Chapter Nine: A Treasure Map?

"What are those guys doing?"

Morley hid behind a street corner, his expression struggling to remain composed.

Three men were skulking behind a statue ahead. With their matching black suits, sunglasses, frequent leering glances, and identical, sinister grins, they were clearly the crème de la crème of stereotypical henchmen.

Morley had originally intended to follow his plan and search the vicinity of Tokyo Tower for any clues left behind by the ringleader—since he had been arrested there, he might have left some trace nearby. By backtracking from those traces, Morley hoped to find a former hideout or some hidden message. However, seeing this trio, he realized there was no need to waste time and effort searching for clues.

Two European faces and one East Asian face—they perfectly matched the news reports describing the gang members. Not to mention they were carrying sidearms; if they weren't part of the criminal syndicate, they would be failing their commitment to embodying the public’s stereotype of a criminal.

Furthermore, these three had been sneakily tailing a group of four elementary school students for quite some time. Most importantly, the leader of those students was the former Shinichi Kudo, who was currently deep in thought while holding a slip of paper. According to Morley’s investigation, this kid encountered incidents several times more frequently than Sherlock Holmes, and they always came to him—he could just be walking down the street and stumble upon a murder case. He was busier than Holmes, who spent his days waiting for clients; it was hard to argue he wasn't being targeted by the will of the world itself.

Conan was currently holding the note, stroking his chin as he walked, while the three lackeys followed the group in a way that was, in Morley’s eyes, painfully obvious.

*That kid Conan, what is he looking at on that note? Let me take a look too!*

Morley followed along, channeling enhancement magecraft to sharpen his vision.

"Interesting... is it actually a treasure map?"

The note in Conan’s hand contained a set of ciphers divided into three parts by separator lines. The first part depicted Tokyo Tower and the moon. The second part consisted of five consecutive symbols, with the word "ORO"—Italian for "gold"—written next to the fifth. Given the current situation, Morley figured this note was likely a "treasure map" used to locate the 15,000 maple leaf gold coins. The third part featured a fish-shaped icon.

To Morley, ciphers like these were relatively simple. If a treasure-hunting cipher was divided into three sections, it generally represented three pieces of information: a starting point, path markers, and a key.

"If the first part is the starting point, that shape is clearly Tokyo Tower. Does the moon imply nighttime? Why must one set out at night to see the markers?"

Morley rubbed his chin, leaning out from the corner to watch the trio of lackeys move further away before nonchalantly following again.

"The five symbols representing the path—the first looks like a hat, the second is an inverted triangle, then an umbrella, a pentagram inside a circle, and two rectangles stacked together... And they have to be invisible during the day, only visible at night."

Synthesizing the information, Morley deduced, "That Italian guy needed a negotiator fluent in Italian, which means he likely doesn't speak Japanese."

"So, this certainly isn't some word game based on the Japanese language. And, it can only be seen at night, only at night..."

Tokyo's neon lights? That was the first thing that came to Morley’s mind.

Morley hailed from 1873. While London had already popularized street lamps by then, there were only a few places in London at the time that could be called bustling at night. Places like the Royal Theatre on Drury Lane or the Coburg Theatre in the West End were licensed, legitimate venues where playwrights from across Europe vied to stage their works. Every performance filled those streets with upper-class gentlemen and beautiful noblewomen in their finest attire; yet, compared to the flashing neon lights of downtown Tokyo at night, London’s nightscape seemed dim and colorless.

Moreover, neon lights that turned off during the day and lit up at night perfectly matched the emphasis on nighttime in the first part of the cipher.

Thus, Morley hypothesized that the ciphers referred to neon lights visible along the route. Since "gold" was written next to the fifth symbol, that was likely the treasure's location.

However, the fish in the third section puzzled him. If the fifth mark was the location, then this last, isolated symbol likely represented the key—the condition required to obtain the treasure. A fish? When one thinks of fish, one thinks of rivers... could the treasure be with the fish? Underwater?

Lost in the process of cracking the code, Morley was distracted and bumped into someone in front of him.

"Watch where you're going, kid!" the man he bumped into growled, his expression fierce.

*Uh... isn't this one of the three Japanese henchmen? Did I walk too fast? Or... did they stop?*

To avoid alerting them, Morley apologized profusely with a forced smile. Fortunately, the three seemed to have their own tasks, so they didn't dwell on it, merely hurling a few harsh words before telling him to get lost. Seeing this, Morley hurried past them, not sparing a glance for Conan’s group, and ducked into a public restroom nearby.

As he entered, he caught a glimpse of Conan and the elementary school students sitting in a café, looking exhausted and sipping milk or juice through straws.

*No wonder those three stopped...* Morley entered a stall, laid down some paper, and sat on the toilet lid to think.

"This won't do. If I keep trailing them with this face, it will definitely raise suspicion. Besides, Conan has seen me before. If I get the coins and he finds out, will I still be able to play the part of a law-abiding citizen?"

He decided to change his appearance temporarily. As for which identity he was most familiar with, which one felt the most natural and effortless to perform?

Naturally, it was the Napoleon of Crime, the shadow lurking at the edge of the spider's web, the King of the European underworld—James Moriarty himself, or rather, his older version.

It must be noted that before participating in the Holy Grail War, Morley was merely a promising young man with significant achievements in mathematics. However, after synchronizing with his older self, Morley was able to observe the life his "future self" would likely lead over the coming decades. Regardless of whether one likes that lifestyle—it is difficult to say if everyone grows up to live the life they wanted as a youth or becomes the person they hoped to be—those decades of experience and the persona of the "elder professor" were deeply etched into Morley’s soul.

After his soul materialized, Morley organized his inner self, summarizing those records and distilling them into a complete image. He was thus able to weave it into a disguise.

Morley stood up.

"Henshin!"

This was the trigger for self-suggestion and the incantation to begin the ritual. Immediately, he pulled a shawl patterned with blue swallowtail butterflies from the imaginary space and draped it over his shoulders.

This shawl was woven from the part of Morley’s soul that held the elder professor; draping it over himself signified using this facet of his soul to mask his original features. Since Morley was a materialized soul, his soul *was* his body. When the soul donned a disguise, its manifestation on his physical form was—

A stream of fine blue light coiled around his body. With a flash of white light, Morley vanished, and a man slightly taller than Morley appeared in the stall.

"Hmm, a bit unexpected."

Distinct from Morley’s bright, clear youth voice, this magnetic tone was low and raspy, the icy inflection chilling to hear.

"I expected to manifest my elder years; I didn't think it would be this state. I hope I can restrain myself later... I still have use for those three lackeys, so I hope they don't seek death."

Morley’s current image was that of himself in his thirties or forties. His silver hair was unkempt, brushed back casually with a few strands falling over his forehead. He wore a black long trench coat, a grey vest, and dress trousers, all impeccably tailored. As it was a magical craft specialized for flexibility, it was perfectly suitable for combat.

"Damn it, Moran, saying the boss has to look sharp even if it means sacrificing some combat power, otherwise it’s not enough to lead the underlings... and then you had me custom-make this suit. Ah, I’m getting confused again. I’m a university professor at this age, where the hell would I have a Moran..."

In the early days of the organization, manpower was scarce, and there were times when the boss had to act personally. The Morley of that era was no pushover.

His younger self was proud and reserved. His older self was humorous and kind on the surface, yet cold and ruthless within. The middle-aged Morley, during the founding of the organization, was always synonymous with precision, efficiency, and coldness—much like the Difference Engine Babbage had envisioned. Only, what pumped through his heart was not steam, but the blood of crime; and what he outputted was not numbers, but a pitch-black will.

However, the main body and core of his soul remained the younger Morley. This layer of disguise was merely a thin veil over the shallow layers of his soul, changing his image without significantly altering his behavioral style. Thus, while his actions might become more cruel, they wouldn't be *too* cruel.

Patting his cheeks, Morley took two handguns from the imaginary space and sat back down on the toilet lid.

Beretta M92F, developed by the Italian firm Beretta. Excellent, reliable, and battle-tested. Morley closed his eyes, and silver-grey light paths crawled from his hands onto the two pistols.

As mana gradually permeated the handguns and the synchronization deepened, Morley understood their structure and operation perfectly.

Morley opened his eyes, practiced with the guns to familiarize himself with their feel and weight, then stored them back in the imaginary space and pushed open the stall door.

He intended to find the gold coins and, at the same time, take control of those lackeys to make them do some labor. Since they had decided to rob these coins, they must have their own channels for fencing stolen goods, which he could put to good use. Besides, he needed manpower to transport the gold; Morley couldn't do it alone. If they were sensible, he might let them have a taste of the spoils, and perhaps he would even take them on as subordinates—if they were capable, it wasn't impossible for them to become officers later on. But if they couldn't read the room and did something regrettable...

Morley couldn't guarantee how many of them would survive.