Bailonz Street 13

A soft, melodic voice. El’s hand rested on my shoulder.

Although the others didn’t seem to notice, I knew. We were connected, as if in that black void.

“Over there, the short guy on the right. Next, the moustache. He has a knife in his pocket.”

“The one that looks like a pancake has a gun on his thigh. I noticed it from his strange gait.”

El laughed. The bell-like sound of their laughter started to ease my tension.

“Jane, you’re quite observant.”

Following El’s advice, I struck the short guy on the right first. This cane, you see, had a core of thick steel, as strong as a poker.

“He’ll retaliate. Guard your left cheek and your abdomen.”

This was incredibly convenient, like having a combat assistance system. I couldn’t observe all the attacks by myself, but with someone guiding me, I could avoid getting hit. Without El, I probably would have taken a few hits. Though I was prepared to get hurt, everyone values their body.

The dirty moustache man screamed.

“Don’t know why they said to bring you alive, but I’ll make sure I get a hefty reward!”

“Well, do your best. I’ve knocked out two, only three left.”

Dirty moustache, pancake face, and one more… What should I call him? Long face? Long face it is.

Dirty moustache drew a knife. But it wasn’t a wise choice to pull a dagger against someone with a cane.

I remembered what Liam Moore once said.

“The shorter the blade, the closer you have to get.”

In reality, dodging my cane and swinging his knife made his movements large and clumsy, leaving many openings. All I had to do was hit the exposed parts, like a whack-a-mole game.

I struck his wrist with the cane, making him drop the knife, then hit him in the centre of his collarbone. He staggered back, clutching his chest and gasping.

El spoke.

“His guard is down. Third rib.”

Can they even know that?

I kicked his ribs hard, sending him crashing into a brick wall. He shuddered for a moment, then slumped down. His ribs were likely broken, making it hard for him to breathe.

For pancake face, since he had a gun, I needed to disable his wrist first, then strike his knee to immobilise him.

“Wait!”

Just as I was about to attack the next victim, he shouted.

“We’ll go quietly! Just let us go!”

I felt like a thug. After staring them down for a moment, I nodded, allowing them to gather their fallen comrades and quickly disappear down the alley.

My strength was drained. My hands ached and throbbed. The adrenaline was wearing off, and El’s voice was no longer audible. I ran straight to the bright street and shouted.

“Coachman!”

I shouldn’t stay here any longer. Even in broad daylight, it’s dangerous to be dragged off, especially in a weakened state.

Avoiding flags, avoiding events. I should live a safe and enjoyable life. Having fully immersed myself in the 19th century, peace was most important to me.

“Please take me to 13 Bailonz Street.”

I said as I climbed into the carriage. The horse started moving slowly, and the vibrations of the carriage could be felt under my feet. I collapsed into the seat, finally able to catch my breath.

＊ ＊ ＊

There was a problem. Because of Liam Moore’s condition, I couldn’t move him from my room to his.

Mary looked like she wanted to ask why Mr. Moore was in my room, but I kept my mouth shut. I couldn’t possibly tell her that Liam Moore had come to my room, hugging a pillow like a nine-year-old child.

“Miss, are you sure nothing is wrong?”

“Of course. Nothing’s wrong, Mary.”

The answer came out a bit too quickly. Mary’s eyes seemed to grow colder, but I coughed and avoided her gaze. Are you sure? Are you really sure? Her repeated questioning showed how worried she was. Liam stifled a laugh while occupying my bed. The moment of sharing a room with a thug had become reality.

Once everyone left, I looked at Liam Moore.

“…Are you really sick?”

“Jane, have I ever lied to you?”

I frowned. Have you ever lied? Yes, right here.

“A lot. William Schofield Moore, sir.”

“…Except for that.”

“The wizard of Greenwich, sir?”

“Why does it feel like you’re just listing my wrongdoings?”

Because it’s true.

I sternly declared, like a judge, “You’ve been exposed!” Liam clutched his belly, laughing, then complained of a headache.

Luckily, or unluckily, it wasn’t a ruse as I had suspected. After feeding him some clear stew, I added more logs to the fireplace. Once the air warmed up, his chills would disappear.

“There. Mini Moore.”

“That’s a bit too cute of a nickname…”

“Ahem. Now go back to your room.”

But I had overlooked one thing. Liam Moore was a much more shameless man than I thought. Pretending the medicine was taking effect, he yawned and buried his face in my pillow.

“…Liam?”

No response. Even after shaking him a few times, I only heard the sound of his snoring.

…So that’s how I lost my room to Liam Moore.

＊ ＊ ＊

While Liam was bedridden, I handled all the responses regarding the cases. For ongoing investigations, I reported the progress to the clients. For others, I informed them that it would take a bit more time. Thankfully, most of them understood, and although a few showed dissatisfaction, they eventually accepted it.

Liam couldn’t even go near the desk. Catching a cold from overexertion left him bedridden. I was determined not to let him work. Liam protested.

“Please, I feel like mould is growing in my head.”

“Oh, it won’t. It can’t. Just lie down.”

Due to my firm stance, he couldn’t utter a single complaint and had to focus solely on his recovery.

Liam Moore, deprived of work, looked utterly dejected, insisting that without work, there was nothing left of him. But I had no choice. Why make a patient work? The idea of mould growing on that brilliant brain? Ridiculous. He’d lived through London’s dreary weather for years and always looked sharp. A few days indoors wouldn’t change that.

“If you step out of bed one more time, I’ll tie you up.”

“Tie me up? Really?”

“Should I gag you first?”

Fortunately, I had a good immune system and adaptability.

Liam’s room was filled with unfamiliar medicines and substances, so I didn’t want to sleep there. The first night, I slept on the living room sofa, but it left me sore all over.

Eventually, when black dust (thanks to the fireplace) came out of my nose, I thought, what’s the big deal about gender separation? So from the next day, I just slept next to Liam.

My bed was definitely the best. Soft and warm. Even more so thanks to Liam.

I didn’t know what he was thinking, but since he slept with his face buried in my shoulder, he didn’t seem to mind the situation.

By Thursday, the sick patient’s condition had finally improved.

After surviving on thin soup and not leaving the bed for days, Liam Moore looked even thinner and sharper, like a walking stick. Having finally emerged from his room, he spent a long time washing up before coming to me, smelling like a rain-soaked forest. While vigorously rubbing his damp hair with a towel, he asked.

“Today, right? The day you had lunch plans with your friend.”

“Yes, today at lunch. I was just getting ready to go.”

“Should take about three hours.”

“If we have tea and chat?”

Unable to bear it any longer, I grabbed the towel and started drying his hair for him. Shaking his head, Liam said.

“I’ll be waiting with the carriage around that time.”

It was a bit surprising for someone who had just gotten out of bed to say that. I wondered if his fever hadn’t fully gone down. I asked again, just to confirm.

“You’re coming to pick me up? The patient who just got up?”

“People don’t die from a cold, Jane.”

He was so determined that I didn’t argue further, but I couldn’t help worrying. Yes, people don’t die from a cold. But it’s the 19th century, my friend. I’ve experienced 21st-century medical advancements.

“Well, who am I to say anything…”

He chuckled, his shoulders shaking.

Around this time, I had a thought, ‘Repeatedly and emphatically warning Liam Moore will only make him anxious.’

Somewhere, El seemed to be laughing. Oh, why. There are no bad Liam Moores in this world.

“See you later. Behave and guard the carriage.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

From teacher to ma’am? This is crazy. Roles change every time.

“Alright.”

When I waved, the handsome and well-built manservant grinned. His eyes crinkled adorably, his eyelashes fluttering charmingly even from a distance.

You could really make a living with that face. With that idle thought, I went downstairs.

The carriage Clara had sent had arrived. It was a high-end carriage with her company’s logo emblazoned on it.

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