[But since Watson is nice, I’ll give you a chance.]

This Object sure is full of itself.

The first impression I had of Watson, the flying gas lamp, was that it was arrogant.

Its attitude seemed haughty at first glance.

Moreover, it smelled like blood, wasn’t cute, had a creepy voice, and didn’t really interest me as an Object.

I wasn’t particularly interested, but since the detective seemed to need it to find the mirror’s location, I quietly listened to the conversation.

Otherwise, I might have smacked it on the head…

Watson, who had been bragging and chattering away to the detective, suddenly stopped when it met my eyes, and then did something completely unexpected.

Smoke started pouring out of the lamp, engulfing the entire camp.

It felt like we had entered a cloud.

This cloud seemed to swallow sound as well, making the noise from the detective and his assistant sound distant.

At the moment when everything went silent, a blood-red lightning flashed inside the cloud, creating an eerie atmosphere.

Is this supposed to be like a haunted house attraction? I wondered, as a giant shadow began to loom within the cloud.

Watson, now towering over me like a mountain, looked incredibly imposing and strong.

But to me, it seemed more like a frightened pufferfish, puffing itself up in fear.

[‘Eyes’?]

[I definitely felt ‘eyes’.]

[Am I mistaken?]

Watson looked at me as it spoke.

Since I had the concept of being an Object that couldn’t communicate, I could only tilt my head in confusion, pretending not to understand.

[No intelligence? Can something with ‘eyes’ really lack intelligence?]

[No foresight, no clairvoyance, no mind-reading… But still, I sense ‘eyes’. Am I just imagining it?]

‘Eyes’? If by ‘eyes,’ it meant something that could see special things, then I did have one.

An eye that sees how to kill its target.

Watson, still huge, circled around me, observing closely, then retracted the smoke and returned to its original size.

It seemed like it was related to some bothersome issue, but since I couldn’t communicate, it passed by without incident.

Yes, maintaining the concept of being non-communicative was the right choice!

The smoke that Watson suddenly released had engulfed everything around us, but it quickly dissipated.

“What on earth just happened, Detective?”

“I’m not sure. Doesn’t seem like much has changed…”

The assistant, still scared from the sudden event, clutched his hammer tightly, looking like he was ready to strike anyone who approached.

The Gray Reaper was still gazing at Watson with a disinterested expression.

Watson tried to act nonchalant, but it was clear that it was bothered by the Gray Reaper.

“No, something definitely changed. Watson’s attitude seems a bit different now.”

Watson, who had previously exuded an air of condescension, now seemed to display a hint of caution after releasing the smoke.

Caution, or maybe it was fear?

Watson turned away from the Gray Reaper and continued speaking.

[If you cheat, it’s death, but…]

[I’ll give you a chance.]

[Holmes is special, after all.]

“What kind of chance are you giving us?”

Watson thought for a moment before answering my question.

[I’ll give you a very light penalty.]

[You must not leave this camp. You cannot leave until you complete the task.]

[I think that’s a fair penalty.]

[If Holmes fails the task, he’ll die right there.]

[Burning with the missile!]

It was indeed a ‘light penalty,’ as Watson said.

With less than 24 hours remaining, even if we left the camp, we wouldn’t find a more effective solution.

It was better to resolve this here, even if it meant crawling into the sinkhole.

However, just because the difficulty didn’t change, didn’t mean we could solve it.

That’s when a possible solution came to mind.

Watson could communicate.

It had a clear sense of self.

Objects that demanded a price often did things beyond their abilities if you paid them enough.

Perhaps Watson was one of those Objects that demanded a price?

Moreover, since it had intelligence and could communicate, it was possible to negotiate.

No, I had to negotiate.

“Watson, let’s make a deal! Tell me the location of the Object that’s producing the butterflies!”

[No.]

[Are you trying to avoid the trial?]

[Are you giving up on the case?]

Trial, give up, task, cheating. These were the keywords Watson was obsessed with.

The ‘Holmes’ that Watson spoke of was inconsistent and confusing, but it seemed to be someone who faced difficult trials and solved cases with integrity.

If so, then the key to negotiation might lie in that word ‘Holmes.’

“Watson, let’s make a deal! I’ll complete another trial worthy of Holmes. So tell me the location of the Object that’s producing the butterflies!”

[A trial?]

[The trial we give will be harder than this case, you know?]

[Holmes could actually solve this task, you know?]

[You might turn the 0.1% chance of success into 0%.]

“Even so, I want to make a deal!”

For a moment, I felt like I might be making a mistake, but I decided to trust my instincts and judgment.

If I tried to find the Object myself, I had a feeling I would never succeed.

Even if I did find it, it would be after 24 hours had passed.

[Alright, I’ll give you a trial.]

[A trial for Holmes!]

[If you fail the trial, Holmes is mine.]

[If you succeed, I’ll eliminate that Object.]

Watson smiled meaningfully and then revealed the trial.

[A difficult trial. A very difficult trial.]

[This Holmes has bad luck.]

[You just have to choose the Object you’re looking for here.]

The trial Watson gave was simply picking the right photo.

The detective was staring intently at the photos, considering various possibilities.

The assistant, holding his hammer, was assisting the detective but didn’t seem to be making much progress.

‘An Object that produces butterflies.’

We had to find the right one among over a hundred photos with just this vague clue?

The odds were less than 1%.

A large object resembling a door could be said to release butterflies from the door, and an object shaped like a butterfly cocoon could be said to be a cocoon that continuously spawns butterflies… The reasoning could go in any direction, making it impossible to logically choose the correct answer.

Of course, I knew more information, so I could make a logical judgment.

I knew that the Object producing the butterflies was the ‘Black Mirror.’

Still, I didn’t show any signs of knowing.

Who knew how Watson would react?

For now, I would watch how the detective handled it.

The trial Watson gave was absurd.

There were exactly 152 photos laid out, and it asked us to pick the one that was our target Object.

The only given clue was that it was an Object that produced butterflies.

But that wasn’t a hint.

Picking based on the hint that it produced butterflies wasn’t deduction, it was guessing.

Watson was right.

It was impossible to get it right.

Should I trust my luck and guess?

If I was going to rely on luck, I might as well not have negotiated and just searched the camp directly.

The odds were better than 1 in 152!

I wouldn’t have done something as ridiculous as leaving it to luck!

“Sigh…”

I took a deep breath to calm myself.

Even the assistant was staring hard at the photos, trying to find something.

If I didn’t keep my head straight here, I wouldn’t deserve to be called a detective.

If I was going to trust luck and make a guess, there was something I needed.

I took out a ‘lucky coin’ and flipped it.

I caught the coin as it flew up and opened my palm to see the result.

The number was 20. It was just the number I needed at this moment when I was about to leave everything to luck.

At that moment, a thought suddenly occurred to me.

Seeing the number 20 on the coin made me reconsider.

Was I missing something?

The assistant beside me was examining the photos with a worried expression.

The Gray Reaper was looking at me with a curious gaze.

No, it felt more like a professor watching a student.

A gaze that already knew the answer and was checking to see if I would pick the right one.

Did the Gray Reaper know something?

“Watson! Do I have to be the one to pick the photo? Can the assistant or the Gray Reaper solve it?”

[I’ll allow the assistant to solve it.]

[What about the Reaper?]

[The Reaper has no ‘eyes,’ and hasn’t borrowed any ‘eyes,’ so isn’t that fine?]

[Yeah, I’ll allow the Reaper to solve it too.]

I decided to trust my observational skills.

Rather than leave it to a less than 1% chance, I would trust my observation.

“Gray Reaper. Help me.”

As I said that, the Gray Reaper, who had been watching me, smiled faintly and walked over to the photos.

Step by step.

The Gray Reaper picked up one photo and held it high above his head.

The photo depicted a ‘Black Mirror.’

[Holmes was supposed to solve it? Is it okay for a comrade to solve it?]

[‘Eyes’?]

[Did we allow this?]

[Is it not ‘eyes’?]

[Is this not cheating?]

[This is strange.]

Watson murmured in confusion.

Its amorphous shadow twisted in confusion, leaking red blood.

And then, suddenly, the distortion stopped.

[Holmes. Congratulations.]

At that moment, the butterflies reflected in the monocle all simultaneously flew into the sky.

And then, somewhere in the camp, the sound of a mirror shattering could be heard.

Clap, clap, clap.

The sound of Watson’s applause echoed.

[You passed the trial.]

[See you next time.]

[You survived today.]

With those words, Watson disappeared in an instant.

The Gray Reaper was staring blankly at the sky.

I looked up to see what he was seeing, and the sky was filled with the torn corpses of black butterflies.

“Assistant! Run quickly!”

To avoid being swept away by the endless rain of butterfly corpses, we ran out of the camp as fast as we could.

By then, the Gray Reaper had already vanished.