken root in her mind.

What if the patient, in question, looking for me is Neville...?

After all, it was definitely strange that a young elite doctor in her early twenties had gone out of her way to propose to someone, only for there to be no response even to this day.

Not to mention, despite having secured a promise from him to contact her frequently, there had been absolutely no contact whatsoever since then.

If it was the kind Neville she knew, even if he had rejected her proposal, he wouldn't have just disappeared without a single word like that.

Could it be...

A possibility dawned in Watson's mind, drenching her in a cold sweat.

The possibility that Neville, having decided to marry her after much deliberation, had gone to confront Professor Moriarty— his boss.

There could only be two possible outcomes of that confrontation— being silently eliminated by the professor, or barely escaping from the villainous woman with fatal injuries.

"I, I can't say who it is... but I was told that I must bring you..."

"......"

"Y, You, only you can cure him..."

Amidst these harrowing thoughts, the girl's urgent insistence reached Watson's ears.

"Neville....."

Shuddering for a moment, she swiftly turned heels and ran… in the opposite direction.

"Neville.....!!!1

"Wait, I need to know where to go first..."

Desperately, she ran towards Neville, who might as well be waiting in hope for her arrival, bloodied and in dire need of a doctor but unable to contact them for fear of exposing his location.

.

.

.

.

.

"... Ta-da~"

A few hours later,

"........."

Bursting through the door of the mansion the girl had led her to, Watson immediately wore a dazed look as soon as she witnessed the scene before her.

"It was actually Adler…"

The person lying on the living room sofa, vomiting blood with a pale face, was frustratingly not her fiancé but rather the insufferable Isaac Adler.

"... Are you joking?"

"It's not a joke. I really feel like I'm slowly dying right now..."

"Just die."

Her expression, which remained dazed for some time, soon turned colder than a slab of glacial ice.

"Just fucking die already."

"Isn't that a bit harsh to say to a patient..."

"Die, die, die..."

Her curse continued for a long while.

"... Where's Neville."

"Your fiancé?"

As she aggressively shook Adler by the collar, he scratched his head and answered.

"He told me last time that he’s leaving Britain.”

"... Lies."

"It's true. Why would I lie about that?"

"Lies!!!"

In the next moment, with tears streaming down her face, Watson shook her head in denial.

"Here, take this. The engagement ring."

"Ah..."

"He asked me to pass it on to you. It's really unfortunate that it came to this, truly."

However, as Adler handed over Neville's engagement ring, Watson's complexion rapidly darkened.

"This... This was the ring I gave him..."

"... A ring that even a year's salary as a doctor might not be able to afford… Personally, I would have accepted it, but alas, things just had to unfold in this bleak scenario."

"Ugh, ugh..."

Tears began welling up in her eyes, filled with despair.

"Ugh… ughhhh..."

"... Dear me."

As her legs gave away and she collapsed to the ground, Watson finally burst into tears of despair and agony. Adler, on the other hand, murmured with a look of pity while still spitting blood every now and then.

"Heartbreak is always painful."

"Ughh, uwaaagggghh..."

"... Excuse me, but I feel like I'm about to die. Could you please treat me now?"

However, ignoring Adler's plea, Rachel Watson took a small bottle out of her pocket.

"Hey, don’t..."

- Glug, glug, glug, glug...

Realising it was brandy, the panacea of the 19th century, Adler reached out to stop her. However, it was already too late; a large amount of alcohol had already passed down her throat.

"Love and all that... I don't need it..."

"......."

"Now, I’ll eat well... live well... hic..."

Minutes later, Watson, with a drunken glaze in her eyes, began to rant.

"Maybe this much will do."

Adler, observing her face, waved his hand in front of her and then quietly rose from his seat. Following that, he began walking towards a corner of the living room.

"... Hey, listen."

"Thank you for your hard work."

“I was hoping for you to explain just what in hell is going on here…”

Lupin, who had been coldly watching everything from a corner of the room, slowly opened her mouth to speak.

"Depending on how convincing you are, your treatment in the future might change, so I’m warning you in advance..."

"Here, take this."

"... Hmm?"

She whispered, a faint, crazed gleam flickering in her eyes, as Adler handed her a document, which she took with a dazed expression.

"This is......"

"A contract. It states that I’ll become your permanent property.”

Leaning close to her ear, Adler whispered those words in a low voice.

"Just listen to one request of mine, and I can sign it right away."

Watching Adler, who began flirtatiously winking at her with a sly look, Lupin's eyes started to gleam ominously.

.

.

.

.

.

- Creeeak...

"Heugh... sob..."

An unknown amount of time had passed since then,

"Neville... Neviiiiiille..."

"Excuse me."

Watson, who had been sobbing over her desk while incessantly calling out the name of her runaway fiancé, slowly opened her eyes and lifted her head at the sound of the voice in front of her.

"Why are you calling me..."

"... Hehe."

"... What?"

In the next moment, Watson started blinking rapidly while staring at the scene unfolding before her.

"Oh..."

Her face started to freeze stiff… for an entirely different reason than before.

"Darling."

It was because her fiancé, Neville St. Clair, whom she thought to have returned the wedding ring and gone abroad already, was kneeling in front of the desk while pushing a cheerful face towards her.

"It's really me."

"... Lies."

As he spoke those words with an awkward smile, Watson's eyes flickered momentarily before she started shaking her head vigorously.

"You're just Isaac Adler in disguise, aren’t you?"

"Hmm?"

"You, you think I'd be foole..."

But in the next moment, she couldn’t help but show a vacant expression, stopping mid-sentence.

"Do you really think that?"

"........"

It was because Adler, wearing somewhat loose clothes, walked out from inside the room with a slightly flushed face.

"My, my thoughts are a bit different though..."

As he tucked the men’s underwear, which had been peeking out, back into his trousers, he muttered with a face growing increasingly redder with time. Thus, a deep silence settled inside the /genesisforsaken