The atmosphere in the conference room felt as though it had solidified.
If Benson's extremely strange generosity had merely shocked and surprised them before, now that Mary was boldly extending her hand all the way to the South Bank warehouse district, everyone's nerves were on edge.
They had completely abandoned their pretense of acting.
The East District textile factory was the family's lifeline, and the South Bank logistics and warehousing business was also the family's lifeline.
Although Arthur Morstan could still move and had overall control of the situation, due to his strong desire for domination, he feared his subordinates gaining too much power and rarely entrusted these two critical aspects to the same person at the same time.
Therefore, the East District had always been directly managed by Arthur's confidants, while the South Bank had been given to Philip, a member of a collateral branch, as a means of appeasement and checks and balances.
This young woman who had not even graduated yet was using this crisis to try to control both the blood-making machine and the transfusion line with her own hands.
That was a bit too greedy.
If she succeeded, the power balance within the Morstan Group would completely collapse, and she would become a more centralized business dictator than her father. In that case, the veteran executives sitting in this conference room would only be able to receive dividends by pleasing her, and might even be expelled at any time like Philip.
"I agree!"
Benson was the first to stand up, breaking the silence.
He stood up so vigorously in his excitement that he knocked over the wooden chair behind him.
However, this rude behavior, which would normally have drawn attention, was unusually ignored in this conference room that was about to spiral out of control.
Everyone stared at Benson Morstan as if looking at a madman. His face was covered in cold sweat, and his fat body was trembling slightly.
"Benson! What's wrong with you?!"
Adrian stared at his nephew, who had offered to pay twenty thousand pounds out of his own pocket, in disbelief. His clouded eyes were filled with the anger of betrayal.
"That's the South Bank warehouse! The other half of the Morstan Group's lifeline! Are you agreeing to hand over management rights to her?!"
"Do you realize how much power this will give that girl within the company?!"
"I… I know exactly how big it is."
Benson took a deep breath, desperately trying to suppress his trembling voice.
Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but glance toward Mary, who was sitting majestically in the main seat.
The girl rested her chin on her hand, a perfect smile on her translucent, soft face, and nodded at him with just a slight show of interest.
"But I understand even more clearly that now is not the time for the family to continue internal strife over management rights!"
Benson forcibly averted his gaze and instead looked at the enraged Adrian, Howard, and the others. His tone was stiff, yet eerily resolute.
"Dear elders! Everyone knows very well how Scotland Yard operates!"
"If this were a typical smuggling case, with our connections and accumulated financial power in London, we might be able to negotiate an early unsealing of the harmless goods and warehouses."
"But the situation is different now. That man Philip has gotten involved with standard-issue weapons! And even high-performance explosives!"
He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and his voice suddenly grew louder.
"A case like this reaches the highest levels of the government. Even if Lestrade had the courage of a bear and the thickness of a leopard's hide, he would never accept bribes or make someone lose face at this critical juncture!"
"The seals on those two doors would be useless even if the Joint Management Committee or the Mayor of London personally begged!"
"So, are you saying we can only watch her helplessly?"
Howard asked with a frown.
"How could a mere girl who hasn't even graduated from university pull a warehouse out of Scotland Yard's minefield?"
"Because of her… she…" Benson stammered.
"What right does she have?"
"How am I supposed to know?!"
"Because… because I believe in my niece!"
In the end, he blurted out those words in a daze, drawing even more complicated gazes from those around him.
Is that something you should be saying?
Everyone couldn't help but wonder, and upon seeing Benson's sudden change in expression, they couldn't help but feel uneasy.
Everyone knew that this fat man had previously incited the strike, so how could his attitude change so drastically in just two days? Something was wrong—something fishy was definitely going on.
The conference room fell silent again for a moment. No one made a sound, but everyone was lost in their own thoughts.
No one was a fool.
Benson Morstan was a shrewd and opportunistic figure within the family who had eagerly coveted a share even after Arthur's downfall. Yet not only had he voluntarily donated twenty thousand pounds to make up for the East End's financial difficulties, but he was now wholeheartedly supporting Mary's takeover of the South Bank?
That absurdity was exactly the same as Arthur Morstan suddenly resurrecting in perfect health.
Anyone who had navigated the business world for years, seeing the distraught and sweat-soaked state he was in when he entered, would have been able to sense the terrifying conspiracy playing out there.
Benson had definitely exposed a fatal weakness.
And the one manipulating him was without a doubt the seemingly harmless young girl sitting in the front row.
Howard and Adrian exchanged a glance for a moment.
The anger that had first arisen from Mary's almost arrogant threats gradually cooled and was replaced by a deep sense of unease.
They were not afraid of Mary's youthful arrogance, but they feared such underhanded tactics that could force deep-rooted power to submit overnight.
"Mr. Benson's personal opinion does not represent the resolution of the entire board of directors."
Adrian took a deep breath, lightly tapped the ground with his cane again, and forcibly took control of the situation.
Having held this position for many years, he naturally knew how to find the most legally sound excuse when placed in a disadvantageous position.
"You have succeeded in resolving the raw material problem in the East District in a short time and even persuaded Uncle Benson to provide financial support."
"This indeed shows a glimpse of the talent you possess as the successor of the Morstan family."
He emphasized the word "persuaded," and it was very meaningful.
"However, rules are rules. The dismissal and reappointment of the person in charge of the South Bank warehouse, a core secondary industry division of the entire Morstan Group, cannot be decided by an emotional outburst like 'whoever can unseal the warehouse can become the person in charge.'"
Adrian looked around the conference table and said in a calm voice,
"According to the company's articles of association, changes in the person in charge of the group's main business divisions require a vote at a formal large-scale shareholders' meeting, and a two-thirds majority or more of the votes must be obtained for the change to take effect. Clearly, even with Mr. Benson's support, we still have not reached the required number of votes."
"If you truly care about the family, you should agree to the board establishing a temporary joint management committee to share the risks. This is the optimal solution based on sound business logic."
Upon hearing this, the girl finally let out a sigh of relief. The tension that had been holding her body taut completely relaxed in that moment.
It felt as though she had finally gotten the answer she had been seeking. A heavy weight seemed to lift from her shoulders.
"After all that arguing, it still didn't work out in the end, right?"
She asked as if confirming something.
"This is the majority opinion."
Adrian said.
"Then let's drag it out."
The girl said.
"What do you mean by that, Mary?"
Howard frowned. "Do you intend to keep being stubborn forever?"
"I'm still young, so what's wrong with throwing a tantrum?"
The girl seemed to have completely discarded her pretense. Even the gentleness in her eyes had disappeared, leaving only contempt.
"Elders, let's stop with the so-called formalities. Talking like this is really… tiring."
"Shall we speak frankly and without reservation?"
She stood up from the large office chair, placed both hands on the desk, and leaned forward slightly.
The sharp fangs she had been hiding behind her gentle demeanor were finally completely exposed for all to see in that moment.
"What I want to make clear today is that if the South Shore warehouse is not under my jurisdiction…"
"Then, before I die, no one will be able to unseal the doors of those two warehouses."
She stared fixedly at everyone present and carefully repeated each word.
"No one will get involved."
With that, she turned around and walked toward the door.
Bang!
William forcefully closed the heavy oak door behind Mary.
In the corridor, the moment Mary turned the corner, the straight back she had been holding finally relaxed a little.
She exhaled deeply, as though she had set down a heavy load. The atmosphere in the conference room that had been cold enough to swallow the entire room vanished without a trace, like the receding tide.
"William…"
The old butler William, who was following behind her, looked at her retreating figure with a complicated expression.
"Did you… push them a little too hard just now?"
William said in a low, somewhat worried voice.
"If I don't push them to the limit, they will think I still have conditions I can compromise on and that there is room for negotiation."
Mary said quietly, without pausing.
"For these hyenas who are used to bullying the weak and fearing the strong, if I take one step back, they will advance little by little and eventually take a big step forward."
"Only when you put a knife to the thing they value most and tell them they will die if they disobey the order will they truly learn how to wag their tails for their master."
As she spoke, she lifted the hem of her expensive but heavy velvet dress and slightly furrowed her brows.
"William, prepare the carriage. This dress's corset is making it hard to breathe."
"Yes, Miss."
…
Meanwhile, in the conference room right next door, utter chaos had already broken out.
"She's gone mad! Completely mad!"
Howard angrily smashed the bone china teacup in front of him onto the ground, leaving a dirty stain of high-quality black tea on the expensive carpet.
"Who does she think she is? Even if she had Scotland Yard and Buckingham Palace seal the warehouse, doesn't she fear defiling the Morstan family's hundred-year legacy?!"
Adrian Morstan leaned on his cane, his face covered in spots looking as gloomy as if water were about to drip from it.
He did not look at the enraged Howard. Instead, he stared fixedly at Benson, who was desperately wiping his sweat with a handkerchief.
"Benson."
Adrian's voice was as cold as ice.
"Give me a satisfactory explanation by the end of today."
"Why did you take the action of transferring twenty thousand pounds in cash to her at such a critical juncture?"
"What exactly does this girl have that is making you give her the upper hand?"
"I… I have nothing to hide!"
Benson trembled.
"I already said it—I'm only doing this for the benefit of the entire family!"
"Are we just going to stand by and watch the East District factory get liquidated by the bank for default?!"
"That's complete nonsense about the big picture!"
Adrian slammed his cane onto the ground, making an ear-splitting sound.
"Do you think we don't know? You looked like a death-row prisoner who had just been taken down from the gallows! What the hell happened?!"
Benson said nothing. He simply trembled as he threw a card onto the center of the table.
The entire venue fell silent.
…
221B Baker Street.
Russell yawned, pushed open the door, greeted Mrs. Hudson, and then headed straight for his own room.
When he pushed open the door to the room, Charlotte was sitting on the sofa, listlessly reading a book.
She glanced up at him when she saw he had returned, then immediately looked away.
Russell set down his backpack, sat on the sofa, and poured himself a cup of black tea.
"Is everything settled?"
"If you're asking about the weapons matter, that's already been resolved."
Charlotte said, "Lestrade's mouth is about to split from grinning."
"That's good."
Russell nodded without asking anything about Mary's situation.
Charlotte might not know about this.
Seeing that he said nothing more, Charlotte raised her face again.
She looked at the energetic Russell in front of her and slightly furrowed her brows, as though surprised by his boundless energy.
"Aren't you sleepy?"
She asked, "Have you rested at all since 1 a.m. last night?"
"I took a nap during lunch break."
Russell said, "It's very quiet without Mary."
That was true. Mary had not come to school today, and Russell had experienced being ignored for the first time in a long while.
After finishing the grueling classes, he had gone to an empty classroom during lunch break and slept soundly for several days' worth of rest.
Upon hearing this, Charlotte raised an eyebrow but said nothing more.
Russell lay on the sofa with his eyes closed for a while, until Mrs. Hudson's voice came from downstairs, and he slowly opened his eyes.
The atmosphere at dinner was warm and filled with everyday warmth. The wind and snow outside the window seemed like background noise from another world in this extremely quiet 221B Baker Street.
Around 8 p.m., the light from a carriage's headlights pierced through the cold mist of the winter night and stopped under the gas lamp beside Baker Street.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
Russell, who had been adding wood to the fireplace in the living room, stopped what he was doing. Charlotte, who was drinking tea on the sofa, also slightly raised her eyes.
"Who on earth would it be at this late hour?"
Mrs. Hudson muttered to herself in confusion and went to open the door while wiping her hands.
A moment later, Mrs. Hudson reappeared holding a beautifully wrapped dark green velvet gift box.
"Russell, this was delivered by an old butler in a tuxedo. Miss Morstan specially instructed that no matter what, it must be handed over to you personally tonight."
"Butler William?"
Russell stepped forward and took the rather heavy gift box.
"My, this child is really something. Even with such a huge change in her family, she still sends us gifts."
Mrs. Hudson sighed with sorrow and wisely turned around to go downstairs and start clearing the remaining dishes in the kitchen.
Russell placed the gift box on the coffee table.
The ribbon tied around the box seemed to have been tied only recently, and it faintly carried a familiar scent of white camellias.
Charlotte set down her teacup and stared intently into the box like a radar.
"Open it. Let's see what reward this newly crowned queen of the business world is giving to her most contributing client on the first day of her reign."
Russell smiled and gently moved his long, slender fingers to untie the velvet ribbon.
When the box was opened, there were no extremely expensive checks, cheap checks, or gold bars inside.
On the left was a can of Darjeeling tea—Mrs. Hudson's favorite and extremely difficult to obtain on the market.
On the right were two boxes of butter-flavored potato chips from one of London's top patisseries.
In the middle was an unsigned envelope, adorned only with a vivid drawing of cat ears done in ink.
"Oh."
Charlotte let out a contemptuous sneer.
Russell pretended not to see the murderous intent that was about to burst from the great detective's eyes and calmly opened the envelope.
The stationery was written in Mary's delicate and flowing cursive script.
To my dearest thief:
The raw material shortage problem in the East District has been resolved. I hope the expressions of the elderly gentlemen who attended the board meeting are clearly visible in your eyes as well.
The only regret is that I still couldn't force them to compromise today, but that's fine. I can wait, and I have plenty of time. So I consider myself the winner of this first round.
Russell, thanks to you. Thank you for pointing out the flaws in the plan. Otherwise, I would have been even busier. How wonderful it would be if I could sit on your lap in this warm study on this winter festive night and drink victory champagne with you. But unfortunately, there are so many things I have to do that I can't leave here for a while. Not being able to see you all day feels a little strange.
(Helpless doodle emoji)
Please give my regards to Mrs. Hudson and Charlotte. The tea and cookies are a token of gratitude for hosting me.
Once things settle down, I plan to live there again. After all, I was properly paying the rent.
Let's put Cousin Adrian aside for now. From what Charlotte said, you've been busy almost all night without sleeping. That won't do. Do you remember what you promised me?
Eat well and rest well.
If you have dark circles under your eyes at school tomorrow… I'll get angry, okay?
Good night. May you dream of me by the fireplace on Baker Street.
—Even though I'm busy, I miss you so much.
Mary.
Russell stared at the letter in his hand and couldn't help but smile at the corners of his mouth.
"What did the letter say?"
Charlotte asked with great interest.
"A great success."
Russell held back his laughter and neatly folded the letter.
"Is failing to secure the South Shore storage facility considered a great success?"
Charlotte raised one eyebrow.
"You really noticed that?"
Russell looked at her in surprise.
"This doesn't require any deduction. Anyone with a little common sense would understand."
Charlotte hummed lightly, set down her teacup, and turned her gaze to the beautifully wrapped dessert box.
"If she had truly achieved a great victory at this afternoon's board meeting, given her habit of showing off and her desire to be praised in front of you, what she would be sending now would definitely not be a can of butter cookies."
"Instead, a carriage bearing the Morstan family crest would have come to pick you up and take you to Kensington, where you would celebrate with champagne."
The girl raised her chin slightly, a faint trace of contempt seeping into her tone.
"It seems the blitzkrieg has turned into a war of attrition."
"She used swift and decisive means to intimidate those old men. Well, she ran into tough opponents and is now in a stalemate, right?"
"A brilliant performance."
Russell offered heartfelt applause.
"But that's not a problem. As long as the South Bank warehouses remain sealed, the initiative is still in her hands. These things shouldn't be rushed."
"I'm worried that if this situation drags on, it will cause even bigger problems."
Charlotte said this, then extended her long, slender white fingers, took a butter biscuit from the box Russell had opened, and took a small bite.
"The taste is pretty good."
She muttered something, took the letter from Russell, casually glanced through it, and returned it to him.
"If she told you to rest, then you should stay on Baker Street tonight and not go bothering Adrian."
Charlotte raised her eyes and stared fixedly at Russell's face. He still looked quite energetic, but a slight trace of fatigue was already visible in his eyes.
"You've been working nonstop for almost twenty-four hours since early yesterday morning."
"Go take a hot shower right now, then go back to bed and close your eyes."
"Understood, Miss Holmes."
Russell shrugged but showed no sign of resistance.
To be honest, after the intense infiltration operation, ammunition transport, and confrontation with Lestrade, even if his physical body was far superior to that of an ordinary person, a deep sense of fatigue had surged over him like a tide.
He stood up, handed the can of Darjeeling tea to Mrs. Hudson, and headed to the bathroom with a change of clothes.
When Russell came out of the bathroom with his still dripping hair half-dried, the lights in the living room had already been dimmed.
The smokeless coal in the fireplace glowed orange, keeping the room temperature at an extremely comfortable level.
He yawned and lay down on the sofa, only to notice that the pillow and blanket had been put away somewhere.
Ever since that night, Charlotte had been furious and made him sleep on the sofa.
But now that the pillow and blanket were gone, Russell had no choice but to get up and go to the bedroom to check.
Inside the bedroom, Charlotte had changed into a simple cotton nightgown. Her curly hair fell smoothly over her shoulders as she sat on the single bed in Russell's room.
The girl held a thick book and was reading by the light of the brass gas lamp on the bedside table. From the edge of the blanket, her long, straight legs were faintly visible.
Even when she heard the sound of the door opening, she didn't even raise her eyelids and simply said, "I thought you had fallen asleep in the bath."
"Dying that way wouldn't be a very dignified death."
Russell smiled and hung the towel he had used to dry his hair over the back of the chair.
"Where are my pillow and blanket?"
"Aren't they here?"
Charlotte pointed to the side of herself.
"You're not going to make me sleep on the sofa anymore?"
Russell raised one eyebrow.
"I'm not such a cold-hearted person that I would abuse my roommate."
"I thought you had scheduled another experiment."
The moment she heard those words, Charlotte's fingers that had been turning the pages of the book froze completely.
The girl's face turned clearly red. Then she forcefully closed the book, grabbed the spare pillow beside her, and without hesitation smashed it into Russell's face.
"Russell Watson!"
Charlotte gritted her teeth, but at the same time felt a little guilty.
"Now, right now, immediately close your eyes and go to sleep!"
Russell firmly caught the pillow that had been thrown at him and let out a small laugh.
He stopped teasing the out-of-breath cat, lifted the edge of the blanket, and lay down inside it.
The warmth of her body after the hot shower and the clean scent of soap instantly filled the other half of the bed.
Russell put one hand behind his head, turned toward Charlotte who had her back to him, and casually pulled the gas lamp cord.
Click.
The bedroom grew dim. Only the pale yellow light from the fireplace flickered on the walls.
"Good night, great detective."
He spoke quietly, his voice tinged with deep fatigue.
Charlotte did not turn around. In the darkness, she gently pulled the blanket tighter and wrapped herself more snugly.
"Don't think this covers one day's worth of interest."
She muttered something under her breath.