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Chapter Text

Stories of the ghost haunting the Old Bailey began as whispered rumors. A trial that ended with a peculiar chill in the air. A day when the candles extinguished with no trace of wind. A soft tremor running through the curtains in the antechamber.

When exactly the ghost first appeared, no one could say. Yet from those early whispers, its influence only seemed to grow.

A sense of being watched. Documents falling to the floor. The growing sensation that something had awoken, called back from beyond the grave due to unfinished business that left it unable to rest. Rumors. Only rumors.

The people of London soon named it the Ghost of the Old Bailey, but as its presence strengthened, it made itself known in the Prosecutor’s Office.

The judge walked through the halls of the Prosecutor’s Office, paperwork in hand. Normally, someone would have brought such paperwork to his own office in the judiciary building, but all the rumors compelled him to go in person. Despite it being called the ghost of the Old Bailey, he had yet to prosecute a haunted trial, which was tremendously unfair. They ought to have called it the ghost of the Prosecutor’s Office so he wouldn’t get his hopes up.

The judge had never encountered a ghost before, and he rather hoped he would. Every trial he presided over reminded him that his life was sorely lacking in excitement. A mild haunting would be quite a nice change of pace.

His colleagues were the lucky ones. They got to submit such exciting reports to the Lord Chief Justice about the ghost. Lord Stronghart dismissed it all as nonsense, but that didn’t fool the judge. There was a ghost out there somewhere, and one of these days he would write his own report to be analyzed by people investigating it. He would personally contribute to the truth of the ghost being uncovered.

It might not have been the correct attitude to have. After all, the people of London were afraid of the ghost, or at least they claimed to be. Yet that itself sent a thrill through him. The spirit had yet to harm anyone, and so surely it would be fine if he witnessed at least one haunting.

The judge sighed when he reached the end of the hall. He had delayed his departure from the Prosecutor’s Office long enough. This wasn’t his day to be haunted, it seemed.

As he turned the corner, the lamps went out.

He froze.

An icy chill filled the air. The now-extinguished lamps began to rattle as though an unseen presence was trying to make itself known.

Now surrounded by clear signs of the supernatural, he drew a sharp breath. This couldn’t be dismissed as mere imagination—and it was happening right in front of him. The ghost of the Old Bailey was real!

Doors opened up and down the hall as prosecutors, judicial assistants, and various staff members conferred in anxious whispers about what was happening. The sole exception was the door to Lord van Zieks’s office, which remained firmly closed. But then, he never was one for gossip, and his apprentice seemed to scarcely speak at all.

The judge’s heart pounded. All his delays had paid off after all. He’d actually been haunted by the ghost of the Old Bailey!

“Thank you,” he whispered at the air, unable to shake the rather foolish notion that the spirit had realized his reason for lingering in the Prosecutor’s Office and taken pity on him.

He hurried toward the door, driven more by excitement than fear. He would get to write one of those exciting reports after all.

#

From the Old Bailey to the Prosecutor’s Office, what once appeared to be the subject of baseless rumors gained in reach and intent and soon made itself known at the prison, where Albert Harebrayne delivered his report to the harried guard.

“Yes, I’m telling you it was a ghost,” he said, irked at having to repeat himself three times already. So what if his prison cell was always cold? That chill in the air a moment ago had been different.

Oh, what a day. What a week. Arrested for murder after that terrible accident, and now he was being haunted.

When he first heard the guards whispering about the ghost of the Old Bailey, he’d dearly hoped it was simply a slight variation on the Reaper of the Old Bailey, because he could handle poor Barok having multiple ominous nicknames but was rather ill-equipped to deal with being haunted within a prison cell. However, that was certainly a ghost that had been watching him a moment ago, a conclusion not scientific in the slightest yet impossible to deny.

(What did it want from him? Surely it couldn’t be Asman, infuriated over that accident? What a horrible thought!)

No, he needed to get a grip on himself and recall all of the things he had learned during his brief study of the supernatural. Nothing happened beyond the sense of a presence. Surely that meant the ghost bore him no ill will. Yes, if the ghost had decided to haunt the prison, it did so with curiosity rather than malevolence.

All the same, something told him this was only the beginning…

#

As if following the trail of reports, the ghost’s influence finally reached the Lord Chief Justice’s office. Mael Stronghart was beginning to tire of even hearing the word ghost. Ghost stories could be quite useful, but the latest reports were so frequent and erratic, he hardly knew what to think. It was as if everyone he knew had collectively lost their minds.

Not only did half the judiciary buy into these stories of a so-called ghost, but they seemed to think it was his responsibility to do something about it. Just because the majority of reports came from the Old Bailey and the Prosecutor’s Office did not mean dealing with a ghost fell under his jurisdiction.

He filed away the last report, a rather overzealous account from one of the judges who described the extinguishing of lamps and a slight chill in the air with such fervor, it rather seemed as though he’d been waiting for this moment, and shook his head. People’s belief in this ghost showed no sign of fading, so there had to be at least some way he could turn it to his advantage.

The candles in the room abruptly went out.

Stronghart lifted his head. No one had opened the door, yet the candles were out and the room suddenly felt cold. Wind from nowhere howled through his office, and he rose from his chair.

The suits of armor rattled, and the gears of the giant clock trembled. The paperwork he’d so neatly filed away flew from his desk, and he stared as the documents struck the ground and scattered.

All those reports of a ghost… up until this point, he’d dismissed it as superstitious nonsense, and yet…

A book hurled itself off of one of his bookshelves. He whirled to stare at the shelves as the fallen book was followed by another, and then another.

Then the wind calmed. Warmth returned to his office. He paused for a moment, then picked up the fallen books and returned them to their proper places on the shelf. He gathered up his lost papers as well, deep in thought.

Perhaps it had simply been his imagination. At such a late hour, with so many frightened reports coming in, he had mistaken a gust of wind for supernatural phenomena. It was the only explanation that made sense, and the only one he had any intention of entertaining.

With his belief in the proper order of the universe restored, he left for the night.

#

And the ghost’s influence stretched to 221B Baker Street, where Ryunosuke Naruhodo was just going over some evidence from the Court Record when he heard a clamor from downstairs. He walked to the stairs to see what was going on. Strange, it seemed colder than it had been before.

“Why, this must be the infamous ghost of the Old Bailey!” Sholmes declared, with more delight in his voice than someone being haunted should ever have. “My dear dead fellow, could you kindly do more than shake the furniture? Even a great detective cannot deduce what you are trying to say!”

“Oh, this is marvelous,” Iris said. “I’d heard the rumors about the ghost, and I was hoping it would come here someday!”

“Aha! Now if only the ghost would manifest for us, we might get somewhere!”

“Hurley, perhaps we can invite the ghost to tea!”

“My dear Iris, ghosts do not drink tea—it would have to be ghost tea, and how exactly does one kill tea?”

At that, Sholmes burst out laughing, and Ryunosuke gave up on trying to understand what he was hearing. It was late at night, and he had a lot on his mind, and… they couldn’t actually be talking about ghosts. No one would sound so happy if they actually meant a ghost was in the room.

It was probably some sort of misunderstanding again, like when Mr. Natsume thought his lodgings were haunted. Ryunosuke would ask in the morning. It definitely wasn’t an actual ghost. Definitely not.

He didn’t get any sleep anyway.

#

Word spread like wildfire that the ghost had extended its reach beyond the Old Bailey, although its old title stuck. Malevolent or benevolent, none could say for sure what the nature of the spirit was, but one thing was certain.

A ghost had come to London, and whatever its intentions were, it surely would not leave until it laid to rest the unfinished business that had called it back from beyond the grave.

Chapter Text

The apprentice of Lord van Zieks found that he didn’t mind visiting Lord Stronghart’s office, despite its imposing nature. It was the first place after his chaotic arrival in London where he found a way to ground himself despite his lack of memories. He might not know his own name, but he had knowledge of the law, and that kept him from drifting in confusion before his subsequent apprenticeship to van Zieks gave him something to strive for.

He had gone with Lord van Zieks to the Lord Chief Justice’s office early that morning to discuss some final details before the upcoming trial. Routine work, nothing out of the ordinary.

Yet as they turned to go, Stronghart cleared his throat. “There is one final matter I would like your opinion on.”

“What is it?” van Zieks asked.

“This so-called ‘ghost of the Old Bailey.’ I’ve received numerous reports about it.” Stronghart waved his hand with a dismissive air. “I assume you’ve encountered nothing of the sort, but I would like to confirm it. Have you witnessed any of these supposed hauntings?”

“Yes.”

“As I expected, probably mere rumors fueled by—” Stronghart stopped. He blinked. “What did you say?”

Van Zieks folded his arms, completely impassive. “Yes, we witnessed the activities of this supposed ghost.”

“You what? When did this occur?”

“Yesterday evening, an unknown force extinguished all lights in the office. Much of the furniture began shaking, as well. There was also an unnatural chill in the air.”

“And… what did you do?” Stronghart asked.

“I had not yet finished the paperwork for today’s trial,” van Zieks said. “Therefore, I re-lit the candles on my desk and finished my paperwork.”

“You had reason to believe there was a ghost in your office and you did paperwork?”

“Correct.”

The Lord Chief Justice stared at his top prosecutor for a moment as if he couldn’t even find the words to respond, and then he turned his gaze. “And you?”

It was always startling to be addressed directly. Perhaps it was the mask or merely his own silence, but people tended to ignore the apprentice. He glanced at van Zieks, but since the peculiar order that he must not speak to anyone from outside the Prosecutor’s Office came from Stronghart himself, he supposed responding to Stronghart must be acceptable.

Not that he had much to add to Lord van Zieks’s account.

“I was meditating at the time,” he said. “I paused when the incident began, but then I finished my meditation.”

Stronghart frowned. “Then…  shall I assume you concluded that the phenomenon was actually the work of a human culprit, rather than an actual spirit?”

“No,” van Zieks cut in. “I searched for a logical explanation for what we witnessed and found none. The activity persisted for several minutes with no detectible source. The possibility that it was genuinely supernatural in origin is impossible to dismiss.”

From the look on Stronghart’s face, he considered the two of them to perhaps be mad. “You believed your office was being haunted by a restless spirit, and yet you carried on with business as usual?”

“It was important paperwork.”

“The spirit appeared to be harmless,” the apprentice said.

“Harmless?!” Stronghart furrowed his brow. “Did it not concern you that the spirit throws things around the room?”

Van Zieks’s eyebrows lifted. “Does it, now?”

“I had thought it was only a trick of the imagination, but if you corroborate the reports of such a spirit existing…”

Curious, it sounded as though the ghost had also paid a visit to the ever-skeptical Lord Stronghart, and with more aggression than it showed elsewhere. It certainly had not thrown anything in their office.

“Then you have encountered the ghost?” van Zieks asked.

“…I believe this is the work of a living culprit with a particularly distasteful sense of humor.”

“That seems highly unlikely, my lord. The phenomenon we witnessed was supernatural.”

“No!” Stronghart took half a step forward, unexpected anger in his gaze. “There is no ghost haunting the Old Bailey or any other locale of London.” He turned away. “I will handle the matter. Be on your way.”

#

When Stronghart had woken up that morning, he had everything planned out. He would obtain clarification from the most logical, skeptical man in the Prosecutor’s Office that there was no ghost. Then he would use Lord van Zieks’s statement as support when he made his case to the superstitious judiciary that they had nothing to fear. Once things settled down, he could put his own spin on why London had briefly been “haunted,” something tragic and meaningful to touch people’s hearts and make sure they understood the value of a strong legal system.

Things were not going according to plan.

He simply had not anticipated van Zieks and the amnesiac Asogi calmly stating their belief in the ghost. Their account of the previous evening’s events was… concerning.

Stronghart rubbed his forehead and opened the folder where he’d filed all reports about the ghost. Although they varied based on the witness’s excitability, all seemed generally consistent. The ghost made brief, fleeting visits characterized by a chill in the air, the extinguishing of lights, and shaking furniture.

His own experience, therefore, was an anomaly. Yet the prosecutors’ report was also anomalous. The spirit haunted their office for several minutes.

Oh, he did not like the conclusion this train of thought led to. It could be a coincidence or exaggeration, but the two anomalies together might also hint at something highly dangerous.

The candles in his office went out.

Not again. This was absurd. Yet Stronghart’s logical reasoning didn’t stop the temperature in the room from dropping or the sudden gust of wind from howling around him.

“Whoever you are,” he said, careful to keep his voice calm and measured, “leave. There is nothing for you in the world of the living.”

The suits of armor on display in his office, which he kept carefully maintained, began shaking. Stronghart gritted his teeth and glared steadfastly back despite the unnerving sound of metal rattling against metal. This ghost would not break his will.

A horrific clang resounded through the office as one suit of armor’s helmet ripped free and hurtled through the air, straight toward him.

He ducked, and the helmet struck the floor behind him. He rose to his feet, hands clenched into fists. A gauntlet from the suit of armor followed next, and then the sword lifted itself into the air and spun toward him.

A threat? Or was the spirit honestly trying to kill him?

The blade sailed past his head, almost grazing his hair. He stepped forward, his heart pounding harder than he liked to admit. Yet the temperature in the room was returning to normal, and nothing disturbed him as he re-lit the candles.

So its power was limited, or perhaps it only intended to give him a scare after all. The ghost of the Old Bailey seemed to have a personal grudge against him.

But if whichever enemy this spirit was hoped to thwart him in death in a way never possible in life, they would learn they were very much mistaken.

#

The apprentice was going over his notes about the current case when a sharp knock came at the door.

Van Zieks lifted his head from his own work. He looked as though he wished he could pretend to not be in, but then again, he rather always looked like that. “Yes?”

The door opened, and Lord Stronghart himself entered the office. “I need only two minutes of your time.” He looked around the room.

And then began hanging herbs above the door.

“Pray forgive the discourtesy of questioning my superior, but what are you doing?”

“These herbs are said to ward off spirits.”

“…What?”

Stronghart ignored the prosecutor’s question and walked around the room, placing similar herbs around the apprentice’s desk, the windows, van Zieks’s desk…

Van Zieks eyed the small plants now decorating his workspace with obvious distaste. “Did you not say only this morning that there is no spirit haunting London?”

“Yes, but the people believe in it. Therefore, I have decided I must contain the situation to prevent public panic. The two of you believe the ghost exists, and therefore you will believe that these herbs will drive it off. Since you think the ghost is unable to enter this office, you will not misinterpret any other incidents as being the work of a spirit, and we can all go on with our lives.”

Was it… common for the Lord Chief Justice to put such effort into warding off a misunderstanding?

The apprentice glanced across the room, but van Zieks looked visibly confused.

“With all due respect, my lord,” the prosecutor said after a moment, “this is my office. Since it did not disrupt our work, I fail to see why it should matter to you if we believe in the ghost or not.”

“The sooner we dispel rumors of this so-called ghost, the better.” Stronghart looked around the office, nodded in satisfaction, and then turned to the door. “I’ll let you return to your work, then.”

Once he left, the apprentice frowned at the door. His behavior was beyond peculiar. It rankled him, too, to have someone else seemingly decide he needed to be protected from the ghost. He took down the herbs that had been placed around his desk and gathered them into a neat pile.

Movement caught his eye, and he looked up as van Zieks gathered the remaining herbs into a similar pile. “Take these back to Lord Stronghart. Tell him that while we appreciate the effort, his concern is unnecessary. If there is no spirit, then there will be no more hauntings, and if the spirit does exist, then we will face the truth with our eyes open instead of turning away.”

#

Something had clearly happened in Stronghart’s office since the last time the apprentice was there. Two staff members were hard at work reassembling a suit of armor, which seemed to have met with some accident. In fact, there were signs throughout the room of strange activity. Scuff marks, misaligned books, a slightly harried look on Stronghart’s face no matter how he tried to hide it…

He claimed the ghost threw things when it haunted him. Did it simply dislike the man?

Stronghart glanced toward the door, and his expression darkened. “Yes?”

The apprentice held out the stack of herbs. “Lord van Zieks said that these are unnecessary if there is no spirit, and if there is one, we should face the truth with our eyes open.”

A vein twitched in Stronghart’s jaw, but he composed himself. He accepted the herbs and checked his pocket watch. “I am… pleased to see you two are taking such a levelheaded approach to this. It seems my concerns were unfounded. Carry on.”

#

Alone again, Stronghart looked around his office. Everything had been restored to perfect order. What happened earlier in the day was nothing to be concerned about. Even if a spirit had risen up to haunt them, it did not have the power to do any true damage. And he had no proof the ghost was an enemy of his. Everything that led him to that conclusion could simply be a coincidence.

Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that a trap was closing in around him.

Chapter Text

As the judge declared Albert Harebrayne not guilty, Ryunosuke exhaled. They’d made it to the end of the trial without an appearance from the ghost. He couldn’t believe it. He’d dreaded every moment in court ever since he learned there actually was a ghost haunting London.

Rumors of the ghost had followed him on his investigation, and then the ghost itself arrived with the worst possible timing. The House of Horrors in the waxworks museum was terrifying enough on its own—when the ghost descended upon it with a sudden fury that shook the Professor’s exhibit and threatened to knock over several waxworks, Ryunosuke and Susato did indeed remember urgent business elsewhere and considered making the confectionary their permanent residence before they reluctantly returned to the museum.

Sholmes found the whole incident very funny, and Esmeralda Tusspells hardly seemed fazed. Did no one in London have any sense at all?

Anyway, Ryunosuke had been certain they wouldn’t make it through Harebrayne’s trial without the ghost haunting them again, yet his fears were unfounded. Despite everything else that happened—dredging up the Professor case, cornering Courtney Sithe, and behind it all, their suspicions about the identity of Lord van Zieks’s masked apprentice—it was a mercifully ghost-free trial.

He gathered up his remaining papers from the Court Record, turned to Susato, and—

Every candle in the courtroom extinguished at once, followed by the flames of the scales of justice. An icy chill filled the air, and the walls trembled. Papers rustled. The waxwork still at the front of the room shook so violently it looked like it might break.

“Good heavens!” the judge shouted. “It’s the ghost! The ghost of the Old Bailey is here!”

Cries rang out from the gallery as everyone rushed for the exit. Van Zieks raised a hand to his face as he scowled around the room, although his apprentice was as unreadable as ever.

“It’s here now?” Ryunosuke asked. “After the trial is already over?”

Susato look contemplative. “Perhaps it didn’t want to disrupt the proceedings and cause trouble for poor Mr. Harebrayne.”

“I think we should get out of here, Miss Susato.”

“Yes, I quite agree.”

Although, speaking of the defendant, where was Harebrayne? As they edged toward the door, Ryunosuke looked around and finally spotted the scientist hiding behind the witness stand.

He peeked out. “B-Barok, is there really a g-ghost here?”

Van Zieks sighed. “Regrettably, this phenomenon has yet to be explained by any rational means. We must assume it is indeed a ghost.”

“But if it’s a spirit, it must want something… right?”

“Perhaps. Yet we have no way of discerning the motives of the dead.”

Harebrayne slowly stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Um. I actually have an idea about that.”

#

“We’re going to what?” Ryunosuke asked.

Oh, this was his own fault for pausing to see where Harebrayne had gotten to. If he and Susato had fled the courtroom instead of waiting for the defendant, they could be back at 221B Baker Street right now, or better yet, another confectionary, instead of the basement of the haunted Old Bailey.

Harebrayne happily arranged chairs around the rickety wooden table at the center of the small room. “I told you a moment ago, Mr. Naruhodo, we’re going to hold a séance!”

Why did Harebrayne even know how to conduct a séance?

Why did he feel the need to do such a thing in the basement of the Old Bailey?

And most importantly…

“Why us?” Ryunosuke asked in dismay.

Somehow, Harebrayne had managed to usher him and Susato into the basement along with the judge, van Zieks, and the masked man before he knew what was happening. Being trapped in a small basement room with van Zieks was only slightly better than being in the Old Bailey with a ghost. He glanced at the prosecutor, who glared back at him.

Actually, it might be worse.

Harebrayne let out an indignant huff of breath. “Because you’re the only ones who didn’t flee the courtroom when the ghost arrived!”

Not for lack of trying!

“That’s not entirely true,” Susato said. “Mr. Sholmes and Iris were there, right up until the point where Mr. Sholmes shut the basement door behind us and said, ‘Good luck, my dear fellows.’”

Of course. Of course Sholmes left them to this fate. He was probably laughing about it again.

“Just tell me what you want me to do,” the judge said. “I haven’t had this much fun in years!”

Maybe that was the sort of thing he shouldn’t admit to other people.

At Susato’s disapproving look, Ryunosuke realized he must have muttered that under his breath instead of keeping his thoughts to himself.

“We need to sit in a circle around the table,” Harebrayne said. He met Ryunosuke’s gaze and tilted his head. “Don’t worry, Mr. Naruhodo, I’m sure we have enough people here to contact the ghost.”

He wasn’t worried about that. In fact, not contacting the ghost was pretty much the opposite of his worries.

Van Zieks let out a sigh. “Albert, why do you know how to conduct a séance?”

“Well, one day I ran into some trouble at the library and ended up with a stack of books on the occult instead of the research material I’d gone to retrieve. By the time I realized it, I was already home! So I read them all. I didn’t particularly believe in it, but it was fascinating.”

“I am beginning to think coming down to the basement with you was a poor decision.”

He was just beginning to think that? Because Ryunosuke had realized this was a bad decision even while it was happening. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Mr. Harebrayne, I’m glad I was able to defend you in court, but I think you have enough people here without us, so we’ll just be on our way…”

Susato nodded, and the two of them started toward the door, only for Harebrayne to step into their path, frantically waving his hands.

“This is our chance to find out what is troubling the spirit!” the scientist cried. “Don’t you want to help the spirit, Mr. Naruhodo?”

Personally, he’d prefer to deal with the living. “Why exactly do we need a séance?”

Harebrayne adjusted his glasses. “My theory is that the ghost is currently too weak to manifest or communicate directly with us, which is why it resorts to such simple means of expressing its presence. A séance will allow us to make direct contact with the spirit so that it can speak to us.”

Well, that sounded… terrifying. Ryunosuke looked at Susato. “Let’s go, Miss Susato.”

She nodded, and they started toward the door again.

Harebrayne continued to block their path, now looking over their heads. “Barok, Mr. Naruhodo is going to stay. You aren’t saying Mr. Naruhodo is braver than you, are you?”

“Hold on,” Ryunosuke yelped, “I clearly said I am not staying!”

Yet this nonsensical argument worked on van Zieks, who grumbled under his breath and sat down. His apprentice, who was very probably Kazuma, sat down next to him. If he had any thoughts on the matter, he didn’t share them.

Ryunosuke cleared his throat. “Well, since Lord van Zieks is staying, it looks like you have enough people without us, so we’ll just be going now!”

Harebrayne shook his head. “The more people who participate in the séance, the greater the chances are that the ghost will be able to possess someone and speak to us.”

“Now I’m definitely not staying.”

“No, no, you can only be possessed if you’re receptive to it! If your thoughts are closed off, the spirit won’t be able to speak through you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Really? Because any situation that involved the words ghost and possess in the same sentence sounded like something to be afraid of. To think this had started out like an ordinary day.

“Who do you think the ghost is?” the judge interrupted with an excited smile.

Harebrayne scratched his head. “O-Oh, I don’t know… but…” He adjusted his glasses again. “Since it showed up at the end of my trial, perhaps it’s that murderer you all were talking about, the Professor!”

Van Zieks stood up. “I have no desire to hear what he has to say.”

“Or perhaps one of his victims!”

He sat back down.

“Or someone else entirely!” Harebrayne rubbed the back of his neck with an apologetic smile. “I have no idea!”

Van Zieks sighed, but remained seated.

Harebrayne gave Ryunosuke and Susato imploring looks. “You will stay and help us, won’t you? This could be our only way of discovering why this spirit can’t rest.”

Susato rested her chin in her hand. “If something is troubling this ghost, I do feel bad for whoever it is. Maybe we should help, Mr. Naruhodo.”

Why was everyone suddenly so willing to be haunted? Ryunosuke rubbed his head. “If we’re able to help it, will it stop haunting us?”

“That seems likely,” Harebrayne said. “If we solve whatever matter brought it back from the dead, it will finally be able to rest.”

“…Fine.”

“Wonderful! Please, sit down.”

Ryunosuke sat down next to Kazuma, and tried to meet his gaze in the hopes of sparking some memory in him. With that mask, though, he couldn’t tell for sure if the apprentice was even looking back at him.

Van Zieks definitely was. In fact, he was scowling at him. Of course.

Susato sat next to Ryunosuke, and then the judge sat next to her. Harebrayne placed two candles on the table and lit them, and then he sat down in the remaining seat, between the judge and van Zieks.

“Okay,” he said, “let me try to remember how the book said to do this.” He pulled out a notepad and flipped through it, then started scribbling something with an anxious frown.

This didn’t inspire confidence.

Yet apparently it worked for Harebrayne, because he put his notepad away and cleared his throat. “All right. Everyone place your hands on the table so that your fingers are touching those of the person next to you.”

They obeyed. Ryunosuke glanced again at Kazuma, who remained expressionless.

“Good,” Harebrayne said. “Whatever you do, do not break the connection until the séance is complete.”

So they were really going to do this. Ryunosuke clung to the scientist’s promise that the ghost couldn’t possess someone who wasn’t receptive to it. In other words, concentrate as hard as he could on not being possessed.

“And now—”

The basement doors burst open.

Lord Stronghart walked into the room, out of breath. “I understand you’re attempting to contact the so-called ghost of the Old Bailey.”

Harebrayne gaped at him with an expression somewhere between confusion and horror. “Y-Yes? Yes, that’s right…” He ducked his head and leaned toward van Zieks. “Is that the Lord Chief Justice? Why is the Lord Chief Justice here?!”

Stronghart closed the door behind him. “As Lord Chief Justice, it is my duty to oversee anything that directly affects London and the people under my employ. Therefore, if we are conducting a séance, I would like to be a part of it.”

…He what?

He wanted to be part of this?

Was everyone in London insane?

Was Ryunosuke, in fact, the only person who would rather stay far away from this ghost?

Van Zieks responded to Harebrayne’s pleading stare with only a shrug. He looked as baffled by this development as Ryunosuke felt.

Susato stood up. “Um… I’ll get you a chair, Lord Stronghart.”

But Stronghart was already grabbing a chair from the side of the room. He dragged it over to the table and stood between van Zieks and Kazuma, then pulled out his pocket watch and stared at it until they took the hint and moved apart to make enough space. He sat down right between them.

Harebrayne looked at van Zieks, as if hoping the prosecutor had an explanation for what was going on. Van Zieks shrugged again.

Lord Stronghart placed his hands on the table. “All right. Let’s begin.”

Chapter Text

The room was quiet, yet there was an undeniable tension in the air. After taking a moment to recover from the shock of the Lord Chief Justice’s arrival, Albert cleared his throat. For Lord Stronghart’s sake, he repeated the basic details about how the séance would go, along with the reminder that they must not break the circle until the séance was complete, even if something frightening or upsetting happened.

In truth, he’d never done something like this before, and he had his doubts about whether or not he could conduct a séance properly. But after everything that happened in the trial, when he’d realized he knew something that could be useful to the people who believed in him, he knew he had to try.

He cleared his throat. “We are trying to reach the spirit who haunts these halls.”

Oh, this was embarrassing, much more embarrassing than he expected. He sounded like a character in a penny dreadful. Still, he would have to include this incident in his autobiography.

“Spirit, you came to us at the end of my trial and made your presence known. We call you here to us again now.”

Perhaps they did not have the best group for this sort of venture after all. Barok and Mr. Naruhodo were clearly against the idea; they didn’t look pleased (not that Barok ever looked especially pleased these days). And Mr. Naruhodo’s judicial assistant did not seem to like the idea of ghosts, even if she was not as loud about it as he was. Those three were almost certainly in the “cannot be possessed unless the ghost is malevolent enough to hurt them” category (oh dear, he hadn’t considered that possibility before, but if he spoke it out loud, Mr. Naruhodo and his assistant would almost certainly run from the room).

Barok’s apprentice never spoke at all as far as Albert could tell, and the mask made him impossible to read (not to mention being creepy), which only left the judge and the Lord Chief Justice as the two people who actually wanted to be there.

“Spirit, something is keeping you from your rest. We gathered here today because we want to help you.”

Most of the assembled group would probably resist too much for the ghost to be able to speak through them. Still, at least that left two candidates or possibly three (or possibly two, because the Lord Chief Justice’s arrival was so strange, Albert couldn’t figure out what his motives were).

“Spirit, are you with us now?”

The candles on the table extinguished.

Albert swallowed hard. That seemed to be a yes. The temperature in the room was colder again, like it had been in the ghost’s previous appearances. It was in with the room with them, and if his assessment was correct, it was unable to communicate properly in its current state. But it must want something; hauntings like this didn’t happen for no reason.

“Speak to us, spirit. We want to help you. Please, speak to us!”

Silence followed his request. No one moved, although Mr. Naruhodo’s eyes were darting about the room so much, Albert felt a little bad for making him participate in this. He was such a good lawyer, how was he to know he’d get this worked up over a ghost (not that his own heart rate was doing much better if he thought too hard about what they were doing).

Maybe it wasn’t going to work. He’d have to back up and ask the ghost to—

The masked apprentice groaned.

Everyone seated around the table looked at him with various degrees of alarm on their faces.

He slumped in his chair, then straightened up again.

Albert wet his lips and managed to find words. “Spirit…?”

“I am here,” he said, in what must be the masked man’s voice; he didn’t think this would be the way he first heard him speak.

Okay. Good. This was fine. This was good!

He tried to hide his nervousness, although he was sure he did a terrible job of it. “Are you the spirit who has been haunting the Old Bailey and its surrounding areas in London?”

A horrified whisper came from Ryunosuke. “It’s possible there’s more than one ghost?!”

“I am,” the spirit said through the masked man.

“Who are you?” Albert asked.

No answer.

He tried again. “What is your name?”

Silence.

This was unexpected. Even while he was trying to figure out the best way to go about this, Barok spoke up through gritted teeth. “Are you the Professor?”

Oh dear, perhaps Albert shouldn’t have voiced that particular possibility out loud when the judge asked earlier. It seemed to be causing Barok a great deal of distress.

The ghost didn’t answer.

Barok leaned across Lord Stronghart to glare at his possessed apprentice, his eyes filled with fury. “That was a yes or no question. Surely you can answer that much.”

(Of course it would be Barok who decided to rile up the ghost.)

When there was no response, Albert hastily decided on a follow-up question before Barok could say anything else. “Why won’t you tell us your name?”

“One of you cannot be trusted.”

“You mean,” he said, his words coming out as an embarrassing squeak, “someone sitting here in this room right now?”

“Yes.”

Oh. Oh. This was not good. This was horrible! He thought the séance would reveal something like the ghost wanted to speak to its loved ones or needed to pass on a message from beyond the grave or thought it could help someone or maybe shed light on something that came up in the trial, but this was so much more serious than anything he was prepared for.

He glanced around the table. Everyone else looked equally disconcerted.

Well, they would just have to keep going and see where this led. “Why have you returned?” Albert asked. “Why do you haunt London today?”

“For justice,” the spirit said.

“Justice… against the person who can’t be trusted?”

“Yes.”

“Did…” Oh, he didn’t want to ask, but it was a restless spirit, so he really had to ask. “This person who can’t be trusted, did they… kill you?”

The long pause made sweat bead on the back of his neck, but at last the spirit responded. “No.”

Albert exhaled. Good. At least he wasn’t sitting with a murderer in the room. “Then… what did they do?”

“…Destroyed me.”

That was… unhelpful. Rather remarkably unhelpful, in fact.

“Do all spirits speak in cryptic nonsense,” Barok asked, “or is this one putting in a special effort to irritate us?”

Stop riling the ghost, Barok! Albert inwardly cringed and cleared his throat. “Spirit, what exactly do you mean? How did this person destroy you, if they didn’t kill you?”

Silence.

“Tell us who it is, then. Who is the one who can’t be trusted?”

There was another long moment of silence, and then the spirit spoke again, his borrowed voice as cold as ice. “I will address him directly, since he knows who he is. You sit at this table in silence, pretending you know no more than the others, but you can’t escape your fate.”

Oh, oh this wasn’t good.

“Your day of reckoning is at hand, and I stand as its harbinger. I will haunt your every step. I will lurk in every shadow. You will not rest until justice is served.”

His proclamation rang through the room, and Albert swallowed hard. “Um… spirit? If you could tell us who it is, we could, um… you know, help see that justice is served.”

Silence.

“I… I might only be a scientist, potential writer, and as of today, technically a spirit medium, but everyone else here right now is in the legal world! We have lawyers, prosecutors, judicial assistants, judges, and the Lord Chief Justice himself! So… I mean, even if you’re worried about naming the person… this is about the best group you could tell.”

He tried to sound as confident as possible, but the spirit didn’t seem to buy that. The masked man made a nearly inaudible sound and said nothing else.

Albert sighed. “Are you holding your silence out of fear for yourself, or for the living?”

“It must be for the living,” Stronghart unexpectedly said. “If this person is as dangerous as the spirit implies, it would surely be a great risk to reveal him in an isolated room filled with innocent people.”

“Is that it?” Albert asked. “Spirit, if that’s your concern, keep in mind that the person you fear is outnumbered!”

Silence.

Barok and his apprentice and Mr. Naruhodo all had swords. Perhaps he should mention that. (Goodness, was it simply the habit of these people to walk about armed at all times?) Yet if one of them was the spirit’s enemy, would this turn into a battle? Oh dear, oh no, he did not sign up for this!

“Perhaps the ghost simply likes being unhelpful,” Barok said.

Barok, please! “Stop riling the ghost!”

“I will desist if it says a single thing that could possibly be of use to us.”

“Spirit, what Barok means to say is that if you don’t tell us anything, we can’t help you. Maybe… you know, maybe if you explain everything… with all of us here, we can do something about it.”

“Fine,” the spirit whispered. “I’ll tell you.”

“You will?” Albert squeaked.

Even though he encouraged it, the prospect of it actually happening terrified him. Oh, something told him this was going to get even worse than it already was.

“I’ll tell you… but I can’t tell you everything, no… I can’t, not here, not now! Don’t you see?”

Annoyance sparked on Barok’s face, and Albert spoke up quickly to preempt what was almost certainly a sarcastic remark about how the ghost hadn’t provided them with enough context to understand. “J-Just the name, then? The name of your enemy here?” Sweat rolled down the back of his neck. He was not at all sure he wanted to know.

“Yes… Yes, it’s—aaaargh!”

He cut off abruptly in a scream. The masked apprentice collapsed, falling out of his chair to the floor.

#

Ryunosuke jumped to his feet. “Kazuma!”

His heart was pounding. That whole thing had been terrifying, but now Kazuma, he…

“What happened?” van Zieks snapped.

Harebrayne appeared distressed. He looked around from side to side as though he might find answers. “I don’t know! Something went wrong! Something must have disrupted the séance. Did someone break the circle?”

A tense moment passed as everyone looked at each other, but no one spoke up.

“It also could have happened if the spirit attacked him deliberately,” Harebrayne said after a moment. He fiddled with the edge of his collar. “Or… he was so upset, something was clearly agitating him. Maybe that was it. I really don’t know!”

Well that was enough of that. Ryunosuke started forward toward Kazuma, who lay worryingly still on the other side of the table.

Stronghart stepped into his path. “Excuse me, but there is nothing you can do here. That man is under my employ, and if you recall, he is not permitted to speak to people outside of the Prosecutor’s Office.”

Ryunosuke glared at him, concern for his friend making him bolder than he usually would be. “He’s not just some mysterious man! That is my best friend, Kazuma Asogi, and I’m going to help him!”

“Any light you can shed on his identity will be welcome in the future, but I can’t permit you to interfere based on just your word.”

“Why? Why don’t you want him to speak to anyone?”

“Classified business.” Stronghart checked his pocket watch. “Now, he has been unconscious for approximately 3 minutes and 12 seconds, so I strongly recommend you allow him to get medical treatment.”

Oh, as if Ryunosuke was the problem here. He was on his way to help Kazuma when Stronghart got in the way for no reason. All this secrecy didn’t make sense no matter who the apprentice was, for that matter.

“Lord Stronghart—”

“Um, Mr. Naruhodo?” Susato spoke up. “I’m not so sure there’s any point in arguing anymore.”

“Thank you,” Stronghart said.

“I’m afraid the same applies to you, Lord Stronghart.”

He frowned and turned, and at last Ryunosuke could see past him again at the suddenly-emptier basement.

At some point during the argument, both van Zieks and his apprentice had left.

Chapter Text

Kazuma’s head hurt. Something awful must have occurred during the séance, although the details were a fuzzy haze. But the important thing was that he remembered who he was, why he had come to London, and everything that had happened up until the séance in the Old Bailey basement.

He opened his eyes and found Barok van Zieks looking down at him.

Kazuma scrambled upright, as he’d apparently been unceremoniously dropped in a chair in their office by the man in question, and glared at him despite the pain pulsing through his head.

Him. He was the one who condemned his father. He was the reason he came to London.

Van Zieks’s stare was icy. “Judging by the look on your face, I take it your memories have returned.”

“You knew who I was?” Kazuma bristled at the thought, even more furious that this man might have known his identity and intentionally kept it from him.

Yet the prosecutor shook his head. “Not until our learned friend shouted your name in the basement.”

Ryunosuke shouted his name? He frowned. Something terrible must have happened during the séance. While suffering amnesia, he’d been ambivalent about such things. Now he despised having a gap in his memories where the events of the séance should be. Whatever happened caused both his memories to return and Ryunosuke to shout his name, at which point his enemy took it upon himself to bring him back to his office, no doubt for some nefarious purpose.

He reached up, and his fingers brushed the mask Stronghart had compelled him to wear. He tore it off and cast it aside. “Since you know who I am, I assume you realize why I came to London.”

Van Zieks folded his arms. “Revenge?”

To say it so mildly was infuriating. Kazuma glared at him. “You sent my father to the gallows. You will pay for that.”

“Your father murdered my brother. You should consider yourself lucky I even tended to you, Nipponese.”

“I never asked for your aid!’

And why did he need tending? What happened during the séance? Well, he certainly wouldn’t give van Zieks the satisfaction of asking.

The prosecutor’s baleful glare faded as he turned away with a sigh and lifted a hand to his forehead. “If you’re capable of doing so, I ask that you set aside your hatred of me long enough to answer a question.”

“What question?”

“Can you tell me what happened at the end of the séance?”

Kazuma frowned. That… was what he thought van Zieks expected him to ask. Van Zieks should know everything that occurred during the séance. Even if he didn’t, he certainly would never think to ask Kazuma about it, or care enough about his opinion to do so.

Yet he couldn’t figure out how such a question could be a trick. “I remember almost nothing about it,” he finally said. “After the séance began and Mr. Harebrayne implored the spirit to speak, I… sensed a presence. Everything after that is a blank until I woke up here.”

“Then I assume you don’t know the ghost’s identity, either?”

“No.”

“Hmm. And you remember nothing from the end of the séance? You’re certain of this?”

“Why? Surely you don’t need insight from one of the Nipponese you loathe so much.”

Van Zieks scowled at him. “If I had any choice but to ask you, trust me, I would take it.”

Kazuma folded his arms. “Then exactly why do you need to ask me?”

“As you’ve no doubt realized, the ghost possessed you and spoke to us.”

He suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed make his skin crawl. Being without memories had been bad enough; to have briefly been someone else was horrifying. That ghost had better not come near him ever again.

“The séance came to an abrupt end when you collapsed and lost consciousness. Albert said one cause for such a phenomenon would be if someone broke the circle, but no one admitted to doing so. Under normal circumstances, lying would be impossible in such a situation, as the person seated next to the one responsible would be able to reveal them.”

“Unless they were working together,” Kazuma said. “Or if they had another reason to cover for the person.”

“Naturally. Two people lying is a possibility to keep in mind.” Van Zieks narrowed his eyes. “Yet the other possibility is that it was someone seated alongside you.”

So that was why he wanted to know if Kazuma remembered the end of the séance. Interesting… but that would mean…

“This leaves us with two candidates. Your Nipponese compatriot—”

“Ryunosuke would do no such thing!” Only van Zieks would have the audacity to continue to slander Ryunosuke after he’d defended Harebrayne in court. He had no sense of gratitude whatsoever.

“Perhaps not maliciously, but he certainly was unnerved enough to—”

“Even if he broke the circle out of fear, he would have owned up to it! Ryunosuke wouldn’t lie about such a thing, especially when it endangered me!”

Van Zieks sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then that leaves us with Lord Stronghart.”

…What?

Kazuma stared at him.

He couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t know Stronghart well enough to judge his character, and he truly couldn’t remember what happened. Yet it was startling to hear a prosecutor imply such a thing about the Lord Chief Justice. Most people wouldn’t have the nerve.

Not that he felt even the slightest shred of respect for van Zieks. This man condemned his father.

“Can you remember at all?” van Zieks asked. “Did Lord Stronghart break the circle?”

“Like I said, I have no memory of what happened after the spirit possessed me.”

“Albert said another possibility would be if the ghost intended to cause you deliberate harm.”

Kazuma shook his head. “I didn’t sense malice from the spirit.”

“What did you sense?”

He rubbed his chin and thought back to the start of the séance. Harebrayne had called out to the spirit… and then he sensed a force in his mind, temporarily overriding his will and sense of self, overwhelming him with…

“Sorrow,” he said. “And anger. But anger isn’t the same as malice.”

And… fear?

He furrowed his brow. Yes, the third emotion he felt from the ghost he would have to call fear. Yet it seemed harder to define. What was the spirit afraid of?

“Anger at the one who can’t be trusted,” van Zieks said under his breath.

Kazuma gave him a sharp look. “What?”

“It’s one of the things the spirit said during the séance. It was unwilling to speak freely because one of us could not be trusted.”

“And… you suspect Lord Stronghart?”

“He has been behaving peculiarly ever since the so-called ghost of the Old Bailey was reported. He joined the séance for unclear reasons. And if he indeed broke the circle and ended the séance, know that it was directly after the ghost agreed to name its enemy.”

Kazuma frowned. When they first spoke about the ghost, Stronghart said something about it throwing things. At the time, he’d wondered if the ghost had a grudge against him. Van Zieks’s theory had merit.

A quiet knock came at the door, so soft as to almost be inaudible.

“Enter,” van Zieks said.

It opened a crack, and Harebrayne peeked inside. Apparently reassured to see van Zieks—although why anyone would be reassured by his presence was a mystery for the ages—he stepped fully inside the office and closed the door behind him. He held out a sheet of paper. “Here, Barok. I wrote down everything that was said during the séance.”

“Why are you giving it to me?”

Harebrayne shuffled his feet. “Well, um… it was the Lord Chief Justice who asked for it, but I just know I’ll get lost if I try to find his office on my own!”

Van Zieks took the paper, but handed it to Kazuma. “Make a copy for yourself if you like, then take the other to Lord Stronghart.”

Kazuma bristled. They were no longer master and apprentice; the man who killed his father had no right to give him orders.

“Is there a problem, Asogi?”

He opened his mouth to say exactly what the problem was, then realized he might not get another chance to see what he said during the séance if he gave up the sheet of paper. He settled for a glower instead. “No.”

“Good.”

Harebrayne fidgeted. “Um… there is one more thing…”

“What?” van Zieks asked.

“Well, um…” He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m still supposed to be in prison until my acquittal goes through! But after the ghost appeared, everyone just forgot about me! I… I’d feel so embarrassed walking into the prison to tell them they forgot to take me back!”

“That would be an embarrassment to them, not to you.” Van Zieks lifted his hand to his face with a pained expression. “Fine, Albert, I’ll escort you.”

“I knew I could count on you, Barok!”

“Asogi, handle the transcript while I take Albert back to the prison.”

Kazuma nodded.

Once both men were out of the room—wait, he was being left alone in van Zieks’s office; the man didn’t even have the decency to see him as a proper enemy!—he knelt at his desk and looked over the transcript.

Harebrayne’s handwriting was a bit of an untidy scrawl, but fortunately it was readable. According to his recollections, the spirit admitted to being the one behind the recent hauntings, refused to give his name, and said the reason was because someone at the séance couldn’t be trusted. He then said that person destroyed him, but did not kill him—at which point van Zieks made a snide remark, because of course he did—and delivered an ultimatum to that person before finally agreeing to name his enemy, only to be cut off when Kazuma collapsed.

Kazuma copied the whole thing down onto a fresh sheet of paper to take to Lord Stronghart. Then he paused and looked around the room.

There was no chill in the air, and the candles remained lit. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder, all the same, if the ghost was lurking nearby. Perhaps watching him. It was the reason, indirect though it was, he had regained his memories. It had chosen him to speak through. He wished he knew who it was.

“Father?” he whispered at the air. “Is it you?”

But he got no answer.

#

Stronghart was pacing when Kazuma entered his office. He greeted him with a deep frown. “You’re not wearing your mask.”

“There’s no need for it,” Kazuma said. “I’ve regained my memories.”

“You know who you are?”

“Kazuma Asogi. I was on my way to London to study law when an accident befell me that left me with amnesia. Thank you for your kindness during my stay.”

He left out the fact that he would have preferred that kindness to not include a mask and definitely not being apprenticed to van Zieks. Did Stronghart honestly think that tiny mask hid his nationality from van Zieks; was that the motive behind it? Or did he suspect his true identity from the start and wanted to conceal any resemblance to Genshin Asogi?

He held out the paper he’d brought. “This is a transcript of what was said during the séance. Mr. Harebrayne said you asked him for a copy.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you.” Stronghart accepted it, glanced it over, and then set it on his desk.

Kazuma bowed and turned to leave.

“Mr. Asogi, a moment, if you have the time.”

He turned in surprise. “My lord?”

“What do you make of the ghost’s claim that there was someone at the séance who could not be trusted?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Kazuma said. He offered a slight smile. “I’m a stranger in London, after all. I can only vouch for myself, Mr. Naruhodo, and Miss Mikotoba.”

“Of course.” Stronghart paused. “Have you considered the possibility that the spirit meant Lord van Zieks?”

Kazuma froze.

“Though I’m loath to doubt one of my own prosecutors, I must admit the possibility crossed my mind the moment the spirit said that. He is believed to be ‘the Reaper,’ after all, even though no evidence has ever been found to prove it.”

And the man had caused his father’s death. Kazuma clenched his hands into fists. “I considered it.”

“Of course, I have no proof. Yet I will keep an eye on him. And… if anything should happen to me… at least now someone will know who I was investigating.”

A cold chill settled over Kazuma. “I understand, my lord.”

So Stronghart suspected van Zieks.

And it was van Zieks who cast suspicion on Stronghart himself.

Kazuma turned and left the office, deeply disturbed.

#

Good. That was one matter taken care of.

Stronghart read over the paper Asogi had left with him in the hopes of gleaning any further clues now that he had time to pore over the ghost’s words, but he gained little from the exercise.

After the séance, he was reasonably confident that the ghost was one of two people: Klint van Zieks or Genshin Asogi.

Prior to that, he had considered several other possible candidates—one of the Reaper’s victims, the former Lord Chief Justice, Lady Baskerville—but none of them would logically make all of the same statements the ghost did during the séance, particularly the apparent inability to simply deny it when van Zieks asked if the ghost was the Professor. Only those two would find that question a quandary they couldn’t answer without either further distorting his perception of the truth or identifying themselves.

Therein lay the frustration. Stronghart had made sure to position himself near both van Zieks and Asogi at the séance as a silent message that he could get to them if he wanted to, since Klint and Genshin had already been among his top candidates, but he hadn’t expected his threat to have quite the effect it did.

He read over the ghost’s words again.

Absolutely infuriating. The ghost had done it on purpose to get under Stronghart’s skin, surely. He deliberately phrased things in a cryptic fashion to obfuscate his identity. So Stronghart “destroyed” him, a phrase that could apply equally well to using Klint to exact justice or forcing Asogi to confess to crimes he didn’t commit.

But his melodramatic threats would come to nothing. If he thought Stronghart was powerless to fight back against the dead, he would soon learn he had made a grave mistake.

Stronghart rose from his desk and left his office.

Kazuma Asogi had been a wild card from the start, a firebrand that could set the judicial system aflame if left unchecked. Planting the seeds of doubt in his mind might not have even been necessary, since he already had every reason to despise Barok van Zieks. It was only a matter of keeping him under control, to turn him into a weapon pointed straight at the older prosecutor’s throat.

He reached the Prosecutor’s Office in good time and knocked on van Zieks’s office door. If Asogi had chosen to return there, he would simply make an excuse for his visit and try again later.

“Enter,” van Zieks said from the other side.

Stronghart did so, and found the office blessedly free of any vengeful apprentices. “I wanted to speak with you about the séance, Lord van Zieks.” He closed the door behind him and walked up to his desk. “It is important enough that I thought I should come here immediately, rather than summon you to my office.”

“Oh?”

“The ghost claimed someone at the séance couldn’t be trusted. Do you have any theories about who that person might be?”

Van Zieks folded his arms. “None substantial enough to mention.”

“Are you aware that your apprentice is the son of Genshin Asogi?”

A vein twitched in his jaw. “I have been made aware of that fact.”

“It occurred to me,” Stronghart said, “that the spirit might have been speaking of him.”

Van Zieks frowned. “Why would he be unwilling to speak freely if his enemy was the one he had possessed and therefore had no awareness what was said?”

“How do you know Asogi wasn’t aware of what the ghost said?”

Understanding dawned on van Zieks’s face. Yes, the only reason he believed that was because Kazuma Asogi himself attested to it. He would need to consider the possibility that the man had simply lied.

“The son of London’s most notorious murderer finding his way to our city is quite an unsettling turn of events,” Stronghart said. “Keep your eye on him, Lord van Zieks. I will do the same. And if anything should happen to me, you’ll know who was responsible.”

Van Zieks’s gaze darkened. “Indeed.”

Excellent, excellent. All the pieces were in place. Stronghart left the office with a satisfied smile.

If the ghost was Klint, and he thought to act against Stronghart, Kazuma would be unleashed and his brother would suffer the wrath of his vengeance.

And if the ghost was Genshin, and he tried to act, it would be Barok who took action and destroyed his son.

Even a dead man still had something to lose.

Chapter Text

Ryunosuke paced in the Prosecutor’s Office. He had asked Susato to return to Baker Street alone to let Sholmes and Iris know he would be late, while he went on in the hopes of learning what happened to Kazuma.

He’d almost worked up the nerve to knock on the office door when Lord Stronghart arrived, and he moved his pacing to the other end of the hallway before he could be noticed. After their tense confrontation in the basement, he’d rather his next encounter with the Lord Chief Justice be a bit further off in the future.

The events of the séance worried him, too. According to the ghost, someone who had been there couldn’t be trusted. But who? Not him or Susato. Surely not Kazuma. It couldn’t be Harebrayne. Lord van Zieks? Stronghart? The judge? He almost wished he could forget the whole thing ever happened.

After only a few minutes, Stronghart left the office, and Ryunosuke gathered his nerve. He had to at least try. He braced himself and turned.

Only to see Kazuma himself walking down the hall, no mask, no hood.

Ryunosuke froze.

Kazuma looked startled, but then he smiled. “Ryunosuke.”

His heart leaped, and he crossed the remaining distance to see his old friend. “Your memories…”

“I’ve remembered everything.”

This was better than he had hoped for. He just wanted to see that Kazuma had recovered from the terrifying end to the séance, so to see him walking around with his memories returned felt like a dream. “Then… you’re all right? The séance—”

Kazuma’s expression darkened, and he looked away. “The séance is the one thing I cannot remember. I’ve been forced to rely on the reports of others as to what I said.”

“But you’re all right? You aren’t hurt?”

He met Ryunosuke’s gaze again. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” He closed his eyes. “And… thank you for taking good care of that in my absence.”

For a moment, Ryunosuke didn’t know what he meant, but then he felt the now-familiar weight of Karuma at his side. He took the sword and held it out.

Kazuma accepted it and stared at the sword, his expression unreadable. “I may need it, with what is to come.”

“What… what do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, Ryunosuke. I have a lot of work to do.”

And before he could protest, Kazuma had stepped past him and opened the door to van Zieks’s office. He disappeared inside without a backward glance.

#

Despite Ryunosuke’s mixed feelings about what happened at the Prosecutor’s Office, his spirit surged again when he reported Kazuma’s full recovery to Susato. He left out their friend’s abrupt departure. It was probably simply the stress, from all that happened, and he would call upon them in due time to catch up.

With his worries settled in regards to Kazuma, Ryunosuke then joined Susato in recounting the séance for Sholmes and Iris. Sholmes seemed particularly thoughtful about the whole thing, although he didn’t share his thoughts out loud, opting instead to comment on how the exertion of a trial followed by a harrowing séance meant they surely needed an especially large dinner.

Iris’s criticism that he had not been involved in either activity went ignored by the great detective.

Partway through dinner, a chill descended over the room. Ryunosuke froze with a spoonful of soup almost at his lips. It was happening again.

“Mr. Naruhodo,” Susato said, “d-do you think the ghost is here?”

He didn’t want to believe that, but there was an undeniable presence in the air.

Sholmes rose from the table and struck a pose. “Ah, so you’ve decided to try again, my dear dead fellow! I have yet to master the art of creating ghost tea, but fear not, it has not been for lack of trying!”

Iris folded her arms with a pout. “You didn’t try anything, Hurley. I was the one who did all the work.”

“Why do they want to feed the ghost?” Ryunosuke asked under his breath.

Then the presence vanished, and he breathed again. This time, maybe it would stay away for good.

#

Kazuma glared at his desk.

He would rather be absolutely anywhere but in the same room as the man responsible for his father’s death. He had intended to gather up what few belongings he had in London, then march out of the Prosecutor’s Office and never return. But Stronghart’s words kept playing on his mind. If van Zieks was guilty of whatever the ghost had suffered, he might be able to find evidence if he observed him long enough. And he certainly needed some sort of evidence to put van Zieks in the dock; he was not enough of a fool to think he could revive his father’s case on its own merits.

Soon, Reaper, soon. No one could kill that many people without slipping up eventually.

This business with the assassination mission was certainly linked to the Reaper. He’d get the answers he needed from Gregson, and then he’d see what he could trace back to van Zieks. In the meantime, he’d do what he could.

“Is there a reason you’re still here?” van Zieks asked from the opposite end of the room.

Kazuma gritted his teeth. “I’m your apprentice. Remember?”

“I should hardly think you’d want to continue in that role.”

“I have unfinished work that I need to complete,” he said. “Some of us care about our responsibilities.”

“Then let me rephrase that,” the prosecutor said. “I have no desire for an apprentice at all, let alone a Nipponese one, and certainly not the son of a murderer.”

Kazuma stood up and whirled around to glare at him. “My father was not a murderer.”

Van Zieks lifted his chin. “Tell that to his victims.”

“As if you should talk about victims, Reaper.”

“I’ve killed no one.”

Kazuma snorted. He didn’t believe that for a minute. “So you claim. One of these days, you’ll make a mistake, and I’ll be the one to bring you to justice.”

“Justice,” van Zieks sneered. “You mean you want revenge.”

“I want justice, after you condemned a man who didn’t deserve to die!”

“Did my brother deserve to die?”

“I don’t give a damn about your brother,” Kazuma said.

That did something to van Zieks. His face contorted with rage, and he rose from his desk to advance toward Kazuma.

Well, this was a plan. Perhaps not a smart plan, but certainly a plan. Prove the Reaper’s guilt by provoking him into trying to kill Kazuma here and now! The only problem was surviving it in order to actually bring charges against him. Kazuma rested his hand on Karuma’s hilt.

Van Zieks stopped inches away and grabbed him by the collar to haul him closer. “Get out of my office.”

“I think you mean our office. By order of Lord Stronghart.”

“An order I intend to see rescinded as soon as possible.”

He was not doing anything particularly murderous, which was unfortunate for the plan, if fortunate for Kazuma’s life expectancy. Kazuma glared at him. “Stop acting as though you’re offended by my company. I should be the one to object to being in the same room as you.”

“You’re always trying to make yourself out to be the victim and twist things around to your benefit,” van Zieks said, his voice a low growl. “That’s what I hate about you Nipponese.”

“Do you think hating an entire race gives you the moral high ground?”

“Get out of my office, Asogi, or I’ll—”

All the candles in the room went out. They stood for a moment in darkness as a familiar chill filled the room. They were no longer alone.

“Looks like the ghost has come to stop you,” Kazuma said. “He probably fears you’ll murder me, like you did the others.”

A book flew off the shelves and slammed into his shoulder.

He gritted his teeth and glared at the air. “What was that for?”

Van Zieks snorted and let go of his collar. “Obviously the ghost sees that you’re a lying, duplicitous—”

A book hit the older prosecutor in the back of the head.

He cursed and lifted a hand to his head with a glare. “Whose side are you on?”

Well, it hardly mattered. It didn’t seem like he was going to fly into a murderous rage anyway. Kazuma sighed and re-lit the candles nearest to him. It would have been so convenient, too.

After a moment, van Zieks re-lit the remaining candles. “You said something about work you needed to finish.”

“Yes.”

“Finish it, then, so you can leave.”

Kazuma grabbed the paperwork he’d been taking care of and brought it over to the Reaper’s desk. “Unfortunately, my lord, the prosecutor in charge of the case will need to look over this before I can finish.”

“Albert’s case?” Van Zieks took the papers and read over them with a furrowed brow.

“Looking for a flaw?” Kazuma asked.

“Any mistake might delay his acquittal.”

“That eager for him to get out so you can kill him, Reaper?”

Fury flashed in van Zieks’s eyes as he looked up. “Don’t you dare, you miserable—”

The candles went out and two books flew off the shelves to hit them each in the head.

“Ouch!” Kazuma rubbed his head. “What was that for? I understand you hitting him, but why me?”

“If you intend to shout at the ghost, kindly do it elsewhere.” Van Zieks re-lit the candles. “I preferred you when you didn’t speak.”

Kazuma scowled. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. You also preferred me wearing a mask.”

“Actually, I prefer you without the mask, so I can see what it is I’m dealing with.”

“Is that it? Or does the mask make you feel guilty over the mask your judicial system made my father wear before you had him killed? No, of course not, I don’t suppose you can feel guilt.”

The candles went out, but nothing flew.

Kazuma allowed himself a smile of triumph.

And then a book hit him in the shoulder.

“Stop saying such things, Asogi. I do not wish to reassemble my entire library.”

“Me?”

This time van Zieks didn’t bother to light the candles. Maybe he realized it was a lost cause. “It is apparent that you should leave my office as soon as this report is finished. There can be no harmony with you here.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours, obviously.”

“Too blind to see your own faults,” Kazuma said.

The prosecutor ignored him and went back to looking over the report. “What did you mean by this line here?”

“I’m sure the great Lord van Zieks can figure it out without relying on the aid of a lowly Nipponese.”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Asogi.”

“Good, because I don’t intend to do anything you appreciate.”

Van Zieks clenched his fist and slammed it down on the desk. “I see you came to London to be a blight upon my existence, just like your father. Mark my words, I will have you removed as my apprentice. Whatever you’re scheming, your plan will fail.” He ducked, and the oncoming book sailed harmlessly over his head.

Except it was followed by a second, which hit true.

He jumped to his feet and glared at the ceiling. “Stop doing that!”

Kazuma groaned. He wanted to snap back, but something would surely be thrown at him. He suddenly felt exhausted. “I think the ghost wants us to get along.”

“I find that highly unlikely.” Yet van Zieks cast a glance toward the bookshelf, as if concerned even such a comment might provoke retaliation. He shook his head. “Fine. Speak to me in a civil manner and I’ll attempt to do the same.”

Kazuma managed to bite back his retort. “I suppose we’ll have to work together.”

“For now.”

“For now.”

Until he had the evidence he needed, be it about the Reaper or the words spoken by the ghost. Either way, he would bring the justice he sought.

#

Ryunosuke didn’t expect to be back in the Prosecutor’s Office so soon. He stared at the office door. It wouldn’t be the first time he called upon van Zieks, but it was the first time he had been specifically summoned, which was more than a little worrying. Every terrible possibility ran through his head as he stood there staring.

Susato gave him a worried look. “We have to go in eventually, Mr. Naruhodo.”

“Right.” He slapped his cheeks to give himself courage and then knocked.

“Who is it?”

The very annoyed-sounding Reaper on the other side of the door was almost enough to make him change his mind, but he looked at Susato, who gave him a disapproving look, and then he sighed and silently commended his soul to any benevolent forces that might be watching over him. “It’s me—ah, I mean, it’s Mr. Naruhodo.”

“Fine. Come in.”

He cautiously opened the door and stepped inside with Susato right behind him.

The office looked like a tornado had gone through it. There were books all over the floor, and van Zieks sat at his desk pinching the bridge of his nose as though he had a headache. Kazuma was nowhere to be seen.

“L-Lord van Zieks, what—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ryunosuke clamped down on his urge to press for details, because the other man sounded even more irritable than usual.

Van Zieks sighed and shook his head. “I’ll make this brief to avoid speaking my mind freely, because I do not wish to invoke any more damage upon this office.”

Okay, seriously, what did that mean?

“I intended to explain this after the trial. It concerns the Professor.”

The Professor? The serial killer who murdered his brother?

“The Professor was a visiting student named Genshin Asogi,” van Zieks said without further preamble. “He came to London sixteen years ago along with two others from your nation.”

“Asogi?” Ryunosuke repeated, certain he must have heard wrong.

“Kazuma’s father?” Susato asked.

“Yes. Now you know. Who it was who took my brother from me—and why it is I hate you Nipponese so much.” Van Zieks waved his hand. “You have your answer, so go.”

No, this actually raised more questions than it answered. Kazuma’s father was a serial killer? That was why van Zieks hated them? How much did Kazuma know? Did van Zieks know who Kazuma was? How did Kazuma feel about all of this? What did any of this have to do with the books scattered all over the office?

“Go. Now.”

But… but… Ryunosuke opened his mouth to start asking questions, then took one look at the expression on van Zieks’s face and settled for, “Thank you for telling us, Lord van Zieks!” before retreating into the relative safety of the hallway outside.

What in the world was going on?

Chapter Text

Stronghart paced in his office. The ghost had not given up and left in response to his implied threat. No, reports were still coming in. Word of the séance had spread throughout all of London. Worse, it seemed the Prosecutor’s Office had become a downright hotbed of supernatural activity, all centered on van Zieks and Asogi.

Both of them continued to work there, even though he’d thought for sure that partnership would have dissolved. Perhaps this was his fault for planting the seeds of suspicion too soon, and they were trying to keep an eye on each other.

And of course, the ghost kept haunting him.

Its visits were less violent these days. Sometimes the candles even remained lit. Yet the sense of being watched in patient silence was almost more unnerving.

Because his plan had a gaping flaw, and surely the ghost had noticed. He’d aimed van Zieks and Asogi at each other, but that relied on them not learning the truth. If the ghost was one of the men he feared it was and managed to prove to them what truly happened ten years ago, it would spell disaster for his plans.

Genshin’s word would not be enough to convince Barok. Yet if that goddamned will had survived the past decade, he would surely point Kazuma toward it. On the other hand, if the ghost was Klint, his word alone would suffice. Yet in life, he’d opted to kill three additional men rather than let his brother learn he was a murderer. His own shame might be his undoing.

The candles went out, and the familiar chill returned.

Oh, if only he could have the innocence of those two idiot prosecutors, going about their business even while being haunted. Stronghart attempted to carry on with his work to create at least the outward appearance of being unbothered.

His desk began trembling.

“Stop it,” he hissed at the air. “If there’s a flaw in my plan, then there’s a greater flaw in yours. Reveal the truth to them and I won’t hesitate to have them both killed.” It wasn’t the optimal outcome, but it could prove necessary. “Is that what you want? Revenge on me at the cost of their lives?”

A large tome flew from one of the bookshelves to land in front of him. It opened on its own, and the pages began to flip. Morbidly curious, Stronghart lifted his cane and slashed it through the open space in front of the book. There was no difference in how the air felt, nothing to suggest a dead man was there.

The pages stopped, open to a particular spot. He took a look and snorted.

Justice. That was the word at the top of the page.

“I am bringing justice,” Stronghart said. “London is safer than it has been in years! If you want justice, you’ll leave me be.”

The chill in the room suddenly got worse. It seemed to close in on him, and he choked as the frigid air pierced his lungs. He suddenly could imagine, in far too vivid detail, the ghost pulling him down into the grave. Panic filled him despite his resolve to stay firm, and he jumped to his feet.

Even moving was difficult. He stumbled forward until he regained his footing, and reached for the door.

#

Kazuma walked alone down the dark streets of London toward the inn where he’d taken a room. He couldn’t impose on Ryunosuke, whom he’d learned was staying with Herlock Sholmes. While the offer would surely be made, he needed time to himself, especially with what was to come. And he certainly wouldn’t accept accommodations provided by van Zieks.

He lifted his head toward the night sky as the cool breeze blew through his hair. Part of him had been clinging to the wild notion that the ghost might be his father, come back to help him uncover the truth, but now…

His father wouldn’t force him to work with the man who condemned him. This ghost was no friend, but another enemy.

Kazuma lowered his head and stormed down the street, feeling more alone than ever.

#

The Prosecutor’s Office was dark. Only one person remained inside this late in the evening. Barok stood alone in his office, looking up at the portrait of Klint.

Ever since the séance, he’d been struck by the irrational idea that the ghost haunting London might be his brother. It would explain the spirit’s frequent visits to his office. It wouldn’t quite explain the forced harmony with Asogi, unless perhaps Klint was trying to tell him he had no reason to extend his hate to Genshin’s son.

“But if it’s you, why won’t you speak to me?” he implored the portrait. “If you cannot speak, at least give me a sign!”

He got no answer.

#

Ryunosuke was just settling in to sleep when he heard a knock at the door downstairs.

“At this time of night,” Sholmes’s voice rang out far too loud for this late in the evening, “an unexpected caller could only be a spy attempting to deliver top-secret information! I must inform him at once that he has the wrong address.”

The door opened, followed by the indistinct sounds of Sholmes explaining to the nighttime visitor that they weren’t expecting any spies and describing various ways the wayward spy might have misunderstood the address.

“I am not a spy, and I don’t have time for this nonsense!” thundered the unmistakable voice of…

Stronghart?!

Ryunosuke sat straight up. Unless he was dreaming, Lord Stronghart had just knocked on the door of 221B Baker Street and was downstairs talking to Sholmes. Somehow that felt more improbable than being haunted by a ghost. Maybe it was a dream after all.

Except… there were voices downstairs.

He got up slowly.

“Psst! Runo!”

He looked over and saw Iris waving to him from the top of the stairs with Susato standing behind her.

“If you crouch here,” Iris said, “you can hear everything that’s being said downstairs.”

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop,” Susato said, although she still joined them as they knelt alongside the staircase.

Indeed, the voices from downstairs carried to them clearly.

“I only want to ask a few simple questions,” Stronghart said. “You’ve publicized claims recently about being an expert on… paranormal matters.”

“A great detective must be well-versed in all matters, earthly or otherwise!”

“Are you or aren’t you?”

“I certainly am!”

“Then I’d like to officially consult you about the so-called ghost of the Old Bailey.”

“Lord Chief Justice, I detect some stress in your mannerisms,” Sholmes said. “Have you, perhaps, not been sleeping well?”

“My sleeping habits are of no concern to you, detective. I have allotted only 45 minutes for this discussion, so I—”

“Aha! This calls for my Logic and Reasoning Spectacular!”

…What?

Ryunosuke stood up. Listening in was one thing, but this was something he had to see for himself. Susato and Iris were right behind him.

They found a new spot a few steps down, where they could see what was going on while still remaining out of view of the two men downstairs.

Stronghart looked irate, but Sholmes appeared delighted as he danced in a circle around the scowling Lord Chief Justice and pointed a dramatic finger at him.

“Lord Stronghart! From the moment you crossed the threshold, you have been subtly glancing about the room in a most uncharacteristically nervous fashion! One might naturally assume that, being a spy, you are afraid you have been followed by enemies—”

“Where did you even come up with this ‘spy’ notion?” Stronghart demanded, as Ryunosuke wondered if he was going to have to run downstairs to fix Sholmes’s deductions, like usual.

However, the great detective continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “—but careful observation reveals that you are instead looking at inanimate objects. Barring the possibility that you are scanning the room for advanced, concealed listening devices, and taking into account recent events in London, the only logical conclusion is that you are watching for the presence of the ghost!”

“Could you not have deduced that from my stated reason for being here?”

Sholmes ignored him and snapped his fingers. “Now! Your hair is slightly askew, Lord Stronghart, did you notice?”

The man reached up to his hair, then jerked his hand back down. “What does that—”

“In fact, your overall demeanor is somewhat less composed than normal. It is apparent, therefore, that you rushed from your home in a hurry.” He snapped his fingers again. “And where did you run but to the doorstep of the great detective, known for his generosity! Therefore, we can only conclude that the ghost has driven you from your place of dwelling, and you have come to ask for lodgings from the great Herlock Sholmes!”

The thought of Stronghart joining them as a boarder made Ryunosuke choke, and he covered his mouth to keep from making any sound as Susato gave him a disapproving look.

“No,” Stronghart said, “I am certainly not here to ask for lodgings.”

Thank goodness. Ryunosuke wasn’t sure he could handle having Stronghart as a roommate.

Sholmes deflated. “Oh.”

“I am only here to consult you about this ghost, since you claim to be an expert.”

“Why, you should have said so from the start!”

Stronghart looked like he was on the edge of throttling Sholmes. “Assuming you actually do have the experience you purport to, is there a reason the ghost seems unable to communicate without a séance being conducted?”

The hair on the back of Ryunosuke’s neck prickled. He looked over his shoulder, but no one was nearby except for Susato and Iris, who remained entranced by the conversation downstairs. Yet…

Someone was behind him, no doubt about it. Although the lamps remained lit, the ghost was there with them. The room’s temperature crept lower. He glanced over his shoulder again. It was as if the ghost had joined them on the stairs to watch the two men below.

“Hmm.” Sholmes lit his pipe and stuck it in his mouth as he considered Stronghart’s question. “A natural assumption would be that because the ghost only recently began affecting the world of the living, it is too weak to communicate directly.”

“You say that as if the time frame matters.”

“Naturally, increased time spent in this world will allow the ghost to gain in strength until it is able to speak or even appear!”

“What?!”

“You seem distressed by that notion, Lord Stronghart.”

“Anything that affects the safety of London’s citizens is my responsibility. This ghost could become dangerous.”

“Indeed. Well, since you have come here to take up lodgings—”

“I have not.”

“—it might interest you to know that I have devoted considerable thought to the same problem. At first, I deemed it critical that we learn the spirit’s identity in all due haste in order to help it find rest. However, after assessing the reports about the ‘ghost of the Old Bailey,’ I’ve concluded that it is strengthening at such a rapid rate that it’s merely a matter of time until the spirit can speak to us if it so chooses!”

“Are you certain of that?”

Sholmes took another puff from his pipe. “Well, there is a slight chance that the spirit might instead be overwhelmed by negative emotions and lose its sense of self, in which case it would essentially go on a rampage.”

That was the most horrifying thing Ryunosuke ever heard of, and he rather wished he hadn’t. Especially with the ghost in the room with them.

“However, that is unlikely.”

“We must find a way to stop it, just in case,” Stronghart said. “If you know so much about spirits, you must also be versed in the art of exorcisms. You should—”

A blast of cold like ice water shot through his veins left Ryunosuke shaken, and the lamps downstairs went out. It was as if the ghost had pushed past him in its haste to get down the stairs. Everything in the room shook with an invisible force. Stronghart’s eyes widened.

Sholmes remained impassive, head tilted. “Hmm. Truth be told, I have not studied exorcisms. I prefer to help spirits find rest by resolving their lingering issues. Perhaps you should consider all the options before jumping to conclusions, my dear fellow.”

“Why are you so calm right now?! Can’t you see that it’s—” Stronghart stepped back as if stricken. “It’s been here before, hasn’t it?”

All traces of humor vanished from Sholmes’s face. “You know as well as I do that the ghost has haunted places throughout all of London, Lord Stronghart.”

The room was deathly still again, yet the chill of the grave remained.

“I have one last question for you, Mr. Sholmes.”

“Yes?”

“Should I read anything into the fact that the ghost chose to speak through Kazuma Asogi at the séance?”

Ryunosuke leaned forward. He’d been wondering about that too, especially after what they learned about Kazuma’s father. Harebrayne had speculated that the ghost might be someone linked to the Professor case, so if Genshin Asogi was the Professor…

Sholmes took his pipe from his mouth and tapped it for a moment. “There could be any number of reasons for the spirit’s possession of Mr. Asogi.”

“Such as?”

“It could have a connection to him, true… or perhaps it sees him as a kindred spirit. On the other hand, it might be as simple as the fact that it could find no other mind receptive to its possession.” Sholmes doubled over laughing. “From what I’ve been told of the séance, some participants were adamantly against the idea!”

Which was a normal way to react, thank you.

“I understand Mr. Asogi had amnesia at the time, which undoubtedly made him easier to possess.”

“So it could be anyone.” Stronghart turned away and strode toward the door. “Thank you, detective.”

The door closed behind him, and soon the ghost’s presence faded as well. Ryunosuke exhaled. It was nice to be only among the living.

Sholmes stood at the door for a long moment, pipe in hand. “Yes, it could be anyone… but why does it have you so concerned, Lord Chief Justice?”

Chapter Text

Kazuma tossed and turned in his bed at the inn. He felt like something was reaching out to him. He opened his eyes and looked around the dark inn room. Was he dreaming? He sensed someone there, but the room was empty.

And as cold as ice.

Fully awake now, he sat up and rubbed his face. He wasn’t dreaming. That could only mean… the ghost was in the room with him.

“What do you want?” he whispered.

A hint of the feelings he’d felt in the séance reached him. Sorrow. Anger. Fear.

Kazuma recoiled. “Don’t you dare do that again!” Even the thought of giving up who he was, for however brief a duration, was abhorrent. “Stay away from me, do you understand?”

He reached for Karuma. Foolish, it wasn’t as though he could fight a ghost with a blade. Yet he clutched it nevertheless and held it out in front of him as though it might help. He didn’t like having an opponent he couldn’t see. Even the Reaper, rumors notwithstanding, was human.

After the tumultuous attempts to work together with van Zieks, he’d located numerous books on ghosts in the hopes of learning what he could do against one if it became necessary to protect himself, which seemed increasingly likely.

Because the ghost had been following him.

It followed him when he went to Stronghart’s office to make a confidential report that he had begun to investigate van Zieks. It followed him around the judicial library while he researched everything he could find about the Reaper deaths. It followed him on his visit to his father’s grave and his subsequent attempts to dredge up further details about Genshin Asogi’s trial.

“Why are you haunting me?” Kazuma asked of the empty room. “Go torment your enemy like you said you would. Haunt the Reaper until I figure out how to put him on trial!”

Its invisible presence made his skin crawl. If it would just leave him alone so he could get the job done, he’d feel a lot better about things.

“If van Zieks is your enemy,” Kazuma said, “then you and I are on the same side. Trust that I will complete my mission. But if you count him as a friend, then I count you among my enemies. Either way, begone from here before I find a way to make you leave.”

The temperature in the room returned to normal. He exhaled. Good. Hopefully it was tormenting van Zieks.

A headache pounded at his skull, but instead of returning to bed, he opened one of the books on spirits he’d obtained. He needed to learn how to deal with ghosts as soon as possible. Preferably a method to keep it away from him, if not exorcise it.

And after a night like this, he didn’t think he couldn’t tolerate dealing with the Reaper tomorrow.

#

Stronghart had barely slept. As someone who always made sure to get exactly 7 hours and 30 minutes of sleep each night, that made him more irritable than usual. Sleepless nights had happened before, but due to tangible, living problems he could solve.

This, however, was the ghost’s doing.

It gave him a short reprieve after he left the “great detective,” perhaps out of satisfaction that the man had been of no help to him whatsoever, but then it returned later in the night.

Wind howling, books falling to the ground, chairs knocked over, priceless dishes shattered—and with it all, a silent creeping dread like the touch of death that left him feeling cornered until he wasn’t sure if it was even the ghost anymore, or his own paranoia having built up over the years.

Because a voice in the back of his mind whispered that everything he had done would one day catch up with him.

He clamped down on it and forced it into silence, as he always did. Everything he did over the past ten years was for the sake of London. No one would threaten to plunge his city back into the lawless age it once knew, be they alive or dead. No one!

“Why can’t you see that?” he asked in a hushed whisper, in case the ghost already lurked nearby to haunt his steps once again. “I can do great things for London. It is worth some sacrifices!”

Yet his enemies were fools and would never see that. He had to get rid of this ghost before it found a way to destroy him and all he’d worked for.

A knock came at his office door, and he lifted his head. “Yes?”

The door opened, and Kazuma Asogi strode in with a stack of books and papers. “Lord Stronghart.” He bowed. “I was wondering if I might make use of your office today.”

“…Why?”

Asogi folded his arms and looked away with a scowl. “I have no desire to share an office with Barok van Zieks any more than is necessary for my investigation.”

“So you chose my office?”

“My lord, you are one of the few people I know in London.”

Stronghart considered him for a moment, then shrugged. “So be it, as long as you do not make any noise while I’m trying to work.” It could be useful to keep him around, to win him over if the ghost was Klint and keep him under watch if the ghost was Genshin.

Asogi nodded and pulled up a chair. He sat down and began to work in silence.

After a few minutes passed, Stronghart studied him again. “It won’t be easy to release you from your apprenticeship to Lord van Zieks. You have yet to prove yourself as a prosecutor.”

“I am aware of that, my lord.”

“I could arrange a transfer, although I had high hopes for what you might become if you studied under our top prosecutor.”

Asogi’s jaw visibly clenched, as if he despised the thought of van Zieks being the best prosecutor in London.

It was true. Credit where credit was due, van Zieks was a fine prosecutor, and Stronghart didn’t look forward to the day when he’d lose him. If he ended the curse of the Reaper when he became Attorney General, he would also have to put an end to the man behind the legend, and van Zieks’s skill in the courtroom would be a regrettable loss. Having Asogi as his replacement was an undeniably appealing prospect, especially since he seemed easier to control than the uncorruptible Barok van Zieks.

He could toss Asogi into the courtroom to see if he could stand on his own as a prosecutor, but he would still lack years of expertise. Yet apprenticing him to another prosecutor had its downsides as well. The Asogi problem simply had no good solution.

Unless…

Stronghart cleared his throat. “It might interest you to know that I was a prosecutor myself before I became Lord Chief Justice.”

Asogi gave him a sharp look. “You, sir?”

“Yes. It’s been many years since I stood in the courtroom, but I could provide you with some advice if you’re intent on avoiding Lord van Zieks.”

The other man snorted. “If I’m avoiding him, it’s for his sake, not mine. Thank you for your offer, my lord. I accept.”

Stronghart smiled.

This might turn out quite nicely.

#

Kazuma could tell the ghost was in the room with them. It didn’t disturb their work, apparently content to watch. That was fine with him. He studied the legal books he’d brought to the office with renewed spirit. Stronghart’s offer had been a shock, but a welcome one. Studying under the Lord Chief Justice himself sounded ideal.

Except, of course, that the ghost said someone at the séance couldn’t be trusted.

He scowled at the book in front of him without reading the words. That person had to be van Zieks. After all, only van Zieks’s own insinuations implicated Stronghart. It disgusted him that he’d ever entertained suspicions against Stronghart based solely on the word of the man who condemned his father.

Yet if the ghost’s enemy was the Reaper, then why did it force them to work together? That didn’t…

Wait, no, it did make sense. Yes… Yes, of course, if the ghost was van Zieks’s enemy, it wanted to keep a false peace between them to allow Kazuma to stay close enough to uncover his secrets. Well, that plan was over. The man never let anything slip about his activities as the Reaper. He was too clever for that. Cornering him would be more difficult than the ghost thought.

With a silent apology to the ghost for yelling at it the night before, Kazuma resumed studying British law.

Partway through the morning, Stronghart checked his pocket watch and stood up. Kazuma surreptitiously checked the time as well. It was exactly 11 AM. The other man took something from one of his desk drawers, and then walked further back into the office, toward the window.

He scattered something, and after a moment, Kazuma realized he was feeding the birds.

Fascinating. He never imagined a man as authoritative as Stronghart would personally feed the birds that had taken up residence in his office. Then again, they continually returned despite how often his exclamations startled them into flight, so perhaps this explained why.

It was nice to be in an office that was home to doves instead of bats.

Did van Zieks feed the bats in his office? Yes, they were probably blood-sucking bats and he captured some poor, innocent creatures to give to them as prey, the monster. Then again, it was hard to imagine a man as cold as the Reaper caring about any animals; no, he surely paid the bats no attention at all and left the poor starving animals to scrounge for food themselves.

Satisfied that van Zieks was a terrible person whether he fed the bats or not, Kazuma went back to work.

#

By the end of the day, Kazuma had learned two things about Lord Stronghart.

First, the man absolutely loved law. Despite his claim to want silence, his work seemingly became unnecessary once Kazuma started asking questions about the finer points of the legal system. Stronghart not only answered his questions, but told him things he hadn’t even considered asking about. He went on for the better part of an hour without consulting a single book. Kazuma had never actually seen Stronghart look happy until then. It was oddly heartwarming to hear the pride in his voice when he spoke of new forensics techniques and his efforts to stamp out crime in London.

Second, he had no sense of humor whatsoever.

Kazuma gave up trying to tell jokes after his first attempt was greeted only with a stony stare. It wasn’t even entertaining to provoke him like it was with van Zieks.

Van Zieks also lacked a sense of humor, but their days of enforced harmony under the ghost’s watch had shown Kazuma that cracking jokes usually resulted in the other man attempting to ignore him until he couldn’t take it any longer, at which point he’d respond with sarcastic jabs. Watching him get more and more annoyed was the sort of small revenge that helped Kazuma bide his time until he could bring him to justice.

Stronghart, however, gave every impression that he might actually throw Kazuma out of his office if he didn’t take things seriously, which dampened what was otherwise an enjoyable change of pace from being in the Reaper’s company.

“I see you’ve stopped warding the office against ghosts,” Kazuma said, as he prepared to leave in the evening.

Stronghart paused. “The herbs proved to be ineffectual.”

Interesting. Kazuma watched him for a moment. He couldn’t entirely shake away what van Zieks had said about Stronghart possibly disrupting the séance, but the ghost had to be after van Zieks. It had to be. It was the only thing that made sense. So why did it haunt Stronghart…?

“Do you need something more?” Stronghart asked.

“No, my lord.”

Resolving the matter of the ghost could wait. His primary goal was finding a way to bring justice for his father. And, of course, there was that other matter, which he could no longer ignore. After all, it was tomorrow.

His heart tremored, but he steeled himself.

Tomorrow, he had a meeting to keep with Tobias Gregson.

Chapter Text

Maybe there was something wrong with his eyes.

Ryunosuke rubbed his eyes and stared again at Iris’s blackboard. Nope, it was still the same as when he got downstairs this morning. Her notes had been replaced by an explicable series of drawings. What once was a series of notes for the next Herlock Sholmes story was now a diagram split into four quadrants.

In the first, squiggly lines had been drawn. That was all they were no matter how much Ryunosuke screwed up his eyes trying to make sense of them. Meanwhile, the second quadrant had even bigger squiggly lines, along with a square. The third did not have any squiggles, but a blob that looked roughly like… pudding, if he had to guess.

In the fourth and final quadrant, the pudding was holding a violin.

What was he looking at???

“Good morning, Runo!”

He jumped at the sound of Iris’s voice and turned to face her. “Good morning, Iris. Err… what is all of this?” He waved his hand toward the board.

She looked, and then she slowly lifted her hand to her mouth in shock. “Hurley! HURLEY!”

Sholmes appeared down the stairs almost immediately, as if he was just waiting to be summoned. “Aha! I see you’ve discovered my detailed analysis of ghostly phenomena! What do you think?”

It didn’t look like a detailed analysis of anything, let alone ghostly phenomena. Ryunosuke stared in bewilderment at the pudding. So… it was supposed to be a ghost?

“Hurley!” Iris folded her arms with a pout. “Did you erase the notes for my next story to draw pictures?”

Sholmes staggered back as if wounded. “My dear Iris, surely you intend to write Herlock Sholmes’s Ghostly Adventures!”

“You know, Hurley, I was going to bake a pie for dessert tonight, but I think there might only be enough to share with Runo and Susie.”

“S-Surely you would not be so cruel as to deprive a great detective of pie!”

While Sholmes pleaded with Iris to have mercy on him, Susato came downstairs and looked at them with an expression of mixed puzzlement and amusement. “Whatever is going on here?”

Ryunosuke sighed. “Mr. Sholmes took over Iris’s blackboard to write… a detailed analysis of ghostly phenomena.”

She looked at the blackboard. Then she furrowed her brow in obvious confusion.

Good, at least it wasn’t just him.

“Mr. Sholmes?” she asked. “Could you explain this to us?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Sholmes spun away from Iris and struck a dramatic pose alongside the blackboard. “After my unexpected consultation with the Lord Chief Justice two nights ago, I took it upon myself to analyze the ghostly phenomena we’ve been witnessing and predict will occur next.”

But all he’d drawn were a bunch of squiggles…

“Mr. Naruhodo,” Susato said with a warning look.

Oh, had he said that out loud?

However, Sholmes didn’t seem deterred. He merely tapped the board with a smug expression. “Here we have the first stage: wherein the ghost is able to mildly influence the world around him without any particular direction, behaving more like a force of nature than a conscious entity.”

All right, even if the drawing didn’t show anything useful, the explanation lined up with Harebrayne’s guess that the ghost was too weak to communicate.

“Next we have the second stage, in which the ghost gains more control and is able to act with purpose and precision.”

Why did he think a square next to squiggles indicated a ghost having purposeful control?

“Stage three! At this point, the ghost will be able to manifest without need of a séance.”

Ryunosuke didn’t like the sound of that. The séance was bad enough.

Susato tilted her head. “If that’s only the third stage, then what happens in the last stage?”

“The ghost will eventually have spent enough time in the world of the living to regain full control over himself, and be able to interact with the world much as a living person would, aside from ultimately being incorporeal.”

And Sholmes assumed the ghost would choose to play the violin, if that was the meaning of the musical pudding.

“Oh my.” Susato lifted her hand to her mouth. “Mr. Sholmes, do you mean to say that the ghost could walk down the street and appear to be a normal person?”

“Ah, no—most likely not. From the few accounts available to be studied, there is every reason to believe that the ghost might be bound to rules that would make such things troublesome. His appearance, for example.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm…” Sholmes paced for a moment before facing them again. “Have either of you read A Christmas Carol?”

Susato nodded. Ryunosuke considered nodding just to avoid the embarrassment of saying he hadn’t, but then he might be expected to answer questions about it, which would be even more embarrassing. So he shook his head.

“Do not be ashamed, my dear fellow,” Sholmes said. “After all, your time is much better spent reading The Adventures of Herlock Sholmes.”

He burst out laughing in delight, and Ryunosuke decided not to remind him that he hadn’t read that either.

Once his laughing fit was over, Susato tilted her head. “Why did you bring up A Christmas Carol, Mr. Sholmes?”

“Do you recall the appearance of the ghost of Jacob Marley?”

“Oh yes!” She clapped her hands together. “He’s described as being wrapped in chains of his own creation due to the way he lived his life. He warns Mr. Scrooge that he has his own heavy chains growing link by link.”

“Exactly! I used Marley as an example because there are some schools of thought that a ghost manifesting in the mortal world will reflect in some way the conditions of his life or death. For example, a ghost who died to injury might retain those injuries, or following the example of Marley, the ghost’s appearance might somehow reflect his actions in life.”

Forget the rampaging ghost idea Sholmes spoke about before, this was the most horrifying thing Ryunosuke ever heard of.

Considering Harebrayne had speculated ahead of the séance that the ghost was either the Professor or one of his victims, that provided a whole array of horrible possibilities. If it was a victim, it would appear to have its throat ripped out?! And if it was the Professor himself… what nightmarish appearance might the ghost of a serial killer have?

He did not want to see the ghost. He did not want to think about the ghost. He would rather prefer to pretend the ghost never existed.

Iris was still pouting. “Did you really need to draw all of that out, Hurley?” She lifted her hands in exasperation. “I think you could have explained it to us without using my blackboard.”

“Nonsense! A good visual aid means everything!”

Ryunosuke rubbed the back of his neck. “So, uh… the ghost is going to start appearing to people?”

“That would be the natural conclusion.” Sholmes grabbed his pipe and stuck it in his mouth. “And if my deduction is correct that the ghost has been showing more precise control ever since the séance, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he makes his first appearance quite soon.”

#

Stronghart returned to his office exhausted. He had spent the day away from London, scouring the country for everything he could learn about exorcisms. They needed to be rid of this specter as soon as possible. While most experts he found agreed that helping the ghost find rest was the ideal solution, there were indeed ways of exorcising angry spirits by force.

Poking around in such areas had produced some surprising names he would need to follow up on, since he couldn’t trust Sholmes to help. For one thing, the man all but refused already. For another, it concerned him that the ghost had apparently haunted 221B Baker Street.

The quiet buzz of activity in the judicial offices faded as he made the long ascent up to his own office.

Having an office far removed from everything else gave him the isolation he needed to keep his thoughts clear. Was it lonely at times? Perhaps, but he didn’t expect anyone to understand his constant struggle with London’s criminal elements. This was where he belonged, at the top of everything, overseeing the city to keep order where others failed.

He walked into his office.

Someone was standing by the window, a uniformed silhouette illuminated by the crimson light from the sunset.

Stronghart barely spared him a glance as he walked to his desk. “What is it? It’s not like you to come into my office without permission.”

A second later, he realized his mistake.

The man at the window was not Barok van Zieks.

#

The judge stood in the halls of the judicial building talking to Lord Barok van Zieks.

Or rather, he was talking and van Zieks was standing there.

But van Zieks didn’t seem to mind being talked at, and the judge suspected he secretly liked it when people attempted to engage with him as something other than the Reaper of the Bailey. Ten years ago, he had been a quiet and mild-mannered young man, and the judge did not believe that young man was entirely gone.

In fact, he’d swear he saw glimpses of the prosecutor’s past self when the scientist was on trial, so he was going to talk until van Zieks either left the building or actually told him to be quiet.

“…and all of this business with the ghost is rather exciting,” he admitted, something he had admitted to most of his colleagues at this point even though they tended to give him strange looks afterward. “I do hope we’re able to learn what the ghost wants. It must be something terrible indeed, to prevent a spirit from moving on to its natural rest. The ghost doesn’t seem like a bad sort, so I would help it if I could.”

“You don’t see the ghost as malevolent?”

The judge nearly fell down in shock. Van Zieks was paying attention to the conversation after all! Regaining his composure, he cleared his throat. “No, I do not. I have never gotten that impression. In fact…” He lowered his voice. “I so desperately wanted to be haunted by the ghost that I could have sworn it visited the Prosecutor’s Office while I was there one day just for me!”

Van Zieks stared at him.

Oh. Perhaps that was something he shouldn’t admit to anyone after all.

The prosecutor folded his arms, his expression contemplative. “Do you have any theories about who—”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiigh!”

A horrible scream rang out from high above them, from the direction of Stronghart’s office—and good heavens, it sounded like Stronghart himself, didn’t it?

They stood frozen for a split second.

Then van Zieks drew his saber and ran for the stairs. Heart pounding more than it had in years, the judge gave himself a shake and hurried after him as fast as he could.

Chapter Text

Puffing for breath, the judge made it up the staircase at last. Van Zieks stood with his sword still drawn, facing Lord Stronghart, who had his back to the closed office door. There was no sign of what made him scream.

“What are you doing up here?” Stronghart demanded of the prosecutor. “Why do you have your sword drawn?”

Van Zieks sounded slightly bemused. “An ordinary response to hearing one’s superior scream, I should think.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

“What happened, my lord?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” the judge asked. He had certainly not raced up all those stairs, the most exercise he’d gotten in years, for nothing. “We heard you all the way on the ground floor!”

“Something obviously happened,” van Zieks said. He raised his eyebrows. “Particularly as you appear to be intentionally blocking the door to your own office, as if trying to prevent someone from entering—or leaving. Is someone in there?”

“It was… the ghost.”

The judge’s breath caught in his throat.

Stronghart shook his head, his gaze distant. “He was walking toward me… hands dripping with blood…”

“You saw the ghost?” the judge asked, his excitement overtaking his fear.

“Who is he?” van Zieks demanded. “What did he look like?”

“Is he someone we know?” the judge asked.

Stronghart blinked and seemed to snap out of his daze. “What? No! That is… I have no idea. I couldn’t see his face. He stayed in the shadows.”

“Hmm.” Van Zieks sounded disgruntled, but he lifted his saber and stepped forward. “I’d better go in there.”

“What? Absolutely not.” Stronghart held out his arms as if to physically prevent the other man from entering his office. “It’s… far too dangerous. What do you think you can do with a sword against a ghost?”

“Since this is the first time the ghost has seemingly manifested, there is a chance you’ve encountered a human intruder merely masquerading as the ghost to take advantage of the rumors.”

“No. That was definitely a ghost.”

“All the same, I’ll take a look.”

Stronghart briefly looked more flustered than the judge had ever seen him before, but he drew himself up with a serious expression. “Lord van Zieks, I am the Lord Chief Justice. I have a duty to protect my colleagues. As your superior, I cannot allow you to take such a risk.”

Van Zieks lifted a hand to his face and shook his head. “Your attempt to protect us is commendable, my lord, but might I inquire as to what you think blocking the door will do? If your assailant was a ghost, surely it can simply materialize out here if it wishes to.”

Stronghart’s eyes widened, and he looked around as if afraid the ghost might have already appeared in the corridor.

The judge looked around too, but sadly there was no sign of any ghost.

“Perhaps we should take this conversation elsewhere,” Stronghart said.

“Indeed.”

“Does that include me?” the judge asked. “Am I invited?”

The Lord Chief Justice looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded slowly. “Yes… I suppose being in a group is better.”

Oh good. He’d never dined with either of them before. It rather felt like being part of illustrious company.

Stronghart stepped away from the door, and van Zieks and the judge fell in behind him as he walked toward the stairs. After two steps, van Zieks doubled back to the office and opened the door.

Even by the time Stronghart spun around, he had already closed the door and turned back. “There’s no one in there now.”

Stronghart looked like he wanted to scream again.

#

The restaurant was unnaturally cold, and the candles near their table went out almost as soon as the three men sat down. The judge couldn’t entirely contain his excitement at the possibility that the ghost had followed them to the restaurant.

“Must you do that every time?” van Zieks asked the air as he relit the candles.

This time, they stayed lit. The chill in the air remained, though.

“Do you think he’s here?” the judge asked.

“I suspect as much.”

Stronghart frowned. “You two are taking this rather calmly.”

The judge looked away, embarrassed. Perhaps getting excited over this seemed childish to a man like the Lord Chief Justice. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder where the ghost was, specifically. Was it sitting at the table with them? Floating above them? Standing behind one of them?

“I’ve long seen the ghost as harmless,” van Zieks said. “An annoyance at times, perhaps, but ultimately not a threat.”

“Harmless? How can you say that after tonight?”

“As far as I can tell, my lord, even tonight the ghost did nothing more than scare you.”

“No!” Stronghart slammed his fist down onto the table. “He was going to kill me.”

“What makes you so sure of that, my lord?”

“I could see it in his eyes!”

Van Zieks folded his arms. “You were unable to see the ghost’s face… yet you could see murderous intent in his eyes?”

“Ah.” Stronghart looked momentarily trapped, but then he composed himself. “Yes. Yes, his eyes were all I could see, glaring at me from the shadows.”

“And his hands.”

“Hands?”

“You distinctly said his hands were dripping with blood.”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, I could also see that.”

The judge’s days of studying law were a long way behind him, but he didn’t need to draw on his experiences in the courtroom to recognize the contradictions in Stronghart’s story. Whether or not he could see the ghost in his office seemed to vary wildly. Taken together, his accounts of the incident suggested the ghost had positioned itself in such a way that he could somehow see its bloody hands and murderous eyes, but no other features whatsoever—while it was walking toward him, no less.

Van Zieks narrowed his eyes. “I see.”

“Something must be done about this,” Stronghart said. “If it attacked me, it will surely attack others.”

“I have endeavored to research ways in which a wandering spirit might find rest. Helping it achieve whatever goal it set out to do might be the easiest method.”

“We cannot afford to take that much time now that it has proven to be dangerous.”

“Hmm.”

“No, we must exorcise this spirit before it’s too late.”

The judge was a little sorry to hear that. It was exciting to hear people talk about their experiences with the ghost. Excluding a terrifying encounter like the one Stronghart seemed to have had, he would have liked to meet it personally. Plus, helping the spirit find rest sounded nice. Exorcising it seemed so sad by comparison. As if they couldn’t bring it peace, so they had to drive it out by force. Surely it was too early to give up.

“We should conduct another séance,” van Zieks said.

Stronghart frowned. “Why?”

“Our first attempt was cut short. It would be foolish to assume we have all the answers.”

“As I recall, the scientist Albert Harebrayne was the one who guided the process, and I understand he has returned to Germany. Who would conduct the séance without him present?”

Van Zieks closed his eyes. “I will.”

To be honest, the judge could think of few people less suited to gently communing with a restless spirit than Barok van Zieks. He had shouted at the ghost during the last séance. On the other hand, there was something delightful about the idea of “the Reaper” speaking with the dead. When he thought about it like that, he hoped they would get to do it after all.

Stronghart didn’t share his enthusiasm. “And just who do you propose would attend this second séance? This could easily become a matter of national security.”

“We could assemble the same group as last time, aside from Albert, of course… and perhaps not Asogi.”

Oh, this was interesting. The judge watched with rapt attention. Was that an admission, however slight, that van Zieks didn’t mind Mr. Naruhodo and Miss Mikotoba being present? This was progress!

“We will approach this through process of elimination,” the prosecutor said. “If the séance is conducted repeatedly, with one participant excluded each time, the ghost will eventually deem it safe to speak and we will have our culprit.”

“Absolutely not,” Stronghart said. “After what happened to Asogi during the first séance, I cannot allow that. Anyone possessed by the ghost might suffer harm. No, it is too dangerous to attempt a séance while there are still other avenues open to us.”

Van Zieks said nothing.

The chill was gone from the air. Perhaps the ghost had tired of watching them. It certainly didn’t display the levels of violence Stronghart claimed it was capable of.

“However,” Stronghart said, “you’ve reminded me of another matter I wanted to discuss with you, Lord van Zieks.”

“Oh?”

“Mr. Asogi’s continued apprenticeship to you feels questionable, under the circumstances, and he has already requested a transfer. When he returns to London, I intend to file the necessarily paperwork.”

“So he is not in London at the moment?” van Zieks asked. “Where has he gone?”

Stronghart shrugged. “It is not as though I remain apprised of the man’s every move.”

Van Zieks snorted and looked away. “When dealing with the son of a murderer, perhaps you should.”

#

Kazuma barely managed to keep his composure as he got a room for the night and signed the register. Karuma felt heavier than ever before at his side. Still, he maintained a sense of outward composure until he reached his room and locked the door behind him.

Then he dropped onto the bed and put his head in his hands. A shuddering gasp escaped him. He clutched at his hair as if the pain might shock the last few hours from his memory.

It was all so vivid.

The feel of Karuma’s hilt in his hand as he drew it to threaten the inspector. The look of fear on Gregson’s face when he understood. The truth he’d revealed, that he did fabricate evidence for Genshin Asogi’s trial ten years ago as Kazuma suspected. His fury. Hatred. The sound of Karuma striking the man’s trunk. And, nearly overwhelming, the urge to swing the blade again and cut the man down.

He’d wanted to kill Gregson. He’d actually considered it. What once would have been unthinkable became an actual possibility in that moment.

Part of him still hoped some terrible fate would befall the inspector before he made it back to London, so he could get his revenge without needing to sully his own hands. He shuddered again.

A single lamp had been lit in the small boardinghouse room, and it suddenly extinguished. The chill in the air brought a bitter smile to Kazuma’s lips.

“So you can leave London,” he said out loud. “Why do you insist upon troubling me? Am I such good company for the dead?”

Nothing in the room moved, but he could tell it was there. Watching him.

“I came to London as an assassin,” he whispered. Confessing to a nameless ghost he’d never seen somehow felt easier than talking to anyone else about it. “For me, it was only a ploy to learn the truth about my father and clear his name. I never intended to go through with the assignment. Yet today, I almost did. Gregson admitted to me that he framed my father. He fabricated evidence for his trial; he sent my father to the gallows as surely as if he’d condemned him himself! And I wanted to kill him for that.”

Despair threatened to overwhelm his anger. He never thought he could kill anyone until tonight. But he could. Even though he hadn’t gone through with it, he knew now that he could.

“It was only for the briefest of moments,” he said, “but I wanted to kill him. And…” He closed his eyes. “What am I doing? What am I going to do?”

Because knowing he had the capacity to kill meant he no longer knew what might happen in the future. Was he damned already, on the line between justice and murder, with only a slight nudge needed to push him over the edge?

What would Lord Stronghart say, if Kazuma confessed to him? Would he reassure him that by not killing Gregson, he proved that one dark urge didn’t make him a murderer? Or would he condemn him as a monster and bar him from the legal world? He’d expect hypocritical condemnation from van Zieks, and he feared condemnation from Ryunosuke, but Stronghart remained an enigma whose reaction he couldn’t predict.

Not to mention the ghost, whose allegiance was a mystery.

“When I regained my memories,” he said out loud, “I had a name for my enemy. Barok van Zieks, the man who condemned my father for crimes he didn’t commit and sent him to his death. I intend to bring him to justice. But that’s a monumental task. How will I reopen a case from ten years ago? Is it even possible?”

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And if I can’t bring him to justice… will I consider killing him, like I almost killed Gregson? Will I go through with it this time? After all, I hate him much, much more than I hate Gregson.”

Gregson provided the evidence, but he must have done so on someone’s orders. That someone had to be van Zieks, the prosecutor in charge of the case, the man who took that fabricated evidence and used it to—

Kazuma slammed his fist down on the edge of the bed. “Why does he get to live when my father is dead? What justice is there in that?!” He hated to admit it, even to himself and his silent confessor, but he could feel the hideous truth growing inside. “If I can’t bring him to justice… I don’t know that I’ll be able to hold myself back this time. I need to bring van Zieks to trial and see him condemned… so that I don’t kill him myself.”

He drew Karuma slowly. He looked at the end of the blade, where it had chipped when he struck Gregson’s trunk, and despair threatened to overwhelm him. Bringing van Zieks to trial was his only hope. His only way to avenge his father… and still save himself from a darker path.

“Go,” he said, too exhausted to deal with the ghost. “If you truly came to London looking for justice… you’ll find no justice here.”

Chapter Text

Stronghart didn’t even have to feign his shock at the revelations that greeted him the next day. Gregson was dead, found in a small room on Fresno Street. Asogi apparently hadn’t gone through with the assassination, forcing Jigoku to take it into his own hands. More shockingly, the person arrested for the murder, with seemingly airtight evidence against him, was Barok van Zieks.

It was almost unbelievable. There he was, with the spirit of Klint van Zieks breathing down his neck, and suddenly Klint’s beloved little brother was put in a position where Stronghart could destroy him. He couldn’t have asked for things to turn out better than this.

When a knock came at his office door, he knew it would be Asogi before the man even entered.

Trained as a prosecutor and eager for revenge against van Zieks, of course Asogi would jump at the opportunity to prosecute this trial. The only question was if it was worth the risk. Under normal circumstances, Stronghart wouldn’t hesitate. The irony was perfect, and Asogi’s desire for revenge should override his ability to see any holes in the case against van Zieks. He would push and push for a guilty verdict to get revenge for what happened ten years ago, and he would consider it justice.

However, with Klint on the loose, putting too many elements connected to the Professor case into contact with each other might be dangerous. It might be better to simply appoint a more controllable prosecutor and hope to overcome any holes that appeared.

Asogi reached his desk and bowed. “Lord Stronghart. I returned to London as soon as I heard the news. Although I am yet untried as a prosecutor, I wish to handle this case.”

“Even though the accused was your mentor?”

“Yes.”

Stronghart considered him for a long moment. “I’m sure many people are concerned about what it means to prosecute the Reaper…”

Hatred flared in Asogi’s eyes, and he leaned forward with fierce determination on his face. “Then isn’t this the opportunity we need to take down the Reaper for his crimes?”

“I must remind you that Lord van Zieks is not on trial for being the Reaper. He is accused of killing Tobias Gregson.”

“Do you honestly think the two aren’t connected?” There was a dangerous edge to Asogi’s voice. “This trial is our chance to bring the Reaper to an end once and for all! We may never get an opportunity like this again.”

“You seem very impassioned about this.” Stronghart met his gaze steadily. “But you aren’t thinking about the Reaper’s victims at all, are you? You’re thinking of Genshin Asogi, condemned to death by Lord van Zieks ten years ago.”

Asogi’s body stiffened, and his jaw clenched. “…Correct, my lord.”

“Do you think to find justice for your father in this way?”

“I came to London to bring Barok van Zieks to justice,” the young prosecutor said, his voice low. “I will see that done, no matter what—even if it costs me my soul.”

His fervor was stronger than Stronghart expected. Being apprenticed to the man hadn’t softened Asogi’s hatred at all. The possibility of him uncovering the truth during the trial no longer seemed a valid concern; if anything, the opposite was true. If this trial was to be used as leverage to force Klint’s spirit to stand down, it couldn’t appear that Barok was doomed regardless. Stronghart might need to rein Asogi in when the time came.

For the moment, however, Asogi’s fury was exactly what he needed. “Very well. I will see to it personally that you are placed in charge of this trial.”

Asogi bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

“There is one other factor to consider. The ghost of the Old Bailey—”

“It must be one of Lord van Zieks’s enemies. A victim of the Reaper, perhaps.”

“Why do you believe that?” Stronghart asked.

Asogi frowned as though he’d said something foolish. “It was already improbable that someone at the séance was untrustworthy, my lord, let alone two. We know Lord van Zieks is a murderer, so therefore he must be the enemy the ghost spoke of. What else could it be?”

Well, Stronghart certainly wasn’t about to answer that honestly. It was good that Asogi had already warped the situation to fit his viewpoint without Stronghart’s intervention. Yet he couldn’t risk Asogi doing something reckless like trying to reach out to the ghost as an ally. He needed to warn him away from such ideas without making him suspicious…

Of course, what that half-rate detective said! The best lies contained a kernel of the truth, after all.

Stronghart cleared his throat. “Your point is sound. However, I must inform you of something I learned when I consulted Herlock Sholmes about the ghost of the Old Bailey.”

“Herlock Sholmes, the so-called great detective?”

“Yes. He claimed there was a chance the ghost could be overwhelmed by negative emotions and go on a rampage. If the ghost is a victim of Lord van Zieks, I fear this trial might trigger such an effect.”

Asogi rubbed his chin and nodded. “Yes… That would explain it. I’ve felt a sense of malevolence from the ghost lately. Malevolence that wasn’t there before.”

Malevolence directed against Asogi? With how eager he was to send Barok van Zieks to the gallows, certainly Klint might bear him ill will, but somehow Stronghart had expected all of that ire to be focused on him instead.

“Fear not,” Asogi said. “I have taken steps to protect myself. The ghost will not trouble me.”

Stronghart gave him a sharp look. “You’ve found a way to ward off the ghost of the Old Bailey?”

With a self-satisfied smile, Asogi tapped the side of his head. “A combination of techniques I read about in certain tomes I acquired here in London and meditation exercises I practiced back in Japan.”

Oh? This warranted further discussion. If Asogi could protect him from Klint… ah, but requesting such a thing might make Asogi suspicious as to why the ghost would target Stronghart. He needed to devise a way to broach the topic without implicating himself.

For the moment, it was enough that Klint could not reach Asogi.

But there was one other risk that had to be taken care of. The one man in all of London who could conceivably act as a go-between for van Zieks and Asogi and would certainly attempt to uncover the truth.

No, with Klint’s spirit on the loose, Ryunosuke Naruhodo must not be allowed anywhere near this case.

#

Ryunosuke and Susato arrived at Stronghart’s office later that day. And what a terrible day it had been. Ryunosuke still couldn’t believe the news. Gregson, dead? Van Zieks, arrested for the crime? He felt like he was trapped in a nightmare, and worst of all, van Zieks had so far refused to accept him as his defense attorney!

Rumors were circulating London, too. Everyone seemed curious about whether or not the ghost of the Old Bailey was linked to the arrest of Barok van Zieks. Apparently a potential connection between the ghost and the Reaper was too appealing for the public to ignore.

When they stepped into Stronghart’s office, he received another shock.

Kazuma was there, dressed in the white uniform he favored nowadays, speaking to Stronghart about something. They both looked over when Ryunosuke and Susato entered.

“Ah, Mr. Naruhodo.” Stronghart walked forward to greet him, with Kazuma by his side. “Good, I was about to send for you. There’s something we need to discuss.”

What? The Lord Chief Justice wanted to talk to him, specifically? Ryunosuke straightened his shoulders and tried not to let his gaze dart around the room. “Sir?”

“After your license to practice law in our country was suspended for sixth months, I graciously allowed you to resume, understanding that what happened was an unfortunate accident.” Stronghart checked his pocket watch and snapped his fingers. “Yet you immediately became the defense in another trial in which you, once again, revealed state secrets to the public.”

Ryunosuke blanched. With all that that happened, he almost forgot about the truths unearthed at Harebrayne’s trial about the Professor case. Genshin Asogi’s faked execution and subsequent death in the graveyard… And of course, the trial had resulted in Dr. Sithe being arrested, with her forensics team in shambles.

“Barok van Zieks will be tried in a closed court,” Stronghart said. “Members of the judiciary will be allowed to watch from the gallery, but it will not be open to the public. This decision was made due to concerns about what might come to light when the defendant is the Reaper of the Bailey.”

Ryunosuke opened his mouth to promise he wouldn’t reveal anything confidential this time—probably—but the other man put his watch away and continued talking before he could.

“As such, I am suspending your license for the duration of this trial.”

What?

What?

Ryunosuke stared at him in shock.

“Oh no.” Susato lifted her hand to her mouth. “Lord Stronghart, you don’t mean—”

“I do. If you had any notion of defending Lord van Zieks, you must forget it at once.”

It felt like all of the air had been knocked out of him. Of course he’d been planning to defend van Zieks, if the other man would see reason and accept his defense. He didn’t believe for a minute that van Zieks killed Gregson.

Kazuma turned to stare at Stronghart with wide eyes. “W-Wait a minute, Lord Stronghart, I was hoping to face Mr. Naruhodo in the courtroom!”

Face him? Wait, Kazuma was the prosecutor in this case?

“Are you that eager to take down your old friend?” Stronghart asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Kazuma scowled. “I’ve heard reports that Lord van Zieks is refusing all counsel. There’s at least a slight chance he might accept Mr. Naruhodo, so if you’ll—”

“Then it should be an easy case for the prosecution.”

“If the accused has no representation, people will ask questions.”

“It is a closed trial, Mr. Asogi. The public will not know what occurs within that courtroom.”

“Barok van Zieks is a member of the nobility and a well-known prosecutor,” Kazuma said. “You can’t convict him without representation! Word will get out!”

“Your concern over his defense surprises me.”

“I do not want anything to jeopardize the validity of the verdict.” He narrowed his eyes. “If you made this decision for my sake, know that I’m no child that needs to be coddled. I will easily crush whatever defense is mustered for such a man.”

Stronghart checked the time again with a sigh. “If the defendant is unable to secure an attorney for himself, I will assign him a public defender.”

“My lord, will it not look… questionable if the prosecutor is a newcomer who was hand-picked by you, and the defense is also appointed directly by you?”

“Nonsense. And since Mr. Naruhodo is unable to appear in court, there may be no other alternative.”

This was too much to take in. It was all happening so fast.

Kazuma’s jaw clenched, but he bowed. “So be it, my lord.” Then he turned to Ryunosuke. “Well, partner, it looks like I’ll have to do this without you. It should be quite an interesting trial. One that will bring an end to the Reaper of the Bailey… and perhaps to our friend the ghost, as well.”

His words sent a jolt through Ryunosuke. Hearing it as gossip on the street was one thing, but it was quite another to hear his friend say it. “What do you mean?”

“Lord Stronghart and I have hypothesized that the ghost is an enemy of the Reaper—and that its motive is to bring Lord van Zieks to justice for the crimes he’s committed.”

“I don’t believe Lord van Zieks is guilty.”

Kazuma ignored him. “I’ve done a little research into ghosts, Ryunosuke.”

“Don’t tell me you want to see it, like Mr. Sholmes.”

He stiffened and narrowed his eyes. “On the contrary, I’ve taken steps to prevent it from troubling me. I’ve felt it watching me lately. It was watching me when I—” He cut himself off and looked away, his expression grim. “Never again. I don’t want the dead as company. I will keep it away from me at any cost.”

Finally, someone who had a reasonable view of ghosts! Yet somehow it made Ryunosuke uneasy.

“No, my research was meant to determine how to put this spirit to rest. Its behavior aligns with my theory that it is an enemy of the Reaper. More importantly, I believe the only way to put it to rest is to see that its wishes are carried out. As long as its enemy remains free, it will grow more erratic and dangerous.”

Okay, but Ryunosuke really didn’t think Lord van Zieks was guilty.

“Naturally, the easiest way would be if Lord van Zieks simply confessed and faced judgment willingly, but I’m sure he’s too arrogant to do that.” Kazuma folded his arms with a cold smile. “But justice will be served, one way or another. It is probably a mercy to end this quickly in the courts rather than let a vengeful spirit exact its own form of justice.”

Well that sounded ominous. Ryunosuke stared at his old friend, unsettled by just how ruthlessly he said that.

“Oh,” Kazuma said, “one more thing. I’m certain you visited the crime scene today under the assumption that you would be defending Lord van Zieks in court. However, since you are not the accused’s advocate, you entered the crime scene under false pretenses. As such, I must confiscate any evidence you obtained.”

Ryunosuke stared at him.

“The evidence, Ryunosuke.” Kazuma’s face gave no hint as to what he was thinking. “It will be better for all of us if you give it to me willingly.”

He looked at Susato, but found no help in her worried expression. At last, he reluctantly handed over the pieces of evidence and information he’d gathered.

Kazuma accepted it all with a grim smile. “Your cooperation is appreciated. Tomorrow’s trial will be one to be remembered, I assure you. I hope you’ll be watching from the gallery.”

Chapter Text

The gallery was unusually empty due to being restricted to members of the judiciary, although London was filled with rumors and speculation about what would happen in the Reaper’s trial. Ryunosuke and Susato had been barred from the defendant’s antechamber, which increased his unease about this case, but fortunately they qualified as members of the judiciary and would be allowed to watch.

Professor Mikotoba was a welcome familiar face sitting there already, and they joined him.

“I would have thought I’d get to see you in action today, Mr. Naruhodo,” Mikotoba said with a nod toward the courtroom.

Ryunosuke rubbed the back of his neck. “So did I, but Lord Stronghart forbade me from participating in this trial.”

Mikotoba’s brow furrowed at the news.

“Look,” Susato said in a whisper, “he’s watching, too!”

Indeed, Stronghart himself had just settled down in a seat near the front. He looked as composed as ever, but… there was something about him that was a little off. He looked tired, or maybe ill at ease beneath his composure.

Rynosuke gulped and looked around. The last time he was in the Old Bailey, the ghost had disrupted proceedings. Maybe it would do so again.

Down in the courtroom, Kazuma took his place at the prosecutor’s bench, resplendent in his white uniform. Despite the situation, Ryunosuke felt a swell of pride at seeing his friend about to take the stage in such an important role. His eyes were hard, his expression unreadable.

Opposite him, a rather timid-looking older man had shown up.

“Oh no,” Ryunosuke said, staring at the lawyer who appeared to be trying to look everywhere besides at the defendant, “don’t tell me that’s the defense!”

Mikotoba leaned over so he could whisper to both him and Susato. “I recognize that man. I believe his name is Peyton Aloysius Doff. He was already a lawyer 16 years ago when we first arrived, so he has experience.”

“But he looks like he’s terrified of van Zieks!” Ryunosuke hissed.

“Should you really criticize him for that?” Susato asked with a doubtful expression. “You tend to act much the same around Lord van Zieks, Mr. Naruhodo.”

“I’d at least try not to be intimidated by him at a time like this! How can he get a fair trial when his own attorney looks like he thinks he’s a murderer?”

Besides, while Ryunosuke still had a tendency to jump if addressed by van Zieks directly, he’d stopped thinking the man actually killed people. At the very least, he was confident that he was innocent of Gregson’s death. They’d visited him briefly in his cell after receiving the news from Stronghart that they couldn’t be his defense, and he had confided in Ryunosuke more about his past than he ever expected from the forbidding prosecutor. It had left him with the distinct feeling that Kazuma was right, van Zieks would have accepted his defense if he pressed him enough.

It also seemed to him that right now, van Zieks really needed a friend, so it hurt to see him with a defense attorney who couldn’t even look at him.

The judge soon called the courtroom to order and officially declared the start of the closed trial for Barok van Zieks, asking the defense and prosecution if they were ready.

“The prosecution is more than ready,” Kazuma answered instantly.

The defense attorney—Doff, according to Mikotoba—jumped when he realized everyone was waiting for him to respond, and promptly dropped the Court Record papers he’d been flipping through. He gathered them up quickly. “The defense is, um, ready, my lord.”

Ryunosuke winced. He hoped he never sounded like that.

“You sounded like that in your first trial,” Mikotoba whispered.

“And you were rather nervous when you first faced Lord van Zieks,” Susato added.

“I can’t have been as bad as that,” he whispered back, too disturbed by the behavior of his counterpart down there to worry about whether they’d both read his mind or if he’d been mumbling his thoughts out loud again.

The judge explained the details of the closed trial, and then Kazuma took over, outlining the facts about the case. It did sound like a bad case against van Zieks, but Ryunosuke found himself itching to look through the evidence for himself so he could figure out where the contradiction was. He wished he hadn’t handed over all his evidence to Kazuma; the prosecution’s case was damning enough without him having access to everything the defense might have said.

Van Zieks testified first, and Kazuma immediately shut down his claims of being unable to see by showing evidence that the candelabra in the room must have been lit at the time of the gunshot. He didn’t relent for a minute, also tying the room to the cases van Zieks had prosecuted and the supposed curse of the Reaper.

He didn’t give the defense time to say a word, not that Doff looked inclined to conduct a cross-examination. If anything, the lawyer looked relieved when van Zieks finally left the stand.

Next came the testimony of the three eyewitnesses who claimed to have been there at the time of the murder. Their testimony was even more damning, placing van Zieks firmly there at the time of the gunshot with no other potential culprits in sight.

“Your cross-examination, counsel?” the judge asked.

At least Doff could actually look at the witnesses this time. He shuffled through his papers, stared at the witnesses, and then said, “Um… Mr. Gossip, are you… quite sure about what you saw?”

“That I am!” he cried with a dramatic flourish.

“The defense… uh…” Doff looked at his papers, then cleared his throat. “The defense… rests.”

What?

“Objection!” Kazuma slammed his fist down and glared at Doff.

The attorney flinched backward and lifted his hands. “What? What did I do? All I said was ‘the defense rests’!”

“What kind of a cross-examination was that?” Kazuma snapped. “Are you even a real lawyer?”

Doff drew himself up, looking mortified. “I have over twenty years of experience practicing law, thank you very much, and I graduated from a prestigious law school with high marks!”

“Hmph. Perhaps someone ought to investigate that school’s credentials. If this is the level of incompetence displayed by such an illustrated lawyer, the British legal system is in dire straits indeed.”

Well, he was certainly out for blood today…

“If you were a defense attorney with any skills to your name,” Kazuma said, his tone even more scathing than before, “you would have insisted that these witnesses clarify their quite-honestly-muddled testimony.”

“Muddled?!” Venus repeated in indignation.

“Yes, muddled!” Kazuma slammed his fist down again. “The three of you are going to tell me the truth if I have to rip it out of you by force!”

With him glaring them down, the three of them expanded their testimonies until it came to light that Gossip, while being the first on the scene, had fallen into a pool of blood while entering the scene.

The judge looked at Doff. “Do you have anything further to ask, Counsel?”

“Well—” He fumbled with his papers.

“Objection!” Kazuma shouted.

Doff gaped at him. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to,” Kazuma said with a sneer, “it was written all over your face. You were going to claim some significance to this bloody handprint on the back of the noticeboard, weren’t you?”

“No??”

“Liar!” Kazuma slammed his fist down again.

“Counsel?” The judge was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “Are you contradicting your own argument?”

Kazuma tapped the side of his head with a smirk. “On the contrary, I’m merely anticipating what my learned friend was about to say.”

His “learned friend” looked as though he wasn’t about to say anything of the kind.

“If he thinks this argument will work to dismantle the case, he’s sadly mistaken. While it does appear as though the noticeboard must have been moved in order to make these testimonies align with the facts, that doesn’t change the truth of what happened that day, as I’m sure further testimony will reveal.”

Ryunosuke stared at Kazuma, then leaned over to whisper to Susato. “Is… Kazuma doing what I think he’s doing?”

She had her hand lifted to her mouth in shock. “He’s trying to serve as both the defense and the prosecution at the same time.”

“I’m glad for it, since Doff is doing a terrible job out there, but why?”

They weren’t the only ones who had noticed the significance of Kazuma’s peculiar interruptions. Stronghart was glaring down at the courtroom with his jaw clenched, clearly displeased with the way the trial was proceeding.

“Mr. Doff!” Kazuma shouted not ten minutes later. “Stop staring at Miss Venus!”

“What? Objection! What are you—”

“If you think you can claim that a firecracker was the source of the sound everyone took to be a gunshot—”

“Objection!”

“Objection! You didn’t let me finish my statement!”

“Objection! I don’t know how trials are conducted in your country, but here, I am the defense—”

“Defense? Hah! All you’ve presented so far are easily-dismissible theories and wild claims.”

“You’ve made all of those wild claims for me!”

“Ordarrr!” The judge banged his gavel wildly. “Ordarrr!”

Once the argument between the defense and prosecution was quelled, the trial continued in a similar fashion. By the time they had wrangled their way through another set of witnesses to the implausible revelation that Gossip was actually Daley Vigil, posing as Gregson on the day of the incident, Kazuma looked exhausted, Doff looked flabbergasted, and van Zieks had drank half a bottle of wine without anyone noticing.

Wait a minute… Ryunosuke frowned. When he’d handed over his evidence to Kazuma, he hadn’t included anything about Vigil. After all, the man’s disappearance had nothing to do with Gregson’s death, or so he thought at the time. He’d intended to keep looking for Vigil himself.

So how did Kazuma know who Daley Vigil was? Was he conducting his own investigation into his disappearance? Into Gregson’s unusual behavior? Into…

Into the Professor case, it became abundantly clear, as Kazuma began interrogating Vigil about what happened ten years ago on the night of Genshin Asogi’s execution.

“What happened the night of the jailbreak?” Kazuma demanded. “Were you involved? Was it your idea, or did it come from another? You have a duty to tell the court everything you know!”

“No, I… I…”

Kazuma slammed his fist down. “The truth, Mr. Vigil! No matter what it is!”

But whatever he hoped to glean from Vigil’s memories had serious consequences. The man recounted the story of his dismissal at last and then collapsed with a horrified scream as the full memory returned to him.

It was the strangest trial the Old Bailey had ever seen, without the ghost even making an appearance.

#

“What was that?” Stronghart demanded the moment Asogi stepped into his office.

Asogi looked completely unruffled by his ire. “I should be asking that of you, my lord. I have never seen such a sad excuse for a defense attorney. If I were facing Mr. Naruhodo—”

“Need I remind you that the courtroom is not an arena for your personal entertainment? You are there to prove the accused’s guilt, not engage in witty repartee with the defense!”

He just lifted his hand and shook his head. “Lord Stronghart, did you not consider how this would look if I proceeded without any objections? It could have spelled disaster for both of us, not to mention Mr. Doff.”

“Excuse me?”

“Members of the judiciary were present, including some who traveled to London and are keen to learn how our court system works. To condemn the accused with an argument that had such obvious holes would have spread rumors that the trial was rigged, and I have no doubt intense scrutiny would have been placed on all of us involved.”

“The holes were not at all obvious until you pointed them out.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure any intelligent member of the judiciary noticed them.” Asogi leaned toward him, his eyes glinting with fire. “This case needs to be airtight, my lord. To take down the Reaper, we must be assured that no one will ever question it.”

“You don’t care about making the case airtight,” Stronghart said, as the pieces came together. “You’re still thinking about your father.”

Asogi looked away.

“Exactly what will you do if your attempts at steering the trial toward the revenge you seek creates a hole for the defense to exploit?”

Not that Doff would exploit anything; his career hung in the balance if he attempted to put up an actual defense for van Zieks. However, he needed to know what Asogi’s plan was here.

The young prosecutor drew back, his face expressionless, and closed his eyes. “Even if we fail—and I have no intention of failing—we will not go unsatisfied.”

“…How so?”

“Do you think the ghost of the Old Bailey will fail to exact revenge in our place?”

Oh.

“Justice must be carried out. Too many are dead thanks to the Reaper, and their spirits will know no rest until he lies with them in the darkness of the grave.” When he opened his eyes again, they were cold. “He is caught between me and the ghost of the Old Bailey, and there will be no escape.”

“You cannot rely on the ghost to do this for you.”

“The ghost of the Old Bailey will haunt him to the point of madness,” Asogi said, almost to himself, as if he hadn’t even heard the admonishment. “He will destroy him slowly if the system fails. Yes, it’s almost a mercy to do it this way… Such a price will be paid in blood otherwise…”

Stronghart wasn’t sure how Asogi had become so fixated on this view of the ghost’s intentions, but it was a bit unnerving to hear when the ghost was actually after him. He could only pray Asogi’s assumptions about what the ghost would do were as false as his belief about the ghost’s target.

Disturbing or not, his fervor could be used.

“It would be wrong to leave this in the hands of the ghost when you have the power to convict him in court,” Stronghart said. “This is your chance to personally condemn the Reaper.”

Asogi clapped a hand over his heart and bowed. “And that is exactly what I intend to do. Mark my words, Lord Stronghart, I will ensure that Lord van Zieks does not escape judgment day.”

“Good.”

The longer this case went on for, though, the riskier things became. Klint had to be plotting something, and Naruhodo was still the most dangerous link. Stronghart would need to keep an eye on him to make sure he had no contact with the ghost.

#

Ryunosuke was being followed.

He hadn’t seen anyone following him, but he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that he was being watched all afternoon. Not the now-familiar—if still unsettling—sense of being observed by the ghost, either. More like being spied upon by another person.

The feeling persisted even when he left Susato and the others at 221B Baker Street and headed to the Prosecutor’s Office alone.

He opened the door to van Zieks’s office onto a very strange sight.

Kazuma held a plate of sliced fruit in the air, while he glared up at the bats hanging from the ceiling. “Why do you hate me?” he demanded. “You’re not afraid of him, and I’m far less scary than he is! So get down here and eat your dinner!”

“Kazuma…?”

He froze and turned to the door. “Ah, Ryunosuke.” He set the plate down on his desk and walked to greet him. “It’s good to see you.”

Behind him, the bats descended on the plate of fruit as if relieved eating dinner no longer required going near a loud, angry Kazuma. Ryunosuke stared at them.

Kazuma followed his gaze and scowled. “Would you believe they’re harmless fruit bats? And he feeds them. Like they’re pets.” He sounded as though the bats had done him a personal injustice by being harmless pets. “Yet they won’t come near me!”

“Well, err…” Ryunosuke rubbed the back of his neck. “If they’re Lord van Zieks’s pets, maybe they know you’re trying to take him away from them and resent you for it?”

Kazuma turned his scowl onto him, and he wished he hadn’t said anything. “They should be better judges of character.”

Right, it was time to change the subject. Ryunosuke cleared his throat. “I wish I could have faced you in court today.”

Kazuma laughed. “I certainly would have preferred facing you to that dubious Mr. Doff.”

His amusement made Ryunosuke feel a little better. Some of his behavior lately had made him worry, but this was still the same old Kazuma after all. It was almost like old times again.

“So what brings you here today, Ryunosuke?”

He wasn’t sure he should actually bring this up when things were starting to feel comfortable between them again, but it was the main reason he made this unplanned trip to the Prosecutor’s Office… He rubbed the back of his neck again. “I was just wondering… is there a reason Lord van Zieks is no longer allowed visitors?”

Kazuma furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I went to the prison to talk to him, but I was told only his attorney and the prosecution are allowed to see him.” And he’d been half a breath away from making a sarcastic comment about how he could go in place of Mr. Doff, since the chances of him visiting van Zieks were less than zero, but he’d managed to bite it back in time.

“That sounds like Lord Stronghart’s doing. He must have determined it would be too dangerous.”

Dangerous to who? Van Zieks was behind bars.

Kazuma rubbed his chin. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not certain I can get you in if Lord Stronghart has made it an order.”

Ryunosuke’s shoulders drooped. “Thank you for trying, at least.”

“However, I want you to promise me you won’t do anything else. You are not Lord van Zieks’s attorney. You have no grounds on which to investigate.”

“Inspector Gregson helped us out several times,” he said. “I can’t just sit back and not even try to learn the truth about—”

“You have no choice.”

He fell silent, taken aback by Kazuma’s sudden glare.

“You were barred from defending Lord van Zieks. Obviously Lord Stronghart has his reasons for wanting to keep you uninvolved.”

“So I should just accept that?” Ryunosuke asked in disbelief. “You expect me to sit back and not investigate a friend’s murder, not try to prove a friend’s innocence”—wait, had he just thought of van Zieks his friend and then said so out loud, and to Kazuma of all people?—“just because Lord Stronghart doesn’t want me to?”

“As I said, he has his reasons.”

“…And you trust him?”

Kazuma gave him a sharp look and narrowed his eyes. Then his expression softened into something more familiar. “That’s not the question here, Ryunosuke. The true question is this: do you trust me?”

Ryunosuke stared at him.

“Do you?”

“I…”

Once, the answer would have been yes without question. Yet the way Kazuma was acting lately… this vendetta he seemed to have against van Zieks, and his insistence that Ryunosuke comply with Stronghart’s orders…

At the same time, though, it was still Kazuma, his best friend in the world.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I trust you.”

Kazuma smiled. “Then let me handle the investigation.”

But… Ryunosuke wasn’t so sure he could let it end at that.

Chapter Text

Later in the day, Ryunosuke and Susato tried to visit van Zieks again and were told he was still allowed no visitors. So Kazuma had failed to get that overturned, assuming he actually tried.

On the other hand, no one stopped them from talking to Daley Vigil in the hospital, or Barry Caidin, or even from revisiting the room on Fresno Street in case they had missed anything the previous day.

They had just about finished their investigation when an unwelcome voice cut through the room. “Exactly what are you two doing here?”

Stronghart!

Ryunosuke whirled around and tried not to look like he was panicking. “Ah, well…” He couldn’t exactly say they decided to walk in since no one stopped them. And it wouldn’t sound good if he said he was investigating on his own because they believed in van Zieks, would it?

“You are not an attorney involved in this case, so there is no reason for you to have access to the crime scene.”

“I gave them permission to be here,” Kazuma said, right on Stronghart’s heels.

Stronghart turned to frown at him. “You did?”

Ryunosuke just barely kept himself from reacting. After his friend’s stern warning to stay away from the case, he’d expected Kazuma to be angry, not lie to cover for them.

“Yes.” Kazuma pulled out a small book not unlike the one Susato always carried with her and flipped open to a page somewhere in the middle. “Here we go, section 32, subsection 10, paragraph 3 states that the prosecution must allow access to the crime scene to any consulting detectives working on the case. Since Mr. Naruhodo and Miss Mikotoba are acting on behalf of Mr. Sholmes, they cannot be barred from the crime scene.”

Ryunosuke gaped at him. He wasn’t aware he had become a consulting detective’s proxy in the brief span of time since he was blocked from defending van Zieks.

“Um, that’s right,” Susato said quickly to fill the silence. “Mr. Sholmes asked us to handle this part of the investigation for him.”

“Right,” Ryunosuke finally said.

Stronghart’s gaze hardened. “In the future, such decisions should be run past me first, given the nature of this case. I was unaware that the prosecution had decided to consult a detective at all.”

“My apologies, my lord.” Kazuma bowed. “This was entirely my fault.”

“See that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, sir.” He gave them an apologetic look. “I think you two should leave. I’ll need to take charge of the evidence you found again, too.”

They had already done that once, so Ryunosuke could hardly refuse this time. He handed over the file of evidence they’d gathered—then the outcome of talking with Vigil and Caidin flashed through his mind, and he reached out as if to take it back before he caught himself.

Kazuma furrowed his brow. “Ryunosuke?”

Today’s evidence included the will left behind by Genshin Asogi. Ryunosuke hesitated. He didn’t want to talk about this in front of Stronghart, but on the other hand, it would be worse for it to come as a complete shock to Kazuma when he saw it. “Kazuma… one of the things I ended up with today is… well… it’s your father’s last will and testament.”

Kazuma’s eyes widened, and Stronghart gave him a sharp look.

“That’s… I… Thank you for warning me,” Kazuma said. “It would have been quite a shock to see such a thing without warning.”

“Why in the world did you seek out Genshin Asogi’s will?” Stronghart asked, with narrowed eyes.

“Ah well…” Ryunosuke rubbed the back of his neck. He’d really hoped Stronghart wouldn’t pry, but apparently he didn’t have that sort of luck. “I got the impression that he considered it to be some sort of weapon.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kazuma said. “How could a will be a weapon?”

“I… I don’t know, but…”

“You should think before you repeat such claims, Ryunosuke.”

Stronghart nodded. “I was there when Mr. Asogi wrote that will. I assure you, it is no weapon of any kind.”

“All right,” Ryunosuke said. “I’m, uh, sorry to trouble you with it…”

The awkward tension in the air made him want to flee, but at the same time, departing on such a strange note felt wrong. He stood there, staring at the two of them, until Susato broke the silence.

“What brings you here, Lord Stronghart?” she asked with a polite bow. “I didn’t know you investigated crime scenes personally.”

“Ah. Normally I would not.” He nodded toward Kazuma. “However, Mr. Asogi asked me to take over his apprenticeship and mentor him as a prosecutor, so I came personally today.”

“I see.” Despite her calm words, she looked shocked.

Ryunosuke didn’t know what to say either. He’d been aware that the two were spending time together, but something about Kazuma being Stronghart’s apprentice just felt wrong. “Well, we won’t trouble you any longer,” he said, when he finally remembered how to speak.

Kazuma watched them until they were out the door.

#

Ryunosuke intended to ask Sholmes about his involvement with their investigation immediately once they got back to 221B Baker Street, but a significant amount of chaos was waiting for them instead. By the time they got through unraveling the unexpected situation that had ended with Professor Mikotoba lying on the couch, they also found out that Iris had a stolen autopsy report in her possession, and that spiraled into discovering that Mikotoba had been Sholmes’s partner and presumably Iris’s father.

Partway through the conversation, he noticed a chill in the air and wondered with no small amount of dread if the ghost was eavesdropping on them.

If it was, though, it didn’t make its presence known. He could almost forget about the unnatural feeling in the room.

Almost. He would still prefer not to be haunted at all.

Sholmes glanced around the room, and Ryunosuke was certain from the sudden narrowing of his eyes that the man had noticed the ghost, only for him to announce without a hint of uncertainty that something in the kitchen was obviously burning.

Nothing in the kitchen was burning. There wasn’t even anything cooking.

The detective then declared that he and Mikotoba needed to depart on unspecified urgent business, and Ryunosuke seized the opportunity to ask about the day’s earlier events before they left. Sholmes confirmed that he had not been called in as a consultant on the case, but was delighted by the thought and concluded that Kazuma naturally recognized his talents and believed him to be investigating the case even when it wasn’t official.

“I don’t know,” Susato said, her chin resting on her palm. “I think perhaps Kazuma-sama had an excuse prepared to justify our presence there.”

“So… he is on our side?” Ryunosuke asked.

“I’m really not sure, Mr. Naruhodo.” She looked down at the floor, her despondent gaze darkened by her own doubts.

He didn’t want to doubt Kazuma either. Kazuma was his best friend, after all. He seemed to be out for revenge against van Zieks, which was concerning, but at the same time, he’d basically stood in for the defense during the trial after van Zieks’s appointed lawyer proved to be so useless. They could trust him to pursue the truth if nothing else.

And yet… Kazuma was acting strangely. He spent far too much time with Lord Stronghart for Ryunosuke’s liking. Not that Ryunosuke could point to anything particularly wrong with that, but the sight of the two of them together gave him an uneasy feeling he couldn’t quite define.

Maybe tomorrow he would talk to Kazuma about it. Of course, they would have to survive another day of the trial…

With Sholmes and Mikotoba gone on their unspecified business, the remaining occupants were left to sit with their own thoughts.

When a knock came at the door, Iris jumped up. “Did Hurley forget his key again?”

She ran to open it, but it was Gina who burst in.

“Oi, ‘Oddo! I ‘unno wot’s going on, but you better look at this!”

A cold pit of dread had formed in Ryunosuke’s stomach. The last time Gina burst in like this, it was to reveal the horrible news about Gregson’s death. Surely… surely someone else hadn’t…

“Your prosecutor pal sent me to take somefin’ to Strong’art, and I were jus’ lookin’ around when I spotted this!” She held up a piece of paper.

Iris lifted both hands to her mouth. “Ginny, you didn’t steal something from Lord Stronghart’s office, did you?”

Gina let out a huff of breath. “’Course not, I jus’ borrowed it. That’s wot an Inspector does when she sees somefin’ suspicious!”

Sweat began rolling down the back of Ryunosuke’s neck. Borrowing things from the Lord Chief Justice’s office without permission sounded like a good way to land in jail. And he had a sinking sense of dread that she might have been “looking around” inside drawers or locked cabinets. 

“Anyway, I reckon somefin’s fishy about this, so I thought I oughta bring it to you, ‘Oddo.”

Him? Why did she have to steal things from Lord Stronghart and bring them to him? Nevertheless, he accepted the piece of paper with a wince and took a look at it.

It was much less official-looking than he expected it to be. In fact, it looked less like official documentation and more like something Stronghart must have scribbled in his free time. Was it a worse offense to steal the Lord Chief Justice’s private papers? He wasn’t sure, but as he looked it over, he realized why Gina had brought it to them.

It was a list of locations and names.

The Old Bailey – self-explanatory

Office – self-explanatory

Prosecutor’s Office

• Barok van Zieks
• Kazuma Asogi

Prison (Cell 11)

• Albert Harebrayne

221B Baker Street

• Herlock Sholmes
• Iris Wilson
• Ryunosuke Naruhodo
• Susato Mikotoba

Assorted spots throughout London – seemingly random, brief, no pattern

• Incidents have ramped up in frequency since the closed trial began

The list was strange enough on its own, but additional notes made it even stranger. Van Zieks’s name was simply circled. “Genshin Asogi” was written in the margins, with a line drawn between him and Kazuma’s name. Another line led from Harebrayne’s name up to van Zieks’s, with the words “friend, curiosity?” written alongside it.

Then came their section of the list.

Ryunosuke also had a line connecting him to van Zieks, this time with the note being “enemy/rival/friend(???), curiosity?” Then, over in the margins, another name had been written. This one was “Yujin Mikotoba,” and he had lines connecting him to Genshin, Susato, and Sholmes. Instead of any explanatory notes, though, there was still a big question mark by their part of the list.

“What is it, Mr. Naruhodo?” Susato appeared at his shoulder to take a closer look.

Iris joined them so she could see as well. “Why are Hurley and I listed there?”

“See?” Gina gave them a triumphant look. “Seems fishy, don’t it?”

“I think…” Susato paused a moment before continuing. “I think these are the major locations that have been haunted by the ghost of the Old Bailey.”

Ryunosuke rubbed the back of his neck. “So then… Lord Stronghart is trying to figure out why?”

There had to be a connection between Stronghart and the ghost. His behavior was too strange to explain in any other way.

Another knock at the door disrupted any further conversation.

“Hurley?” Iris once again suggested as she hurried to the door.

This time, however, it was Kazuma, who walked in with a smile. “Ryunosuke, I have some time, and I was hoping I could talk to—”

Kazuma was a prosecutor and Ryunosuke was holding a document that had been “borrowed” from Stronghart’s office! He quickly hid the paper behind his back.

Which was probably the most suspicious thing he could have done.

“Am I interrupting something?” Kazuma asked.

“No!” Ryunosuke shouted. But how was he going to get rid of that paper if Kazuma wanted to stay and chat? He couldn’t bear to refuse; he felt like he’d hardly had any time to talk to his friend since his return. “Gina just came by for a visit, b-but we’d be happy if you joined us!”

Casual. Casual was key. He very, very casually handed the note back to Gina.

Kazuma’s gaze followed the movement, and then his eyes narrowed. “Wait, that looks like Lord Stronghart’s handwriting. What is that?”

He snatched the note away from Gina, who glared at him. “Oi, wot’s the big idea?!”

“Where did you get this?”

“I borrowed it from ‘is lordship’s office.” Gina held up her badge. “I can do that, ‘cuz I’m an inspector!”

Kazuma scanned the note. The blood drained from his face. “I’m afraid I’ll have to confiscate this.” All traces of his earlier smile were gone.

Gina glared at him. “If an inspector sees somefin’ as fishy as that, she’s supposed to do somefin’ about it!”

“Kazuma-sama,” Susato said, “you won’t get Gina in trouble over this, will you?”

He straightened his shoulders. “I’ll leave her name out of it.”

That was a relief, at least.

“Just tell me one thing. Nothing strange has happened lately, has it?”

The others shook their head, but Ryunosuke rubbed the back of his neck. “Aside from feeling like I’m being watched? That’s probably just my imagination, though…” He trailed off at the stricken look on Kazuma’s face.

“Watched… you mean by the ghost?” his friend asked.

“No—well, I mean…” Was it his imagination, or had a slight chill entered the air yet again? Kazuma didn’t seem like he noticed, but Susato shivered and rubbed her arms. No, he wasn’t imagining it. The ghost was back. “Sometimes, yes, but I’ve just had this weird sense of being followed ever since the trial.”

Kazuma stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder. “Ryunosuke! Are you sure? Someone has been following you?”

“No, I’m not sure at all! Like I said, it was probably my imagination.”

“I see.” He released him and looked again at the list of names. The paper crinkled as he clenched his fist around it.

He left without another word.

Chapter Text

Esmeralda Tusspells did not look pleased to have a visit from Lord Stronghart. She probably assumed this would involve some consequences after her testimony in court led to the discovery of the Professor’s fake execution.

In truth, Stronghart couldn’t care less now; the damage was already done. He wouldn’t be there at all if her name hadn’t shown up at the top of the list compiled from his recent research. Yet she had no way of knowing that.

“Madame Tusspells,” he said, “I assume you expected I would call on you before long.”

She didn’t answer.

“As I recall, the conditions under which you were allowed to create a mold of Professor’s face included a promise of secrecy about the events of that night.”

“Oui,” she said, “and I did not break that promise.”

“Hmm.” He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Spending a few more seconds on this matter should be enough to convince her he intended to pursue it. “So you claim, yet it was the information you provided that led to the truth of the Professor’s execution being revealed in a public court.”

The blood drained from her face, but she remained composed. “I never intended to—”

“Revealing state secrets is a serious offense,” he said. “However, I am willing to overlook it just this once if you do something for me in exchange, although if you would prefer to let a tribunal decide if your actions were treasonous or not, that certainly can be arranged.”

“What is it you would have me do, sir?” she asked.

He returned his watch to his pocket. “I have heard rumors that in addition to your waxwork business, you also have dealings in the occult.”

She looked startled. Clearly she didn’t expect that to be the purpose of his visit. She composed herself quickly and lifted a finger to her lips. “Oui. The Tusspells family has been blessed with many gifts. Would you like a tarot reading or perhaps a glimpse into the future?”

“Nothing so personal,” he said. “I am here because of the spirit known as the ghost of the Old Bailey. On the day you testified, it disrupted courtroom proceedings at the end of the trial, as I’m sure you remember. Since then, it has only become more unmanageable—and dangerous. I fear for the people of London if this ghost is allowed to run free. Resolving its unfinished business may no longer be an option.”

She tapped the side of her cheek. “Mm, then it is an exorcism you want.”

“Yes.”

“It will be difficult without knowing the identity of the spirit.”

Stronghart gritted his teeth. He’d hoped to avoid this. Yet he’d anticipated it and prepared his story accordingly. All the same, he couldn’t risk anyone overhearing. If even a rumor escaped that he knew the ghost’s identity, it would raise too many questions. He lowered his voice. “If you swear to absolute secrecy, I can give you the information you need.”

Esmeralda Tusspells smiled. “Then please, follow me.”

#

In a small back room set off from the rest of the museum, with the door shut so that no one could hear, Stronghart fixed Tusspells with a serious stare. “The ghost of the Old Bailey is Lord Klint van Zieks.”

Her eyes widened.

“I believe his spirit was initially unable to rest due to certain questions being asked about the Professor case. However, the arrest of his brother has driven him into a frenzy. He must be put to rest now, for his own sake as much as anyone else’s.”

Tusspells frowned. “The rumors circulating London say the ghost came back for revenge against an enemy, perhaps even the Reaper himself.”

“Idle gossip. Such droll fantasies should not be taken seriously.”

She nodded slowly. He could see it in her eyes that she believed him.

It did make for the sort of heartwarming, tragic story the public adored. Barok’s life on the line, Klint’s spirit falling into desperation due to his inability to help him… it had an undeniable appeal. Perhaps he would take this story public someday.

For example, if he ever needed to keep Asogi in line. Discovering that he’d condemned an innocent man and hurt the ghost beyond measure might be just the way to shock him into guilty compliance with whatever purpose Stronghart might put him toward in the future. Yes, that was worth keeping in mind.

Tusspells lit candles for the exorcism, not unlike the séance. Unexpected, but if it worked, he didn’t care what the method was. Perhaps he should have gone to a priest instead, but the last thing he needed was Klint showing up to confess.

“Lord Klint van Zieks,” she said, her gaze fixed on a point above the candles, “ten years ago, you were murdered, and your soul has been unable to find peace since. It is time for you to depart this world and move on. It is time for you to rest.”

He did have a plan if Klint decided to appear to Tusspells and confess to her, but he hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

“We are not your enemies,” she said, unaware of the blatant lie. “We only wish to help you. This world is no longer your home. Please, move on to your final rest, where you may know peace at last. Your brother will be saved. You do not need to linger.”

Stronghart nodded for the benefit of Klint if he was watching, because he would relent and find a way to get the charges against Barok dropped if Klint would just go away and leave well enough alone. Honestly, he was being incredibly merciful.

“Ah!” Tusspells drew a sharp breath. “I can sense his spirit…”

“What’s happening?” Stronghart asked. “Is it working?”

“He will not leave.”

“What?”

She lit a stick of incense and closed her eyes. “Lord Klint van Zieks, it is time for your spirit to move on. You cannot stay here any longer.”

Smoke from the candles mingled with incense. She began to chant in Latin, the meaning clear enough from the few words he recognized. As promised, she was attempting to drive him out.

At last, she opened her eyes. “I am sorry, Lord Stronghart.”

His breath caught in his throat. “What? Are you saying it’s impossible?”

“His will is too powerful. Whatever business he has in this world, it is too important to him.” She shrugged and shook her head. “An exorcism is impossible until this matter is resolved.”

His blood ran cold. “Is there no way to force him to leave?”

“Not short of destroying his soul.”

“Is that… possible?”

“Not for a Tusspells,” she said, with a firm look that suggested the matter was closed no matter what he threatened her with.

#

Someone was waiting in Lord Stronghart’s office when he returned. A jolt of déjà vu made his stomach lurch, but this time the man standing by the window was alive.

“Asogi?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “What are you doing in my office?”

The prosecutor turned to face him and held out a piece of paper. “I came to discuss the case with you, but you were not here. As I was about to leave, I came across this. Care to explain, my lord?”

Asogi was holding the notes Stronghart had taken on Klint’s movements in search of anyone else he could use as leverage against him, since threatening Barok hadn’t worked to make him back down. All of his leads had turned up nothing, but Stronghart supposed the list appeared sinister without context.

However, he’d also kept those notes in his desk drawer, well out of sight.

“How exactly did you come across that document, Asogi? Did you feel the need to search my office?”

“It was on your desk.” Asogi raised his eyebrows. “It was rather cold in here when I arrived, though. Perhaps it was the ghost’s doing.”

What? Was this Klint’s latest plan, to leave suspicious documents out in plain sight for people to discover? As if Stronghart would be careless enough to keep anything actually incriminating. All the same, he would need to make it clearer to Klint that he had contingencies in place already to ensure Barok would be swiftly dealt with if the eye of suspicion fell upon Stronghart in any meaningful way.

“You didn’t answer me,” Asogi said. “What is the meaning of this list, my lord?”

“I was attempting to look into the ghost’s motivations, nothing more.”

“Why?”

Stronghart would have to spin this in a way that aligned with Asogi’s own theory about what the ghost wanted. “If the ghost is out for revenge against Lord van Zieks, I deemed it worth investigating anyone else the ghost showed an interest in—perhaps as a means to finally unraveling the truth about the Reaper.”

Asogi’s eyes flashed with anger. “And that’s why Ryunosuke’s name is on this list? You suspect him of being the Reaper’s accomplice? Is that the real reason you forbade him from defending van Zieks?”

“Mr. Asogi—”

“I am far too aware of how impossible our job can seem at times,” Asogi said, his voice dark. “When dealing with an enemy like the Reaper, it feels as though the law is not enough, that the only way to stop him is to step into the darkness ourselves. I can understand why you might have thought it… prudent to take certain extrajudicial measures.”

It was gratifying to hear his own philosophy echoed openly by Asogi. Yet they would need to have a talk about how much should be admitted out loud. He liked Asogi’s stance, but not so much his willingness to implicate himself as a vigilante to the Lord Chief Justice himself.

Asogi’s glare was downright murderous. “Ryunosuke Naruhodo is my best friend, Lord Stronghart. He is not involved in this.”

“Are you sure he can be trusted?” Stronghart asked. “He seems inexplicably attached to Lord van Zieks.”

“Keeping him away from the defendant is enough.” Asogi’s jaw clenched, and he looked at the list again. “I should also mention that Susato Mikotoba is like a sister to me. Her father took me in after my father’s death. I would be deeply aggrieved if anything were to happen to her.”

Now he was getting dangerously close to directly accusing Stronghart of vigilante justice, which he liked less.

“As for the other two members of that household, they have become very dear to my friends. We should assume the entire household is uninvolved.”

“Even Mr. Sholmes?” Stronghart asked.

Asogi looked startled. “Do you have reason to suspect the great detective of wrongdoing?”

“You never know what that man is up to,” he said.

The young prosecutor considered that for a moment, and then he tapped the side of his head. “Have you considered that the opposite of your hypothesis may be true, my lord?”

“Meaning?”

“You yourself noted that the most likely reason the ghost took an interest in Herlock Sholmes is that Professor Mikotoba was friends with my father. Add that to the initial rocky confrontations between Lord van Zieks and Ryunosuke, and what you have is the possibility that the ghost was looking for van Zieks’s enemies. Someone to form an alliance with, perhaps.”

Stronghart rubbed his chin. That did make sense, if not for the reason Asogi thought. Surely Klint would want to know who his brother’s enemies were.

“That aligns with your own experiences, as well.”

“It does?”

“Everyone on this list reported the ghost to be passive or even benevolent. You are the sole exception, the one person who found the ghost to be violent, as if it had something against you personally.” Asogi looked away. “That troubled me for quite some time. I briefly entertained the notion that you might be the ghost’s true enemy.”

“Is that so?”

“However, I realized the answer was much simpler.” He folded his arms. “As Lord Chief Justice, you share some responsibility for those under your employ. By your grace, Lord van Zieks was allowed to continue prosecuting despite the untimely deaths of those in his sights. The ghost must have seen you as enabling the Reaper’s actions. So, just as it approached van Zieks’s enemies with benevolence, it approached his apparent ally with aggression.”

Stronghart nodded. “Most astute reasoning.”

It was truly impressive how Asogi could twist matters around to suit his own narrative. With a target painted firmly on Barok van Zieks, it seemed any piece of evidence could be distorted to support his belief.

“Regardless,” Asogi said, “the matter is closed.”

“Is it, now?”

“No harm will befall the inhabitants of 221B Baker Street. This is not up for debate.”

“Take heed, Asogi. Have you considered the implications of what you’re saying?”

First, that he believed Stronghart would attempt to harm them outside the bounds of the law if he saw them as a threat. Second, that Asogi would get revenge if such a thing came to pass.

His gaze was cold. “I’ll accept the ramifications.”

Interesting. Stronghart checked the time and sighed. “I had already determined that there was no point in pursuing that lead anyway. Your concerns are unfounded.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Unfounded, but not forgotten. He might still be at a loss for how to bring further leverage against Klint, but he had been handed the means to control Asogi. If the day ever came when he needed to bring his new prosecutor to heel, Ryunosuke Naruhodo and Susato Mikotoba would be the answer.

Either to rein him in… or push him further down the dark path he seemed so perilously close to walking.

Chapter Text

Never before had a subject of gossip filled the streets of London quite like that of the ghost of the Old Bailey. What once was a rarity, confined to the Old Bailey and a few other select locations, became more of a commonplace occurrence. The ghost made itself known in subtle ways, with darkened rooms and an icy chill and the unnerving sense of being watched. No one could claim to have seen it, and yet more and more people began to report its presence.

What once was a harmless, if troubling, phenomenon began to take on a more sinister air. The ghost wanted something, people began to whisper to one another on the streets. It could not leave London until it got what it desired.

And the rumors from the séance resurfaced. The ghost had come back for justice.

The most popular theory, of course, coincided with the closed trial taking place. While the trial proceedings were kept from the public, everyone knew the Reaper had been arrested. Surely, after ten years of striking down those who escaped him, the Reaper at last faced a reaper of his own—the ghost of one of his victims, come back to destroy him.

If the Prosecutor’s Office did nothing to dispel those rumors, if the young foreign prosecutor appeared to fan the flames by whispering of a ghostly avenger risen from the grave to bring justice, surely it was a coincidence.

Yet more and more people began to repeat the story and yearn for a day when the ghost might have its revenge.

#

Ryunosuke still hated having to sit in the gallery to watch the trial, although he counted himself lucky to be considered a member of the judiciary and be allowed to even do that much. Considering how Stronghart seemed oddly intent on keeping him away from van Zieks, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he tried to prevent this as well.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the trial wasn’t such a disaster in the making. Doff still seemed petrified of van Zieks, Kazuma was staring into the courtroom with a slightly wild-eyed look, and van Zieks himself looked like he hated the world.

At least it couldn’t get any worse.

“Oh, you don’t mind if I sit here, do you?”

He looked up.

Of all people, it was the judge earnestly asking about the seat next to him.

“Um, no,” Ryunosuke said, absolutely baffled.

The judge sat down.

“Uh… shouldn’t you be… you know, down there in the courtroom?”

“I’m afraid not. Since this case has become so serious, I’ve been asked not to preside over today’s trial.”

“What? Then who—”

Movement down below caught his attention, and he looked into the courtroom to see Stronghart sitting down in the judge’s place.

Ryunosuke’s blood ran cold. All the dread he’d felt lately in regards to the Lord Chief Justice rose up, uncurling like a living thing at the sight of him. He suddenly had no faith in this trial. Doff was in Stronghart’s pocket and would likely do whatever the man instructed even if he wasn’t terrified of his own client. Stronghart himself was the judge. There would be no fair defense and no fair ruling.

That meant van Zieks’s only hope was Kazuma, the man who had sworn revenge on him.

Stronghart made a brief speech about how he was overseeing things due to the nature of the trial. Then, however, he fixed Kazuma with a serious stare. “Prosecutor Asogi. Your behavior in yesterday’s trial was questionable. I don’t know how things are done in your country, but here, the prosecution’s job is to present a solid case against the accused. It is the defense’s job to counter that.”

Kazuma lifted his head, his shoulders stiff. “That is exactly what I did, my lord. Anything that appeared otherwise was merely a coincidence.”

“Be that as it may, it will not happen again. You will not contradict your own statements, Prosecutor Asogi. Nor will you ‘predict’ what the counsel for the defense is about to say before he actually says it. If you engage in such behavior again, I will be forced to replace you as prosecutor. Is that clear?”

Oh no. Ryunosuke watched with horror as Kazuma bowed in acquiescence. He wouldn’t be able to conjure up a defense today even if he wanted to.

When it came time for the prosecution’s argument, however, Kazuma looked completely calm. In fact, he looked even more confident than he had the day before. Maybe he had a plan—hopefully one that didn’t involve getting revenge.

“In light of what we learned yesterday,” Kazuma said, “the prosecution has re-examined all evidence and testimony, and has uncovered a concerning truth. To this end, I would like to call Inspector Gina Lestrade to testify.”

Gina took the stand and testified about a notebook belonging to Gregson that involved lists of names and places. The name A. Shinn was listed alongside his for most of the entries, and Ryunosuke recognized it with a jolt as Jezaille Brett’s real name. A glance to the side told him Susato remembered the name, too.

When her testimony concluded, Kazuma took over. “Yesterday’s evidence and these new revelations reveal one clear fact to us: Tobias Gregson was one of the people responsible for exacting the Reaper’s so-called ‘justice.’”

The gallery exploded into murmurs.

Ryunosuke looked over at Susato and Iris, who looked as shocked as he felt. Gregson was the Reaper? Gregson?

The only person besides Kazuma who didn’t look fazed by this declaration was van Zieks, who was instead watching Kazuma with a considering look. Did he know? Was that why he was in that room on Fresno Street on the day he was arrested?

Meanwhile, Gina exploded on the stand, shouting at Kazuma that he didn’t have any proof of “the boss” being involved in wrongdoing.

Stronghart slammed his cane down several times to get order. “Prosecutor Asogi, do you mind explaining how this is relevant to the prosecution’s case?”

“Not at all.” Kazuma shrugged. “Though I should think it almost too obvious why the victim being an accomplice of the Reaper is relevant to a trial where the Reaper himself is accused of killing him.”

“Continue.”

“Miss Lestrade, what is the last date in the notebook?”

Gina still looked annoyed with him, but she looked at the entry. “October 31.”

“In other words, the day before the inspector’s body was discovered.” Kazuma folded his arms. “Please provide the rest of the details from that entry, Miss Lestrade.”

Although no assassin’s name was listed this time, the location was given as “Grouse,” and the name, which she struggled with, turned out to be Seishiro Jigoku.

“There we have it,” Kazuma said. “Ten years ago, Seishiro Jigoku stood trial with the Reaper on charges of property damage and contempt of court. Now that he has returned from Japan, Gregson was dispatched to take care of him at the S.S. Grouse, a ship that stopped in Dunkirk at the time in question.”

“A ship?” Stronghart asked. “No one said anything about a ship. I believe Scotland Yard was investigating a club at which the accused was seen.”

Kazuma nodded and tapped the side of his head. “An easy mistake to make, my lord. I almost fell for that same trap. However, pursuing the victim’s movements uncovered the fact that he actually visited the S.S. Grouse that day.”

“Yet the accused was seen at a club,” Stronghart said. He sounded annoyed. “He cannot possibly have killed Gregson on the ship. Moreover, Seishiro Jigoku arrived in London the following morning, so this entire line of questioning feels pointless.”

“That’s where you are mistaken, my lord.” Kazuma next outlined a situation in which van Zieks had sent Gregson out on an assignment, which the man failed and then was killed by van Zieks in retribution. A questionable claim, but he stated it as though it were obvious.

“Objection!” Doff actually objected for once. He almost looked surprised at his own audacity before he continued. “You have no evidence that this is what occurred!”

Maybe he’d been ordered to at least put up the pretense of a defense today.

“Objection!” Kazuma slammed his fist down. “I may not have evidence just yet, but I have witness testimony that will support my claims!”

Stronghart narrowed his eyes. “What witness does the prosecution wish to call?”

“Seishiro Jigoku.”

Stronghart slammed his fist down and stood up in one fluid motion. “Prosecutor Asogi! Explain yourself this instant!”

“As you’ll see in the autopsy report, the time of death is unknown. Gregson’s movements, similarly, become obscured due to the subterfuge he employed as the Reaper’s agent. Yet we know he was on board the S.S. Grouse, and the stated victim that day was Seishiro Jigoku. Obviously, Judge Jigoku survived their encounter, which leaves him as the sole witness who can confirm that the victim left the ship alive and well to report his failure back to the Reaper.”

“I was unaware that the time of death was unknown,” Stronghart said stiffly.

Kazuma simply nodded and didn’t provide any further details.

“However, I fail to see how this is relevant. The strategy proposed by the Prosecutor’s Office did not include any mention of this whatsoever, and therefore—”

“Objection!” Kazuma cut in before Stronghart could continue. “The prosecutor in charge of the case has the final say on which direction to take the argument against the accused. An official strategy may be devised, but the prosecutor is under no obligation to pursue an argument if he finds evidence that it may be flawed.”

“This flaw is the unknown time of death, I assume? Yet nothing directly contradicts the time of death that was previously believed.”

“Objection! Enough doubt has been cast on it that the defense could reasonably make the claim that we cannot conclusively prove the defendant’s guilt. Therefore, we must pursue witness testimony that will definitively state whether or not the victim survived the events of the previous day, so that the defense will have no room for argument.”

“Still, Mr. Jigoku is a guest in our country and a busy man. To summon him for what amounts to appeasing a few meager objections from the defense is—”

“Objection! The prosecutor in charge of the trial chooses which witnesses to call to make his case. The presiding judge can only intervene if there is overwhelming evidence that the witness is unrelated to the case. When the witness most likely came into contact with the victim during the window of activity we are investigating, that exception clearly does not apply.”

Stronghart sounded tired. “Then summon your witness and be done with it.”

Kazuma bowed. “Unfortunately, my lord, there has been some difficulty in securing the witness.”

“Difficulty?”

“Correct, my lord. He seems to have fallen out of contact with everyone for over 24 hours now.” Kazuma shook his head. “Naturally, I have considered the possibility that the Reaper has the means to issue orders from a prison cell and had Judge Jigoku eliminated due to the threat his testimony poses. This makes it even more important to ascertain his whereabouts as soon as possible, for the ramifications it might have for the defendant.”

“Does the defense have any objection to Seishiro Jigoku being summoned as a witness?”

Doff looked completely confused by the turn the trial had taken. “None…”

Stronghart sighed. “Then the court will take a thirty-minute recess to locate Mr. Jigoku. If we do not find him, we will have to assume the worst.”

The recess began, but Ryunosuke stayed where he was in the gallery. So did Susato, Iris, and the judge. At least he had friends with him, even if he felt like he was cast adrift.

“I need to be down there,” he said. “Then maybe I could actually do something.”

“Do you think Judge Jigoku is all right?” Susato asked.

“I don’t know.”

Iris lowered her head. “And where is Hurley? Why hasn’t he come back yet?”

“He’s with my father, wherever he is,” Susato said.

The judge shook his head. “More importantly, where is the ghost of the Old Bailey?”

They all looked at him.

“I mean, he interrupted your last trial. I thought for sure he would show up and haunt the courtroom today, too!”

Ryunosuke propped his chin on his palm. “The ghost appeared last time when we were discussing the Professor case. This case has touched upon the Reaper, but not the Professor. Maybe that’s not enough to get the ghost’s attention.”

“I don’t know,” the judge said. “All of this business with the Reaper started up ten years ago too, shortly after the Professor’s execution.”

“When you think about it,” Susato said, “the idea of the Reaper is quite similar to that of the Professor, isn’t it?”

Killing criminals who couldn’t be convicted in court. That was very true. Ryunosuke frowned as he remembered the list of names Gina had taken from Stronghart’s office. Stronghart seemed to think the ghost had a specific interest in van Zieks, too. Putting that on top of everything else… “You’re right,” he said, “why hasn’t the ghost interfered with this trial?”

“Perhaps the ghost trusts our justice system to get the job done,” a new voice interrupted.

Ryunosuke turned in surprise as Kazuma entered the gallery. “Kazuma! What are you doing here?”

“Since I have some time, I thought I’d stop by and see you.” Kazuma folded his arms. “I still wish it were you down there sparring with me, partner.”

He managed a smile. “So do I.”

Susato tilted her head. “What do you mean, Kazuma-sama? You think the ghost simply doesn’t feel the need to interfere?”

“Doesn’t it seem logical? The ghost, unable to rest due to injustice, thought to take measures into his own hands, only to see this trial come about. Therefore, he is likely waiting for a good and proper verdict to come from my work.”

“Do you really believe the ghost is after Lord van Zieks?” Ryunosuke asked.

Kazuma laughed. “Your faith in him is as strong as ever, isn’t it?”

“I just don’t see him murdering someone. He’s not that kind of person.”

“Never change, Ryunosuke. We need people like you.”

“Kazuma…”

“I don’t think the ghost is a victim of the Reaper,” the judge said. “I think it’s someone who worked in the judicial system. Why else would he have started by haunting the Old Bailey? I think it’s someone I knew. Have I told you the story about how the ghost haunted me because I wanted to be haunted?”

Why would anyone want to be haunted??

Kazuma shook his head. “Come now, Ryunosuke, your thoughts are written all over your face. Not everyone is afraid of ghosts.”

But still, actually wanting it to happen?

“Speaking of dead people,” he said, “can I speak with you privately for a minute, Ryunosuke?”

Ryunosuke gave him a flat look, because speaking of dead people was a terrible way to start a conversation with anyone, let alone his best friend, but followed him a short distance away to an empty part of the gallery.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I know this is unlikely,” Kazuma said, “but an autopsy report has vanished from the archives, and I just had this illogical feeling that against all odds, you might have it. You don’t have Lord Klint van Zieks’s autopsy report, do you?”

Ryunosuke carefully didn’t look over at Iris as he remembered the series of events that led to them discovering the truth about Sholmes’s partner, and gave Kazuma a sharp look instead. “Why are you looking for that?”

“As I said, it’s gone missing. That news has not been passed on to Lord Stronghart yet, so I hoped I might find it myself first.”

“I do have it,” Ryunosuke admitted.

“Will you give it to me?”

He’d given Kazuma all the other evidence he’d gathered, so it wasn’t as if he had any particular reason to refuse this. He handed him the autopsy report, and Kazuma filed it away with the rest of his evidence.

“Thank you,” he said.

Ryunosuke frowned. “You’re not going to read it?”

“I’m just going to return it to the archives.”

“I inspect everything that falls into my hands.”

“I’m sure you do,” Kazuma said, but he led the way back to where the others were sitting without getting the autopsy report back out.

“Do you think they’ve found Judge Jigoku?” Susato asked.

“Of course not,” he said.

Ryunosuke’s blood ran cold. “Y-You’re not saying that Judge Jigoku is—”

“Dead? Certainly not. Mr. Sholmes went out looking for him. I’m certain he’s secured him by now.” With a sigh, Kazuma sat down in one of the nearby seats that had been vacated during the recess. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

“Kazuma?” Ryunosuke frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m exhausted.” Kazuma lifted his hand and rubbed his temples. “We were up half the night planning the direction to take today’s trial.”

“You’re doing an impressive job,” the judge said. “Even though this is your first case, you seem completely confident as a prosecutor.”

“I can’t take all the credit. In the short span of time I’ve been in London, I’ve been mentored by two accomplished prosecutors.”

Ryunosuke winced. “About that… I know you’ve been working closely with Lord Stronghart lately, and you probably know him a lot better than I do, but I’m not sure—”

“Not sure of what?” asked the last voice he wanted to hear interrupting that statement, as he became aware of a large presence looming over them.

With a sense of sickening dread, he turned in his seat to face Stronghart. How long had he been standing there?

“He just arrived, Mr. Naruhodo,” Susato said.

That was a relief, at least.

Fortunately, Stronghart seemed unconcerned with actually pursuing his questions about what Ryunosuke had been talking about. “Prosecutor Asogi. A word, if you will.”

Kazuma nodded, and departed the gallery with the Lord Chief Justice.

#

“Yes, Lord Stronghart?” Asogi asked, once they were back in the antechamber.

“What is your end-game here?”

“Justice.”

“I need a more specific answer than that.” Stronghart narrowed his eyes. Today’s trial had been nothing short of infuriating. “You are not doing what we agreed upon. Jigoku’s testimony is not necessary to condemn the accused, yet you’ve constructed your case in a way that requires it.”

Asogi closed his eyes.

“I want the truth, Asogi. Now.”

“Very well.” When he opened his eyes, his gaze was hard and determined. “I am no longer certain Lord van Zieks killed Tobias Gregson. Nor is that the crime I ever wished to convict him of.”

“You cannot possibly hope to convict him for your father.”

His jaw tightened, but he bowed his head. “I understand that. Yet I can convict him as the Reaper. If Jigoku testifies, he will give me the evidence I need. If he cannot be found, that will serve as my proof instead. The pieces are all coming together—the pieces I need to definitively name Lord van Zieks as the Reaper.”

“And that is your goal?” Stronghart asked.

“It is.” Asogi straightened up, his hands clasped behind his back. “Ten years ago, my father was convicted as a mass murderer, reviled by the people of London, though most didn’t know his name. Since then, the Reaper has amassed a far greater list of victims.”

“You wish to repay him in kind, then.”

“Exactly.”

“Is that why you’ve contributed to the rumors spreading through the capital about the ghost of the Old Bailey being out for revenge?”

“Yes. Van Zieks will be condemned as the Reaper, with the blood of so many on his hands. He will go to his death knowing that the people of London see him as a monster.” Asogi’s smile was bleak. “Won’t that be fitting?”

#

Ryunosuke watched anxiously from the gallery as the trial resumed.

Lord Stronghart called the trial to order and cleared his throat. “During the past thirty minutes while this court was adjourned, all possible efforts were expended… but sadly, Mr. Jigoku’s whereabouts could not be ascertained. As such, we must assume the worst. We—”

Wind howled through the courtroom, and the members of the judiciary cried out in alarm. Ryunosuke flinched. He knew this cold, had felt it too many times already. The ghost of the Old Bailey had decided not to sit out the trial after all.

Lord Stronghart slammed his hands down and stood up. “We have no choice but to move to immediate adjudication! Agreed, Counsel?”

The candles nearest to the prosecution’s bench extinguished, although the rest only flickered, but Kazuma appeared unfazed by the ghost’s presence. The dimmed lighting cast eerie shadows over his face. “Actually, my lord, the prosecution located Seishiro Jigoku shortly before court reconvened.”

“…You did?”

“He has been secured in the port of Dunkirk and is being brought back to London as we speak. The prosecution requests the trial be adjourned until tomorrow, when the witness can testify.”

“Understood. I hereby call the end of today’s proceedings.”

Stronghart seemed to be in a hurry to leave the courtroom. Ryunosuke could no longer dismiss it as his imagination. Stronghart was afraid of the ghost of the Old Bailey. Which meant the ghost’s enemy… was almost certainly Lord Stronghart.

He just wished he knew what that meant for the trial at hand.

Chapter Text

After the trial, Stronghart left the courthouse and returned to his office with Asogi by his side. He conceded that Asogi’s plan for the trial was a sort of poetic justice. It caused a slight amount of guilt to realize this might result in selling out Jigoku, but there was nothing that could be done about that at this point. Perhaps Jigoku had covered his tracks well enough, perhaps not.

“You will need to be careful from now on,” Stronghart said, once they were alone in his office. “Your plan is appealing, but it would be a shame to lose the trial over this.”

A thin smile crossed Asogi’s lips. “Oh, even if we fail, we will not be disappointed.”

Stronghart sighed. Of course, Asogi remained convinced that if he lost the trial, the ghost of the Old Bailey would visit some horrible fate upon van Zieks.

“How do you suppose he’ll do it?” Asogi asked.

“Pardon?”

“If we fail, how will he do it?”

He didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Will the ghost wait until Lord van Zieks is at a high cliffside and push him to his death? Or perhaps he’ll use a gun, like a living man would. Or perhaps he’ll grab him by the throat…” Asogi lifted his hands and curled his fingers inward to mimic the gesture. “…and squeeze the life out of him while savoring the terror in his eyes.”

“You will not intentionally lose the trial to find out.”

“Of course not. Even I’m not cruel enough to wish that on him.” Asogi rubbed his chin. “Although… I admit to some curiosity about what manner of death a vengeful spirit would deem fitting for his enemy.”

Stronghart clenched his jaw. He couldn’t object too strenuously, or it might make Asogi suspect that he was the true target of the ghost’s revenge, not van Zieks. It didn’t matter. He shouldn’t let it get to him. These sick musings were only a product of Asogi’s twisted imagination, and Stronghart would force Klint to back off before it reached that point anyway.

Yet if he miscalculated… if he was one slip-up away… if Klint became a demon set on hunting him down at any cost…

No, no, he had to stop thinking about—

“Dismemberment! Yes, what about that? The ghost might decide to take him apart piece by piece, as recompense for—”

“ENOUGH!” Stronghart shouted.

Asogi fell silent, eyes wide.

“I… apologize.” Stronghart composed himself with difficulty.

“No,” the other man said, bowing his head, “I’m the one who should apologize. It is not a topic anyone should enjoy… and you count Lord van Zieks as a friend, don’t you?”

“Something like that,” he said, trying to ignore the sudden paranoia that Klint was right behind him, listening, probably getting ideas from this deranged lunatic’s ramblings.

“Perhaps he would listen to you,” Asogi said. “If you go to Lord van Zieks and implore him to confess, for his own sake, perhaps we can end this here and now.”

“Impossible. He would never give in that easily.”

Because he was innocent, of course, though Asogi would surely take it to be arrogance.

Wait. With as focused as Asogi was on destroying Barok, it was inconceivable that Klint didn’t also see him as an enemy.

“Tell me,” he said, “is it the case that the ghost of the Old Bailey still has not troubled you?”

“Should it?” Asogi asked.

“Answer the question.”

The younger man folded his arms. “I told you, I developed techniques by which I can protect myself from the ghost, in case the accused’s continued freedom drives it into an unreasoning frenzy.”

“And your methods work?”

“Either that or it has chosen to ignore me of its own volition.”

Unlikely. Klint would never simply ignore someone so intent on hurting his brother. “Can these methods be taught?”

“It would take many years of study.” Kazuma bowed. “However, I’d be happy to begin, if you’re interested.”

“No matter, I will keep your offer under consideration for another time.”

“Yes, my lord.”

While he would have liked to protect himself against Klint, he didn’t intend to let this go on for years. The mere fact that Asogi had protection himself was good enough for the moment. If Klint couldn’t get to him personally, Asogi was shielded from both the truth and any attempted retribution. Stronghart was the only person who could call him off.

It was time to make one last attempt to reason with the dead.

“Prosecutor Asogi, I have some business to attend to, but I may need you presently. Would you wait for me down the hall?”

Asogi clapped his hand over his heart in a salute and bowed his head. Then he left.

Stronghart waited a moment after the doors closed behind him and then peered out to make sure Asogi was far enough away to not overhear. The young prosecutor stood some distance down the hall, near the stairs, engaged in conversation with two members of Scotland Yard. It appeared they were already planning out the next stage of the investigation.

Good. Stronghart returned to his office, closed the doors firmly behind him, and then glared around the room. “Klint! I know you’re here somewhere, even if you aren’t making your presence known. Klint!”

There was a hint of a chill in the air, wasn’t there?

“You saw him,” Stronghart said, confident he had the audience he wanted. “He’s lost in his own delusions. But I can still force him to stand down if I choose to. We can end this peacefully. If you go away and let the matter rest—if you leave me in peace—I swear to you I’ll get Barok out of this and keep him safe.”

He would keep his promise, too. He had no particular desire to destroy Barok van Zieks; he was a good prosecutor. If securing his safety was what it took to make Klint stand down, he would do it. It would require selling out Jigoku, but immunity might still be able to get him to safety, as the original plan for the assassin exchange had counted on. As for Asogi… well, he could kill him if it proved impossible to stay his hand through other means, although he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Asogi was too useful. He had plans for him.

“So let’s end this,” Stronghart said.

And there in the shadows, the ghost appeared.

He would never get used to the sight. He hoped he didn’t have to.

Klint’s spirit looked much as he did in life, but the front of his red uniform was darkened with blood—be it his own from when Genshin Asogi killed him, or someone else’s, it was impossible to tell. His hands, though, were truly what created the ghastly spectacle. His hands dripped with phantom blood of the people he’d killed, never fading, never ceasing, an eternal reminder of what he had done.

He stepped forward, his eyes dead and cold and filled with hatred.

Stronghart took a step back. “You heard me, didn’t you? I’m making you a very generous offer.”

Klint advanced toward him silently.

“Asogi intends to see Barok dead at any cost—but I’ll stop him if you end this madness and leave me alone!”

Stronghart was rapidly running out of places to retreat to, but the ghost kept moving, reaching toward him with fury blazing in his eyes.

“That is your answer?” he demanded, shocked and with more than a hint of fear. Had he miscalculated the depths of Klint’s love for Barok compared to his hatred for the man he saw as his enemy? “If you kill me, there will be no one left to save him!”

The ghost’s icy, bloodstained hands closed around his collar and pulled him forward. “Confess.” Hearing a dead man’s voice again after so many years made his stomach lurch with horror. “Confess everything. Only then will I leave you alone.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Stronghart gasped, trying in vain to free himself. “I’ll kill your brother for this, do you hear me? I swear to God I’ll kill him!”

Far from making him back down, that seemed to provoke Klint further. His grip tightened, and Stronghart choked. There was no mercy in those eyes at all.

“Asogi! ASOGI!”

Asogi threw open the doors a moment later, and Klint vanished at the same time. Thank God. Stronghart had been banking on that, because he didn’t know what Asogi could actually do to save him from a murderous ghost, let alone how he would explain it if he recognized the man from his portrait.

But either Asogi’s protections were as excellent as he claimed, or Klint didn’t want to be witnessed by anyone. That would be good. In fact, it might be the sole saving grace of this whole horrid affair. Many other things made sense if Stronghart considered it in that light. Klint looked like a walking nightmare; no wonder he hadn’t shown himself to his brother. He likely couldn’t bear tarnishing Barok’s image of him in such a horrific and irreparable way. It would break the younger man’s heart.

“Sir?” Asogi looked rather puzzled. “Is something wrong?”

Stronghart pulled out his pocket watch and stared at it to try to appear as though he were merely impatient due to the time instead of having nearly been strangled by a ghost. “Ah, good. You only arrived one minute and ten seconds after I called you. I have just gone over some paperwork regarding the trial…” He was more rattled than he liked to admit, but he put away his watch and turned to face Asogi. “Obtaining further witness testimony might be necessary for the case, but I’ll leave that entirely in your hands.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I’m stepping out to handle some business, so I trust you can handle the investigation on your own?”

“I have everything well in hand, my lord.”

“Good. I want this wrapped up quickly.”

“It shall be done.” Asogi saluted and left.

Stronghart followed, but he paused to whisper at the empty room in case it was not as empty as it appeared. “I gave you a chance. What happens now is on your shoulders, not mine.”

#

Rapid banging woke Ryunosuke up sometime during the night. He jerked awake and looked around in confusion. It was still dark outside, so what…? The sound came again, and he realized it was someone at the door.

According to the clock, it was just after 2 in the morning.

“Have some patience, my dear fellow!” Sholmes’s voice carried through the whole flat as he made his way to the door downstairs.

Who could be calling on them at a time like this?

The sound of the door opening was followed by a cheerful greeting from the detective. “Aha! Judging by the time of night and your own harried appearance, it is clear that you have come for advice after a romantic squabble—”

“There’s no time, Mr. Sholmes. Where’s Ryunosuke?”

Ryunosuke sat straight up. That was Kazuma’s voice.

He dressed as fast as he could and raced downstairs, nearly colliding with Sholmes on his way up the stairs, presumably to wake him up.

“It seems Mr. Naruhodo is already awake!” Sholmes declared, with more enthusiasm than anyone should have at this time of night. “Now I see, everything is becoming clear. Mr. Naruhodo poses as a lawyer, but is actually a great astronomer on the verge of discovering—”

Ryunosuke hurried past him to see what Kazuma wanted.

His friend was out of breath, as if he had run all the way to Baker Street. He was dressed in his white uniform, but seemed rather more disheveled than usual. He paced as he waited, drumming his fingers against the hilt of Karuma with an anxiety Ryunosuke rarely saw from him.

“Kazuma?”

He whirled around. “Ryunosuke.”

“What’s going on?”

Kazuma shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Something happened at the prison. I’m going down there right now, and I want you to go with me.

Chapter Text

Dread formed in the pit of Ryunosuke’s stomach. “What do you mean, something happened?”

“There was some sort of incident. That’s all I know.”

Sholmes snapped his fingers. “It sounds as though you’ll have need of a great detective!”

Kazuma gave him a considering look. “Yes, Mr. Sholmes, perhaps you had better come along.”

“As expected!” Sholmes said with a smile. “After all, you are a great admirer of mine, are you not, Mr. Asogi?”

“Am I?”

“Indeed, it is my understanding that you announced to the entire court that my dear friend and I had secured Mr. Jigoku in Dunkirk, even though you had no way of confirming that fact at the time.”

Kazuma inclined his head. “I would never underestimate the talents of the world-famous Herlock Sholmes.”

Wait, he hadn’t known Sholmes and Mikotoba found Jigoku during the thirty-minute recess? But he’d sounded so certain during the trial.

While Sholmes grabbed his goggles and other equipment he might need for the investigation, Ryunosuke took a closer look at Kazuma. For someone who only knew there had been an incident at the prison, he seemed awfully tense. He kept gripping Karuma’s hilt and looking at Sholmes like he was anxious about the delay.

“Kazuma,” Ryunosuke said, “is there something you’re not telling me?”

He said nothing in response.

“Kazuma?”

Kazuma turned to face him. “Ryunosuke… do you believe it’s ever justified to… do what the Reaper does? To kill people the law failed to convict?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

“Never? Even when an injustice has gone uncorrected for ten years?”

“It isn’t always easy to accept, but we can’t just take the law into our own hands.”

It worried him that Kazuma asked that, especially when he had such a haunted look in his eyes.

Before Ryunosuke could say anything else, voices came from the stairs. “Did I hear you right?” Susato asked. “Something happened at the prison?”

“Is Mr. Reaper all right?” Iris asked.

The two of them came down the stairs and joined them, with matching worried expressions.

Kazuma lifted his hands. “I think he’s fine, but I don’t know the exact situation. That’s why I’m heading over there now.”

“Yes,” Susato said, “we should go at once.”

“I don’t think everyone needs to come.” He looked at Iris, who was pulling on her coat. “I especially see no reason to bring a child along.”

Iris glared at him and folded her arms with a pout. “If Hurley’s going, I’m going. You might need me.”

“Don’t underestimate her,” Ryunosuke said. He wondered how Kazuma would react if he learned the ten-year-old had a medical degree.

Kazuma continued to frown at Iris, who glared right back at him. They stood like that for a moment before he threw his hands in the air and sighed. “Fine. It’s not as if we have time to stand around arguing about it. But if anything happens, stay behind me.”

#

The prison guards didn’t look pleased to see Ryunosuke and the others at 2 in the morning, not that he could blame them. But before they could protest, Kazuma stepped into the lead.

“They’re with me.” His glare was enough to make anyone back down.

The prison was surprisingly quiet for a place where there had been enough of a commotion to get Kazuma rushing down in the middle of the night, but when they reached the cellblock where van Zieks was, it became clear something was wrong.

First, there were no guards. Even a relatively private cell normally had guards nearby.

Second, there was evidence of damage in the corridor outside the cell. Scuffmarks on the floor, splinters missing from the walls, lights extinguished and lying on the floor—some sort of struggle had occurred.

Third, and perhaps most importantly, van Zieks was awake despite the late hour, and Ryunosuke exhaled, feeling as though he could breathe again for the first time since Kazuma woke them up.

Although the man in question didn’t appear to share his relief. “Wonderful,” van Zieks said. “The whole menagerie has arrived.”

“Are you incapable of showing gratitude?” Kazuma asked, although his gaze went past the cell to a particularly damaged wall, and he walked over to study it in more detail.

Sholmes was already bustling around the hall as if taking everything in at once.

“Lord van Zieks,” Ryunosuke said, “what happened?”

Van Zieks folded his arms and looked away. “I hardly think I need to tell this story at such a late hour.”

“Aha!” Sholmes was in front of the cell in an instant. “Then we have no choice but to turn to Herlock Sholmes’s Logic and—”

“On second thought, if it will stop him from prattling on all night, I suppose I can explain.”

Sholmes reeled backward as if physically struck, but Susato and Iris joined Ryunosuke in front of the cell as the prosecutor began to speak.

“Pray understand that this is not so exciting a tale as you might be expecting. I awoke about half an hour ago to discover five armed men standing outside my cell. Immediately thereafter, one of them flew across the room.”

“F-Flew?” Ryunosuke asked.

“Yes, as if thrown bodily into the wall. Similar fates befell the others.”

Susato lifted her hand to her mouth. “You don’t think it was the ghost?”

“I can think of no other explanation,” van Zieks said.

Kazuma was suddenly by their side. “Did you see it, then? Have you seen the ghost?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Whatever attacked those men remained invisible,” van Zieks said. “It acted more as a force of nature tossing them about.”

Kazuma scowled and turned away.

“But you’re sure it was the ghost?” Ryunosuke asked. This was the most horrifying thing he’d ever heard of. Whenever he thought he’d encountered the worst thing about the ghost, something even worse came up. “It can attack people?”

Iris sighed and lifted her hands. “Oh Runo, did you forget all about Hurley’s presentation the other day?”

“Ah…” Right, there was something in there about how the ghost would get more and more powerful as time went on.

But still, to be faced with actual evidence of it was terrifying!

“This scene will be perfect for my new manuscript,” Iris said, as she began taking notes.

“Y-You’re writing a story about the ghost?” Ryunosuke asked.

“Of course,” Sholmes called from the other end of the hall. “Did I not mention it the other day? Herlock Sholmes’s Ghostly Adventures. Do try to keep up, my dear fellow.”

Yes, well, if he remembered correctly, it was only Sholmes’s assumption that such a story would be written.

“No,” Kazuma said, “you shouldn’t do that.”

Right, this whole situation was so wrapped up in secrecy that—

“Herlock Sholmes and the Ghostly Avenger is a much better title, or perhaps Herlock Sholmes and the Dead Man’s Justice.” Kazuma tapped the side of his head. “Actually, how about The Final Reckoning of the Ghost of the Old Bailey? Yes, I think that has a much nicer ring to it. You want to emphasize the spirit’s reason for returning to properly capture the people’s imagination.”

“Um, Kazuma?” Ryunosuke said weakly. “What are you doing?”

“Helping your young friend name her novel, of course.”

This explained who was responsible for the latest rumors about the ghost.

The door to the cellblock opened, and Lord Stronghart walked in. He looked as startled to see all of them as Ryunosuke was to see him. Did everyone in London somehow get alerted when things happened at the prison in the middle of the night?

“What are you doing here?” Stronghart asked. “It is only eleven minutes after 2. I should think you would all be asleep at such an early hour.”

“I brought them,” Kazuma said. “I received word that there had been an incident at the prison, and I thought it was best to call upon some companions skilled in the art of deduction.”

Stronghart frowned. “Do you have people watching the prison, Mr. Asogi?”

“I prefer to stay apprised of what is going on, especially when dealing with such an important case.”

The Lord Chief Justice scowled around at their group, and his gaze landed on Iris. “And why in heaven’s name did you bring a child with you?”

Iris folded her arms and glared at him. “I always help Hurley with his cases!”

“And do you always refer to your father in such a casual way? He ought to be ashamed over your lack of manners.”

“Oh, Hurley’s not exactly my daddy!”

“But we don’t have time for a Wilson family history lesson,” Kazuma interrupted, actually lifting Iris bodily into the air despite her yelp of protest and setting her down several feet away. “We are here to look into the incident that occurred here tonight. I assume that’s why you’ve come, Lord Stronghart?”

“I, too, received word of the incident.” Stronghart folded his arms and looked around at the damage. “As I understand it, the ghost of the Old Bailey finally made its dark intentions known. It attempted to kill Lord van Zieks and subsequently injured five prison guards who tried to stop it.”

Ryunosuke rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… Lord Stronghart? That doesn’t match up with what Lord van Zieks said happened.”

Kazuma folded his arms. “Nor does it make any logical sense. No, I think we must view the ghost’s actions through a more critical lens.”

“Meaning what?”

“Could the opposite not be true? In light of tonight’s events, it may be that the ‘guards’ were not guards at all, but rather assassins, and the ghost attacked them to ensure they could not kill Lord van Zieks.”

Stronghart narrowed his eyes. “Do you have information that I do not, Mr. Asogi?”

In response, he lifted his hands and shook his head as though the answer were obvious. “If events transpired as you claim, what are we to take from that? The ghost arrived to kill Lord van Zieks, effortlessly took out five prison guards, and then… what? Got tired and left despite its target now being unprotected?”

“That is quite easily explained,” Stronghart said. “Since the struggle alerted the rest of the prison, additional guards were already on their way with certain… warding items that have been distributed in order to protect against the ghost. It must have realized that.”

“Oh yes,” Kazuma said. “The well-known ability of ghosts to sense warding charms coming down the hallway.”

“Are you mocking me, Mr. Asogi?”

“Certainly not. Everyone knows ghosts can do that. They can smell fear, too.”

Stronghart turned away from Kazuma. “Anyway, since we’ve determined what happened here tonight, I think we can all…” He trailed off, staring at something past Ryunosuke.

Ryunosuke turned and saw Sholmes partway up the wall, gripping the barred window with one hand as he attempted to scale higher.

“Don’t mind me, dear fellows!” he shouted.

Iris folded her arms. “Hurley, what are you doing?”

“What else would I be doing but attempting to determine the height of the ghost?”

“Oh!” Susato clapped her hands together. “Do keep in mind that ghosts might be able to float through the air, Mr. Sholmes!”

“Aha! I knew I was missing a critical piece of the mystery!”

Ryunosuke wondered if he could take advantage of this chaos to talk to van Zieks. He wanted to ask him a few things about the case, but since he’d been barred from visiting him, he hadn’t had an opportunity. Of course, since Stronghart was the one who made such a thing impossible, he’d rather do it when the man wasn’t staring at him.

“All right,” Stronghart said, “now that we’ve determined that the ghost came here to attack Lord van Zieks—”

“My lord, did you ignore everything I said?” Kazuma asked.

Stronghart glared at him. “I fail to understand why you would throw out your own hypothesis about recent events.”

“My hypothesis stands. I am merely paying attention to the evidence.”

“You have no proof that the ghost did not come here to kill Lord van Zieks.”

Ryunosuke spoke up again. “But that contradicts what Lord van Zieks saw!”

Stronghart turned toward the cell, but van Zieks lifted a hand to his head and shook his head. “I’ll admit,” he said, “I cannot guarantee that the ghost did not arrive first. All I can truly attest to is the fight.”

“You see?” Stronghart said. “Now that we have come to the truth of the matter—”

“Have we, though?” Kazuma asked.

Sholmes leaped down from the wall and landed between them. “Aha! You and the Lord Chief Justice might still be muddling about in confusion, but fortunately I have arrived at the heart of the matter. Yes, my dear fellows, I know both the identity of the ghost and why it departed the prison when it did! It is time for Herlock Sholmes’s famous Logic and Reasoning Spectacular!”

Ryunosuke held up his hands. “Mr. Sholmes, I… really don’t think I can do this at 2 in the morning…”

“Yes,” Stronghart said, “it is far too late at night to consider such foolery.”

What a rare thing it was, for him and Stronghart to be in agreement on something.

“I’ll do it,” Kazuma said.

They all looked at him.

He shrugged. “What? I’ve never seen a… what did you call it, a ‘Logic and Reasoning Spectacular’? It sounds like it might be fun. Besides, a colleague was asking about it just the other day.”

“It sounds as though I must make more frequent visits to the Prosecutor’s Office!” Sholmes cried in delight.

Van Zieks rather looked like he wished the attempt on his life had succeeded after all.

Undeterred by the general lack of enthusiasm, Sholmes snapped his fingers and danced over to the edge of the cell where the prosecutor was trying to pretend he didn’t see him. “The first question we are presented with is that of the identity of the ghost.”

Everyone in the room was suddenly on edge, listening closely. Did Sholmes actually know the ghost’s identity? No, Ryunosuke had been through too many of these to expect a serious answer. He would make some preposterous claim.

“Is the spirit from tonight’s attack the ghost of the Old Bailey?” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the now-startled van Zieks. “All we have to do is consider this man’s testimony. The ghost remained invisible, acting as a force of nature. Since we know the ghost of the Old Bailey has been able to manifest itself with a physical appearance, that tells us we are dealing with a different ghost entirely!”

“What?” Kazuma demanded. “People have seen the ghost?”

“Yes—your Lord Chief Justice, as I understand it,” Sholmes said.

Everyone looked at Stronghart.

“It appeared in my office once, but I couldn’t make out its face,” he said.

“Only its eyes and hands,” van Zieks said under his breath from his cell. “Incredibly.”

Sholmes cleared his throat. “Now! Who then is this mysterious new ghost?” He spun across the room to wave his hand toward the broken wall with a flourish. “For that, we need only turn our attention to these gashes in the wall, which are clearly claw marks. Therefore, we can conclude that the ghost that appeared tonight is in fact not human at all, but a beast!”

Okay, it was definitely one of those times. No serious answers would be forthcoming from the great detective tonight. At least, Ryunosuke certainly hoped so, because a ghost beast sounded worse than a ghost person.

“So then, what did this creature want?” Sholmes danced across the room again and snapped his fingers before pointing at something on the floor. “This bit of cloth shows the answer! Torn from the uniform of a prison guard, this cloth came from a pocket. Yes, the beast was searching for something. And what was it searching for? Why, everyone knows you carry snacks in your pocket!”

“Perhaps you do, but those of us who are part of civilized society do not,” van Zieks said, only to be ignored.

Sholmes moved to the center of the hall and spread his arms wide. “Now the only remaining mystery is the beast’s sudden departure. For our answer, we have to look yet again at…” He pointed at the irate van Zieks once more. “Mr. Reaper here, the only man left unscathed in this incident! Clearly a man in a prison cell would not have food on him, and most likely smelled only of wine. Therefore, after the hungry beast concluded its search of the five men’s pockets, it vanished in the hopes of finding sustenance elsewhere!”

Silence followed his dramatic conclusion.

Kazuma grinned. “Now it’s my turn, right?”

“Do what you will, my dear fellow—though I doubt very much you’ll find any holes in this excellent deduction!”

It was 2 in the morning, and Kazuma was—oh no, oh no, he couldn’t even just walk over there, he was dancing over to the prison cell, where he pointed at van Zieks with a smirk. “Yes, Mr. Sholmes, you brought into question the accused’s claim that the ghost could not be seen, although I might remind you that we only have his dubious word for that.”

“I don’t have to take this sort of slander from you, Nipponese,” van Zieks snapped.

“Now, I thought you’d gotten past all of that ‘Nipponese’ nonsense thanks to your good friendship with Ryunosuke.”

The prosecutor made a choking sound.

Apparently satisfied with that response, Kazuma snapped his own fingers like Sholmes had done. “Yet you have forgotten one thing, Mr. Sholmes! The ghost manifests by its own will. Therefore, I contend that the ghost that fought here tonight is the ghost of the Old Bailey, and it simply chose not to take visible form—surely to prevent itself from being identified by Lord van Zieks.”

Van Zieks narrowed his eyes, but Kazuma was already moving to the wall where Sholmes had found further “evidence” of the ghost’s identity.

“Now, you claim these gashes in the wall are due to claws of a beast. Not so, Mr. Sholmes!” Kazuma snapped his fingers again and then immediately drew his sword—not Karuma, but the English saber he wore alongside it these days. “Consider the angle a man would hold his blade at if he were hurled through the air by a considerable force.”

Did any normal person think about things like that? Ever?

“You also forgot to take into account these scuff marks,” Kazuma said, pointing dramatically at the scuff marks on the floor several feet away. “This is clearly where the altercation occurred. Someone holding a blade, thrown from this spot with enough force to damage the wall, would indeed leave marks exactly like that! I’d demonstrate, but it would require damaging the wall further.”

“Do not do that,” Stronghart said.

Kazuma shrugged and sheathed his sword. “Therefore, we can assume the ghost is in fact the same spirit as before and fought the five men outside this cell.”

He—oh no, he was dancing again; Kazuma, why? Ryunosuke felt like he was going to die from second-hand embarrassment.

“Well,” Sholmes said, “this doesn’t change the rest of the deduction at all.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The ghost of the Old Bailey was hungry, and so he tore into the prison guards’ pockets in search of snacks—”

“Mr. Sholmes, we are talking about the ghost of a human now.”

“Are we not all tempted to tear into people’s pockets when we are especially hungry?”

“Do ghosts even get hungry?”

“Perhaps he has a pet!”

“That’s not—” Kazuma frowned. “Err… I admit I don’t actually have evidence against that possibility.”

“Aha! So the ghost of the Old Bailey, searching for food for his beloved pet, tore into the prison guards’ pockets in search of food!”

Kazuma looked like he was trying hard not to laugh, but then he snapped his fingers and danced over to the discarded piece of cloth, which he picked up. “While I do not have direct evidence, I still think your deduction is misplaced. For is this the evidence of the ghost’s reason for disappearing tonight, or…” He dropped it and spun into a crouch alongside something else on the ground. “Is this?”

What he held up looked innocuous enough, another patch of cloth, leather this time, darkened with something unidentifiable. Yet Sholmes’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it.

“Yes, I think an analysis of this cloth will determine it was used to apply poison to a blade! The men here tonight, therefore, were not prison guards, but assassins.”

Assassins? With poisoned blades? Ryunosuke’s stomach lurched.

Kazuma danced to the center of the hall and bowed. “With that in mind, the ghost’s departure is easily explained. All five assassins had been subdued. With its work complete, it therefore vanished.”

Sholmes joined him and let out a delighted laugh. “This has been most enlightening, Mr. Asogi. I don’t know why the possibility never occurred to me before! Thank you for assisting in this great detective’s great deduction.”

“And the result of this great deduction is that the ghost of the Old Bailey appeared tonight to fight off a group of assassins masquerading as prison guards!”

“This has been Herlock Sholmes and Kazuma Asogi’s Logic and Reasoning Spectacular!”

Both men appeared extraordinarily pleased with themselves.

Then Stronghart cleared his throat. “Your so-called ‘great deduction’ is flawed. They were prison guards. I have already looked into this matter.”

“Then how do you explain the poison?” Kazuma asked.

Sholmes’s eyes lit up. “Is the Lord Chief Justice going to join us in a dance and correct our deductions?”

“No.”

“Then how can you say we’re wrong?” Kazuma asked.

“The poison could be explained in any number of ways,” Stronghart said.

Such as… what?

“The important thing is, you have not proven the ghost’s motives by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, Mr. Asogi, you have persistently argued that the ghost is Lord van Zieks’s enemy, so why in the world would it defend him?”

“Simple,” Kazuma said, “it wants to take him down personally. It won’t give others the satisfaction of giving him a quick death by poison after what he’s done. Oh no, the Reaper’s death must be a slow and painful one, in the eyes of this vengeful ghost.”

The thought sent a chill down Ryunosuke’s spine.

Kazuma turned to the cell. “Will you confess, then? I’m sure the ghost will accept it.”

“I have nothing to confess to,” van Zieks said coldly.

“Confess in full and get a verdict from the courts… it seems the better alternative to risking the ghost’s wrath.”

The other man folded his arms. “I have no intention of confessing to a crime I haven’t committed.”

“Good thing I’ll be proving your guilt in court, then… for your sake. The ghost is clearly dangerous.”

Stronghart checked the time. “Regardless of what we each believe, there is no point in searching for further evidence at this hour. A thorough investigation will begin in the morning. However, with the situation as it is, it is unsafe to leave the defendant alone tonight. Therefore, I will remain here and stand guard over Lord van Zieks for the duration of the night.”

A startled laugh escaped Kazuma. “You, Lord Stronghart?’

“Is something wrong, Mr. Asogi?”

“If we take into account the possibility that the ghost will return to kill Lord van Zieks, you must also consider what I said during my deduction. The ghost threw a man at the wall with enough force to damage it. Such force would have been lethal at a closer distance.” He tilted his head. “Or do you believe the ghost is incapable of killing?”

Stronghart paled.

“Will you fight the ghost, Lord Stronghart? If it shows up tonight and attacks, do you think you can fight it off?”

“What… what alternative is there?”

“Simple.” Kazuma sat down in front of the cell. “I’ll stand guard tonight instead.”

Chapter Text

“You?” Stronghart asked, seemingly surprised at Kazuma’s sudden declaration that he would guard van Zieks.

Ryunosuke was rather surprised, too. Not only because he didn’t think Kazuma cared very much about van Zieks’s safety, but also because it was Kazuma who just finished explaining how the ghost was capable of killing people.

Van Zieks lifted a hand to his forehead. “I’d rather take my chances with the assassins.”

Kazuma ignored him and looked straight at Stronghart. “I believe I’ve already explained that I’ve taken measures to deal with the ghost. Rest assured that I have the means of protecting myself if anything should arise.”

He did? Ryunosuke glanced at Susato, but she appeared equally confused.

“Of course, I can make no guarantees,” Kazuma said. “Yet if the worst comes to pass and the ghost returns and overpowers me, know I did everything in my power to prevent that.”

“You seem to have no fear,” Stronghart said.

A slight smile crossed Kazuma’s lips. “Didn’t I tell you, my lord? I’ll do anything to ensure that justice is done.”

They held gazes for a moment, and then Stronghart slowly nodded. “Very well, Mr. Asogi. I shall leave this matter in your hands.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Kazuma clapped his hand over his heart and bowed.

“The rest of you,” Stronghart said, “are leaving. You should never have been brought here in the first place.”

“Can’t I stay?” Iris asked. “It might be nice for Mr. Reaper to have some company.”

“Absolutely not,” Kazuma said. “Also, I’m right here.”

“You don’t seem like you’d be very good company for him,” she said with a sad smile.

“No one is staying besides Mr. Asogi,” Stronghart said. “This is effectively a crime scene, and it must be preserved for tomorrow’s investigation.”

And so they were ushered out under the Lord Chief Justice’s glare, though Sholmes paused by Kazuma before following them. “Unless I am very much mistaken, Mr. Asogi,” he said in a low voice, “and I rarely ever am, you two are playing a highly dangerous game. Do take care that you aren’t caught in the undertow.”

With no reply coming to such an ominous statement, the detective rejoined the rest of them.

Ryunosuke glanced back once over his shoulder to see Kazuma sitting by van Zieks’s cell with an unreadable expression on his face. He sure hoped he knew what he was doing.

#

Barok wondered what Asogi was playing at. There had been some unspoken communication between the young Nipponese prosecutor and Lord Stronghart, and his interpretation was that Asogi was implying he would kill Barok in the name of justice. Perhaps that was paranoia talking, but he couldn’t shake the impression that such a thing was what Asogi carefully did not say in that little exchange.

Yet at the same time, Barok could not deny that Asogi had perplexingly defended him in the trial. Doff had been either bribed or intimidated into putting up the worst defense imaginable, and years of witnessing corrupt trials had told Barok rather quickly that he was doomed… until Asogi twisted the trial around for his own reasons. Twice, at that.

Though perhaps it was simply his way of drawing out his revenge.

When everyone had left, Asogi stood up and walked until he was right in front of the cell. “Who do you think the ghost is, van Zieks? You must have some idea.”

The question was unexpected, but one that had weighed on him ever since his arrest. Who was the ghost of the Old Bailey? Asogi seemed to think it was someone who hated Barok, so… could it actually be Genshin? Was he so cursed that he had both father and son after him at the same time? Many things about the ghost’s behavior failed to make sense in that case, however.

“Considering the frequency of attempts on my life,” he said, “I’m sure there are many dead men who would like to see me join them.”

Asogi snorted. “Let’s consider the other angle, then. After all, I could be wrong. Is there anyone dead who would try to protect you?”

Yes. But it couldn’t be.

Stronghart had seen the ghost. His description, muddled though it was, was of a ghost with murderous eyes and bloodstained hands. That couldn’t be Klint.

He looked away. “No. I can’t think of anyone.”

“Not even that dead brother of yours?”

Barok shot a furious glare at the other prosecutor. “You have no right to even speak of Klint.”

“You seem obsessed with him. I would have thought he’d be your first guess.”

“It’s not Klint.”

“Then you have seen the ghost?”

“No. Yet Lord Stronghart did.”

“I was under the impression he didn’t see the ghost’s face.”

“He saw details that… disproved the possibility of it being my brother.”

Unless there was a reason for it.

Unless…

No, no, no!

It couldn’t be him. Even beyond the bloodstained hands, if it were Klint, surely he would have appeared to Barok by now. He wouldn’t abandon him.

Barok had no one. Gregson, who once worked alongside him, had betrayed him to serve the Reaper, and was dead now besides. Stronghart was proving to be untrustworthy. His one-time apprentice wanted him dead. Even Naruhodo hadn’t visited him in prison again, which he could hardly blame the other man for. One way or another, everyone abandoned or discarded him.

But Klint wouldn’t. No matter how much Barok had changed over the past decade, no matter how bitter and cynical he’d become, his own brother still loved him, didn’t he? So the ghost couldn’t be Klint.

Because if it was… then he had chosen to stay away from Barok. Just like everyone else.

At some point, he’d started clutching his prosecutor’s badge. He forced his fingers to loosen their grip, and his arm dropped heavily to his side. “It’s not him,” he said. “Perhaps you’re correct, and the ghost is my enemy. Perhaps the ghost, like so many others, is waiting to see me die.”

Asogi sighed. “I see.”

A moment passed in silence.

“This would be an excellent time for a strategy meeting,” the young prosecutor said at last, his brow furrowed.

Barok narrowed his eyes. “You intend to consult with me about my own trial?”

“No.” Asogi lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Merely thinking how helpful it would be if the ghost appeared to explain his motives once and for all.”

Another moment passed, and then Barok snorted. “The ghost does not appear to share your feelings.”

“I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy,” Asogi said, his tone dark.

Then he drew his saber.

Barok tensed as Asogi pointed the sword through the bars at him, but he didn’t back away. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he was afraid. He met Asogi’s gaze instead and glared back at him.

“I came to London for you,” Asogi said. “You’re the man who condemned my father. You’re the reason he’s dead!”

“After he betrayed me—”

“Lies!” Asogi’s eyes flashed with anger. “I could kill you here tonight, you know. No one would condemn me. Everyone would believe my story that you died by the ghost’s hand and I was powerless to stop it.”

Yet the faintest flicker of guilt flashed across his face. Barok didn’t move. This man had been his apprentice for a time. Amnesia or not, he had gained the measure of the man. He was no murderer.

Although… he had misjudged Genshin, too…

Asogi stepped forward, and the cold blade touched his skin. “Are you so eager to die, van Zieks?” He pressed it in just the slightest bit, enough for a sting of pain and for a drop of blood to well up and roll down Barok’s skin.

A prickle of doubt made Barok wonder if he ought to move, if he had misjudged an Asogi for the second time in his life, if it was foolishness to think even for the briefest moment that he could trust—trust?—this man.

Then Asogi pulled away with a scowl. “Stubborn idiot!”

Barok watched him, more gratified than he liked to admit that he hadn’t been wrong.

Asogi sheathed his sword and turned around to once again sit alongside the cell. “I hate the fact that you trust me.” He buried his face in his hands with a heavy sigh. He kept his back to the cell. “Lord van Zieks, do you know what I would give to see my father again?”

That did not warrant an answer. Barok did not want to talk about Genshin. He would rather never think about that man ever again, yet he could never seem to escape him.

“I would give anything to see him again,” the younger Asogi said outside the cell. “Even if he told me I’m wrong. Even if he told me it’s all true. Anything would be worth it, just to speak with him one more time.”

“What exactly do you want me to say?”

Asogi slammed his fist backward against the hard stone wall and didn’t respond.

“Why did you threaten me with your saber?” Barok asked. “It would seem much more fitting to kill me with Genshin’s katana.”

“I would not sully the soul of the Asogi clan with your blood.”

Of course he would give an answer like that. Barok only asked because Genshin had used a Western-style sword to kill Klint, not his katana, and he’d always wondered if there was some deeper meaning to that.

“More importantly,” Asogi said, “how is it that you recognize Karuma?”

“How could I ever forget that sword?” he asked. “When Mr. Naruhodo carried it, I convinced myself it was my imagination, but once he returned it to you, I understood. Genshin took that sword with him everywhere. He even had it in his cell.”

“What, you visited him at Barclay?”

“I wanted an explanation, and he provided me with none,” Barok said.

He expected Asogi to snap at him, but he didn’t.

He didn’t say anything at all.

“Asogi?”

He had gone completely still.

Was he all right?

Concern for the man who had once been his apprentice made Barok lean closer.

Asogi abruptly yelled, and Barok jumped back.

The door to the cellblock opened, and a guard peered in. “Prosecutor Asogi, is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” he said, “don’t worry about it.”

“Y-Yes, sir…” The guard retreated into the hall.

“Good God, man, what was that?!” Barok demanded.

Asogi glanced at him. “Just wanted to know if there were guards stationed outside.”

“Did it not occur to you to open the door and look?”

“Fair point.”

Barok frowned and took a closer look at his one-time apprentice. “You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

“That’s rich coming from a man who looks like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in his life.”

“You look like even a bad night’s sleep would do you some good.”

“I was sleeping quite soundly,” Asogi said, “until I was woken at 2 in the morning to be told you might be in danger.”

“No one asked you to come here.”

“My problem is I’m just too loyal.”

“Framing it as a negative doesn’t make such self-aggrandizing comments any less obnoxious,” Barok said.

“It’s the truth. If someone wins my loyalty, I’ll be on their side to the end.”

“What a pity you couldn’t spare some of that loyalty for your mentor,” he said, even though he understood perfectly well why Genshin Asogi’s son would hate him.

Asogi snorted. “You prosecuted that scientist friend of yours, so don’t give me that. Besides, I didn’t know who you were when I was your apprentice. I don’t owe you anything.”

“I heard you’ve since become apprenticed to Lord Stronghart,” Barok said. “How is that going for you?”

“You’re intent on starting a fight tonight, aren’t you?”

“Strange accusation from a man who had a blade at my throat.”

Asogi grumbled, but said nothing.

“You must remember my suspicions about the ghost’s true enemy,” Barok said quietly. “Pray take care not to put your trust in the wrong person.”

“He’s restricted you from having visitors, you know.”

Despite not truly being a non-sequitur, it took Barok a moment to realize he still meant Stronghart.

“Ryunosuke asked to see you, but I couldn’t obtain permission for him. I thought you might want to know.”

It… it didn’t matter. That was what he wanted to believe, anyway. Yet he couldn’t deny the relief that came from learning Naruhodo hadn’t abandoned him by choice. Why would Asogi tell him that, though? Why now? The young prosecutor’s behavior tonight was nearly incomprehensible. From threatening him to reassuring him, he seemed to be all over the place.

“What is it you want from me, Asogi?” he asked wearily.

Silence.

Yet despite his exhaustion and frustration and unwillingness to sleep with his enemy so close at hand, Barok felt oddly better. The complete isolation—on Stronghart’s orders, he now knew—must have truly been getting to him, if even arguing with Asogi came as a comfort.

#

Stronghart had a miserable night. He’d managed a few semi-restful nights since the trial started, which he now attributed to Klint protecting Barok in his cell. He hadn’t expected the ghost to respond to the threat in time to stop them all, and the fact that he could do so was unnerving. Yet he showed up after the incident once more, and Stronghart had no choice but to leave his home and go to a public place where he couldn’t be killed. He went from one place to another all night long, fearful of the ghost haunting his footsteps.

He’d hoped Klint’s newfound fury at least heralded good news, but when he went to the prison in the morning, he learned otherwise.

“You’re certain he’s still alive?” he asked the guard he’d assigned to keep an eye on the situation, once he received the report.

“Yes, sir. Prosecutor Asogi threatened him at one point, even held a blade to his throat, but backed down. They argued after that, but ended the night peacefully. The ghost of the Old Bailey did not return.”

“Even when Prosecutor Asogi threatened the prisoner?”

“Correct, my lord.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Stronghart frowned and rubbed his chin. If Asogi actually had his sword to Barok’s throat and Klint still didn’t intervene, then his methods of keeping the ghost away from himself must be exceptional after all. At least that was one thing he didn’t have to worry about.

Yet he’d sincerely hoped leaving them alone together would push Asogi over the edge and make him finish the job Stronghart’s assassins had failed at. Was that not the meaning behind the look he gave Stronghart when he promised to ensure justice was carried out? Perhaps Asogi didn’t have it in him to be a murderer after all.

Or perhaps he just wasn’t there yet.

#

Barok was almost surprised to find he’d lived through the night. Not that it had been an especially restful night with Asogi sitting outside his cell, but there weren’t any other disturbances to speak of.

Shortly after he awoke, he heard footsteps as someone approached the hall. Judging by the length of the strides, it was most likely Lord Stronghart.

Indeed, Asogi’s voice came a moment later with, “Lord Stronghart, I didn’t expect to see you here this early.”

“I thought it best to check in on you to find out if there were any incidents during the night.”

“None, my lord. It would seem our ghost felt no need to cause another disturbance.”

Stronghart lowered his voice, though not quite enough to keep it from carrying to the cell. “I was rather concerned that leaving you alone with the accused, knowing your history with him, might be a mistake that would leave to an unfortunate incident.”

Fantastic. Just wonderful. The Lord Chief Justice considered that Asogi might kill him in the night and decided it was a risk worth taking.

Or perhaps hoped it would happen. Barok wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that implied.

“I want nothing more than to see him dead.” There was a level of vitriol in Asogi’s voice he’d never heard before, even during their furious arguments after his memory first returned. “But I will see it done through legal means.”

“You must have great faith in your case against him.”

“Mark my words, I will not let him escape. The Reaper will fall in court today.”

“Tomorrow. The trial has been postponed due to the investigation surrounding last night’s incident.”

“In that case, might I make a suggestion?”

“What?”

“The defendant should not remain here. He should be moved in secret to a secure location. I will handle it personally to ensure no one interferes.”

This, too, sounded like code for planning to murder him.

“If there is any trouble,” Asogi added, “I am prepared to handle it.”

Stronghart was quiet for a moment before responding. “No, Asogi, that won’t be necessary.”

“Even with your concerns about the ghost? There must be a limit to its reach. Taking Lord van Zieks to a place where the ghost can no longer reach him might be the only way to be sure he survives to stand trial. I am prepared to take full responsibility for anything that happens.”

“And if the ghost of the Old Bailey attacks you?”

“You know the ghost cannot touch me.”

What?

“Yes,” Stronghart said, “your techniques for keeping it away from you appear to be working admirably well. I will need to consult with you about this in the future.”

“Of course, my lord.” Asogi’s voice rose in pitch. “Now you see why I am the only one who can handle the defendant without fear of interference. Allow me to take him to a secure location, before either mortal foes or the ghost strike again.”

“No. I will handle the defendant’s security myself.”

“But my lord—”

“I have made up my mind, Asogi.”

“I understand, sir.”

“You should spend this time preparing your case. It had better be a solid one, Mr. Asogi, if you hope to bring him to justice.”

“It will be.”

“Hmm.” Stronghart sounded unconvinced. “I will do what I can to help.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Stronghart’s footsteps soon carried him away, and Barok was left with the knowledge that the two were conspiring against him. Having enemies in such high places was never a good position to be in. He didn’t even know what he’d done to Stronghart to make him turn on him.

Meanwhile, Asogi’s footsteps carried him back to the cell. “You’re awake, aren’t you?”

Barok said nothing.

That earned a contemptuous snort from the other man. “Pretend not to hear me, fine. It’s not as if it matters to me. I have a trial to prepare for.”

Something he’d said earlier stood out as peculiar, and so Barok opened his eyes after all. Asogi was staring at him through the bars of the cell with an unreadable expression. Yet both his voice and posture lacked the sheer unrestrained hatred he’d heard a moment ago.

“Allow me to ask you something, Asogi.”

“So you are awake.” He offered a mocking bow. “What can I do for the great Lord van Zieks?”

Barok ignored his condescension. “If you believe you and the ghost of the Old Bailey are on the same side, united in the desire to bring me down in court, then why have you seemingly gone to such lengths to keep it away from yourself? Why do you act as though the ghost is your enemy?”

Asogi raised his eyebrows, then smirked. “Why indeed?”

He left without offering an answer.

Chapter Text

Stronghart went to his office and hesitated. Should he try one more time? Call out to Klint’s spirit once more and attempt to bargain with him?

No. He’d already given him too many chances. The time for bargaining was over.

More disturbingly, he couldn’t figure out what Klint’s plan was. He was reacting to things, but not making any obvious effort to stop him. He had yet to actually disrupt the trial—which increasingly, when Stronghart thought about the ghost’s horrific appearance and what he would have to confess to if he appeared in front of his brother looking like that, he suspected wouldn’t happen at all—but he hadn’t gone away, either.

His hauntings throughout London were seemingly without rhyme or reason. They did nothing but fuel the rumors Asogi was spreading about the ghost wanting revenge, yet Klint was even letting that go unchallenged. Klint wasn’t stupid. His strange behavior could only mean he had a plan Stronghart had yet to think of, and that made him nervous.

So it was time to end him once and for all.

After Esmeralda Tusspells made it clear that no honest exorcist would attempt to destroy a spirit’s soul, Stronghart’s main takeaway was that it was possible. He’d devoted considerable resources since then into exploring such options and searching for an occult practitioner who would not shy away from the unpleasant deed.

A message was waiting for him in his office in response to his last inquiry. He opened it.

He almost couldn’t believe what he was reading. It was as if the same handful of names were destined to resurface again and again, like a plague on his existence.

Still, if this man truly could complete his request, at least he had ample leverage to use against him.

#

The judge walked alone through the halls of the judicial building. Everything felt sadder and lonelier than it had just a few days earlier. He still couldn’t believe he’d been removed from the case. Oh, he knew it was important. A closed trial with such far-reaching implications went far beyond the usual cases he presided over.

But hadn’t he proven himself in the courtroom? Hadn’t he shown his experience time and time again? Of course, he couldn’t avoid the occasional inaccurate verdict, but even Lord van Zieks never seemed to hold that against him.

Plus, he didn’t like how Lord Stronghart was handling the trial. Not that he would ever speak ill of his superior, but Stronghart’s behavior in this trial didn’t feel right.

He remembered Mael Stronghart back when he was only a prosecutor, thank you. Now, just because he was the Lord Chief Justice, he felt he had the right to simply take over a trial? Well… yes, his position did give him that right, but it still didn’t sit well with him. And then there was Mr. Doff! He’d never put in such a poor showing as a defense lawyer before; what on Earth was going through his mind? It was as if he didn’t want to defend his own client!

Meanwhile, that Eastern prosecutor looked like he was breaking under the pressure. Thank goodness they had an unexpected day off from the trial, because he was honestly concerned about the young man’s health.

Lord Stronghart swept down the stairs abruptly. He walked past the judge without a word and went outside, where he summoned a carriage to take him to the prison.

Oh, was he working on the case again already this morning? It seemed the judge’s hopes of being reinstated for the final day of the trial would come to nothing…

#

Stronghart made precautions to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard, sent the guards far enough away to be out of earshot, and then entered the cellblock in question.

Enoch Drebber looked astounded to receive a visitor. He stood up and studied him through his black monocle, the other lens spinning around to cover his eye briefly before returning to its usual spot. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Lord Chief Justice?”

This man had been a blight on Stronghart’s plans from the beginning. Forcing him to renege on his deal with Genshin Asogi, spreading word of the Professor’s revival that raised questions about a jailbreak that should have gone forever undiscovered, and of course reappearing in that damned trial to bring everything out into the open and land Courtney Sithe in jail—Stronghart had so many reasons to hate Drebber, he couldn’t believe this was the man he needed to rely on for help.

He checked his pocket watch to compose himself and addressed Drebber in a steady voice. “Your situation is quite dire, Mr. Drebber. Although you did not, in the end, kill Odie Asman yourself, you acted with the intent to cause his death. Conspiracy to murder, with such heavy weight behind it… I should not be at all surprised if you go to the gallows.”

Drebber shrugged in a stiff, robotic motion. “Have you come here to gloat, then?”

“Gloat? Don’t be absurd. I have a proposal for you.”

The other man tilted his head with a slight smirk. “A proposal from the Lord Chief Justice himself? Fascinating.”

“I understand that in addition to the stage magic you are known for, you also have some knowledge of actual magic. Black magic. Is that true?”

“Perhaps.”

“I require your services. If you complete the task successfully, I can guarantee you full exoneration.”

Drebber chuckled. His second lens once again dropped down, as if he wished to examine Stronghart more critically. “Such a tempting offer is hardly one I’m in a position to refuse.”

“I must swear you to absolute secrecy.”

“Oh, of course.”

It might become necessary to have him killed later, but Stronghart wasn’t about to say that out loud. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about the ghost of the Old Bailey. A particularly meddlesome spirit that disrupted the end of Albert Harebrayne’s trial.”

“I remember the incident.” Drebber chuckled. “To think that I, who lost everything due to witnessing a ‘resurrection,’ would once again encounter the restless dead.”

“Yes, well, this ghost needs to be put to rest. It is no longer safe to allow it to act freely. However, exorcisms have proven unsuccessful. I have been informed that it is possible to destroy a spirit with the use of black magic, and that you know how to do it.”

The engineer narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you’re unaware, Lord Stronghart, but what you suggest would certainly not put the spirit to rest. It would destroy his soul, utterly and irrevocably. It is blasphemy of the highest order, an unforgivable act.”

“Then you aren’t willing to do it?”

“Oh, I am… as long as you know what you’re asking.”

The slightest prickle of guilt gnawed at Stronghart, but he clenched his jaw against it. He would not think about the man who once worked alongside him. He had come too far to turn back now. Everything he had done was necessary, and he couldn’t let anyone—even a one-time colleague—get in his way. “Do it.”

“Then I will need some supplies.”

An hour later, Stronghart had procured everything Drebber requested. The candles and incense reminded him of the exorcism attempted by Tusspells, but with a far more sinister air. Drebber’s cell now looked like a horror exhibit to rival any in the wax museum, as he lit black candles and adorned the floor and walls with sigils that Stronghart would rather not know the meaning of.

Necessary, necessary, necessary. Klint wouldn’t bargain, wouldn’t accept Stronghart’s generous offer of sparing Barok in exchange for his silence! He had driven Stronghart to this point, had forced his hand!

“I am ready to begin,” Drebber said, his voice low. “There is only one more thing I require.”

“What is that?”

“The name of the target, obviously.”

Stronghart gritted his teeth. “Klint van Zieks.”

Drebber tilted his head, his movements as mechanical as ever. “The one who died ten years ago? The Professor’s final victim?”

“Asking questions is not part of our deal,” Stronghart snapped.

Oh yes, this man would have to die. Word of this ritual could never get out to anyone.

Drebber shrugged. “It isn’t as though I care.” He turned back to the center of his cell and the sigils he had scrawled there. He lifted one of the candles and closed his eyes. “Forces of darkness… I call upon thee.”

Hearing his mechanical delivery of such ominous words made the whole situation even more surreal.

“Grant me the power to reach into the darkness and bring your force to bear upon my victim.”

His earlier warning drifted through Stronghart’s mind. They were crossing a line even he had never crossed before.

“Guide the power I wield to a spirit, long dead, who yet walks this Earth. Guide me to the soul of Klint van Zieks.”

No, no, ultimately this was on Drebber. Even if Stronghart had requested it, it was the engineer who chose to go through with it. He could have refused, but he didn’t. Culpability for such a heinous act ultimately rested with him.

Drebber let out a breath. “There he is… I’ve found his spirit.”

“And?”

“Just give the word if you wish to proceed.”

Stronghart clenched his jaw. “Do it.”

“Dread forces of darkness,” Drebber whispered into the candlelit cell, “the time has come. Seize the soul of Klint van Zieks. Consume him. Consign him to the void, destroy him in both body and soul.”

Stronghart’s nails dug into the palms of his hands. “Is it done?”

“These things take time.”

How much time? Enough time for Klint to do something about it? Enough time for those tiny specks of guilt to grow into something troublesome?

Drebber extinguished one of his candles, then another. He moved the incense and drew another sigil on the floor. Under his breath, he began a low chant in a language Stronghart didn’t understand.

But if he didn’t understand the words, he understood the tone and intent.

Utter destruction.

#

The judge paced outside of his office. Perhaps he would try to visit Lord van Zieks in prison.

No… that wouldn’t work. He tried the other day and was told the prisoner was no longer allowed visitors. That was another part of this whole business that didn’t feel right. They were isolating him. Granted, van Zieks was not the most social of people to start with, but that sort of forced isolation would hurt anyone. And it didn’t make any sense. Even the worst murderers were allowed visitors. Only one murder accusation had been formally made against him, and yet everyone was acting like van Zieks was some horrible monster.

Well, not quite everyone. Ryunosuke Naruhodo seemed to believe in his innocence, but he’d been banned from defending him.

That part didn’t sit well either. This whole trial felt like it was set up specifically to destroy van Zieks.

But… why? The rumors circulating London claimed it had something to do with the ghost of the Old Bailey, but when the judge remembered his brief encounters with the ghost, he couldn’t imagine it being this cruel.

Maybe he should go to the Old Bailey and try to talk to the ghost. Oh, maybe they could have another séance! Yes, he’d find some people interested in holding a séance and—

In his distraction, he nearly walked straight into someone.

“Oh, excuse me!” He stepped back and realized it was the young prosecutor, Kazuma Asogi.

Far from recovering due to the day off, he looked even more stressed than he had at the trial. “My lord.” Asogi bowed. “I need to talk to Lord Stronghart about an urgent development for the trial, but he’s not in his office. Do you know where he is?”

“I believe he said he was going to the prison,” the judge said.

“Thank you!”

Maybe he would want to do the séance again. “Would you be interested in—”

But Asogi left the building without a backward glance.

The judge’s shoulders drooped. That was right, Asogi hated Lord van Zieks, even though he’d been the man’s apprentice. He was trying to condemn him, and he probably wouldn’t take kindly to the judge’s thoughts on how the trial felt rigged against the man. Then again, maybe he hadn’t realized. If he spoke to him about it, maybe he could make him see that something was very wrong here, maybe even convince him that van Zieks was a good man.

It would have to wait until he returned from the prison, though, since Asogi was already gone.

Chapter Text

Drebber’s chanting was getting louder.

Stronghart held his breath. He just wanted this damned ritual over with already.

Shouts came from down the hall, and he looked toward the door in alarm. Despite his express orders that they were not to be disturbed, someone was approaching the cellblock, and if the wrong person came across this—he turned back to Drebber in alarm. “Stop!”

Drebber fell silent and narrowed his eyes.

A moment later, the cellblock door opened and Asogi stepped into view. He froze when he took in the scene before him, his bewilderment obvious.

“What are you doing here?” Stronghart asked. “I gave orders that no one was to disturb us.”

“I had something important to discuss with you about the case, my lord, something so important I thought I should speak with you immediately. But…” Asogi furrowed his brow and waved his hand at the black candles and inscribed sigils that covered Drebber’s cell. “What… are you doing?”

“An exorcism.”

Drebber cleared his throat. “Technically that’s—”

“—unorthodox, but a necessary measure,” Stronghart cut in smoothly. He didn’t need Asogi knowing about the destroy-the-soul method.

Asogi’s eyes widened. “Lord Stronghart, no! We need that ghost!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s what I came to talk to you about. I realized that the ghost of the Old Bailey is the final piece of evidence we need to tie this all together.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“I already expressed my doubts about Gregson’s death, and convicting Lord van Zieks of being the mastermind behind the Reaper will be incredibly difficult.”

Drebber gave Asogi a sharp look and then looked at Stronghart. “He’s prosecuting the ghost’s—”

“Enemy,” Stronghart said, with a glare he hoped conveyed that if Drebber finished that sentence with the word brother, he would never see the light of day again. “Yes. We can handle this case without interference from the dead.”

Asogi folded his arms with a deep frown. “Is something wrong, Mr. Drebber?”

“No,” Stronghart said for him.

The prosecutor kept his piercing gaze on the engineer, however, and the first prickles of dread uncurled in his stomach.

Yet Drebber lifted his shoulders in a stiff shrug and shook his head. “I simply didn’t realize Lord Stronghart’s request tied into a current case, that’s all.”

Stronghart cleared his throat. “Anyway, you were saying, Mr. Asogi?”

He straightened his shoulders, all business once again. Fire burned in his eyes. “As I said, the case hinges on proving that Lord van Zieks is the one who gives the orders behind the ‘Reaper,’ condemning those who escape him in court. Regardless of how much evidence there is of Gregson’s involvement, it will be much harder to prove that Lord van Zieks gave him the orders. We have no evidence to that effect.” He placed his hand on his chin and began to pace. The light from Drebber’s black candles gave him an almost sinister air. “But the ghost provides the final piece we need. The ghost of one of his victims, risen from the dead, come back to ensure vengeance is exacted against him—what could prove his guilt more definitively than that?”

“Do you… have evidence to prove the ghost is targeting Lord van Zieks?” Stronghart asked. Obviously that was impossible, but he wasn’t sure what he was getting at otherwise.

Asogi stopped pacing and faced him. “Do we need evidence?” The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows over his face. “What matters is that people will believe it.”

“This is not a trial by jury,” Stronghart reminded him.

“Public opinion is inconsequential to the outcome itself. You are the judge. I will present my case, and you will declare him guilty.” Asogi tapped the side of his head. “What matters is what comes later. Although it is a closed trial, word of the verdict will inevitably reach the streets. And what will people say? Members of the judiciary may talk, even when ordered not to. Ensuring everyone’s silence will be impossible. If there is even a hint of doubt about the man’s guilt, the slightest implication that we convicted him without evidence, they will question it. They will question us. And then we will risk losing everything.”

That was indeed a concern. Even details of Genshin Asogi’s trial kept getting dredged up again, which proved no secret was safe. If word ever got out that they falsely convicted van Zieks, it would be a public disaster.

“Yet you think the ghost is key to avoiding that?” he asked.

“People will believe that story. The ghost of the Old Bailey is common knowledge now, and when they learn of the ghost’s motive, they will see it makes sense… especially when the ghost is finally able to rest after the conviction. No one will ever question it. In fact, interest in the ghost of the Old Bailey is at such a peak right now that the public will rejoice to learn that its revenge has been fulfilled. A verdict they might once have questioned due to the Reaper’s fame will instead become a blessing in their eyes.”

Stronghart nodded slowly. He did like the story, and Asogi had a point. It was the sort of story that would sweep through the streets of London and capture people’s hearts as much as the legend of the Reaper ever had.

“But what will happen if the ghost disappears before the conviction?” Asogi asked. “Then people will question it. In fact, they might take that as proof of the opposite. They might attempt to condemn the two of us.” His voice was soft. “That’s why we need the ghost, Lord Stronghart. Let the ghost of the Old Bailey haunt London for one more day, so that when it disappears after the trial, there will not be a trace of doubt that the two were linked.”

“You’re certain you’ll be able to make this connection in the trial tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Once I do, all you need to do is hand down a guilty verdict.”

Stronghart looked at him for a long moment. He made a good point. And there was something delightfully ironic about using Klint’s presence as means to convict his brother. The perfect punishment for the ghost who dared oppose Stronghart.

At the same time, though, Asogi felt so strongly about this that it might be an ideal test.

He had no intention of losing Asogi. Once he handed him his revenge, the young prosecutor would be indebted to him. And unlike Barok van Zieks, Asogi had already shown himself capable of dancing on the edge of extrajudicial justice. He was exactly what Stronghart would need when he became Attorney General, especially with the Reaper gone from the picture. Therefore, if Asogi was intent on using people’s perception of the ghost as a means to destroy van Zieks, it was an acceptable risk.

Which is why it was the perfect time for a test… to see how far Asogi would go to get revenge.

So Stronghart shook his head. “No, Prosecutor Asogi. Your plan is riskier than the alternatives you’ve described. In fact, I am beginning to think you are not fit to stand as prosecutor in this trial.”

Asogi’s eyes widened. “No, my lord! Please! I… I need to handle this trial. I need to do this myself! And this is the way to do it—I know this will work. Please, let me finish the trial my way. I’ll do anything, as long as you grant me control over the trial.”

“Anything?” Stronghart asked.

All the blood drained from the other man’s face, but he closed his eyes and took a breath. “Yes, my lord.”

For this plan to work, there needed to be no loose ends, no one Klint could go to for help.

Stronghart had taken care of Ryunosuke Naruhodo. His men were watching him night and day, alert for any sign that he had contact with the ghost.

But what about that detective? Herlock Sholmes was a wild card. His behavior last night raised too many concerns. The ghost was a wild beast, the ghost had a pet; either he suspected the ghost was the Professor or he chose something uncannily close. He must not be allowed to interfere with the trial.

“Very well,” Stronghart said. “I have a simple favor to ask. If you do this one thing for me, I will allow you to proceed with your strategy.”

“What is it?”

“Arrest Herlock Sholmes.”

“On what grounds?”

“On my orders.”

“Scotland Yard won’t arrest a man without a reason.”

“Then find one.”

Asogi stared at him for a moment in silence, then clapped his hand over his heart and bowed. “So be it, my lord.”

“Then I agree to your request,” Stronghart said. “Let the ghost of the Old Bailey have one last day, to ensure all goes as planned.”

Asogi bowed once more, although he cast a troubled look at Drebber before he departed.

Once his footsteps carried him away, Stronghart turned to Drebber. “I will see to it that you can hear the proceedings of the trial tomorrow. As soon as the guilty verdict is passed down, perform the ritual.”

“What did the van Zieks family do to you?”

Stronghart glared at him. “Your place is not to ask questions, at least if you wish to avoid the gallows.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

“And if anything goes wrong in the trial tomorrow… if it appears that the tide is turning against me in some way, or if there is even the slightest hint that the ghost has entered the Old Bailey… do it then.”

Drebber’s narrowed eyes glinted with curiosity, but he didn’t question it.

With Doff handling the defense, Asogi painting this lovely story of the defendant’s guilt, Barok isolated from anyone who might attempt to help him, and neither Naruhodo nor Sholmes able to intervene, the only person who could possibly bring evidence to bear against Stronghart was the ghost of Klint himself.

The little time Klint had left would not be enough.

#

It was a peaceful evening until the air at 221B Baker Street suddenly got cold. Although the lights didn’t go out, Ryunosuke’s skin crawled with the assurance that the ghost was in the room with them. He looked around anxiously. Nothing was happening, but… a presence was definitely there.

“Aha!” Sholmes jumped to his feet. “It appears our dear dead friend has joined us once more! Rest assured, my dear fellow, we are doing everything we can!”

Everything they could about… what exactly?

Susato seemed to share Ryunosuke’s confusion, for she looked at Sholmes with a puzzled expression. “Mr. Sholmes?”

Iris clapped her hands together. “Oh, Mr. Ghost, won’t you stay for tea this time? Hurley says you should be strong enough to appear to us now, and that means we can sit down for tea together even if you can’t actually drink it!”

What was wrong with these people? Ryunosuke braced himself for the horror of a maybe-murderer-maybe-victim spirit appearing, but fortunately the ghost didn’t seem to share her sentiments about sitting down for tea together.

Iris drooped and lowered her head. “Mr. Ghost… don’t you like us?”

The presence faded so suddenly that it left Ryunosuke with the baffling sense that Iris had somehow scared the ghost of the Old Bailey away.

Thinking back to what Sholmes had said when the ghost arrived, he looked at him again. “Mr. Sholmes… you know something, don’t you?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You know something about the ghost of the Old Bailey that you’re not telling us.”

Sholmes closed his eyes for a moment. “Know? I’m afraid even this great detective doesn’t have all the answers. Suspect? Yes… I certainly have suspicions.”

“What are they?”

“My dear Mr. Naruhodo, this is where we run into quite a troublesome situation. You see, if my deductions have been correct up to now, it can only mean the ghost has made the deliberate choice not to involve you, most likely out of concern for your safety. An overreaction? Perhaps. Yet I would not risk your life on that belief.”

Ryunosuke stared at him in frustration. It was all well and good to say the ghost was trying to protect him, but if he at least knew from what, he might be able to do something to help.

“Let me ask you this, Mr. Naruhodo… is there anyone you are suspicious of?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“And who would that be?”

“Lord Stronghart. He’s been acting strangely ever since the ghost first appeared, and now he has some hold over Kazuma.”

Sholmes lifted his pipe to his lips. “Then surely you do not need my help in deducing why you could be in grave danger if the powers that be deem you to know too much.”

Ryunosuke stared at him. “Hold on—are you saying the ghost of the Old Bailey is afraid Stronghart would kill me if I learned the truth?”

“My dear fellow, I am saying that the ghost is acting from a place of paranoia in which he fears our Lord Chief Justice might kill anyone he sees as a threat.”

“But then… doesn’t that mean the ghost is all on his own, with no one to help him?”

“I wonder.”

“Oh!” Susato leaned forward with an earnest expression. “Except you, Mr. Sholmes! I’m sure you’ve already deduced everything, and you’re just waiting for the right time to strike!”

“Of course,” Iris said. “Hurley is too smart to let anyone figure out what he knows!”

“What I suspect; did no one pay attention to the part where I said I don’t know the truth for certain?”

Arguments about the precise wording aside, Ryunosuke felt much better. If Sholmes was involved, everything would be all right. He was smarter than Stronghart, and he’d never let them convict van Zieks.

A sharp knock came at the door.

“I’ll get it!” Iris ran to the door and opened it.

Kazuma stood in the doorway with two Scotland Yard bobbies behind him. His face was grim. He stepped past Iris without looking at her.

“Kazuma?” Ryunosuke asked.

“I’m sorry.”

A cold pit formed in his stomach. “What’s going on?”

Kazuma ignored him. “Herlock Sholmes, you are under arrest.”

What?

“Witnesses have reported seeing a man matching your description at the site of a robbery yesterday. I must insist that you come with us for questioning.”

“No!” Iris shouted. “You can’t arrest Hurley!”

Susato lifted her hand to her mouth in shock. “Kazuma-sama, what are you doing?”

Ryunosuke stared, unable to even find the words with which to confront his old friend.

The only person who appeared to take the news calmly was Sholmes himself, who set down his pipe and stood up. “So it’s come to this, has it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Kazuma said.

“Far be it from me to deny you of my company.” Sholmes joined Kazuma at the door, then turned to the rest of them and bowed with a flourish. “Cheer up, my dear fellows. I’m certain I’ll be back with you in no time at all.”

Ryunosuke managed to speak at last. “Kazuma, please! This isn’t like you!”

Kazuma finally looked at him. “Ryunosuke…” He let out a tiny, pained laugh. “I suppose nothing I can say now could make you understand. Please believe me when I say I’m only doing what is best. I’m sorry.”

When the door closed behind them, 221B Baker Street suddenly felt much quieter.

Chapter Text

Gossip about the ghost of the Old Bailey spread through the streets of London like wildfire. The ghost had come back for justice, and the time for its final reckoning was at hand. The closed trial was at the heart of it all, a rumor now quietly confirmed by the young prosecutor who made sure the whispers reached further than ever before.

Few were those who could claim to have never encountered the ghost. It made its presence known throughout the city with no answers, only more questions.

Answers would come with justice, and the young prosecutor hinted that he was the hand of justice prepared to exact revenge through the trial he was prosecuting, the closed trial against the Reaper. Tomorrow, the crimes that compelled the ghost to forsake its natural rest and walk the Earth would be repaid at last.

Tomorrow, the ghost of the Old Bailey would see justice done.

#

Peyton Aloysius Doff was distressed. Things were not proceeding the way Lord Stronghart said they would.

When the Lord Chief Justice came to him ahead of the trial, he made it very clear that if Doff wanted to continue to receive employment and receive a nice bonus as well, he would agree to be the advocate for the man no one wanted to defend, Barok van Zieks, and then not put up a true defense.

Barok van Zieks terrified him. If only Lord Klint van Zieks were still alive, perhaps it would never have come to this. Doff had found Klint to be a respectable prosecutor and a worthy opponent in court. He grieved when he died. But his younger brother had become something dark and frightening in the years since then, the Reaper of the Bailey. No matter what the reasons, one could not simply go around killing people!

Yet Stronghart assured him he could handle the defense with minimal contact with the accused. It was an open and shut case, he said, and the prosecutor was out for blood. All Doff had to do was stand there so they could say van Zieks had proper representation. He would find nothing to fault in the prosecutor’s arguments, and a guilty verdict would be passed.

It hadn’t been like that at all!

That foreign prosecutor was completely out of control, and the trial had dragged on for over two days already. Worse, the longer it went, the more Doff worried he was doing something wrong.

It went against everything he believed in not to defend his client. He hadn’t even spoken to the defendant yet. Normally he would be appalled at such behavior, but Lord Stronghart warned him not to defend him, and, well, van Zieks was the Reaper of the Bailey.

Yet Doff was no superstitious fool; he remembered the man before he earned that moniker, and he was surely as human now as he was then. He liked to tell himself it was fear of the Reaper that kept him from looking at the defendant during the trial, but increasingly he felt it was guilt. An inability to look the man in the eyes after he’d already sworn to Stronghart that he would let him be declared guilty.

These thoughts swirled around his head as he entered the prison for the first time since the case began.

“I’m here to see Lord van Zieks,” he said to the guard on duty.

“I’m sorry, Lord van Zieks is not allowed visitors.”

He shook his head. “You misunderstand. I’m his attorney.”

“I’m very sorry, but due to security concerns, Lord van Zieks is not allowed any visitors.”

That… Was that even legal? Doff stared at the man barring him, an established lawyer, from visiting his own client. “I’m his attorney,” he said again, even though he could already tell it wouldn’t do any good.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Is there a problem?” The voice that cut in belonged to none other than the insane foreign prosecutor, and Doff looked over in alarm as Asogi joined them.

Oh God, he was looking at him for an answer. “I wanted to visit Lord van Zieks to consult with him ahead of tomorrow’s trial, but I was told he isn’t allowed visitors.” He paused, then added, “I’m Mr. Doff, his lawyer.”

Asogi rolled his eyes. “Yes, even with as sad a defense as you’ve put up, I recognize you.” He turned to the guard and nodded. “I’ll vouch for Doff. Let him see van Zieks.”

“I’m sorry, Prosecutor Asogi, but Lord Stronghart’s orders are that no one is to go near Lord van Zieks, due to the risk of further attempts on his life.”

Asogi’s gaze darkened. “Even me?”

“He said no exceptions.”

“This is highly irregular. I may be a visitor to Great Britain, but I know this is not how trials are normally conducted.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Asogi turned away and stormed out of the prison. Doff helplessly followed him. He tried to hang back to let the prosecutor get enough of a lead to avoid conversation, but after a few minutes, Asogi slowed his steps as if waiting for him to catch up. Doff had no choice but to join him.

“Why did you suddenly decide to visit Lord van Zieks, Mr. Doff?”

“I… thought it would be best to consult with my client.”

“After all this time?”

“Better now than never at all,” he said quietly.

“I’ve been curious about you,” Asogi said. “You seem to have no faith in your client’s innocence, yet you stand as his defense. What sort of a man chooses to defend the Reaper?”

“Everyone deserves an advocate in court,” Doff said, with another prickle of guilt over his intention to not advocate for van Zieks at all.

“So then you disagree with the Reaper’s methods? You don’t accept that brand of vigilante justice?”

“Certainly not! We can’t simply go around murdering people, even if they’re guilty!”

Asogi turned an unreadable gaze on him for a long, stressful moment, then said, “Something sinister is at work behind the scenes of this trial. Are you aware of it?”

He shook his head frantically.

“Tomorrow, the time may come when you need to decide what you truly stand for as a lawyer. Think about that.” Then he strode on ahead, leaving Doff alone to wonder how in the world things had gotten so out of hand.

#

With great relief, Stronghart confirmed that the detective had been locked away. They couldn’t hold him long, since Asogi’s falsified charges wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny. But they didn’t need to.

He was out of the way for Barok van Zieks’s trial, and that was all that mattered. His cell was concerningly close to van Zieks’s, but it was hardly like the prosecutor would attempt a jailbreak; that would be as good as an admission of guilt to the public, and van Zieks knew it. Sholmes’s proximity to him was no danger.

“It’s over, Klint,” he said out loud. “You’ve lost. You should never have challenged me. Now you’ll be destroyed, and your brother with you. You won’t even have the joy of reuniting in death.” He shook his head slowly, almost sad for the man he had once worked alongside. “There is no way out now.”

#

The clock tolled midnight.

Kazuma stood alone at the window of his lodgings, his grip so tight around Karuma’s hilt that his knuckles turned white. “Caught in the undertow,” he whispered, an echo of the great detective’s warning the previous night. “Oh Mr. Sholmes, but what if I am the current that drags us under?”

#

The clock tolled one.

Stronghart paced. It was the eve of his victory. Just a little longer, and then everything would be under control again.

Just a little longer…

Sudden terror seized him. If Klint intended to strike, it would be tonight. This was his final chance to get revenge. If he decided it was better to kill Stronghart after all and risk whatever would come later…

He departed his home quickly. One last night of fear and paranoia, spent wandering from place to place to avoid death at the hands of a vengeful ghost. Just one more. Soon this madness would be over.

#

The clock tolled two.

Ryunosuke woke up suddenly during the night. He blinked around his room in confusion, unsure what had woken him.

Noises came from downstairs, and he tensed. Not again, please not another emergency in the middle of the night…

Then he heard a familiar sound… Iris’s typewriter? He looked at the clock. Why in the world was she writing at two in the morning? Sympathy followed his initial burst of frustration. With Sholmes not yet back from the prison despite his assurances, she must not be able to sleep. He was surprised he’d managed to get any sleep himself, after what Kazuma did.

He considered going downstairs to keep her company, but thought better of it. Within minutes, he had fallen asleep once more.

#

The clock tolled three.

Barok looked at the ceiling of his cell. Oddly, he found he missed the meager company Asogi had offered him the previous night. Without it, he had nothing to occupy himself except for his own dark thoughts.

He’d heard the guards talking when they passed by his cell. They seemed to think his conviction was all but guaranteed. Some found it amusing that the Reaper of the Bailey was to be executed.

At least he would soon be with Klint. He placed his hand over his prosecutor’s badge and tried to ignore the sense of hopelessness he felt. If this was how it had to be…

Yet he felt a prickle of fear at what dark truth might lie behind Stronghart’s role in this and his apparent conflict with the ghost of the Old Bailey, and despair over what would become of Asogi once he earned this false conviction, and beneath it all, the knowledge that despite everything, he still wanted to live.

It was cold in his cell, so very cold…

#

The sun rose, and all was quiet.

Ryunosuke couldn’t deny the feeling of dread that seized him as he prepared for the trial in the morning. Sholmes still wasn’t back. The whole flat felt subdued.

“Runo?”

He lifted his head and saw Iris watching him with an uncharacteristically solemn expression.

“Iris!” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Are… you okay?”

She blinked, then smiled with a trace of her usual cheer. “I’m okay, Runo. I made some soothing herbal tea; do you think you could try to give it to Mr. Reaper?”

“What—aren’t you going with us?”

“I can’t.” She walked to her typewriter and picked up a thick stack of papers. “I have to meet with the editors of Randst Magazine today about The Final Reckoning of the Ghost of the Old Bailey.”

The fact that she’d gone with the title suggested by Kazuma just made the whole situation feel more surreal.

“The tea is right over there,” she said.

Ryunosuke picked up the thermos of tea, but… “I’ll try, but the way they’ve been treating Lord van Zieks lately—well, I don’t think they’ll let me into the defendants’ antechamber to see him.”

She drooped. “Oh…”

Which was a worrying situation all around.

“Oh! Maybe you could give the tea to your prosecutor friend?”

“To Kazuma?” After he arrested Sholmes, offering him tea seemed like the last thing Iris would do. “But he—”

“Take this, too.” Iris abruptly pressed something into his hands. It was a small blue rabbit. “It’s a good luck charm.”

“I’m not sure I’m the one who needs luck today.”

“Still, it’s best for you to have it.” She bit her lip and looked down at the floor. “Hurley was supposed to have the other one, but…” Her gaze fell, but then she brightened again. “You still have me, Runo! If you need me, just pull on the ears, okay?”

“What?”

“But above everything else, I want you to promise me that if all hope seems lost, make sure someone looks outside the courthouse!”

“Huh? H-Hold on, Iris, what are you talking about?”

“Promise me, Runo.”

“I promise, but—”

“Sorry, I have to go now! I promised the editor I’d be there first thing in the morning!”

As Iris hurried out of the flat, Ryunosuke stared after her with a renewed sense of dread for what the trial might bring.

#

Somehow, the courtroom felt even more oppressive than it had the day before. Ryunosuke and Susato sat down in the gallery alongside the other members of the judiciary. As expected, they had been refused entry to the defendants’ antechamber. Mikotoba arrived after a few minutes, and the judge sat with them again, although he seemed unhappy to be in the gallery.

There seemed to be a stronger police presence than usual today. Iris’s ominous prediction that they might be in a position where all hope seemed lost flitted through Ryunosuke’s mind.

As the time for the trial approached, Ryunosuke looked anxiously down into the courtroom. Then he looked more closely, and an ache formed in his chest. Van Zieks looked absolutely terrible. Maybe so many days of being on trial for murder had finally gotten to him, or maybe he’d realized that the odds were stacked against him so much that this was a trial he couldn’t win, or maybe it was the isolation from being kept away from anyone who might have spoken a word of encouragement and faith, but whatever the case might be, he had dropped all pretense of looking composed and simply waited in the dock with his head in his hands, his gaze bleak the few times he did look up.

Doff looked as ill-equipped to defend him as ever, and Ryunosuke doubted he’d even asked his client how he was feeling. He looked like he wanted to go home. Stronghart was the happiest man in the room, striding to his chair with a satisfied smile.

And Kazuma… was missing.

A shattering sound rang out as van Zieks crushed a chalice for no clear reason, but otherwise all was quiet.

Ryunosuke frowned and looked around the courtroom. The prosecution’s bench was empty, and he didn’t see Kazuma anywhere else. Silence fell over the courtroom as everyone waited for the trial to begin.

Some time passed.

At last, Stronghart tapped his cane against his hand. “It would appear the prosecution is not ready.”

“Um…” Doff lifted his hand. “Does that mean the defense wins?” He sounded utterly terrified by the notion.

With a sigh, Stronghart checked the time. “Prosecutor Asogi is currently 5 minutes and 38 seconds late for the trial. If he does not appear within the next 4 minutes and 22 seconds, I will be forced to assign a new prosecutor to the case.”

Murmurs broke out among the judiciary, and Ryunosuke and Susato exchanged worried looks.

“Do you think something happened to Kazuma-sama?” Susato asked.

Mikotoba leaned over. “He should be here. I passed him on my way into the courtroom.”

“You did?” Ryunosuke asked.

“He didn’t even look at me when I greeted him, but it was definitely him.”

Strange… then what could possibly be the problem? Ryunosuke hesitated, and then he stood up.

“Mr. Naruhodo?”

“I’ll be back.”

He’d been barred from the defendants’ antechamber, but he doubted anyone would prevent him from talking to the prosecutor. While the courtroom waited in troubled silence, Ryunosuke hurried away to find out what was keeping Kazuma.

Chapter Text

The prosecutor’s antechamber was quiet when Ryunosuke entered, but not unoccupied. Kazuma sat on the couch against the wall, his head in his hands.

Relief flooded Ryunosuke, and he hurried toward his friend. “Kazuma!”

Kazuma’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Ryunosuke?”

Worries returning, Ryunosuke stopped in front of him. “Are you all right? What are you doing back here? The trial already started.”

“Sorry.” Kazuma stood up and looked away. “I’ll go out there in a minute. I just… needed a minute to pull myself together. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Yesterday… I did something terrible. I wish I could claim I don’t know why, but I do. It’s because it was what I honestly believed.” Kazuma stared bleakly at his hands. “And that’s the most terrifying part of all. Part of me lost all faith in our system. Even now, I’m not sure what to hope for.”

“Kazuma,” Ryunosuke said, confused and a little desperate, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you aren’t out there in about four minutes, Lord Stronghart is going to appoint a different prosecutor!”

Kazuma stepped forward and grabbed his shoulders. “Stronghart said that?”

“Yes! He sounded serious, too. I think—”

He cut off, because Kazuma had started laughing.

“Kazuma…?”

“So, we’re really doing this. Prepare yourself, Ryunosuke. This is about to be either our greatest triumph or the biggest disaster the court has ever seen.”

Ryunosuke stared at him. His mood seemed to have completely flipped, but he still wasn’t sure he was okay.

Maybe this was a good thing, though. They still had a couple minutes before Stronghart lost patience, so if Ryunosuke could take advantage of this opportunity to actually talk to him about van Zieks and the trial and everything else—

“How does Lord van Zieks look today?” Kazuma asked abruptly.

“What? Err… awful, if I’m being honest.”

“We’ve got him.” His low hiss of triumph was almost frightening. “He can’t escape us now.”

No matter what he believed van Zieks had done, no matter how much he wanted revenge, no matter what he would do in pursuit of that goal, Ryunosuke refused to accept that his friend would feel such malicious glee over someone’s spirit being broken. So then why…?

Kazuma lifted Karuma and closed his eyes. “On the soul of the Asogi clan, I vow that I will see this through to the bitter end.”

Ryunosuke took a deep breath. “Kazuma, listen to me. I know you’ve worked closely with Lord Stronghart, but—”

“That’s enough.” Kazuma’s expression sobered. “Not another word.”

“But—”

“You pursue the truth as steadfastly as if van Zieks were your client, but I want you to trust me.”

“After you arrested Mr. Sholmes on false charges?”

“I had no choice! It was the only way to—” Kazuma cut himself off and looked at the antechamber door. “Never mind. I don’t have time to explain myself now.”

Frustrated, Ryunosuke stared at him.

Kazuma straightened his shoulders, hand on Karuma’s hilt. “You should go back to the gallery. I have a trial to prosecute.”

“Wait.” Ryunosuke held out the thermos of tea, which he’d almost forgotten about. “Do you want some tea? Iris made herbal tea for Lord van Zieks, but she said I could give it to you if I couldn’t see him.”

“Me?”

“Yes, I thought that was a little strange—uh, not that I’m saying she shouldn’t make you tea, but considering… er…”

“I’m surprised you want to give it to me.”

Ryunosuke sighed. “You’re my best friend, Kazuma. If you can’t explain yourself to me now, I’ll accept that. Just promise me that you won’t turn your back on the truth in today’s trial. Promise me that if something doesn’t feel right, you’ll think about what it means.”

“That’s a promise I can make easily, partner.”

“Then I trust you.” Ryunosuke held out the tea.

Kazuma accepted it and grinned, his earlier exuberance back in full force. “Should I take it out there and throw it at something? That’s what prosecutors in London do to get attention, isn’t it?” He shook with silent laughter.

“Please don’t.” If Ryunosuke thought the Dance of Deduction was bad, it was nothing compared to how embarrassing it would be if his friend went into the courtroom imitating van Zieks. “Don’t slam your heel down on the bench, either.”

“I’m not flexible enough.”

“You’ve tried?”

Kazuma just laughed and walked to the door. “Looks like it’s time. This trial is going to get a lot worse before it gets better, but it’s time to bring an end to this, once and for all.”

#

By the time Ryunosuke made it back to the gallery, Kazuma was already in position behind the prosecutor’s bench. Whatever newfound energy had overtaken him in the antechamber hadn’t diminished yet, as he beamed when Stronghart made a sarcastic comment about how good it was of him to join them.

“Apologies for the delay, my lord!” Kazuma clapped his hand over his heart with such energy it looked almost painful and gave a short bow. “I am looking forward to seeing the true meaning of justice put into action today as part of a fair and honest judicial trial in the great city of London!”

Stronghart actually looked at a loss for words. At last, he nodded. “Thank you, Counsel…”

“Mr. Naruhodo,” Susato asked in a whisper, “what happened back there?”

“I have no idea,” he whispered back.

Kazuma abruptly slammed the desk even though the trial hadn’t started yet. “Defendant! You look in rather poor health this morning. Did these events perhaps weigh on your mind to the point where you got no sleep?”

Van Zieks glared at him. “My sleeping habits are of no concern to you, Counsel.” He folded his arms. “For your information, it was a better night than most.”

“You’ve made your peace with death, then?”

“I’ve made peace with the fact that this trial will follow the plan you two set out for it.”

Kazuma tapped the side of his head. “All I intend to do today is to reveal the truth.”

“If that is the case, then I have nothing to fear.”

“Is that so?” He leaned forward. “So you don’t fear the truth?”

Van Zieks slammed his fist down. “Enough! I am fully prepared to deal with this trial; I only hope you can say the same.”

“I am the hand of justice, come to exact vengeance for the departed. I will not let this chance escape my grasp.”

Stronghart struck his cane down like a gavel. “Order! Order! If the prosecution and the defendant are quite finished, we have a trial to continue.”

Kazuma bowed. “Of course, my lord.”

“Court is once again in session for the trial of Barok van Zieks, who stands accused of murder. This trial should have resumed yesterday, but was unavoidably delayed due to an attack against the defendant, an attack which involved the spirit known as the ghost of the Old Bailey.”

Murmurs broke out in the gallery. Next to Ryunosuke, the judge leaned forward with an eager smile. Unease swirled in Ryunosuke’s stomach. It seemed clear that the ghost acted in van Zieks’s defense that night, but Stronghart had phrased it in such a way to suggest the opposite.

Kazuma had to realize that. He’d point it out, just like he had in the prison… wouldn’t he?

“Counsel for the prosecution,” Stronghart said, “do you have anything further to add in regards to this attack?”

“I do, my lord.”

“Proceed.”

Kazuma cleared his throat and held out a sheet of paper. “I would like to present to the court the following transcript of a séance that was held in the Old Bailey some months ago. This séance, in which we attempted to contact the ghost of the Old Bailey, established that the ghost had returned to seek justice against an enemy who was among those present at the time. A list of the séance’s participants is also included.”

Once the séance record had been submitted to the court, Kazuma continued.

“Reading the transcript of that conversation naturally leads one to notice certain contradictions in the ghost’s subsequent behavior. First and foremost, why has it not simply killed its enemy?”

Unless it was Ryunosuke’s imagination, Stronghart flinched slightly at those words.

“It is the prosecution’s stance that the only possible explanation to explain this inaction is that the ghost wants to bring its enemy down legally rather than take the law into its own hands.” He folded his arms. “However, this brings us to the second problem. Why would the ghost not reveal the name of his enemy to someone with the authority to bring them to justice? I would now like to present an explanation from a consulting detective on the nature of ghostly phenomena.”

Wait, was he actually presenting the diagram with the squiggles and the pudding? Ryunosuke strained to see, but the paper Kazuma submitted to the court appeared to be a written account of Sholmes’s explanation without his dubious visual aids.

“At the time of the séance,” Kazuma said, “the ghost was too weak to appear to anyone. According to experts, it would gradually strengthen, until it could at last manifest and communicate without need of a séance. Lord Stronghart, you eventually witnessed the ghost manifest in visible form, correct?”

“That is correct,” Stronghart said.

Everyone began whispering again. The judge leaned over to Ryunosuke and whispered, “You should have been there. It was so exciting! Then we all went out for dinner afterwards, and the ghost haunted us for a while before it suddenly left. It was rather disappointing for it to just leave like that, but I suppose even a ghost has things to do.”

Ryunosuke felt like he was missing a good chunk of this story, but down in the courtroom, Kazuma was speaking again.

“On what date did this visible manifestation occur, Lord Stronghart?”

“October 31, in the evening.”

“Thank you.” Kazuma tapped the side of his head with a smirk. “With no information to the contrary, we must assume this was the earliest point at which the ghost could take on visible form. Its next logical course of action would be to go to someone in power and attempt to bring its enemy to justice. However, its first known appearance was less than twenty-four hours before the start of a case that would lead to a trial. This trial. Therefore, the prosecution contends that the only explanation for the ghost’s actions is that its motivations are inextricably bound to the outcome of this trial.”

Murmurs broke out once more, and Stronghart nodded. “A very logical conclusion, Counsel. The court accepts this rationale for the ghost’s behavior.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Ryunosuke shifted uneasily. Kazuma had at least established that the ghost hadn’t tried to kill van Zieks, but somehow his argument still sounded bad for the defense.

“Objection!” The sudden objection came from van Zieks, who folded his arms. “My lord, surely ghost stories cannot be accepted as evidence.”

“Objection!” Kazuma countered before Stronghart could say a word. “The ghost of the Old Bailey is no mere story at this point. Witness testimony, the transcript of the séance I provided earlier, and similar pieces of evidence are all valid, are they not, my lord?”

Stronghart nodded. “Material evidence and witness testimony related to the ghost will be accepted by this court.”

Kazuma bowed. “Thank you.” Then he lifted the thermos of tea—

Oh no. Ryunosuke hid his face in his hands.

Fortunately, he didn’t throw it at anything, but he did toast an irritated-looking van Zieks before setting it down again. “Now, if we may proceed to the case at hand, I would like to call my first witness.”

As requested, Jigoku had been brought in to testify. His testimony started out safe enough, until Kazuma presented evidence to support the idea that the Reaper had targeted him, as well as knowledge that Gregson had gone to his cabin on the S.S. Grouse on the Reaper’s orders, making the case that Jigoku’s testimony was critical to understanding Gregson’s movements while not-too-subtly implying that Jigoku could be the actual killer.

After a few rounds of this—with Doff looking on helplessly from the defense’s side and occasionally making a halfhearted comment that was presumably intended to help his client despite not being helpful to anyone—Jigoku slammed his fist down on the witness stand.

“Is that how it’s going to be, Kazuma Asogi?” he snapped. “You stand there as a prosecutor, and you’re very keen to paint others in an unflattering light… but what about yourself?”

Kazuma’s gaze darkened. “Do you have something to say to me, witness?”

“Yes. You’ve made all these claims, but you haven’t explained to the court how you know so much about the Reaper. Let me enlighten them for you. Gregson was not a killer. If he was working for the Reaper, he needed an assassin to accompany him. And who was the assassin who joined him on the ship that day? It was you, Kazuma Asogi.”

Shocked whispers filled the gallery. Ryunosuke sank back into his seat as his stomach dropped. He’d had a feeling it was going there. Some of Kazuma’s statements just felt slightly off, although he couldn’t be certain. When Jigoku made that accusation, he wasn’t surprised.

Disappointed, yes. Horrified, yes. But not surprised.

“Kazuma-sama,” Susato whispered, her gaze fixed on the courtroom.

Beside them, the judge gasped and leaned in again. “Oh dear, maybe Lord van Zieks was right to be concerned about Prosecutor Asogi leaving London after all. I wonder, do you think the ghost sensed something was wrong? It left us so suddenly that same night. Do you suppose it stopped haunting us because it was concerned about what Prosecutor Asogi was doing?”

“Maybe?” Ryunosuke whispered back, although he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of the ghost haunting Kazuma while he was on an assassination mission; that night marked the turning point where Kazuma started acting strangely about the ghost, too. It had been the next day in Stronghart’s office that he swore to keep the ghost away from himself by any means necessary.

Down in the courtroom, Kazuma narrowed his eyes at Jigoku. “Now you’re the one making accusations, but do you have any proof to back it up?”

“Proof?” Jigoku glared at him. “Like you have proof against me?”

“I haven’t accused you of anything.”

“You were implying it, whether you made it clear or not. I never thought the day would come when you’d turn against me. What would your father say?”

Kazuma’s eyes widened, and he slammed his fist down, leaning forward. “Yes, what would he say if he could see this, Judge Jigoku? What would he say to me? What would he say to you?”

Jigoku hit the witness stand with both fists and glared right back at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve made an accusation against me, now follow it up with evidence!”

Stronghart struck his cane against the desk. “Order! Order! The witness has no right to accuse the prosecution of—”

Jigoku completely ignored him. “You’ve been trying to hide it, but Scotland Yard recently came into possession of the victim’s trunk. There is a long gash in the side of it—with a metal fragment broken off inside. It looks very much like the tip of a katana.”

Oh no. Ryunosuke’s heart froze for a moment. Karuma… the tip was… in the victim’s trunk?

Kazuma narrowed his eyes.

“Can you prove it’s not from your katana?” Jigoku asked. “Will you draw your blade and show us?”

“Objection!” Van Zieks scowled. “Are we entirely sure we want this man drawing a blade in the courtroom?”

Stronghart made another attempt to regain order. “Since the accusation has been made, we have no choice but to respond. Bailif! Watch Prosecutor Asogi like a hawk. Counsel, present your blade as requested by the witness.”

Although Kazuma looked more like he wanted to run Jigoku through than to prove anything, his jaw clenched and he drew Karuma. The beautiful blade emerged from his sheath… revealing the broken-off tip at the end.

Oh no. Kazuma…

The gallery once again erupted into chaos. Ryunosuke watched helplessly, wishing he was down there to do something, anything.

“You see?” Jigoku asked with a triumphant smile.

Kazuma sheathed his sword again and folded his arms. “Very well. Yes, I was on the S.S. Grouse that day. I accompanied Gregson on a mission—an assassination mission—though I had no intention of carrying it out.”

Jigoku snorted. “Your katana just conveniently broke, is that it?”

“The victim died to a gunshot. A small piece of a Japanese blade is irrelevant.”

Stronghart shook his head. “While this seems unlikely to be relevant to the matter at hand, the court will need to sequester that sword as evidence.”

Kazuma’s eyes widened. “What?! Do you expect me to hand over Karuma, the soul of the Asogi clan, to be handled by that… that…” He spluttered as he glared across the courtroom at the defense, as if unable to find a word to describe what he was.

Doff looked equally panicked, rather as though going near Kazuma while he was holding a sword was even lower on the list of things he wanted to do than standing by van Zieks.

“Counsel,” Stronghart began.

“Don’t you ‘Counsel’ me! How dare you suggest such a thing?!” Kazuma pointed at him accusingly. “It’s unthinkable! The soul of my family… A Japanese man’s katana is his soul, and you would have me let it be tarnished by someone who knows nothing of the respect it deserves?!”

“Counsel, the witness has managed to make the sword part of this case, so I have no choice but to—”

“I refuse!”

Ryunosuke stared into the courtroom. He wished he was down there; maybe Kazuma wouldn’t mind giving Karuma to him. At the same time, he didn’t expect him to get quite this upset over it.

“Objection!” Van Zieks had now poured himself a glass of wine, which he swirled for a moment before crushing the chalice in his hand. “Since Prosecutor Asogi appears incapable of handling this matter maturely, perhaps it is in the best interest of the court to simply let him keep the blade.”

Stronghart hit his cane down several times. “Order! Order! Order in court!” He shook his head. “No, Lord van Zieks, such a thing will not be possible. Mr. Asogi, if you do not surrender your blade, you will be held in contempt of court. Additionally, such a shameful display will undoubtedly raise questions about whether or not you are fit to continue on as prosecutor for this trial!”

Kazuma spluttered again and glared at him, visibly seething.

“…The court will take a ten-minute recess in order to give the counsel for the prosecution time to get his ill-guided emotions under control.”

Before Stronghart even finished his sentence, Kazuma had already grabbed his papers for the trial and stormed out.

#

After waiting a moment to give the prosecutor time to calm down, Stronghart entered the antechamber and found Asogi facing away from him. He held the troublesome sword in front of him with one hand, his head bowed, while with the other he clutched his evidence to his heart like it was a lifeline.

“Mr. Asogi, do you mind explaining to me what happened back there?”

His shoulders stiffened, and then he turned around. “I should be asking you that, my lord. I thought you were on my side!”

“I also thought we were on the same side, but I did not expect you to make such a fuss over having your sword sequestered when it’s obviously linked you to the victim.”

Asogi lifted the sword with a solemn frown. “The soul of the Asogi clan… I’ve carried Karuma with me ever since it was returned to me after my father’s death. When I lost my memories, my friend carried it in my absence and returned it to me when we met again. The thought of it being examined by that incompetent Mr. Doff was too much to bear.”

Of course, he’d forgotten about how Doff’s cooperation frustrated the prosecutor so much. But this really couldn’t continue. He should have had a word with Jigoku about this, although he couldn’t blame the man for trying to defend himself.

“Give it to me, then,” Stronghart said.

Asogi frowned.

“As you said, we’re on the same side here. Surely handing the sword over to me is acceptable?”

He hesitated. “You’ll return it to me after the trial?”

“Of course.” Anything, anything to get past this ludicrous delay.

Slowly, Asogi held out the katana.

Stronghart accepted it and shook his head. “Let us return to the courtroom, then.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He glanced at the sword on his way out of the antechamber. It had been Genshin Asogi’s sword once; he remembered it. The man would undoubtedly be displeased for it to be in Stronghart’s hands, but there was nothing anyone could do about it now.

Chapter Text

Ryunosuke exhaled slowly when Kazuma returned to the courtroom. Stronghart had Karuma, which he didn’t like, but he supposed it didn’t make a big difference in the long run, as long as Kazuma was okay with it.

“Court will now resume for the trial of Barok van Zieks,” Stronghart said. “The piece of evidence in question has been sequestered, and I will watch over it in case it becomes necessary to examine again.”

Van Zieks slammed his fist down. “I take it you managed to learn some self-control, Counsel?”

Kazuma glared at him. “You don’t need to worry about me, Lord van Zieks, I assure you.”

“Order!” Stronghart gave them each a stern look and then shook his head. “If we may continue where we left off… I believe Mr. Jigoku was testifying.”

While Jigoku returned to his accusation that Kazuma had been the one to kill Gregson, Ryunosuke frowned, distracted from the proceedings in spite of himself. Something about the trial felt different today.

Susato leaned close to him, her voice a whisper. “Is it just me, Mr. Naruhodo, or are Kazuma-sama and Lord van Zieks behaving strangely?”

“You mean the way they keep snapping at each other?” He nodded. “I noticed that too. They weren’t doing that the previous days.”

“Do you suppose it’s simply the pressure getting to them?”

“It could be, but…”

But something still didn’t seem right.

A dangerous light shone in Kazuma’s eyes down in the courtroom, as his confrontation with Jigoku reached a fevered pitch. It was apparent that van Zieks couldn’t have killed Gregson, so ostensibly Doff had won the case despite the ever-growing look of confusion on his face, and once Kazuma cleared his own name due to having an alibi—his name signed on the register of a boardinghouse where he’d spent the night during the interval when the victim had been killed—all signs pointed to Jigoku as the killer.

Yet Kazuma still seemed tense, occasionally brushing his fingers over his evidence as if to reassure himself it was still there, even as he cornered Jigoku.

Destroying the witness stand in a rage, Jigoku finally confessed to his involvement in an assassin exchange.

Two assassins, one from Japan and one from Britain, dispatched to each other’s countries to each kill a target and escape justice due to diplomatic immunity. Asa Shinn, sent to Japan to kill Dr. Wilson, and Kazuma Asogi, sent to Britain to kill Inspector Gregson. The request came from Britain, though it was more of a demand. Under pressure from Kazuma, Jigoku admitted to killing Gregson himself, and everything he had done afterwards.

“And to lure Gregson into the trap,” Kazuma said in a low voice, “the Reaper himself must have given the order. So who was it? Who is your British counterpart in the assassin exchange?”

Jigoku looked away. “I can say no more.”

“What hold does he have over you?” Kazuma slammed his fist down and leaned forward. “Judge Jigoku! Do you know how much respect I had for you? How much I trusted you? I saw you as a father-figure in my father’s absence, at times even more than I saw Professor Mikotoba. So tell me… what hold does your British counterpart have over you? Tell me!”

His cry rang through the courtroom, his gaze almost desperate as he stared down the man on the witness stand.

Yet Jigoku only turned away in silence and said nothing more.

Stronghart cleared his throat and stood up. “Then, in the name of Her Majesty the Queen, I now pronounce the findings of this court. This man before us has admitted to the willful murder of Tobias Gregson. Seishiro Jigoku, it is the opinion of this court that you should be found guilty. And may I remind those present of the strict confidentiality demanded by this closed court.”

There was a brief interlude while Jigoku was taken away, and then Stronghart returned to his seat.

“Moments ago, Mr. Jigoku signed a written confession admitting to the murder of Inspector Gregson and the subsequent conveyance of the body. As for the true identity of the Reaper of the Bailey… and this extraordinary ‘assassin exchange,’ we do remain in the dark about these mysteries.”

In the dock, van Zieks inclined his head. “I have every intention of pursuing both mysteries… as a prosecutor.”

Ryunosuke hardly dared to breathe. Was it over? It almost felt too easy. He looked at the prosecutor’s bench. Kazuma had his court documents clutched in a white-knuckled grip, but he didn’t say anything. He was watching Stronghart.

Then Stronghart spoke again. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Lord van Zieks. You will remain in custody under suspicion of being the Reaper of the Bailey.”

Van Zieks slammed his fist down. “You have no evidence with which to arrest me as the Reaper!”

“The subsequent investigation should provide as much.”

“How dare you?” Van Zieks picked up a hallowed chalice and didn’t even bother filling it with wine before throwing it at the wall behind him. “You—”

“Objection!” Kazuma shouted, before the argument could go any further. He set down his papers and folded his arms. “My lord, there is no need to wait for further investigation. I have evidence that could conclusively prove the identity of the Reaper of the Bailey and his connection to this very trial. Therefore, the prosecution calls for adjudication to be deferred.”

“Objection!” That came from van Zieks himself, who glared at Kazuma. “What are you playing at, Counsel?”

Kazuma shook his head and tapped his temple with a smirk. “I expected better of you, Lord van Zieks. Do you think me such a fool that I do not realize ending the trial now would simply give the Reaper an opportunity to distort the course of justice once more?”

“And you think you have some evidence that will help you?”

“You should know I do.”

“Then present it and be done with it. I am ready for this accursed trial to be over.”

“Your lack of patience does not govern this trial. Lord Stronghart does.”

Van Zieks scowled and poured himself some wine.

They were doing it again. Ryunosuke rubbed his forehead. He sympathized with van Zieks being upset that the trial was being prolonged after his innocence was proven, and yet something about that exchange felt… off.

Your lack of patience does not govern this trial. Lord Stronghart does.

Stronghart struck his cane down. “Proceed, Counsel. Explain this new evidence that has come to light.”

Kazuma reminded them that the circumstances leading to Gregson’s death could only have come by order of the Reaper himself, which meant Jigoku’s counterpart in charge of the assassin exchange must be the Reaper’s mastermind. He also reminded the court that the assassin exchange was intended to kill both Gregson and Dr. Wilson, with the motives for both deaths still unknown.

“You might assume,” he said, “that there are two motives, that the assassin exchange was motivated by convenience, nothing more. Yet Judge Jigoku made it clear that his counterpart demanded he comply, which suggests the Reaper is the one who had a motive to kill both men. So then, what common link is there between them?”

“Objection!” The objection, shockingly, came from Doff.

Kazuma looked stunned.

So did Stronghart. “Do you have something to say, Counsel?”

“Ah, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is there any reason for me to stay here?”

Kazuma lifted one hand in an exasperated gesture. “Honestly, considering the level of defense you’ve put forth so far, leaving the courtroom wouldn’t make much of a difference either way.”

Harsh. Although he wasn’t wrong.

“No,” Stronghart said firmly, “the counsel for the defense may not leave.”

Doff slumped. He looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

Kazuma cleared his throat. “If I may continue?”

“Please do, Counsel.”

“At first glance, finding a common link appears almost impossible. A British coroner and a Scotland Yard detective surely worked together on numerous tasks. Yet the list of possibilities becomes much smaller when we consider the nature of today’s trial.”

Stronghart narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

Kazuma seemed unusually nervous as he fumbled through his evidence to find what he was looking for. “I have brought with me today an autopsy report I located after… significant trouble.”

Oh.

“This is the autopsy report… of Lord Klint van Zieks.”

Van Zieks flinched, but said nothing.

Wait, so Kazuma had read it after all? Ryunosuke frowned down at him. He’d seemed entirely unconcerned with the autopsy report’s contents when he took it that day, claiming he only wanted to return it to Dr. Gorey, yet now he spoke as calmly as if he knew everything about it.

“The reason we need to revisit the autopsy report of Lord Klint van Zieks is because that autopsy and what resulted from it is what gives us our motive for the assassin exchange—a secret known by Gregson, who petitioned for the autopsy, and Dr. Wilson, who carried it out. A secret so significant that they had to be silenced, lest it ever be revealed.”

“Objection!” That one came from van Zieks, who stared at Kazuma with an unreadable expression. “What are you implying? That autopsy led to Genshin Asogi’s arrest. Do you intend to claim the evidence was fabricated?”

Kazuma lifted his chin. “Exactly.”

“Counsel!” Stronghart slammed down his cane to quiet the murmurs from the gallery. “Are you quite certain these wild accusations of yours are linked to the Reaper?”

“Once again, the Reaper is the only one who could have ordered the assassin exchange. As for my ‘wild accusations,’ Gregson himself admitted to the evidence being fabricated!”

As Kazuma explained his confrontation with Gregson, Ryunosuke sank back against his seat. So he’d actually threatened the man. That was what led to Karuma’s blade breaking. He never thought Kazuma capable of such a thing…

“Yet you have no true proof that there was some wrongdoing in Lord Klint van Zieks’s autopsy,” Stronghart said, his eyes narrowed. “The word of a man with a blade at his throat is hardly credible.”

“That is why I would like to supplement my claim with witness testimony.”

“Then call your witness to the stand.”

Kazuma bowed and cleared his throat. “Lord van Zieks, if you would take the witness stand?”

“Counsel, are you calling the defendant as a witness for the prosecution?”

“I am.”

“Does the defense have any objections?”

Doff looked lost. “No…?”

“You may proceed,” Stronghart said.

Van Zieks moved from the dock to the witness stand yet again and folded his arms.

“Lord van Zieks,” Kazuma said, “would you identify this piece of evidence for the court?” He dug through his evidence for a moment and then held up a large, rather elaborate ring set with a red jewel.

Stronghart slammed his hand down and stood up. “Where did you get that?”

“The coroner, Dr. Gorey, provided it for me when I explained I would need it in today’s trial. Is there a problem?”

“Evidence cannot be removed from the stores without my permission.”

Kazuma shrugged. “Surely, my lord, you don’t mind me borrowing it to make my case against the Reaper.”

He clearly did mind, but Kazuma soldiered on as if unaware.

“Once again, Lord van Zieks, can you identify this for the court?”

Van Zieks closed his eyes. “That is a ring that belonged to Genshin Asogi… and the damning piece of evidence that led to his arrest. After Inspector Gregson petitioned the House of Lords to allow my brother’s corpse to be examined, the subsequent autopsy revealed the ring to be in his stomach. It was concluded that in his final moments, he tore the ring from his assailant and swallowed it to posthumously identify his killer.”

“Genshin Asogi wore this ring quite prominently, did he not?”

“He did.”

“When was the last time you saw him wearing it?”

“I cannot say for sure.”

“Can you definitively state that he did not have the ring following your brother’s death?”

“I could not swear to it.”

“Then it is possible that the ring was stolen from him afterwards?”

Stronghart struck his cane down. “You are leading the witness, Counsel.”

“Apologies.” Kazuma bowed, though he didn’t appear particularly contrite. “Then allow me to present a hypothesis for the court. The testimony we’ve heard opens up the possibility that the ring was stolen in the days between Klint van Zieks’s death and Genshin Asogi’s arrest for the express purpose of framing an innocent man as the Professor!”

Van Zieks remained silent for several seconds before he finally said, “Your words have brought to mind another incident… one in which Genshin Asogi saved my life.”

“Enlighten us.”

He explained an incident in which Genshin shielded him from a group of attackers, which could have created an opportunity for the theft of his ring, though he still could not say so definitively. All the while, Doff looked around as though wondering yet again why he was still in the courtroom.

“So the ring could have been stolen that night,” Kazuma said. “On top of this, there is a clear inconsistency in the autopsy report, as the victim could not possibly have swallowed such a ring without doing considerable damage to his throat and esophagus. The lack of internal injuries therefore suggests the ring’s discovery in his stomach was an utter fabrication.”

Van Zieks’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

“And now we come to the heart of the matter,” Kazuma said. “Fabricated evidence led to the arrest of Genshin Asogi ten years ago. The coroner and detective were both compelled to comply with this scheme. Ten years later, someone decided they needed to be silenced. Due to the circumstances of Gregson’s death, we’ve already established that the Reaper of the Bailey must have given the order, which means it necessarily follows that the Reaper is the man who ordered the fabrication of the evidence.”

That did line up. Kazuma probably could tell his words were getting through, because he looked more confident than ever.

Van Zieks sighed and poured himself a chalice of wine.

“There is only one man who would have been in a position to mastermind this plot,” Kazuma said. “Who could give such an order to the coroner and detective? When you consider it logically, the third conspirator had to be the prosecutor in charge of the Professor case.”

Ryunosuke gripped the edge of his seat. So that was the link. That was why Kazuma was bringing this up now.

Yet as murmurs ran through the gallery, Kazuma narrowed his eyes, his gaze colder than Ryunosuke had ever seen it before. “Or should I say, the original prosecutor in charge of the Professor case… which would be you, Lord Mael Stronghart.”

Chapter Text

The gallery erupted into chaos following Kazuma’s accusation. Ryunosuke could hardly believe his ears. Kazuma had accused Stronghart of being the Reaper? Everything he thought he knew about what was happening in this trial was suddenly turned on its head.

At the same time, other oddities were starting to fall into place. No wonder Kazuma never gave him a straight answer about whether or not he trusted Stronghart. It might even explain why he insisted on personally guarding van Zieks that night. If he had spent this entire time trying to set a trap for Stronghart and was afraid telling Ryunosuke the truth might put him in danger…

“Oh my,” Susato said, “look at Lord van Zieks!”

Van Zieks was the only person in the courtroom who didn’t look shocked. He was drinking wine again, and he looked somewhat concerned, but he didn’t seem at all surprised by the turn the trial had taken.

“Did he know?” Ryunosuke asked, even though it sounded absurd. “Is that why Kazuma called him as a witness?”

Stronghart was on his feet already. “I can only assume this is the most inappropriate joke in British judicial history.”

“It is no joke, my lord,” Kazuma said. “You are the Reaper of the Bailey, and I am prepared to prove as much.”

“The court will take a ten-minute recess.”

Oh, he was angry. A chill crawled down Ryunosuke’s spine at the way Stronghart was looking at Kazuma. While the members of the judiciary whispered to one another, he stood up.

“Mr. Naruhodo?”

“I’m going to talk to Kazuma.”

Especially since Stronghart was almost certainly on his way there as well.

#

To Enoch Drebber’s disappointment, being kept up-to-date on the trial proceedings did not mean he got to actually leave the prison and go to the courthouse. No, he remained in his cell, with the ritual ready to begin when necessary, and occasionally a nervous messenger from Scotland Yard appeared to give him updates.

This whole business felt sour. He was to destroy the spirit of a decade-dead nobleman whose brother was now on trial, with the prosecutor kept in the dark about the ghost’s identity? Yes, there were dire dealings at work here, no doubt about that.

There was nothing he could do about it, though. He didn’t owe them anything, not the Eastern prosecutor nor the Reaper of the Bailey nor Klint van Zieks. He was doomed to rot in prison unless he accepted Stronghart’s deal, and it was time to look out for himself.

Not that he trusted Stronghart. Oh no, secrets like this, so carefully guarded, meant he was a dead man for sure if he lowered his guard. Getting out of this alive would be a tricky balancing act…

The man from Scotland Yard burst into the cellblock and ran to his cell.

“What’s this?” Drebber asked. “Another update on the trial so soon?”

“Prosecutor Asogi just accused Lord Stronghart of being the Reaper!”

Well, well, well… it had taken quite a turn indeed. Perhaps Asogi was not quite as blind as Stronghart seemed to think he was.

The orders had been clear. If the trial turned against Stronghart, the ritual must be performed without delay. Unfortunately, there was no avoiding that. Astute or not, Asogi’s chances of winning were not so great that Drebber intended to stake his life on them for the sake of the ghost of a man he’d never even met. He would perform his part and then figure out a way to escape Stronghart’s trap.

He lit the candles. It was time to begin.

#

Ryunosuke got to the prosecutor’s antechamber shortly after Stronghart did. He hung back, in the doorway, to observe without being spotted.

Then again, Stronghart looked so furious, he might not notice him even if he entered the room. “What is the meaning of this, Asogi? This is not what we agreed on.”

In contrast, Kazuma seemed calm, although he held his court documents against his chest like a shield. “How many times have you deceived people, Lord Stronghart? Yet you never realized I might be lying to you?”

“You planned this!”

“And you won’t get out of it so easily. It will not sit well with people if you simply refuse to acknowledge such allegations.”

“You’re a traitor.”

“On the contrary, you should see this as an opportunity.”

“Excuse me?”

“Confess, Lord Stronghart.” Kazuma’s voice grew deathly serious. “Confess to it all, everything you’ve done, and don’t force me to drag this trial out any longer.”

Stronghart gaped at him. “You expect me to accept this outrageous accusation you’ve made against me? Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Perhaps. Yet I’ve been told you were a man of justice once.”

“I dislike that being phrased in the past tense, Asogi.”

“If any part of you still believes in justice at all, you must see that this has gone too far. You can never undo what you’ve done… but you can still step back into the light now. Confess. Make what atonement you can… for the sake of the people who died for your machinations.”

“How dare you?”

“I understand you,” Kazuma said in a whisper. “I know how easy it is to think, ‘This person is evil. Our justice system can’t bring him down. I should end it myself.’ And that decision becomes so much easier if you can give the task to someone else. Because then it’s not your own hands being bloodied, is it? You can tell yourself you’re not responsible—but you are, as surely as if you did the deed yourself.”

“I don’t have to listen to this.”

“You’ve done terrible, unforgiveable things. Yet you feed the birds in your office and dream of a London without crime. I can’t believe you’re purely evil. If you have any morality left, end this decade-long nightmare now, yourself.”

The Lord Chief Justice turned away. “Your behavior is atrocious,” he said as he walked to the antechamber door, “and you will pay for such presumption.” He stormed past Ryunosuke without even looking at him.

Once he was gone, Kazuma glared after him, his gaze dark. “That wasn’t presumption, you monster. It was an offer of mercy you hardly deserve.”

“Kazuma?” Ryunosuke stepped into the antechamber.

Kazuma looked startled, but then he nodded. “Ryunosuke.”

“Do you really mean this? Lord Stronghart is the Reaper of the Bailey?”

“He is.”

“Did you plan this from the start?”

He shook his head with a bitter laugh. “Oh, there was a time when I certainly believed my enemy to be Lord van Zieks.”

“How long have you known the truth?”

“Since Dunkirk.” Kazuma met his gaze. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. Once Stronghart prevented you from serving as the defense, and especially after that list of names surfaced, it seemed too dangerous to involve you.”

“But… Lord van Zieks knew you were going to do this?”

“I think so. I hope so.” Kazuma ran a hand over his face. “If not, I’m about to do the equivalent of throwing myself off a cliff and hoping I land on my feet.”

“Stronghart will try to end the trial, Kazuma. He won’t let you do this.”

“I’m prepared for that.” He looked down at his evidence, and his expression sobered. “But if things turn against us… I’d like to ask you to get out of here, but I know you won’t do that, so instead I’ll ask you to make sure someone looks—”

“—outside the courthouse?” Ryunosuke finished in disbelief. “Iris told me the exact same thing this morning.”

“Iris?” Kazuma gave him a sharp look. “Where is she today?”

“She left early this morning to turn in her new novel to her editors.”

“The one about the ghost?”

“Yes, apparently she finished it late last night.”

“That’s good to know,” Kazuma said quietly, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. “That’s very good to know indeed.”

#

Drebber extinguished the candles. Well, that hadn’t gone according to plan, but Stronghart could hardly blame him for that.

Klint’s spirit was beyond reach and could not be destroyed. Stronghart still had what he wanted, more or less, since the spirit was unable to meddle in the trial. He had moved on to his natural rest, and would never be seen again.

Strange… A restless spirit would only move on once it felt its unfinished business was settled—or trusted that it would be in short order. Yet nothing had changed.

Which could only mean that whatever it was that caused his spirit to haunt London, Klint van Zieks had confidence it would soon be resolved in his favor.

#

Ryunosuke returned to the gallery. Unease swirled in his stomach. Despite Kazuma’s confidence, the tension in the courtroom increased his fears about what Stronghart would do in response to being accused. Something was at work here beyond what he knew, he was sure of it. Kazuma still hadn’t told him the full truth—to protect him.

He didn’t like Kazuma making an enemy of Stronghart. If he was the mastermind behind the Reaper, he had no compunctions about ordering assassins after people. Kazuma had put himself in grave peril.

Stronghart called the court to order with narrowed eyes. “This court has no intention of hearing out the ludicrous claim made a moment ago by the prosecution. We have reached a conclusion in regards to the matter of Inspector Gregson’s death. Anything else regarding the Reaper and the assassin exchange will be dealt with at a later time. For now—”

“Objection!” Kazuma cut over him and slammed his fist down. “You cannot end the trial at this point, my lord!”

“I can, and I will, Counsel.”

“Do you not intend to defend yourself?”

“Your accusation is so spurious it doesn’t even warrant a response.”

“Objection!” Van Zieks cut in with an objection of his own, promptly slammed his leg down on the witness stand, and leaned back with a chalice of wine. “One might reasonably assume that only the Reaper himself would protest so heartily against the Reaper’s identity being pursued.”

Stronghart got to his feet and leveled a furious glare at him. “The accused has no right to comment on court proceedings at this point!”

“The prosecution doesn’t object to hearing Lord van Zieks’s input,” Kazuma said mildly.

“The prosecution has already proven to be unreliable in such matters!”

Doff cautiously lifted his hand into the air. “If the prosecution and the defendant are working together against the judge, can I leave?”

“No!” Stronghart snapped. “You will sit there and await the verdict, which I am about to deliver at this very moment! Seishiro Jigoku has already confessed and there is no further reason to prolong this trial.”

“And just what do you have in mind?” Kazuma leaned forward. “Will we both find ourselves sudden victims of the Reaper? Do you know how it will look to the judiciary if we turn up dead after this?”

“You will be charged with contempt of court, Counsel, not to mention whatever consequences will fall upon you for your admitted role in the assassin exchange.”

“Since you intend to keep Lord van Zieks in custody, I assume some terrible fate will befall him in prison.”

Stronghart glared at him. “Enough! This trial is over.”

“Objection!” Kazuma turned away from Stronghart and looked up at the gallery. “Surely the judiciary is eager to learn the truth behind the Reaper of the Bailey!”

“The gallery has no right to express an opinion on court proceedings!”

Kazuma and van Zieks needed help… and for the first time in the trial, Ryunosuke could actually do something about it. He jumped to his feet. “That’s right, we need to learn the truth about the Reaper!”

Heat rushed to his face as everyone looked at him. He’d hoped someone else would pick up his cry and the attention wouldn’t all be on him. As it was, he worried he was now on Stronghart’s hit list, too.

“The Reaper of the Bailey masterminded the assassin exchange to cover up the fabrication of evidence ten years ago!” Kazuma shouted into the silence.

“You have not proven that.” Stronghart pointed his cane at Kazuma. “You and the defendant have conspired to frame me!”

“Objection!” Kazuma slammed his fist down and scowled. “That’s what you claim is going on here? Lord van Zieks condemned my father in that trial ten years ago. I have every reason in the world to hate him. The Reaper ordered the falsification of evidence to ensure my father would be charged. If I truly believed Lord van Zieks was the Reaper, what possible reason could I have to work with him to frame someone else?”

“Don’t expect me to fathom what goes on in your peculiar Eastern mind,” Stronghart said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Much like how your argument is predicated on the notion that Genshin Asogi was framed, yet he didn’t utter a single word in his own defense during his trial.”

Kazuma’s eyes flashed, and he bristled with fury.

“Either way, the matter is ended. Court is—”

Oh no, Ryunosuke was going to have to shout again, wasn’t he? He closed his eyes, bade farewell to his dignity, and shouted, “The trial must go on!”

“Yes, the trial must go on!” Susato picked up.

Mikotoba followed, but at the moment, it was only the three of them, with the judge looking on anxiously like he wasn’t sure if he should join in or not.

Stronghart slammed his cane down. “The mystery of the Reaper of the Bailey is beyond the purview of this court!”

“Strange that it wasn’t a moment ago when you thought I was accusing Lord van Zieks,” Kazuma said dryly.

“You have gone to great lengths to tarnish my reputation today, Counsel. I will not stand for baseless slander. If you have a concrete reason as to why the matter of the Reaper must be resolved today, do explain it to us.”

Armed folded, Kazuma looked up at the gallery. “Surely the members of the judiciary assembled here today have not forgotten that one unanswered question about this trial still remains.”

Stronghart narrowed his eyes. “What question?”

“I’m referring, of course, to the ghost of the Old Bailey.”

Murmurs broke out throughout the gallery.

Alongside Ryunosuke, the judge jumped to his feet. “Oh yes! We must learn the truth about the ghost! Please don’t stop the trial until we know the truth about the ghost!”

A few others took up that cry. Apparently the ghost of the Old Bailey was a popular topic of gossip even among the judiciary. People who had looked bored even through the accusation of the Lord Chief Justice himself were now paying close attention.

“Ridiculous!” Stronghart looked enraged, but also slightly shaken. “Supernatural phenomena are entirely out of reach of this court! There is no link between the ghost of the Old Bailey and this trial!”

Kazuma lifted his chin, eyebrows raised. “My lord, if you check the record of your own statements, the court officially accepted the inextricable link between the ghost and this trial earlier in today’s proceedings.”

Right, he’d established that point early on at Stronghart’s behest.

“Therefore, the prosecution contends that the only explanation for the ghost’s actions is that its motivations are inextricably bound to the outcome of this trial.”

“A very logical conclusion, Counsel. The court accepts this rationale for the ghost’s behavior.”

At the time, Ryunosuke had thought that exchange was bad for the defense, but…

Stronghart slammed his hand down. “This trial is for Barok van Zieks! Your claim that the ghost’s revenge depends on this trial has no bearing on your accusation against me.”

“I made no such claim, my lord,” Kazuma said. “I said only that the ghost’s motivations—and apparent inaction against his enemy—were tied to the outcome of this trial.”

“However you phrase it, the meaning is the same. Your own argument falls to pieces with your new accusation!”

“The court seems to be laboring under a grave misunderstanding of what I said earlier in today’s trial.” Despite his words, a slight twitching of Kazuma’s lips suggested he’d intentionally let that misunderstanding take root. “I established that this trial is linked to the ghost’s apparent inaction against his enemy but never answered the question of why. The court might naturally assume that such inaction could only be the result of current events being in position to carry out his revenge for him, but there are other possibilities. For example, if the ghost had reason to believe making a direct move against his enemy would cause his enemy to harm someone else in retaliation, his hands would be tied.”

“That is pure conjecture,” Stronghart said. “That entire speech will be stricken from the record unless you can substantiate your claims.”

Kazuma bowed. “I’d be more than happy to, my lord.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sure the court can understand what such a situation would lead to. If the ghost backed down, he’d fail to bring the justice he returned for. Yet if he acted, he’d risk someone’s life. The result would be a ghost who haunts London yet takes no direct action—a situation I’m sure sounds familiar to everyone here assembled.”

“A coincidence such as that hardly constitutes evidence,” Stronghart said.

Kazuma ignored him. “At that point, the ghost would have only one viable option left. He’d need an ally on the inside, someone who could present himself as above suspicion and secure his enemy’s trust in order to buy time until they could reveal the truth.”

Quiet whispers filled the gallery. Ryunosuke stared down into the courtroom. Was he—was he really saying—

Horror spread across Stronghart’s face.

Kazuma slammed his fist down. “Under rare conditions, testimony may be provided on behalf of a witness who is unable to appear in court. Therefore, at this time, the prosecution asserts its right to present the sworn statement of the ghost of the Old Bailey, Lord Klint van Zieks!”

Chapter Text

Kazuma gripped the edge of the prosecution’s bench. The clamor from the gallery was almost deafening. He thought he’d feel relieved when this moment came, but Stronghart was glaring at him with the unrestrained hatred of a man who would kill anyone who stood in his way. If he didn’t successfully take down Stronghart here, today, he was a dead man.

So this was it. It was all on the line.

“You never even considered it, did you?” he whispered. “I claimed I had a way to keep the ghost away from me, and you believed every word I said. It never crossed your mind that we might be working together.”

It rather annoyed him how easily he convinced everyone he was that aggressively delusional, but at least it worked. He got near-complete control of the trial and managed to extend it two days longer than it was meant to last, until they found what they needed and had all their pieces in place. Now it was over, the days of lying to keep Stronghart in the dark about his true intentions were over. All he had to do was make sure they all survived it.

Their plan for today’s trial felt a lot more reliable when he expected to have Klint’s spirit waiting in reserve—not to mention Sholmes plotting whatever he was up to, since he clearly suspected the truth and had plans of his own.

Now Kazuma had a half-formed back-up plan that involved Sholmes breaking van Zieks out of prison, but it wasn’t nearly solid enough to rely on, just the bare essence of a plan he managed to scrape together after everything fell apart yesterday thanks to Stronghart’s deal with Drebber.

As a result, Sholmes had been arrested, because that bargain with Stronghart was the safest option to save Klint’s spirit from whatever Drebber had been trying to do to him, and then Klint had presumably moved on to his final rest.

Kazuma only prayed he’d interpreted his false arguments with van Zieks this morning correctly, and Klint had finally stopped being obstinate and told him everything. He glanced at the prosecutor, who just nodded with that same bleak look he’d had since today’s trial began.

All right. He wasn’t entirely alone. They could do this.

He exhaled slowly. He was so tired. If Ryunosuke was the defense, he could have counted on him to pursue the truth, but when that option was taken away from them, it became a nightmare. Hours spent each evening planning with Stronghart, only to return to his lodgings and spend hours more developing the real strategy with Klint and devising ways to justify it to Stronghart. It felt like ages since he got a good night’s sleep.

But he’d come this far. He’d swore to Klint that he wouldn’t let him down.

He was going to see this through to the end.

#

Ryunosuke felt dazed. This was almost too much to take in at once. The ghost of the Old Bailey was van Zieks’s brother… and Kazuma was working with him? No wonder Sholmes had claimed the ghost must have made the deliberate decision to leave them out of it; he must have suspected Kazuma was involved. Come to think of it, he made a strange remark to Kazuma that night at the prison, though at the time Ryunosuke assumed he was referring to Kazuma’s apparent alliance with Stronghart. 

“I knew it!” the judge shouted to no one in particular. “He did haunt me because I wanted him to. He was always a very nice man like that!”

Was haunting someone the action of a very nice man…?

Well, the judge certainly looked like this was the best news he’d gotten in his life. He struck up a cheer for wanting to hear what the late Lord Klint van Zieks came back to London to do, a cry which was picked up by several other members of the judiciary, who all seemed to think this was wonderful.

Ryunosuke wasn’t so sure. Once again, the only people in the room who didn’t seem shocked by the pronouncement were Kazuma himself and van Zieks. That pretty much confirmed his earlier suspicions that they’d been working together today, but neither of them looked happy. Kazuma seemed to be bracing himself for battle, and van Zieks looked like he might be sick.

Kazuma and Iris had both made ominous statements implying the trial would get much worse than this, and Ryunosuke couldn’t shake the feeling that they were right.

“Order!” Stronghart slammed his cane down against the bench and stood up. “You are making a mockery of this court, Counsel!”

“Am I?” Kazuma asked.

“Attempting to use the ghost of the Old Bailey to advance this misguided agenda of yours…” Stronghart shook his head, his voice filled with so much disappointment, his sincerity would be believable if Ryunosuke didn’t trust Kazuma over him. “And to claim it is the spirit of our late prosecutor, no less… you should be ashamed of disrespecting the dead in such a way.”

Kazuma slammed his fist down. “What are you implying?”

“I have also seen the ghost of the Old Bailey, and I can assure the judiciary that it is not the spirit of the late Lord Klint van Zieks.”

“Objection!” Van Zieks interrupted him with a furious glare. “Have you not done enough to my brother, Lord Stronghart? Would you now deny his very return?”

“Surely you don’t believe this claim that—”

“The ghost of the Old Bailey is my brother.” Van Zieks looked away. “There can be no doubt about that. I am prepared to swear to it before the court.”

“Will you still try to deny it, Lord Stronghart?” Kazuma asked.

Stronghart narrowed his eyes.

Kazuma took advantage of his momentary silence and kept talking. “Now, I was disappointed to learn that a ghost’s knowledge is limited to events from before his death and after the start of his haunting, which leaves an unfortunate span of ten years that remains obscured to us. However, I’m sure the court will immediately see that ghosts have an inherent advantage as witnesses due to being able to move about rapidly and unseen. Therefore, I present the following statements on his behalf:

“First, Genshin Asogi was not the Professor. As I’ve already established, he could only have been framed by Mael Stronghart, who is therefore implicated as the Reaper of the Bailey.

“Second, Mael Stronghart has given orders in his capacity as the Reaper, including the orders that sent Tobias Gregson to his death at the hands of Seishiro Jigoku.

“Third, on the night before last, Mael Stronghart ordered five assassins to attack Barok van Zieks in prison. He subsequently erased all traces of their involvement to make it appear as though they were guards acting in his defense.

“Fourth, the spirit of Klint van Zieks returned to London for the specific purpose of revealing the truth of what happened ten years ago, which will make everything else—”

“Enough!” Stronghart rose to his feet again, absolutely livid. “You are lying, Counsel.”

“I am not.”

“Where is he, then?” A cold smirk twisted the man’s face. “It does not appear that you intend to have the ghost testify, Counsel. Are we, then, simply to accept your word for what he said? Shall we accept the word of Genshin Asogi’s son, the son of the Professor himself, to be the truth of what the Professor’s final victim came back to this Earth to say?”

“Objection!” Van Zieks looked like he was a moment away from throwing a bottle at Stronghart’s head. “If you will not allow Prosecutor Asogi to testify on my brother’s behalf… then allow me to.”

Horror flitted across Stronghart’s face, as if it took that statement for him to fully grasp the extent to which Kazuma and van Zieks had united against him, but he masked it quickly. “The word of the Reaper of the Bailey?”

Van Zieks glared at him. “An appellation forced upon me by your machinations.”

“You have not proven that. No, the turn this trial has taken is the direct result of your attempt to cast aside the shadow of the Reaper and force it upon me instead. Your word, therefore, is hardly credible in this matter.”

“How dare you?”

“So we must rely on either the Professor’s son or the Reaper of the Bailey.” Stronghart shook his head. “No, a choice like that is simply no choice at all.”

Kazuma lifted his chin. “Lord Stronghart, at the start of this trial, you officially stated that material evidence and witness testimony related to the ghost of the Old Bailey would be accepted by this court as valid.”

“Statements you claim the ghost told you in private hardly qualify as such. If you could place Klint van Zieks on the witness stand, I would be as delighted as anyone to hear what he has to say.” Stronghart lifted his hand as he started laughing. “If you cannot… then I’m afraid you have nothing, Counsel.”

Yet Kazuma looked triumphant. “You are correct, Lord Stronghart, I cannot call the ghost of the Old Bailey to testify. Not because of anything you did, mind you, but because he moved on to his final rest, trusting that we have the situation well in hand. Yet I was not speaking of witness testimony. I was referring to the other half of that statement: material evidence.” He shuffled through his evidence and pulled out an old, creased sheet of parchment. “Specifically, the last will and testament of Lord Klint van Zieks.”

Stronghart jumped to his feet, all traces of humor lost. “Where did you find that?!”

“Searching for it for quite a while, weren’t you, Lord Stronghart? I’m not surprised you never figured out where my father hid it; the late Lord van Zieks and I had considerable difficulty finding it ourselves. It was concealed within the hilt of Karuma for ten long years.”

“Karuma?”

“The sword you sequestered,” van Zieks cut in.

Stronghart looked at the katana by his side.

“I really need to thank you, my lord,” Kazuma said with a smile that could have been considered friendly if not for the cold glittering of his eyes, “for that ten-minute recess for me to, what was it now, ‘get my ill-guided emotions under control’? Without that, I never could have secured the will before handing Karuma over. Thank you, Lord Stronghart.”

Stronghart appeared to be so outraged he couldn’t even speak.

“Now,” Kazuma said, “just in case you try to claim we’re both unreliable and anything we read out loud could be invented, we’ll need a neutral party to read the will.”

The judge all but jumped out of his seat to raise his hand, but Kazuma wasn’t looking up at the gallery.

“Come here, Mr. Doff.”

The nearly-forgotten lawyer looked at him in horror.

“Yes, you,” Kazuma said, his tone dry. “Considering the defense you’ve put up so far, I’m sure no one will think you’re making things up to help Lord van Zieks.”

Doff looked at Stronghart, who nodded. Then he slowly stepped out from behind the bench and walked toward Kazuma.

Kazuma handed him the will. “Read this out loud for the court.”

“You will do no such thing,” Stronghart said. “Mr. Doff, you will turn over that document to me immediately.”

“B-But…” Doff stared at the parchment as though it was burning his hands. “It… it looks official… and… and this is Lord Klint van Zieks’s handwriting!”

“Counsel, might I remind you that your future is on the line? Now hand me that document at once.”

“My lord,” Kazuma said, “surely you aren’t implying that the counsel for the defense is compromised in some way.”

Murmurs ran through the gallery in response to Stronghart’s quiet threat against the lawyer.

Kazuma pointed straight at Doff. “Mr. Doff, yesterday you told me you disagree with the Reaper’s methods. I warned you the time might come when you would need to decide what you stand for. Cast your eyes over that document and see whose side you want to be on.”

“I forbid that document from being read out loud!” Stronghart shouted. “It could literally destroy the meaning of law and order in this country!”

Doff, meanwhile, had lost whatever color remained in his face. He was staring at the will like it really had burned him this time. “Oh no… this can’t be…”

“This is your chance,” Kazuma said. “If you remember what it means to be a lawyer, Mr. Doff… then I trust you will make the right decision.”

The lawyer looked paralyzed, caught there between Kazuma, van Zieks, and Stronghart.

Then, at last, he began to read.

#

I pen this, my last will and testament, in the final moments before my inevitable and willing death.

The hour is 11 PM and I sit at my writing desk in my office; my good friend Asogi stands at my shoulder. He has expressed his intent to invoke the dying ritual of the duel, that I may depart this world with honor. An honor of which I am utterly undeserving. The Japanese are a truly merciful people.

I, Klint van Zieks, lord of the manor of the van Zieks estate, hereby confess to the following: I am the killer who has come to be known in society as “The Professor,” guilty of four counts of murder.

I will not here discourse the corruption rife among the aristocracy, which is to me, as one of them, so apparent. However, six months ago, I took the life of a member of the House of Lords at the heart of the depravity. A demon who habitually sacrificed the common man to further his own interests, abusing his position of power. The law is impotent against such vile avarice. Only a fellow demon can rid society of this menace.

That demon was my quarry, upon whom I willingly set my great hound. But though I am a hunter of some experience, I am a poor felon, it seems. My guilt was at once recognized by another, and I became subject to his extortion. He held over me the threat of exposing my wicked crime to my beloved wife and brother. Under that threat, I have done this man's bidding for months now, killing those he demanded I kill.

As I watched my former mentor perish before my eyes at the jaws of the hound I commanded… I realized that I had lost the last shred of decency within me… and sunk to the level of a wild beast.

There is no path back to the light. Be it I or my dear friend Asogi who dies this night… I am eternally damned.

To my extortioner, Mael Stronghart… may you feel the jaws of the beast at your throat every time you swallow.

#

Even having heard Klint’s confession the night before, hearing the truth again did not become any easier. Barok kept his head down so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone as the damning words were read out loud before the court.

Last night, when the air in his cell grew so cold and he opened his eyes to see a presence taking form before him, his joy was almost undercut by horror. To see his brother’s spirit at last and learn that Stronghart’s description of a ghost with bloodstained hands was not a lie after all was almost too much to bear.

And without meeting his gaze and after a whispered apology, Klint had confessed to him.

The murderer who terrorized London ten years ago and became known as the Professor was Klint himself, first by his own volition and then under pressure from Stronghart, who directed the Professor’s actions from then on. His death resulted from a duel with Genshin meant to allow him an honorable end.

Now, ten years later, with Stronghart preparing to eliminate loose ends that could condemn him, poised to take more power than ever, Klint’s spirit had returned from the grave to stop him—only to find his hands tied by Stronghart’s threats against Barok. At last, it all made a sickening sort of sense why Stronghart had isolated him and assigned him a lawyer who would not defend him. Klint’s attempt to see Stronghart brought to justice spurred Stronghart to seek revenge by hurting Barok.

The one saving grace was that the man who came to London to see Barok condemned, Genshin’s son himself, had been told the truth and was secretly working with Klint. Kazuma Asogi would attempt to corner Stronghart, but he’d likely need Barok’s help.

Barok had broken down there in his cell. It had hurt all the worse when he learned Klint’s avoidance of him up until then had been due to shame, an unwillingness to reveal himself as a murderer to the brother who loved him.

As if anything could make Barok love him less.

On top of it all, he couldn’t even stay. Stronghart had found a way to attack Klint directly, and Asogi had only won him a limited amount of time before he struck again. He stayed with Barok as long as he could and then moved on to his final rest, trusting in Barok and Asogi to do what he could not.

Barok drew a deep breath. That meant he couldn’t afford to fall to pieces now. He forced himself to lift his head again and saw something that made his blood run cold. Stronghart was smiling.

Then he looked over at the prosecution’s bench—and to his surprise, Asogi was watching Stronghart with a smirk of his own.

#

“He’s unfortunately charismatic,” Klint had warned him, “and a master of twisting the truth to suit his own purposes. If you’re forced to confront him in the courtroom, he will convince the judiciary to hide the truth.”

From the look on Lord Stronghart’s face, he was about to do exactly that.

Let him try. Kazuma waited patiently to hear how he would try to get out of this. The truth was out. All he had left was the judiciary’s favor. Certainly he could win them over, but that mattered little if they turned on him again. Someone who knew him as well as Klint did could forewarn Kazuma and plan accordingly.

Once Stronghart made his move, it would be time to close the trap.

Chapter Text

When the entire truth had been revealed to the court, Ryunosuke held his breath. So this was the truth that Kazuma—and the ghost of Klint—felt was too dangerous to involve him in, not only the true identity of the Professor, but knowledge that Stronghart was behind it all.

This was it, though. Everything had been revealed, and even Doff said the will was legitimate. There was no way out.

Yet when Doff finished reading, Stronghart launched into his own speech. He admitted to everything, but defended all of his actions as being for the good of law and order and warned everyone that the truth of this getting out would do far more damage than anything else.

Slowly, impossibly, he swayed the judiciary into seeing his side of things. As the people around them began to cheer for Stronghart, Ryunosuke remembered the instructions given by Iris and repeated by Kazuma. If ever a time counted as there being no hope left, this was it.

He jumped to his feet and started for the door.

A bailiff blocked his path almost immediately. “Sorry, but Lord Stronghart gave strict orders that you are not to leave.”

Sweat rolled down the back of Ryunosuke’s neck.

“Mr. Naruhodo?” Susato looked at him with concern.

“Someone needs to look outside the courthouse,” he said. “I don’t know why, but it might be able to change things.”

The judge, one of the few people in the gallery not cheering for Stronghart, stood up. “I can do that.”

“Ah—” The bailiff stepped into his path. “Lord Stronghart said—”

“Young man, you have no right to stop me from leaving,” the judge said with a huff of breath. “I was a judge before you were born.” He pushed past the startled bailiff and continued out of the gallery.

Ryunosuke exhaled slowly. That just left one more thing. He found the lucky charm Iris gave him that morning and pulled the ears as hard as he could.

“Runo!”

Iris’s voice abruptly rang through the courtroom, and Ryunosuke nearly fell back into his seat in alarm. Most of the people sitting around them stopping cheering for Stronghart to look at the rabbit.

“I-Iris?” he asked in bewilderment. “Is that you?”

“That’s right, Runo! Is the trial over yet? I really need to talk to Mr. Reaper!”

“Uh…” Ryunosuke rubbed the back of his neck. “N-No, the trial is… still going, sort of.”

“Aw, you don’t think it will take too much longer, do you? My editors at Randst Magazine are all so eager to start printing; they said there’s so much demand, this Herlock Sholmes story might be the most popular one yet!”

Nothing that was happening made any sense.

The bailiff who had stopped him from leaving the gallery leaned over. “Sorry, did that toy rabbit just say there’s a new Herlock Sholmes story coming out soon?”

“Yes?” Ryunosuke said uncertainly.

A few members of the judiciary looked at him with new interest, and he began to sweat again.

Down in the courtroom, the commotion had been noticed. “What is going on up there?” Stronghart demanded.

“Ah,” Kazuma said, “I believe they’re getting an update on the latest Herlock Sholmes manuscript being published by Randst Magazine, The Final Reckoning of the Ghost of the Old Bailey.”

Van Zieks drew back, looking horrified. “Y-You can’t write about all of this in a cheap detective story!”

Apparently able to hear that, Iris chimed in again. “Oh, but he said I could, Mr. Reaper, as long as you don’t mind!”

“What? What do—”

“Enough!” Stronghart shouted over them. “Details of a closed trial certainly can’t be published in any sort of—”

“Objection!” Kazuma cut him off. “I have it on good authority that the writer left with the completed manuscript early this morning. Nothing from today’s proceedings could have been included, and the ghost was scarcely mentioned in the previous days of this trial. If the writer has other sources, it’s hardly possible to interfere. Although it sounds like Lord van Zieks has valid authority to do so…”

Van Zieks’s expression was impossible to read as he poured himself a chalice of wine. “…I withdraw my objection.”

“Oh, thank you!” Iris cried. “I’ll let my editors know they can begin printing right away!”

The rabbit fell silent, and Ryunosuke sat back down. This had to be the strangest day of his life.

Despite Iris’s delight, Stronghart shook his head. “No matter what you hope to achieve by this, words written in a manuscript won’t possibly sway—”

The doors to the courtroom burst open, and the judge hurried inside with a rather distressed bailiff right behind him. “I don’t mean to interrupt the trial,” the judge said, though he sounded like he was absolutely delighted to do so, “but I stepped out for a breath of fresh air, and there’s a whole crowd of people outside!”

“They started asking him questions,” the bailiff said, “so I convinced him to come back inside.”

“What?” Stronghart asked. “What is the meaning of this? Why is there a crowd out there?”

“Can’t you guess?” Kazuma’s eyes glinted. “Why, you signed off on the plan yourself, Lord Stronghart.”

Stronghart narrowed his eyes. “What in the world are you blathering about?”

“Don’t you remember? You agreed with me that it was necessary to allow the public to know the ghost of the Old Bailey’s motive was linked to this trial. For days, rumors had spread that the ghost was searching for justice, and with your blessing, I confirmed that answers would finally be revealed at this trial.” Kazuma offered him a steely smile. “As I explained to you then, the ghost made his presence known throughout London. With my rumors on top of that, the public is now eager for answers. They’ve gathered outside the courthouse today because they want to know if the ghost’s quest for justice will be fulfilled!”

“This is a closed trial,” Stronghart said through clenched teeth. “Under no circumstances will a single detail of this trial reach public ears—”

“—which we both agreed was highly unlikely,” Kazuma said, “due to the prominence of the defendant and the popularity of the ghost of the Old Bailey. No?”

“Everyone will be sworn to utter secrecy.”

“That might have worked if you decided upon that before you gave me permission to spread the word that they’d have answers today.” Kazuma shook his head. “I don’t know how you’re going to explain that permission has been rescinded.”

Stronghart narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what you think you’ve gained by doing this, but it changes nothing. Perhaps you’ve put this court in a position where the ghost of the Old Bailey must be explained, but the public will be told a truth that is palatable to them.”

“I’m sure a number of them are Randst Magazine readers,” Kazuma said, undeterred, “so they’ll get one answer in The Final Reckoning of the Ghost of the Old Bailey. It will certainly look peculiar if the judiciary provides answers that are contrary to that.”

“Enough!” Stronghart rose to his feet. “This is a closed trial. The unsavory truths that have come to light will be struck from the record. Were truth of this to get out, law and order would be in complete disarray. As my colleagues in the gallery will recall, we were just about to finish up the trial. I’m sure everyone here can agree with me that it is better for everyone that a different answer be given.”

Murmurs filled the gallery, and Ryunosuke glanced anxiously around. In the shock of everything that just happened, he’d almost forgotten that these people sided with Stronghart a moment ago. Despite Iris preparing her manuscript and the crowds waiting for answers outside, it looked like it was all for nothing—they seemed prepared to accept Stronghart’s solution.

Yet Kazuma stepped forward. “You’re correct, Lord Stronghart, in that you have final authority over this case. People will ask what came to light about the ghost of the Old Bailey, and it will ultimately be up to the judiciary as to what they say.”

“And you yourself provided a ready alternative,” Stronghart said. “Most of them already believe the ghost is a victim of Lord van Zieks, thanks to your efforts.”

Van Zieks’s jaw clenched at the reminder, and Ryunosuke realized Stronghart was trying to reverse what Kazuma had just done to him, twisting his own past statements into a means of destroying his current plan.

Kazuma bowed his head for a moment, but then turned to look up at the gallery. “I would like to speak to all the distinguished members of the judiciary who have gathered here today. You now know beyond a shadow of a doubt who the ghost of the Old Bailey is and why he returned. Outside this courtroom, the people of London want to know those very things. But this is a closed trial, and therefore what happens next depends on you. When you walk out into those crowds and hear their questions, will you tell them a mundane lie, the hollow fable of a ghost seeking revenge?”

Harsh words from the man almost single-handedly responsible for spreading that story in the first place.

“Or will you tell them the truth, the story of a ghost who returned not for revenge alone, but for atonement, to bring the dark truth that had been buried for a decade into the light for the sake of justice? Will you let them know that the reason this trial was so critical was because, with everything at stake, the ghost of the Old Bailey was fighting desperately to save his brother?”

Van Zieks looked away, a stricken expression on his face.

Lord Stronghart narrowed his eyes. “Oh, that story can surely be told without the rest coming to light. This tale can be spun in any number of ways without doing Klint van Zieks’s spirit dishonor.”

“Dishonor?!” Kazuma slammed his fist down. “You speak of dishonor when the very solution you propose is what would dishonor him the most!” He glared up at the gallery. “Let me ask you something. Do you think this was the safest path to take? Securing a position as prosecutor, steering the trial in the correct direction, holding onto critical evidence until it could be produced? No! This plan was mired in risks! At the start of today’s trial, I presented a question about the ghost’s actions, and it was not merely a theoretical possibility. The simplest way for Klint van Zieks to protect his brother and ensure justice was done would have been to kill Mael Stronghart!”

Stronghart flinched.

“So why didn’t he do it?” Kazuma demanded. “It wasn’t out of fear for his brother, as I already had control of the trial. No, it is exactly as I proposed this morning: it was one final attempt to trust that justice would run its course—to trust that you, the people dedicated to protecting justice, would condemn Lord Stronghart once his crimes came to light, despite all the power he holds, despite the unpleasantness of the truths revealed.”

The people around Ryunosuke were whispering again. They seemed troubled by Kazuma’s words.

“And don’t forget,” Kazuma said, “you now know we’re talking about the Professor. Ten years ago, Klint van Zieks lost faith in what he could do as a prosecutor and took matters into his own hands. Now, a decade later, his spirit chose to walk a different path, placing his trust in us to pursue the truth!” He slammed his fist down again and pointed up at the gallery. “So when the people of London ask you about the ghost of the Old Bailey, will you betray his trust?”

#

That final demand was enough to sway the judiciary. Although Stronghart still attempted to retain control over the trial, he had no power to do so when the judiciary refused to lie for him. The old judge was able to return to give the final verdict, while Stronghart was taken into custody.

At last, with the trial over, Ryunosuke and Susato were allowed to enter the defendant’s antechamber, along with Professor Mikotoba.

Van Zieks looked grim for a man who had just been found not guilty, but after everything that happened, Ryunosuke couldn’t blame him. He gathered his nerve and walked up to him. “Lord van Zieks, congratulations on your acquittal. I still wish I could have done more to help.”

The prosecutor inclined his head. “Lord Stronghart intended for the odds to be stacked against me and entirely in his control. You are not to blame for that, Mr. Naruhodo.”

Well, that was a change from his usual attitude, and rather a welcome one.

“Um.” The tiny voice came from Mr. Doff, who had followed them into the antechamber. He was still holding Klint’s will. “I stopped reading when I got to the part about Lord Stronghart,” he said, his voice barely above a mumble, “but there’s more you probably should read, my lord.”

Despite addressing van Zieks, he handed the will to Susato, most likely because that let him keep as much distance between himself and van Zieks as possible. With the cold stare van Zieks was giving his supposed attorney, Ryunosuke didn’t entirely blame him.

Doff edged past them and retreated to the antechamber door, which he opened, only to walk directly into Kazuma. “Ah!”

“Oh, Mr. Doff,” Kazuma said, “thank you for your assistance earlier.”

“Ah, um… err…”

He clapped the defense attorney on the shoulder. “He told me you were ‘weak-willed but not malicious,’ so I knew we could count on you in the end.”

“Who—” Doff appeared to realize the likely answer to his question and thought better of asking. “I’ll never let anyone influence me in court again!” he shouted before escaping into the hall.

With a sigh, Kazuma joined them. He looked at van Zieks and then slightly inclined his head. “Lord van Zieks.”

“Asogi.” Van Zieks folded his arms. “I believe I caused you undue distress at the start of today’s trial. It was at my request that my brother’s spirit remained with me until he departed from this world. Pray forgive the discourtesy of leaving you in the dark as to whether or not he had spoken to me.”

Kazuma looked startled by the apology and averted his gaze. “Never mind that. It all worked out in the end.” He cleared his throat. “More importantly, I assume I can resume my apprenticeship at your earliest convenience?”

The other prosecutor drew back. “Though I can’t imagine why you would want such a thing, I intend to retire after ensuring the full truth about the Professor case has been brought out into the open. Once that’s done, the van Zieks family will be ostracized completely from London society.”

“You endured being the Reaper and now you’re going to give up over this?” Kazuma looked furious. “I still have a lot to learn from you! You’re not getting away from me that easily.”

The prosecutor stared at him for a moment, then sighed and looked away. “So be it. Although… I still have one question, Asogi.”

“And that is?”

“How much of today’s… theatrics were my brother’s idea?”

“I improvised the speech at the end, but the general idea was his.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“Lord van Zieks,” Susato said, “you really should see the rest of the will.” She held out the document that Doff had left with them, but when the prosecutor looked reluctant to take it, she withdrew it. “Or… I could read it, if you prefer…”

“Please,” van Zieks said, in a softer voice than Ryunosuke thought him capable of, and so Susato read the final paragraphs.

#

As I confront the prospect of my demise… I feel bitter regret for my younger brother.

Barok, you have always looked up to me, and now, you follow in my steps to become a prosecutor. It is my fervent wish that my unspeakable deeds should not hinder your advancement. I ask not for understanding, for none could understand my depravity. I ask only for forgiveness.

Asogi is a fine detective, and a hunter worthy of respect. He has agreed to honor my final two wishes. The first is that this document survives. The second… I cannot commit to paper.

I have confessed my sins to my wife. May she find resolution in my death. With my eternal gratitude to my Japanese friend, I rest my quill.

#

When she finished, van Zieks bowed his head, hand over his prosecutor’s badge. “Klint spoke to me about that second request.” He glanced at Kazuma. “I assume he also told you,” he added, with a slight trace of bitterness in his voice.

Kazuma lifted his hands. “Only because of that list.”

“Sorry,” Ryunosuke said, “but what are you talking about?”

No one said anything for a long moment, and then van Zieks finally said, “It concerns Iris Wilson. In actual fact, she is my brother’s daughter.”

“What?”

Susato looked at them with wide eyes. “But then… how did she come to be with Mr. Sholmes?”

“I confess that point still eludes me as well.”

Mikotoba cleared his throat. “Ah… I may be able to shed some light on that.”

He filled in the remaining details, how Genshin had requested that he help Lady van Zieks when he could not, and how he had left the newborn girl with Sholmes when he learned he couldn’t take her to Japan with him without disclosing her parentage.

It was a shock, especially on top of everything else that had happened.

“So,” Kazuma said, arms folded, “in light of the fact that she apparently spoke with Klint’s spirit at some point last night, which of you is going to have the fun of figuring out how much he told her? Because it’s certainly not going to be me.”

“I believe I should handle that,” a familiar voice rang out, “as it will be simple enough to deduce with a few careful questions!”

Ryunosuke turned to the antechamber door, where Sholmes stood as casually as if he’d been with them the entire time. “Mr. Sholmes! What are you doing here?”

“I happened to pick the lock on my cell,” he said, as though that were a fine thing to casually admit, “and what did I learn but that the paperwork for my arrest was never actually submitted! So I thought I’d come by the courthouse in case your gambit failed—though you seem to have handled things quite well!”

Ryunosuke looked at Kazuma, who shrugged.

“I was planning to get him after the trial,” he said. “There was no point in filing the paperwork when it was all a farce for Stronghart anyway.”

“Just leave the matter of determining what Iris knows to me, my dear fellows,” Sholmes said with a bow.

As if on cue, the rabbit Ryunosuke was still carrying abruptly pinched his hand, and Iris’s voice filled the room. “Runo! Is the trial over yet?”

“Oh!” He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Iris… I forgot you were waiting. Yes, we just finished. Everything worked out.”

“I’m so glad! Let’s have a party to celebrate!”

“That’s a lovely idea,” Susato said.

The door to the antechamber opened yet again, and the judge peered inside. “I hope I’m not interrupting…”

“Is that the judge?” Iris asked. “Oh, he should come too!”

“He did help out in the trial,” Ryunosuke said. “We might have been lost without him.”

The judge beamed. “I’d be delighted to join you.”

“And you too, Mr. Reaper! You simply must come!”

Van Zieks looked taken aback. “I—”

“He’ll be there!” Kazuma shouted toward the rabbit.

“Wonderful!” Iris cried.

The older prosecutor scowled at Kazuma. “Since when do you govern my actions, Asogi?”

“I don’t.” Kazuma folded his arms. “You can decline if you want. But I’m going… and I know embarrassing stories from your childhood.”

“…He wouldn’t have.”

Kazuma smirked and walked out of the antechamber.

With barely a pause, van Zieks chased after him. “Asogi, what did he tell you? Asogi!”

Ryunosuke stared after them. Somehow, despite everything, he had a feeling those two would be just fine after all.

Chapter Text

Kazuma walked alone through the streets of London as evening approached. Tomorrow morning, Ryunosuke would be returning to Japan to help change their legal system. Susato had chosen to go with him, although he didn’t know that yet. Kazuma wouldn’t stop them, but he couldn’t deny a twinge of loneliness when he thought about it. After all he’d done to bring Ryunosuke on the ship with him, they’d hardly had any time in London together.

Part of him was tempted to return to Japan as well, but his place was here. He would train to be a prosecutor under Barok van Zieks and learn to control the demons inside of him.

That night at Dunkirk still haunted him. When it came down to it, he’d wanted to kill Gregson. Even though he’d stopped himself, the desire had been there. And he was under no illusions about the dangers of how strongly he’d empathized with Klint.

Kazuma sighed. His pace slowed as he considered returning to his lodgings.

It was so quiet there. Quiet and empty.

Not that he enjoyed the experience of being haunted. Not one bit. He didn’t like staying up half the night making plans, he didn’t appreciate being woken up at 2 AM because assassins tried to kill Barok, and if he was woken in the middle of the night for small talk, he was just going to pull the blanket over his head and pretend he was alone. It was like having the sort of annoying neighbor who barged in whenever they felt like it, except Klint didn’t even use the door; he just appeared.

So Kazuma was pleased that was all over and he had time to himself again. Very pleased. Just… not used to things being so quiet.

His wandering had taken him near the Prosecutor’s Office. He paused, then headed toward it.

Some days, he swore Klint van Zieks existed to annoy him, personally. When he finally admitted he would miss the ghost once he left, that infuriating ingrate took advantage of his moment of weakness to ask for a favor. And not just any favor, he asked him to make peace with Barok! As if there was anything in the world Kazuma wanted to do less.

Kazuma looked up at the Prosecutor’s Office. No one should be there this late at night, but light flickered from the window of their office nevertheless. Of course. Because Barok van Zieks was even more exasperating than his brother.

He sighed and went inside. When he reached their office, he opened the door without knocking.

Barok stood by the window with a chalice of wine in hand. He looked over as Kazuma entered, his expression guarded.

Kazuma stopped. Why exactly was he there? He couldn’t very well say your dead brother wants me to be your friend, so here I am. “Ryunosuke and the Mikotobas will be leaving tomorrow,” he said. “I plan to see them off early in the morning, in case you want to say goodbye.”

“My presence there could only stir unwanted memories. I think it is best if I do not join you.”

Ugh, this was what he had to deal with. Kazuma fought down the urge to say something sarcastic. He just had to be calm and patient. “I’m planning to visit my father’s grave tomorrow, too. I thought perhaps you would want to come with me.”

Barok looked away. “Surely no one is less welcome at Genshin’s gravesite than I. The offer is kind, but I will not tarnish your visit.”

Calm and patient, calm and patient. “I would not have offered if I thought you were going to tarnish anything,” he said, although seriously, Barok’s sour attitude made conversations with him agony, so he probably would somehow make a visit to a grave even worse. “I am asking you to go with me, Ba—Lord van Zieks.” Wait, when had he started thinking of van Zieks by his given name? This had to be Klint’s fault somehow.

“The thought obviously pains you. You are under no obligation to me.”

Calm. And. Patient. “We can’t continue on like this.”

“I know you hate me, Asogi. Maintaining this pretense does no one any good.”

Calm and—“If you’re too much of a coward to face my father’s grave, fine, but don’t you dare turn it back on me and act like it’s my fault!”

Barok scowled. “Don’t take that tone with me, Asogi, not after you’re the one who barged into my office with unwanted invitations!”

“So then you admit it!” Kazuma said. “You admit it’s just that you don’t want to go. You can’t bring yourself to face what you did!”

“Don’t pretend you want me there.”

“You have no idea how I feel or what I think!”

The other man turned away.

Kazuma glared at the portrait on the wall as though it might convey his ire to Klint for being given such an impossible task as befriending this stubborn idiot, then stepped forward. “Tomorrow. You’re going with me to pay respects to my father even if I have to drag you there!”

Barok sighed. He suddenly looked very tired. “If agreeing is the only way to get peace of mind tonight, so be it.”

Progress! Kazuma decided to press his luck. “And, I was hoping you would allow me to visit Klint’s grave.”

Barok gave him a sharp look, then looked away. “I suppose that’s only fitting. You spent far more time with his spirit than I did.”

The edge of bitterness in his voice made Kazuma wince. “If it matters, I thought he should have appeared to you a lot earlier. He didn’t want you to see him as he was. I tried to convince him.”

“I know.”

An awkward silence filled the office.

Barok was quiet for a long time, and then he said, “I suppose we should make an attempt to get along. Knowing my brother, he might find a way to return again simply to throw things at us.”

Kazuma laughed in spite of himself. “You know, I believe he would.”

That seemed to break the tension between them. After another pause, Barok faced him. “Might I ask you something, Asogi?”

“What?”

“What happened that final night before my brother came to me?”

Kazuma narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I find it difficult to believe that only your doubt in whether or not he had appeared to me could explain your delayed arrival to the courtroom that morning, nor your sudden change in mood even before you sought answers from me.”

He exhaled. Had Barok and Ryunosuke traded notes, or was he simply cursed to be surrounded by perceptive people? “It doesn’t matter now.”

“It does.”

“Why?”

Barok folded his arms. “You claim to want to be my apprentice. I think I’m entitled to at least some answers.”

This infuriating—Kazuma gritted his teeth. So be it. He had to tell someone. “Fine.” He took a breath. “The night before the trial, I felt cornered. Stronghart had found a way to attack Klint directly, so he wouldn’t be able to help me. Sholmes was out of the picture. And Klint still refused to appear to you. It was starting to look like I’d be going up against Stronghart with no one on my side at all. It was starting to look… hopeless.”

The other prosecutor said nothing.

Kazuma looked out the window instead of meeting his gaze. “We were both thinking it. I could see it in his eyes. But I was the one who said it. I said maybe he should just kill Stronghart after all.”

Barok still gave no response.

“I told him I couldn’t face Stronghart alone. Either he had to appear to you so you could help me in the trial, or he should kill Stronghart. And in that moment, I realized… maybe I was more like Stronghart than I thought.”

“No.” Barok cut in, his voice so sharp that Kazuma turned to face him again. “Get that notion out of your head right now. You are not like Lord Stronghart.”

“Aren’t I?” Kazuma said. “As far as I know, there are only two people in this world who ever told your brother to kill someone.”

Barok flinched and placed his hand over his prosecutor’s badge. “The mere fact that it has you this disturbed is proof enough you are different.”

“Maybe so.” Kazuma sighed. “I would have turned myself in, you know. If Stronghart had died at Klint’s hands that night, I would have turned myself in for the crime.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “I can’t imagine what charge I would have plead guilty to. I’m fairly certain ‘inciting a ghost to murder’ doesn’t appear anywhere in the legal code.”

The silence that followed was more uncomfortable than ever. He shouldn’t have said all of that. He should have let it be his own dark secret forever.

They stood there at the window for a while, but at last, Barok turned to his desk. He began cutting up fruit. “I must thank you for feeding the bats in my absence.”

“Oh.” Kazuma considered whether or not to tell him Klint had demanded he feed his brother’s precious bats, but decided against it. “Sure.”

Once Barok had a plate of fruit sliced up, he walked to the opposite end of the office, where the bats roosted.

They descended upon him like a swarm, sitting on his shoulders and hanging from his coat as they ate the fruit. Kazuma followed with a scowl and grabbed a banana, which he unpeeled and shoved at the nearest bats. They fluttered to the other side of Barok.

Ungrateful wretches.

“Asogi, have you never had a pet before?” Barok asked in a dry voice.

Kazuma glared at him. “You’d think they’d be used to me by now!” He swung the banana at them again and caused a mass exodus toward the ceiling.

“You’re worse than Klint,” Barok said under his breath.

Miserable little—wait. Kazuma gave him a sharp look. “Are you saying the bats didn’t like your brother?”

“Klint never quite grasped that a creature small enough to fit in one’s hand must be approached differently than a dog larger than some people. After enough times of him thundering around the room, the bats simply began to scatter the moment they heard him coming.”

Kazuma’s mouth opened and shut a few times as he stewed in righteous indignation, and then he finally managed to form words. “He laughed at me!” While all the time knowing perfectly well that the bats never warmed up to him either. “He let me believe—he—oh, that miserable—”

Barok stared at him. Then he choked back a laugh.

“Not you too!” Kazuma snapped, but that just made Barok laugh harder.

It was a real, genuine laugh. Kazuma hadn’t even known he could do that. Against his will, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he forced it down and glared at the floor to keep it away. He wasn’t supposed to feel happy right now.

Yet somehow, he did.

“I’ll show you how to feed the bats properly,” Barok said.

“I never asked for your help,” Kazuma said, grumbling.

The mood in the office felt different than before. He felt different, too. Like he had a glimmer of hope again. The two of them, they could do this.

The dead had moved on to rest at last. Yet for the living, it was time for life to go on.