"Why do you think I am looking for him?"
Mary did not admit it, nor did she deny it. Instead, she countered with a question.
"Because of your line of sight." Charlotte swirled the liquid in her glass, the golden liquor refracting a blurred, mesmerizing light under the crystal chandelier.
"From the moment you entered until now, you have scanned the entrance a total of thirty-seven times, averaging once per minute.
And while your gaze lingers on others for an average of about 0.8 seconds, it stays at the entrance for more than 3 seconds.
In conclusion—you are waiting for a latecomer."
Charlotte did not speak fast; she even had the presence of mind to eat a couple of cookies before continuing methodically:
"And among all the Imperial College freshmen invited today, the only one who did not receive an invitation letter, yet has a legitimate reason for being absent, is him—Russell Watson."
She paused, then added as if she had just thought of it:
"Of course, the above is merely a conclusion drawn from the perspective of deduction."
"Then what about from a non-deductive perspective?" Mary asked.
"From a non-deductive perspective—he told me beforehand.
I was merely working backward from the answer." Charlotte shrugged.
"Tch." Mary clicked her tongue softly, her brows furrowing slightly.
"By the way."
Charlotte glanced at Mary, taking in every micro-expression of the young girl, before speaking again.
"What?" Mary looked sideways.
"He showed anticipation regarding the matter of 'dancing with you'."
"..."
·
·
Meanwhile, Hyde Street.
[Mary Morstan is dissatisfied with your loose lips. Malice Points +10]
Russell listened silently to the System notification ringing in his mind, his mood complicated.
What did he do this time?
Although he was happy to gain Malice Points, surely it didn't have to be like this?
At this rate, he was going to be sitting at the same table as a Class A war criminal.
Whatever. He just needed to finish this quickly and then rush over to the party.
Hopefully, everything would still be in time.
Russell took a deep breath. The cold night wind poured into his lungs, blowing away the chaotic thoughts in his mind.
He slowly put on the white mask painted with a bizarre smiling face and finally adjusted his collar.
The night was the Phantom Thief's best camouflage.
Moriarty, it was time to take the stage.
The night wind on Hyde Street was exceptionally cold, rolling up fallen leaves and swirling them in the air.
Russell pulled down the brim of his hat, his figure blending into the night as he silently vaulted over the iron fence of the Roy Estate—a barrier that looked imposing but was actually more style than substance.
His toes touched the ground without a sound.
The lawn in the courtyard was trimmed like a carpet, its soft texture absorbing any noise he might have made.
Next, he pulled the grappling hook gun from his chest, aiming it at the second-floor terrace.
Thwip—
The grappling hook precisely bypassed the gaps between the terrace railings and embedded itself into the stone wall behind them.
Russell leaped lightly, pulling himself up to the second floor as the cable retracted.
The terrace under the moonlight was empty. He holstered the grappling hook gun and walked into the pitch-black room, then moved to the door leading to the corridor.
Russell did not rush to open the door. Instead, he pressed his ear against it, listening quietly to the movement outside.
At this moment, Ethan Roy and his wife were still in the living room on the first floor. He could faintly hear them on a phone call with someone, occasionally accompanied by the pretentious laughter of old money.
Aside from that, there were footsteps on the second floor, and more than one set.
Clearly, these were the guards of the Roy Estate.
Russell placed his hand on the doorknob, opening it when the footsteps moved away, pulling the door just enough to leave it ajar.
Then, by observing the shadows under the door crack and frame, he confirmed the guards' movement patterns.
The internal structural map of the Roy Estate emerged in Russell's mind. He marked the guard distribution he had analyzed onto the map one by one.
It was more troublesome than estimated during his initial casing.
Loose on the outside, tight on the inside. This Minister Ethan Roy was more cautious than he had imagined.
In the corridor, two guards patrolled a fixed route, their footsteps steady and powerful.
Their patrol route covered almost all key areas, and the cross-fire visual network formed by their intersecting paths left almost no blind spots.
Of course, only almost.
Russell's gaze fell beneath the feet of the two guards, onto the shadows elongated by the lights.
A bold idea surfaced in his mind.
There was only one chance.
He took a deep breath, lowered his body, and carefully observed and listened to their movement trajectories.
Until the moment one guard turned around, passing back-to-back with the other guard.
Russell slipped out of the door crack soundlessly, his movements light to the extreme.
The [Stealth C++] skill gave him perfect control over every muscle in his body.
He didn't choose to hide in the shadows; that was too conventional and too easily discovered.
So, he chose the most dangerous, yet safest place—inside the guard's own shadow.
Russell stepped precisely into the visual blind spot left when the guard turned around. His body pressed tightly against the other's back, the rhythm of his steps overlapping perfectly with the guard's.
He even adjusted the frequency of his breathing to match the other person.
The guard's broad physique completely obscured him. He was like a ghost behind the man's back, a non-existent shadow walking under the light.
The guard seemed to sense something, a vague chill coming from the back of his neck. He subconsciously looked back.
There was nothing behind him.
Only the steady back of his companion at the end of the corridor.
He shook his head self-mockingly, thinking he was too nervous, and continued his patrol forward.
Russell was right behind him, less than a centimeter away, maintaining the same stride frequency, walking openly yet soundlessly within the mansion.
Where the guard went, he went. Even when passing his destination, he didn't stop.
Because he was waiting.
Waiting for the three-minute window that would appear during the shift change.
When the muffled bell of the clock tower rang, the two guards in the corridor stopped at a fork in the road.
They looked at each other, nodded tacitly, and then walked in different directions—it was time to change shifts.
The instant the two walked separate ways and their lines of sight completely separated, Russell's figure peeled away from the guard's shadow like a wisp of smoke.
He made no sound. Tapping his toes lightly, his body darted into the corridor on the left leading to the study as gracefully as a cat.
The operation formally began.
The lock on the study door was an old-fashioned cruciform lock. For Russell, who possessed [Sleight of Hand C+], it was a matter of ten seconds.
Click. After an almost inaudible sound, the door opened.
A smell of cigars mixed with the scent of old books hit him in the face.
Russell slipped in and gently closed the door.
The System map lit up in Russell's mind. The red dot indicating a high-value item was currently hidden behind the bookcase.
His gaze turned to the neat bookcase, which was filled with all kinds of books, though most served only a decorative purpose.
Russell then stepped forward, took down a book that wasn't particularly eye-catching, and holding it, walked to another compartment of the bookshelf that was already full of books.
His hand brushed over the spines one by one, then stopped on one of them. He reached out and knocked on it twice.
Hollow.
He took it down and swapped in the book he was holding.
The moment the book was embedded, the sound of a mechanism rang out.
________________________________________
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