7 a.m.
Despite sleeping only three hours, Russell's internal clock woke him right on time.
The first thing he felt when he opened his eyes was a tingling numbness in his right arm.
Charlotte's pillow had gone missing during the night, and his right arm had unfortunately taken its place.
Russell sighed softly. He slowly lifted her head, freed his arm, and slipped a proper pillow beneath her.
Though his movements were extremely gentle, Charlotte still furrowed her brows in faint displeasure.
She unconsciously waved her hand, as if searching for the lost temperature-controlled pillow, but could only end up hugging the blanket beside her and muttering something in her sleep.
Russell smiled. He tucked the blanket around her, quietly got out of bed, grabbed his clothes, and left the bedroom.
After washing up, Russell put on his usual apron and headed to the kitchen on the first floor.
The early-morning kitchen had a cool, refreshing atmosphere.
He lit the brass gas stove and tossed the chopped bacon into the frying pan.
With a sizzling sound, the oil melted instantly at high heat, and a rich caramel aroma broke the quiet of the early morning.
Just as he was about to crack two eggs, light footsteps came from the kitchen doorway.
Along with the familiar scent, Mary appeared at the entrance.
She was wearing the Imperial College London uniform, with a beige cashmere coat draped over it.
Her long pale-yellow hair was not dyed today. It was casually tied with a ribbon, with a few stray curls hanging beside her fair cheeks. Her emerald-green eyes overflowed with unconcealable affection.
"Good morning, Russell."
She said, "You came back quite late last night, didn't you?"
"I needed to see things with my own eyes to feel at ease."
Russell replied without changing his expression as he cracked four eggs into the pan.
"You should have slept a little longer. You must have been exhausted yesterday."
"I can't sleep well when you're not beside me."
Mary walked quickly to his side and naturally wrapped both arms around his waist from behind.
She pressed her cheek against Russell's broad back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
"It smells like Charlotte. Did you sleep in her room?"
She asked with a hint of displeasure.
"I had no choice. I didn't want to trouble her."
Russell said.
"Please tell me everything."
Mary pouted. "Is it all done?"
"Hmm," Russell replied while slowly flipping the bacon with a spatula. "Meat delivery carriage, iron counterweights, and the bottomless mud at the lower reaches of the Thames."
Even if Scotland Yard drained the entire river, they wouldn't find a single trace of that person.
"That's good."
Mary nodded. "From now on, I only need to focus on those troublesome relatives at home."
"Did they come looking for you?"
Russell asked.
"I think they will soon."
Mary looked at the bacon in the pan and said, "I have to go home after school today. The next few days are going to be busy."
She counted on her fingers as she spoke.
"I have to deal with the troublesome issues Father left behind, and deal with those annoying relatives as well." She paused and looked at Russell. "I still have to help someone with their final report."
"You seem extremely busy."
Russell maintained his ambiguous attitude and showed no shame befitting an academic parasite.
"Yes, I'm very tired, so could I trouble my dear Russell to give me a little time for a massage?"
As she spoke, she stood on tiptoe and gently blew into Russell's ear.
"Please don't play around in the kitchen area."
Russell said without changing his expression. "Sit down. It's breakfast time."
"Yes, Mr. Phantom Thief."
Instead of restraining herself, Mary escalated further. As if punishing him, she stood on tiptoe and lightly bit Russell's earlobe. Like a cat that had stolen a fish, she narrowed her eyes, put her hands behind her back, and quickly walked to the dining table, sitting down obediently.
Russell shook his head helplessly and casually served the bacon onto plates. He then skillfully spread butter in the frying pan, preparing to fry the eggs.
Charlotte and Mrs. Hudson were still asleep. The cold winter air and the warm bed made it hard for them to leave their rooms. Especially Charlotte, who had stayed up until dawn and had only just fallen asleep. The two of them quietly finished breakfast, covered the remaining food with warming lids, and left 221B Baker Street.
"This is the first time I've walked to school."
Mary stepped onto the snow-covered street. "In the past, I always took a carriage."
"I also want to go to school by carriage, but I don't have such means."
Russell said.
"It's simple," the girl winked playfully. "Just come stay at Kensington."
"Then let's forget about that."
Russell shrugged. "Charlotte would kill me."
As he spoke, he glanced at the girl walking beside him.
Her pale-yellow hair glowed with a warm light in the winter morning sun. Her emerald-green eyes reflected the white snow.
"What's wrong?"
Noticing Russell's gaze, Mary turned her face toward him with a puzzled look.
"Is there something on my face?"
"No, I was just thinking."
Russell said.
"What?"
The girl tilted her head.
"Your hair and eyes."
Russell pointed at Mary's hair and eyes.
"When we get to school, how are you going to explain it? How do you explain that your hair and eye color were burned in the fire?"
"Don't worry, I've already thought of an excuse for that."
…
Mary smiled and naturally took Russell's arm.
She cleared her throat, and her expression changed perfectly in a fraction of a second.
The relaxed, languid, and somewhat seductive atmosphere vanished instantly.
Instead, there was a fragility and sadness that made one's heart ache.
Her shoulders trembled slightly, and tears immediately welled up in her emerald eyes, as if she had suffered a great injustice.
"The fire destroyed Father's study and all the memories with Mother…"
She lowered her head slightly. Her voice was hoarse, mixed with uncontrollable sobs.
"Ever since Mother passed away, Father has been thinking about her day and night, becoming obsessed."
"He ordered custom contact lenses from Germany to match Mother's eye color. Then he asked someone to dye my hair silver just like Mother's. Everything was to find traces of Mother in me.
I couldn't help missing Mother. Even though I knew it was wrong, I let him do it."
"At least, when I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I could still see traces of Mother. That's how I remembered her."
She looked up with tears in her eyes, gazing at Russell with a pitiful look.
"But now, the fire has burned away everything that could have preserved those memories."
Father is still in the hospital, hovering between life and death… I've already lost Mother, so I can't afford to show weakness anymore.
"Ah, poor thing…"
The female professor's eyes had already turned red. She stepped forward and hugged Mary with deep sorrow.
Afterward, no one mentioned the fire again, nor did anyone ask about her hair or eyes.
The way they looked at Russell was now filled with admiration and respect.
For Russell, it was hard to tell whether this was good or bad.
The good news is that people will finally stop being angry with me.
The troubling thing is, who will fill in the missing "degree of malice"?
The morning classes ended under an unspoken understanding.
Almost all the professors deliberately avoided asking questions, fearing they would touch Mary's delicate heart, which seemed on the verge of shattering.
The ladies in the cafeteria, knowing Mary's situation, gave the two of them free dessert.
In the afternoon, the two arrived at the familiar yet rarely visited empty classroom.
The moment the heavy wooden door closed and completely blocked the view from the hallway, Mary's staggering and sorrowful expression vanished in an instant.
She let out a sigh of relief, then turned around without hesitation. Using the posture in which Russell was sitting on the bench, she skillfully straddled his lap.
"Phew, pretending to be weak is really exhausting…"
The girl sighed and naturally wrapped both arms around Russell's neck. The fragile and delicate expression she had shown moments ago disappeared instantly.
"But you're enjoying it, aren't you?"
Russell supported her waist with one hand to prevent her from falling, while his other hand casually played with her long golden hair.
"You gave the best actress performance today. You moved the entire school to tears."
"I've already shown great generosity by not harshly criticizing that man in public."
She said.
"He can't speak a single word now. How does he look? I can't tell just by talking to him."
"Doesn't your conscience hurt?"
Russell asked.
Hearing this, the girl's lips curved into a slight arc.
"Does it hurt? Want to try feeling it?"
Mary leaned closer to Russell and whispered.
The girl leaned forward slightly, pressing her chest against Russell's palm without any resistance. Through the soft beige coat and inner undergarment, Russell could clearly feel the astonishing heat emanating from her body and the slight rise and fall of her breathing.
Her emerald-green eyes carried the shyness typical of a young girl, but even more so, an expectation born from tasting the sweetness of success.
Russell stared at her without averting his gaze.
In any case, they were already completely honest with each other, and he had proven with facts who the real hunter was in this matter.
He raised his free hand and gently placed it on Mary's left chest. In his palm, he felt her calm yet powerful heartbeat.
Her heart is beating a little faster.
He said, "But that wasn't from guilt or regret, let alone so-called pangs of conscience."
"Oh? What's the reason?"
Mary asked softly.
"The reason seems to be… excessive dopamine secretion."
Russell said.
"It seems the outstanding student at Imperial College London is expecting something inappropriate to happen in this holy land of knowledge."
She lightly closed her fingers, skillfully touching the nerve with perfect precision.
"Mmm…"
The girl let out a hoarse moan, her breathing quickening slightly.
"The classroom is empty, but someone might pass by, Russell."
She spoke in a calm tone, with no hint of reproach in her voice.
"Yes, if someone finds out, we'll have no way to prove our innocence."
Russell avoided making a direct statement.
"Then, Miss Morstan, would you mind letting go of my hand?"
He looked at the hand the girl was tightly gripping with her arm.
"No way! If someone finds out, I'll just say you forced me."
Mary smiled mischievously.
"Not unless you tell me what you did last night — I mean, what you did after you came back."
"What else could I do? I talked with Charlotte for a bit and then went to sleep."
Russell said.
"In her bedroom?"
"Grace always comes with a price."
Russell said.
Hearing this, the girl pouted and adjusted her sitting position on Russell's lap.
"Alright, it's class time. Let's go."
Russell ruffled Mary's hair and tucked one strand behind her ear.
"Um… understood."
The girl coughed twice lightly, then stood up. She smoothed the slightly wrinkled hem of her dark long skirt, took a small silver-rimmed mirror from her pocket, and carefully checked her cheeks, which still had a faint blush.
She gently patted her cheeks to cool the surprising heat, then re-tied her messy pale-yellow hair with the ribbon.
The corners of her eyes were still slightly red, and her lips were fuller and more moist than usual, exuding a delicate beauty after thorough care.
However, just before Russell grabbed the heavy oak doorknob, Mary took a deep breath.
It was as if the perfect mask had been reattached to her soul.
The underground queen who had been in the empty classroom moments ago, looking around and forcing the phantom thief to surrender, vanished in an instant.
In her place was a fragile young lady who had just experienced a dramatic family change and could only rely on her lover.
"Creak—"
Russell forcefully opened the sturdy wooden door.
Mary naturally drew closer to Russell.
Her slender legs wrapped in black stockings moved with light and elegant steps, and her hand gently gripped the cuff of Russell's coat.
"Good morning, Miss Morstan, Mr. Watson."
The teaching assistant wearing gold-rimmed glasses walked toward the two of them. Upon seeing them, he immediately slowed his pace and greeted them in a gentle tone filled with sympathy and pity.
He deliberately avoided touching Mary's long pale-yellow hair, fearing it would touch the girl's delicate and sorrowful emotions.
Mary paused for a moment, put on a pale but lovely smile, and nodded obediently.
"Good morning, Mr. Smith."
Her voice was still slightly unnaturally hoarse, as if she had just been crying or had strained her throat from excessive grief.
Hearing this, the teaching assistant felt a pang of sorrow, sighed, and stepped aside. He gave Russell a solemn look, implicitly saying, "Please take good care of her."
Russell nodded lightly without changing his expression and continued walking down the bustling hallway while firmly protecting the girl beside him.
As the two walked through the corridor where light and shadow intertwined, they looked like the most enviable yet most heartbreaking couple at Imperial College.
Until they turned the corner of the deserted stairs, there were no more curious or pitying glances.
A slightly puzzled smile finally appeared on Russell's calm and handsome face.
He lowered his head slightly and whispered in the girl's ear in a low voice only the two of them could hear.
"Is your voice okay? I heard you talking earlier, and it was so hoarse you couldn't even pronounce a single note properly."
Hearing this half-teasing, half-concerned expression, the girl who had looked so pitiful moments ago suddenly extended two delicate white fingers and firmly pinched Russell's soft waist through his coat.
"What do you think? Whose fault do you think this is…?"
Mary lowered her voice and gave him a reproachful look. A trace of shyness and coquettishness flashed in her emerald-green eyes. An uncontrollable faint blush spread across her originally pale cheeks.
"Alright, alright. Drink more hot water."
Russell took a paper cup, poured warm water into it, and handed it to Mary.
The girl took it, slowly drank it sip by sip, and washed away the stickiness in her throat and the residue in her mouth.
The warm water slid down her esophagus, completely washing away the dryness in the back of her throat and that indescribable ambiguous sensation.
Mary let out a sigh of relief, returned the empty paper cup to Russell, took a lace handkerchief with a white camellia scent from her skirt pocket, and elegantly touched the corner of her lips.
"Now let's go. It's class time."
As snow fell, time quietly passed. The long, resounding bell marked the end of classes for the day at Imperial College.
The previously silent lecture hall instantly came alive. Students began packing up their textbooks, and whispers turned into a lively buzz.
The two walked out of the classroom side by side. The students around them lowered their voices when they saw Mary and made way for the two of them.
A few noble ladies who were usually close to Mary only sent worried glances from afar, fearing that their rash approach would disturb her delicate state — a state that required quiet rest.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, Russell escorted Mary through the bustling school corridor.
When the two reached the school gate, Mary's gaze was immediately drawn to the row of carriages on the street.
The Morstan family carriage was still parked in its usual spot.
The moment the two stepped out of the school gate, the butler in a black tailcoat and white gloves quickly opened a large black umbrella and stepped forward to shield the two from the swirling snow.
"Good afternoon, Miss. Good afternoon, Mr. Watson."
The old butler William bowed his head slightly in a respectful and calm tone.
He glanced at Mary's striking pale-yellow hair and was momentarily stunned.
Because Mary had been staying at Baker Street for the past two days, he hadn't noticed such a change in his young mistress.
"Your hair…"
"It's been washed out."
Mary said in a calm tone. "Father is currently unable to contact the person who provided the solution, so to maintain the quality of my hair, I had to wash out the color first."
"The contact lenses… I don't know where they fell off either… I was crying so hard at the time that I didn't notice they were gone."
She said this with a slightly apologetic tone.
Hearing her words, the butler's surprise and confusion gradually faded, replaced by sympathy and understanding.
"Understood. The current situation with the Master is complicated, and there is absolutely no time to worry about such superficial matters."
William said.
"How is the situation at the mansion?"
Mary asked.
"The main damage is concentrated in the investigation area, and the restoration is expected to take about two weeks with the construction team. As for the other relatives…"
The old butler paused for a moment, then lowered his voice. "They have already been enthusiastically sending visitation invitations, but I have temporarily declined all of them on the grounds of your studies and deep grief."
"Understood. Thank you for your hard work, William."
"Are you going back to Baker Street again today?"
William asked, but Mary shook her head.
"No, please take me home first."
She said, "I have the right mindset now. I will take over Father's work."
"Understood…"
William nodded lightly and looked at Russell beside her.
"What about Mr. Watson?"
"He's staying with me. I'll send him back to Baker Street after dinner."
Mary said.
"I see."
William nodded lightly. "Then please get in the carriage, both of you."
William forcefully closed the heavy carriage door from the outside, completely blocking out the swirling snowflakes and London's cold wind.
With the coachman's light call, the wheels began rolling over the thick snow on the road.
Mary's previously straight back immediately relaxed. She slowly exhaled and leaned toward Russell without hesitation, placing half her weight on his arm.
"Pretending to be a victim is really exhausting…"
The girl complained softly in a hoarse voice.
Russell adjusted his posture so she could sit more comfortably, then extended his hand wearing a black leather glove and gently wrapped his arm around the girl's slender shoulders.
She reached out and idly fiddled with the buttons on Russell's coat.
"That person has become a vegetable. And a considerable number of hyenas have already gathered around the greasy, blood-scented chunks of meat from the Morstan family."
The invitation William received was only the first wave of probing. Distant blood relatives and uncles were probably gathering in some club's billiard room right now, discussing excuses to legally seize this poor orphan girl's vast fortune.
"You seem to be facing a tough battle ahead."
Russell chuckled softly.
"What do you plan to do?"
He asked.
"If possible, make excuses."
Mary said.
"The most urgent task right now is to ensure the already accepted contracts and orders are fulfilled."
"Because Father fell ill, some people have begun to withdraw and dissolve cooperative relationships.
I have to make them recognize my value. Only then can I demonstrate sufficient qualifications to others."
"Do you need any help?"
Russell asked.
"Not for now."
Mary shook her head. "I plan to do my best on my own first."
After saying that, she quickly changed the subject.
"I have the confidence to satisfy those who are willing to continue the cooperative relationship. The real difficulty lies in the competitors who are plotting to take advantage of my weakness, and especially the latter — those unfortunate relatives who are desperate to corner me."
"If necessary, I may need your help to divert their attention."
"For example?"
"For example, help me steal some debt guarantee documents or business contracts with bad reputations."
"Wouldn't that damage the reputation of the Morstan family business?"
"As long as it's not made public."
Mary smiled mischievously.
"A gun is most intimidating before the trigger is pulled. It's enough to let the enemy know that the gun is loaded with bullets."
"That would expose your connection to Moriarty."
"So what if they know?"
Mary tilted her head.
"Regardless of whether it's true or not, who has the evidence to prove it?"
"Moriarty handed the stolen goods to me, probably because he couldn't stand a group of old men bullying a lady."
"Furthermore, by the time evidence or proof of guilt arrives… I see. So, what do you think will happen?
Will they continue baring their fangs to divide my fortune, or will they kneel like loyal old dogs and kiss my skirt, begging for forgiveness?"
"Even if it really comes to the point where it has to be made public, the Guardian will stand on my side. Although the Times and the Guardian are in opposition, because of Moriarty's existence, both papers will stand on my side. In other words, it depends on your choice."
"Their accusations against me are nothing more than suspicion. I could even sue them for defamation.
Whether in public opinion or in reality, the initiative is in my hands. What is there to worry about?"
"You really seem to have planned everything perfectly."
Bertrand Russell sighed.
"Of course."
The girl hummed proudly.
Hearing this, Russell raised one eyebrow and said sarcastically.
"But hiring Moriarty comes at a very high price, Professor."
"I don't mind. Just name your price."
Mary smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and met his gaze without flinching. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered gently in his ear.
"In the worst case, I'll offer my entire life."