It felt like the strangest sort of gathering. Inside the cramped kitchen, surrounded by battered pots, pans, and scattered utensils, stood two men... and a single rat.
Camus was still mopping the floor. Bucket after bucket of water swept across the stone until every trace of blood had finally disappeared. It was work all too familiar to the Lower District. With practiced effort, he hoisted one corpse after another onto his shoulder before dumping them into the nearby Thames. Where the current eventually carried them was anyone's guess. So long as they were no longer lying here, it hardly mattered.
Every so often another gunshot echoed outside, finishing off those who still clung to life before they, too, were cast into the river. Judging from the ease with which Camus carried out the grim routine, this was far from his first time.
Lloyd watched the excited Herkley for a long moment before finally extending his hand and accepting the offered handshake.
He was harmless—or so he claimed. Herkley could scarcely run a few hundred yards without gasping for breath. Yet at the same time, he was terrifying in an entirely different way.
His deductions. His control.
He could reconstruct the beginning and end of an entire chain of events without relying on any supernatural gift. Nothing supported him except an absurdly powerful memory and a mind capable of weaving impossible conclusions from scattered fragments.
"So how do the other Rats manage?" Lloyd asked. "How does your organization communicate? Preserve information?"
"Simple." Herkley tapped the side of his head. "We train rats. Different colors represent different messages and identities. As for intelligence..." He smiled. "There's nothing mystical about this memory of mine. It can be replicated. With enough training, ordinary people can build something similar—though perhaps not quite at my level."
He pointed at his temple once again.
"Train your mind. Construct an archive that belongs to you alone. A palace of memory. Every fact, every clue, every observation—you file them away until you can retrieve them whenever you wish."
His eyes gleamed.
"Interested, Mr. Holmes? I can tell you're curious. Someone with your intellect would learn remarkably fast."
Lloyd didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he quietly studied the unusually animated man before him.
For the first time in a long while, he found himself genuinely fascinated.
He had spent too much of his life confronting the supernatural. Truth be told, he himself had become something beyond human. Secret Blood flowed through his veins, and whenever logic failed, his first instinct was always to suspect demons—or something even stranger lurking behind the curtain.
Yet this time...
The truth was almost laughably simple.
Everything Herkley had uncovered had been assembled by nothing more than a human mind.
He had gathered countless fragments of information, stitched them together into stories, and through those stories discovered the contradictions hidden beneath reality itself.
Had Lloyd not personally witnessed the impossible, he doubted anyone would believe a word Herkley said. Most would simply assume the man's madness had returned and quietly lock him away in an asylum.
"You've forced me to reconsider the limits of humanity."
"But humanity has never had measurable limits," Herkley replied without hesitation. "Just look at this city."
"So many people spend their entire lives surrounded by steel and miracles that they learn only to fear them. Yet few ever stop to remember that every brick, every beam, every machine standing here was once built by ordinary human hands."
Lloyd remained silent.
Today's conversation had given him far too much to think about.
"So after searching for people like us for all this time..." Lloyd finally asked, "...after exposing yourself and laying everything on the table... what exactly is it you want?"
"Knowledge."
Herkley's answer came instantly.
"Curiosity. Understanding. Answers. More than I could ever finish counting."
Beneath that unhealthy obsession with control burned something even stronger.
"The more I learned, the more fascinated I became by the fog surrounding Old Dunling. It's like discovering there's an invisible roommate living inside your home. At first you're terrified."
His smile widened.
"And then comes curiosity. Endless curiosity."
He looked directly into Lloyd's eyes.
"Who are you people? What are you trying to accomplish? Why?"
"But you've avoided us all this time," Lloyd countered instead of answering. "Why appear now?"
If the Cleansing Bureau ever discovered someone like Herkley, there would be only two possible outcomes.
Either they would drag him to the Perpetual Pump, dissect his brain in search of the source of his impossible gifts...
...or recruit him immediately and work him to exhaustion battling demons until the day he died.
"Because before now," Herkley said calmly, "I had no idea who you really were."
"I didn't know your purpose. I didn't know your allegiance. For all I knew, the moment I revealed myself, you'd simply kill me."
"But things are different now."
He leaned back.
"Our interests finally overlap. In certain matters, we're standing on the same side. Had I never discovered that common ground, I would probably have hidden from you forever..."
"...like the rats beneath the streets."
"They long for sunlight."
"But they fear it just as much."
Before Lloyd could continue questioning him, Herkley turned toward a nearby cabinet and began rummaging through its contents. Moments later, he returned carrying a neat row of small vials.
The sight made Lloyd fall briefly silent.
Either Herkley possessed astonishing courage...
...or genuine mental illness.
Only someone deeply unstable would store objects this dangerous inside an ordinary kitchen cabinet.
"You recognize these, don't you?"
"Hallucinogens."
He lined the bottles up on the table.
They differed in shape, in age, in how worn their labels had become.
Yet every one of them contained the same unsettling, restless force lurking beneath the glass.
"I first discovered these nearly a year ago," Herkley explained. "They're different from ordinary narcotics. It's almost as if demon blood has been mixed into them."
"Everyone who takes them eventually becomes violent."
"Mad."
As he spoke, his eyes never left Lloyd's face.
Not the slightest twitch escaped his notice.
In many ways, the two men were remarkably alike.
The difference was that Lloyd possessed overwhelming combat ability.
Herkley possessed only his brain.
Which meant he survived by being more cautious... more suspicious... more observant... more patient.
"So many versions?"
Lloyd frowned.
He hadn't expected such variety.
"They're not different products."
Herkley shook his head.
"They all came from the same manufacturer."
"I believe he's using people as experimental subjects."
"The packaging changed simply because each version was another iteration."
He pointed toward the dates written across the labels.
"Those aren't production dates."
"They're the dates each sample was discovered."
"You can practically watch the experiment evolve."
"The improvements become faster."
"The iterations more efficient."
Until finally...
He pointed toward the newest vial resting at the far end.
Crystal-clear glass.
Inside, an iridescent liquid shimmered with almost hypnotic beauty.
"And this..."
"...is the latest version."
"How did you even uncover all this?"
The longer Lloyd spoke with him, the more astonished he became.
A completely ordinary human being had deduced secrets the Cleansing Bureau guarded with absolute desperation.
"The Rats."
Herkley chuckled.
"At first there were scattered reports. People claimed certain hallucinogens drove users insane."
"Hardly unusual."
"I've heard far stranger stories."
"Once someone supposedly stripped naked in the middle of a hallucination and sprinted straight into a smelting furnace."
He laughed aloud.
Among the endless sea of intelligence flowing through his network, ridiculous stories like that had become one of his few guilty pleasures.
"I ignored them."
"There was simply too much information."
"My brain naturally filters out what appears insignificant."
"But eventually..."
"The anomaly stopped being isolated."
"More and more Rats began reporting the same phenomenon."
"So I disguised myself as a beggar."
"And I saw it with my own eyes."
"That's when I realized this substance deserved serious attention."
"Its evolution accelerated."
"By the latest generations..."
"...it could transform people into monsters."
"Bloodthirsty monsters."
"But every single time one appeared..."
"...your people eliminated it."
"Cleanly."
"Quietly."
"As though nothing had ever happened."
His tone carried a strange weight.
"So you suspected us?" Lloyd asked.
"Absolutely."
Herkley nodded.
"A mysterious force tied to the government..."
"...using the people of the Lower District as test subjects."
He smiled bitterly.
"It fit every conspiracy theory imaginable."
"There was even a period when my sense of justice was running wild."
"I intended to gather enough evidence to lead the entire Lower District into open rebellion."
His voice suddenly fell silent.
After a long pause, he continued.
"But then I discovered you weren't their accomplices."
"You were hunting them too."
"Sabot's death proved it."
"I'd already learned he was involved in distributing these drugs."
"Then the flames consumed the Underground Palace."
"The Royal Guard sealed the area."
Lloyd's heart sank.
Herkley had been watching this investigation far earlier than anyone had imagined.
Far earlier.
For an ordinary human, that level of foresight bordered on terrifying.
"So today's operation..." Lloyd asked quietly. "You manipulated me as well?"
Every coincidence.
Every chain reaction.
Behind them all...
...stood Herkley.
"I discovered they were preparing one final shipment."
"It was my last opportunity to intervene."
"So yes."
"I used you."
He smiled without apology.
"Though I'd call it mutually beneficial."
"You were investigating the case anyway."
"But twelve hours ago..."
"...you hadn't yet earned my trust, Mr. Holmes."
"I didn't fully understand your capabilities."
"Sending you alone was too risky."
"So you brought in the Suarland Office."
Lloyd finally understood.
Herkley nodded.
"Chief Donas has wanted a promotion for years."
"He needed a major case."
"But if I handed him the information directly, he'd become suspicious."
"Then I noticed a young detective."
"Energetic."
"Eager."
"Passionate about solving cases."
"So you manipulated everything through her."
"Exactly."
"To avoid drawing attention, I deliberately leaked word that the Rats possessed valuable intelligence."
"She believed she'd uncovered the clues herself."
"When in reality..."
"...I wanted her to."
He shrugged.
"Once you have enough people moving simultaneously, deceiving a single person becomes remarkably easy."
"I believed that you, together with the mounted officers from the Suarland Office, would resolve everything without difficulty."
A trace of regret crossed his face.
"It seems..."
"...I underestimated just how evil these drugs truly were."
Silence settled between them.
For a very long time, Lloyd simply thought.
Herkley was frighteningly intelligent.
Had there not been absolutely nothing abnormal about him, Lloyd might have suspected demonic influence.
Only this influence worked in reverse.
Instead of driving him mad...
...it had made him even more rational.
Eventually Lloyd broke the silence.
"How much do you really know?"
"Or perhaps I should ask..."
"If you had enough information..."
"...how far could your deductions reach?"
"Hmm..."
Herkley lifted Poirot from Lloyd's arms, absentmindedly stroking the little rat while pondering the question.
Then he smiled.
"In that case..."
"Your ability to act."
"My ability to deduce."
"Together..."
"...we would become omniscient and omnipotent."
"Within the limits imposed upon us."
He laughed like someone who had finally found another soul capable of understanding him.
He was a peculiar man.
He possessed no noble ideals.
No tragic childhood.
No righteous mission to save the world.
He was simply driven by something deeply, primitively human.
Insatiable curiosity.
An almost grotesque desire for control.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
He reminded Lloyd of those ancient explorers who unfurled their sails and steered directly into raging storms without fearing death.
They hadn't crossed the oceans for wealth.
Nor glory.
They merely wished to know...
...what lay beyond the horizon.
"Then let's begin at once, Mr. Holmes."
Herkley cheerfully kicked open the kitchen door.
Lloyd, however, remained seated.
He slowly shook his head.
"Not yet."
"I still have much to do."
"Report back to your superiors?" Herkley asked.
He understood perfectly well the colossal organization standing behind Lloyd.
Their conversation today had never been directed solely at Lloyd.
It had been directed at the organization watching through him as well.
"Something like that."
Herkley's expression hardened.
"Will you tell them about me?"
"What conclusion will they reach?"
"Trust is a precious thing."
"I'd rather not have myself dragged off to an asylum the moment you leave."
"If that worried you," Lloyd replied calmly, "you never should have revealed yourself."
"But satisfying my twisted curiosity is worth the risk."
The two men locked eyes.
Then both laughed.
Finally Lloyd spoke.
"No."
"I won't tell anyone we've met."
"But you did convince me, Herkley."
"I need someone like you."
A flicker of confusion crossed Herkley's face.
Then his mind—always racing far ahead of everyone else's—reached its conclusion.
A strange smile slowly spread across his lips.
"So..."
"You have your own agenda as well."
Lloyd made no attempt to deny it.
"Of course."
"But if possible..."
"I hope that day never comes."
"I'd rather not become enemies."
"The conflict between the individual and the institution," Herkley murmured.
Words only the two of them truly understood.
Lloyd offered no reply.
He simply pulled his folding knife free, turned around...
...and walked away without looking back.
Only after he disappeared did Camus cautiously return.
He hadn't witnessed the battle himself, but judging from the condition of the dead gangsters, there was little doubt who had done this.
"They've sent another letter."
After confirming Lloyd was truly gone, Camus reached into his coat and handed an envelope to Herkley.
"They're certainly persistent."
Herkley glanced at the seal.
The melted wax bore an unusual emblem.
Within a triangle...
...a single unsettling eye gazed silently upon the world.
"Burn it."
"I'm not interested."
Camus blinked in surprise.
Though he'd worked for Herkley only a short time, he understood well enough what that invitation represented.
"Really?"
"Of course."
"My curiosity and need for control are far too extreme."
"And they're a collection of monsters carrying far too many secrets."
He smiled.
"So tell me..."
"If I joined them..."
"Would I really resist investigating every secret they possessed?"
"Or would they ever truly lower their guard around me?"
He chuckled.
"Deduction isn't only useful for uncovering mysteries."
"It also teaches you which paths are safest to avoid."
Camus nodded in complete agreement.
Outwardly, Herkley hardly looked wealthy.
But Camus knew better.
The fortune this man had quietly accumulated was staggering.
That was undoubtedly what had attracted those people.
The tavern was indeed one of Herkley's businesses.
What Lloyd never learned was that it represented only a tiny fraction of his empire.
Unlike Lloyd, who devoted every ounce of his talent to killing demons...
Herkley had pushed his gifts to their absolute limit.
"They've existed for far too long."
"If I joined them..."
"...at best I'd become another shareholder."
His grin slowly widened.
"But investing in that detective..."
"Now that's becoming a founding partner."