Yellow Detective POV:
---
With the director's signal, the Objects dressed as researchers rushed towards us.
Their unenthusiastic expressions and movements made them look even more bizarre.
Their zombie-like movements were several times more sluggish than the camp residents.
Unenthusiastically, but staggering straight towards us in a perfunctory manner.
Some had severed limbs and were gushing blood, but still rushed at us like zombies.
Preparing for the clash while being conscious of the blood soaking the floor, severely hindering movement.
Junior 2 started it off.
Bang bang!
With two gunshots, two researchers went down.
Their heads exploded as they collapsed to the floor, but new researchers simply filled their places.
Junior 1 and I took positions guarding the client and Junior 2.
They were the researchers who massacred the ninjas.
It would be difficult to win.
We needed to buy time while finding a way to overcome this situation.
Boom!
With a loud noise, a researcher with mangled limbs went flying.
The flying researcher bowled over the researchers coming in behind like bowling pins.
After fighting for a few minutes like this,
Junior 1, who had been bowling with humans, suddenly exclaimed.
"Ah!"
"What's wrong?" I asked back, swinging Watson with all my might.
"These researchers, even if their heads explode, they keep moving."
Looking where Junior was glancing, I saw the headless researchers slowly getting back up.
No, they aren't even Durahans, what is this?
Do we have to completely crush their limbs to immobilize them?
But only Junior 1 is capable of that...
If even Junior 1 has to deal with them one-by-one like that, she'll run out of stamina first.
Meow.
The cat Object on the client's shoulder let out a small, anxious cry.
"Senior! Please do something about this!"
We were gradually tiring and being forced onto the defensive.
Unlike the fake zombies at the camp, these researchers kept rushing at us relentlessly like real monsters until immobilized.
Even Junior 1 was visibly exhausted, panting heavily, and Junior 2 had run out of ammo, now fighting with just two hammers.
If we didn't buy some time to rest, it would turn dire.
I raised Watson high and called out to it.
"Watson, protect us."
"Watson, protect us."
"Watson, protect us."
Smoke began billowing from the gas lamp, enveloping our group.
The ominous, bloody-red smoke used physical force to push back the researchers, creating an empty space around us.
The researchers attacked trying to penetrate the smoke, but it didn't budge.
"Ugh, I'm gonna die."
Junior 1 squatted down, propping herself up with her hammer.
The bright glow of the burning gas lamp cast eerie shadows within the smoke.
It was 'Watson'.
Watson chuckled within the shadows, tracing words with them.
[Long time no see, Holmes.]
[You've already used up your second chance?]
[This request doesn't look easy either.]
[Are you going to die this time?]
[Protection lasts only 10 minutes.]
[There are many interesting Objects here.]
Watson was still the same mischievous fellow.
I clapped to get its attention, then said,
"Let's rest a bit. I need to find a way to overcome this situation."
I approached where Watson's shadow was cast beyond the smoke and addressed it.
"Watson!"
A chuckling sound echoed from the lamp in my hand.
Then, as if answering me, countless lines of text floated up from the smoke before disappearing.
[What is it, Holmes?]
[Why?]
[Only one wish remains.]
[Will you fail this time too?]
To complete the current request, I had no choice but to borrow Watson's power.
The criteria for Watson's help was ambiguous, but I could roughly understand it now.
The criteria was 'trials'.
If helping would still leave Holmes with an 'appropriate' trial, Watson would provide quite direct assistance.
So requests like 'bring the client's younger brother' or 'kill the director' were out of the question.
First, I posed a question to Watson.
"Watson! Can I ask you to kill the director?"
The laughter coming from the gas lamp stopped.
[That's something I cannot do.]
[Isn't that cheating?]
[That's cheating!]
[But it's impossible.]
[Killing Objects is not our domain.]
[In fact, we don't even know how to kill them.]
[Holmes has to figure that out himself!]
[Why don't you make a different request instead?]
As expected, Watson's response was negative, but impossible?
That was unexpected.
Usually Watson could easily deal with Objects by pulling out their necks or whatever.
For Watson to sound so weak...
That director must be a formidable Object.
Just looking at him standing there nonchalantly with blades piercing his body, he didn't seem ordinary.
Then what kind of help should I ask for to get out of this situation?
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As I pondered, a phrase about the director from my monocle came to mind.
[As long as the director exists, it possesses the researchers.]
[As long as the research is not complete, the director will regenerate.]
[As long as the wish is not fulfilled, the research never ends.]
If the monocle didn't omit any crucial elements, then achieving the desire should stop the regeneration and make those researchers disappear.
"Watson! Then how about telling me the director's desire?"
Laughter started coming from the gas lamp again.
[You really want to do that?]
[Yeah, that's fine.]
[Listening to desires, seeing desires, fulfilling desires, that's what we do.]
[Simple.]
[You want to make that your last wish?]
[Easy.]
[I think I can tell you.]
Seeing Watson's reaction, I made a request to it.
"Watson, tell me the director's desire!"
"Watson, tell me the director's desire!"
"Watson, tell me the director's desire!"
Upon hearing those words, Watson's shadow nodded and came closer to me.
[This is something the director can't hear, so I'll whisper it just to Holmes.]
[Bring the gas lamp close to your ear!]
[Closer, closer.]
As I brought the burning hot gas lamp near my ear, I heard voices like different people whispering.
"The director, his desire is 'to know the origin of Objects.'"
"If he learns the origin, the director will lose his drive."
"But he himself has forgotten that he even wants that, so it won't be easy?"
"Is Holmes going to fail this time too?"
"Is Holmes going to die now?"
I'm doomed.
That was the thought that crossed my mind the moment I heard Watson's answer.
It was information I couldn't act on or figure out right away.
The barrier Watson set up was fading as if about to collapse, and the juniors' anxious gazes were piercing my back.
This was a crisis.
If I tried to flee now, Watson would kill me, but I couldn't see a solution to this crisis situation.
Should I tell the juniors to run away at least?
Then I heard a cat's cry.
Aeooooooong!
A cry much too loud to be from a small kitten.
Just listening to that desperate cry conveyed its urgency.
Aeooooooong!!
It sounded like a cry desperately searching for someone.
***
Reaper (MC) POV:
---
When I left the room following the cat's cries, what I saw was a long corridor.
A blood-soaked corridor with no end in sight, concrete drenched in blood, rusted iron doors lining both sides of the hall.
Aeooooooong!
Using the distant cat cries as a guide, I continued forward.
Aeooooooong!!
Listening to the cat's cries, I thought maybe I was getting closer now?
Around when I had that thought, researchers appeared to block my path.
The stench of blood was overpowering.
These were the researchers managing this torture chamber.
They looked human, but were not human.
Hazy forms extended from their shadows.
They seemed like underlings bound to something in the shadows.
Those researchers blocked my path, but their demeanor was strange.
Their expressions showed absolutely no motivation.
It didn't even seem like they thought they could stop me.
I could only sense their intention to simply buy time.
There were quite a number of researchers, so dealing with them one by one would have taken a lot of time.
But now I have the Golden Reapers!
The Golden Reapers sprang up from under my feet.
The Golden Reapers that sprang up from the Golden Reaper garden were smiling cheerfully at first, but soon became gloomy.
The terrible stench of blood filling the basement.
Did they become gloomy after smelling the scent of human blood?
Rather, it seemed like they were angered by the unpleasantness of such a place.
The first targets of the Golden Reapers were the researcher Objects reeking of blood all over their bodies.
The researchers confronting me while holding torture tools covered in clotted blood faced the wrath of the Golden Reapers.
The researchers did not die easily, but could not move with their bodies riddled with holes from the Golden Reapers.
And after dealing with all the researchers, the Golden Reapers scattered urgently in all directions.
Why are they acting like this again?
The scattered Golden Reapers were moving about as if searching for something in all directions.
From on top of the lights to the corners of the corridor, the Golden Reapers were hopping around.
What are they doing?
When I opened a door in the corridor and looked inside, there were Golden Reapers scattered in that room too.
That room had a torture chair in the center, and the victim was abandoned on the chair in a miserable state.
And the Golden Reapers were clinging all over that corpse.
Tap tap.
They were sobbing while gently tapping the blood-stained face of the corpse with their little palms, shedding golden tears.
It looked like they were wailing with their mouths wide open, but no sound came out because they had no lungs.
I know that feeling well, when you're sad but no sound comes out, it's frustrating and even sadder.
Even without words, I could feel emotion.
Are they feeling the suffering of the torture victims?
The Golden Reapers were pushing and pulling their cheeks, lifting their eyelids, and silently screaming.
When I came out of the room, there were even more enraged Reapers gathered.
Meow!
Heading towards the ghost cat's cry that sounded quite close now.
With the enraged Golden Reapers accompanying me!
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