Bailonz Street 13

Chapter 184. London’s Detective (1)

Soon enough, I learned why I couldn’t find Liam Moore. Why the magicians knew nothing of a person called ‘Liam Moore.’ He had been using a different name.

Moreover, as if determined to erase his existence, Liam had tracked down every record containing the name ‘Liam Moore’ and reduced them to ashes. That’s why I couldn’t find ‘Liam Moore’ even in what few documents remained.

“It would have been easier if you’d found Cassfire. Lawrence’s great-granddaughter is at the company too.”

“Damn, why didn’t I think of that?”

“It happens. You’re the type who won’t notice someone calling you when you’re focused on one thing.”

I was dumbfounded that I’d missed other hints Liam had left while solely chasing traces of Liam Moore and 13 Bailonz Street. I rubbed my forehead. My head’s throbbing.

“So what’s your name anyway? It can’t be Jonathan.”

Liam’s smile deepened. I’m not sure how to take that somehow sleazy smile. I frowned slightly and moved away from him. Liam whispered.

“Darling.”

“W-who are you? I don’t know you.”

Haha! Letting out a short laugh, Liam’s eyes curved into crescents. His almond-shaped eyes narrowed into half-moons.

“It’s me. William Osmond.”

“…”

At that moment, it felt like someone had stuck my head inside a giant church bell and struck it.

…Osmond! The name of the body I once borrowed, and the name he had imagined attaching right after his own! I clearly remembered Liam’s muttering. Even his shameless expression as he repeated ‘Liam Osmond’ while suggesting we act as a married couple on the train! This man had really, finally gone and taken the ‘Osmond’ surname!

I clutched my head and sighed.

“…Jonathan would have tried to push you down the stairs if he’d heard this.”

“Oh, your brother would prefer me taking your surname over you taking the Moore name.”

“Well that’s, no… Never mind. What does the surname matter. Right.”

Germain, who had been watching our banter like a TV show, opened with:

“Speaking of your surname, that reminds me.”

“What could my surname possibly remind you of?”

I’m Korean. Since British people wouldn’t know about the Jeong clan of Naju, I decided to interpret this as ‘Osmond.’

Sorry, Jane. But now I’m like you. Just bear with it even if it feels unfair.

“Your brother.”

“Jonathan?”

I asked reflexively.

Whether from the aftereffects of inhabiting Jane’s body or not, I seemed to truly think of Jonathan as my ‘brother.’

It was the same in Korea. Even while talking with others, when asked if I was an only child, I’d answer ‘No, I have a younger brother’ and then experience confusion. It happened more than once or twice. No wonder friends who knew my family worried about me. ‘Hee-in, are you sick? What brother do you have?’

Though it was absolutely secret from my parents, that’s why I underwent both counseling and medication. It’s natural not to want to tell the story of how your only daughter lost her mind and barely held onto it. Some daily experiences can’t be shared even among family.

Nevertheless, very occasionally, when thinking of a brother, I couldn’t help but picture Jonathan Osmond with his brown hair and green eyes. After all, Jonathan had accepted me as his sister despite not sharing a drop of blood, so even though Jonathan was practically an ancestor from the 19th century, it wasn’t strange for me to think of him as my brother, right?

“He’ll come to visit sometime.”

“…He’s still alive?”

Germain gave a strange smile and rose from his seat.

“Osmond will explain the ‘case.’ I’ll take my leave now.”

“Take care, Director.”

Liam replied shamelessly. Despite their bickering, they worked well together. That must be why they’d been doing business together all this time.

Anyway, Germain left first and we decided to move elsewhere. It would be rude to occupy someone else’s office without them present.

Meanwhile, I’d received a text from Lily. She said she saw me come to the lobby with the ‘proxy.’

‘Oh no.’

This is bad. We should have quietly come in through some back door.

The rumors had already spread completely, she said. People were wondering who I could be, since no one had ever seen him meet with anyone, yet we seemed so close. Given his position, many people were curious about how I knew him, since I hadn’t known about the company.

I carefully replied only to Lily:

[We’re old acquaintances.]

Lily sent back a surprised emoticon.

Here, Liam seemed to be known as the ‘proxy.’ It felt strange to see him step back from everything, choosing to be a relic of the past.

The Liam Moore I remembered lived at the center of everything, and that was natural. Everyone knew his name. His enemies trembled at the mere mention of ‘Liam Moore.’

But not anymore. Liam lived forgotten, blending in among people. Though he was once Greenwich’s guardian and lived as the protector of magicians for a hundred years after inheriting Greenwich, now no one remembered that fact. To the current generation, Liam was just an ‘ordinary person’ without magic who knew little about monsters and social circles.

Later generations not remembering the sacrifice. But Liam Moore seemed to secretly like it. He added that it felt like finding freedom belatedly. Thinking about it, I’m glad it turned out this way too. Isn’t a safe Liam better than one being chased by monsters and cultists trying to kill him?

“I lived too busily.”

Liam murmured, resting his cheek on my shoulder while waiting for the elevator.

“I know. How could working for a hundred years be easy? You really need to rest.”

“Maybe I’ll retire now and just live with you.”

I giggled and patted Liam’s hands wrapped around my waist.

“Yes, let’s do that. Sleep in late, watch movies, travel around.”

Liam smiled happily at my words.

* * *

A little later, we returned to Liam’s home.

Liam Moore, having completely lost his magic, could no longer use any of the previous ‘convenient transportation methods,’ so he had to use the somewhat inconvenient method of driving. In the car, I heard from Liam about the strange case that had recently come in.

It started like this. Liam Moore had been introduced to an archaeologist. This archaeologist was someone who continued research on British ruins and artifacts, and recently, unusually strange things had been happening in the rural village where he was staying.

While explaining this, Liam showed me the email the archaeologist had sent. It was a document containing various photographic evidence and the circumstances of the incidents. Of course, they had also asked the police for help, but the email began by stating that the investigation had been closed due to no evidence of any particular crime being found.

[Dear William Osmond,

I feel quite embarrassed to be greeting you by email.

Having heard that my cousin received much help from you recently, I’ve ended up sending this email.

First, I want to clarify that before contacting you, I had already requested help from the police (though they said this was a routine matter).

I am doing my best to solve the strange incidents occurring in our village.

I reside in a small rural village near Suffolk. I came here following records of Anglo-Saxon burial mounds. My fellow scholar Bradley and I excavated a hill suspected to be a burial mound, and finally managed to unearth some grave goods.

But we should not have dug this. It seems problems have arisen since we disturbed this burial mound.

The village’s livestock are dying. From house dogs to sheep, even cows. We wake up to find chickens with twisted necks.

I suspect this might be some kind of omen. That is, might the next target be people?

Please. Whether this is a chain of crimes or some supernatural curse, we need your clear diagnosis. I will compensate you adequately. I desperately hope this beautiful village can return to normal.

Please reply if you will take the case.

-N. O’Brien

*P.S. Please bill me for the expenses of coming here.]