Early the next morning.
The sky had not yet fully brightened; outside the window stretched a hazy expanse of gray.
At 221B Baker Street, Russell stifled a yawn as he plated the last perfectly cooked soft-boiled egg, stacking it atop the fully cooked fried egg.
The moment he set it down, the sound of footsteps descending the stairs reached his ears.
Charlotte respawned at the foot of the staircase, punctual as an NPC.
"Morning."
The girl spoke, her voice carrying a hint of just-woken hoarseness.
Russell turned to look and saw Charlotte descending the stairs in that oversized robe of hers, still bleary-eyed with sleep.
"Morning," Russell said, carrying the plate over to the dining table. "Your breakfast."
Charlotte pulled out a chair and sat down. Her gaze lingered first on the two perfectly shaped fried eggs on the plate, then drifted over to the newspaper beside them.
Today's headlines, at least, carried no further news about Moriarty.
That was mainly because, following the Hannigan case, the frequency of Russell's Phantom Thief activities had dropped considerably.
He already had more than enough on his plate at the moment. Stealing things could wait until he had some free time to spare.
What's more, finals were fast approaching. He couldn't even sleep during class anymore—it was time to start reviewing.
He had no intention of failing.
Charlotte spread open her toast, then stacked the two fried eggs together, closed it up, and took a bite.
"How does it taste?" Russell asked, sitting down across from her and casually picking up his own sandwich.
"Not bad," Charlotte replied indistinctly, licking the corner of her mouth.
Two different textures and levels of doneness mingled in her mouth—the runny yolk enveloping the egg white and the toast, delivering a rich eating experience.
"Did the sales figures for The Times and The Guardian arrive?" Charlotte asked.
"They did." Russell nodded and casually picked up the report lying beside him, handing it over to Charlotte.
"See for yourself."
Charlotte reached out to take it and gave it a quick once-over.
The sales of the two newspapers were nearly identical—ignoring the trailing digits, they were essentially even.
But if one factored in those last digits as well, then The Guardian's sales came out a notch higher.
After all, The Times had recently taken a hit over the Lloyds Bank affair. Though it had slowly clawed the losses back, the aftershock hadn't entirely faded.
Add to that the head start The Guardian had enjoyed to build up hype, and its sales lead came as no surprise.
Besides, for all anyone knew, Mary really had bought a copy for every single servant in her household.
"Looks like a tie," Russell quipped, conveniently ignoring those not-so-negligible trailing digits.
Charlotte pursed her lips, tossed the report aside, and, refusing to look at it any longer, turned all of her attention to the food in front of her.
Breakfast came to an end in a reasonably harmonious atmosphere.
Russell finished the milk in his cup, then rose and returned to his room, throwing himself back into that mountainous heap of files, all while mulling over the two numbers he'd extracted from Charles.
As for Russell, he shouldered his backpack and left Baker Street, heading for Imperial College.
Imperial College, the lecture hall.
The moment Russell's figure appeared in the doorway, Mary had already turned her head, smiling as she greeted him.
"Good morning."
"Morning." Russell sat down beside her.
It had only been a single day apart, yet for some reason, upon seeing the girl before him again, Russell felt as though a lifetime had passed.
As if a very long time had gone by.
How strange.
"What are you thinking about?" Mary's voice pulled Russell's scattered, drifting thoughts back.
The girl rested her chin in her hands, those azure-blue eyes—so remarkably clear in the morning light—gazing at him with curiosity, as though they could see through all his worries and disguises.
"Nothing." Russell shook his head, that easy, casual smile settling back onto his face.
"I was just thinking—it's only been a day, yet it somehow feels like ages have passed."
"Doesn't that just prove you've been looking forward to today?" The girl blinked, her tone laced with teasing and mockery.
"Were you really that eager to see me, Student Russell?"
"That's right," Russell nodded generously. "When I go a whole day without seeing Miss Mary, I feel like there are ants crawling all over me."
One strike, and the sleeping dragon emerges from the mountains!
"..." The smile on the girl's face froze instantly.
Within her chest, something seemed to start beating faster, and for a moment even her breathing quickened.
The morning light slanted in through the window, falling squarely upon her, warming the tips of her ears until they burned.
"You're always saying such strange things," Mary muttered, her fingers toying with her long hair.
She turned her face away, trying to use that moonlight-silver hair to hide her ears, which had shamefully begun to grow hot.
Russell raised an eyebrow, looking at the girl's slightly flustered profile and those earlobes faintly tinged pink in the sunlight, the smile at the corner of his mouth growing ever more pronounced.
"I'm joking," he said.
Mary didn't turn back, merely letting out a soft, ambiguous hum from her nose.
"Are you angry?"
"No." she answered, her voice sounding muffled.
"So you are angry." Russell chuckled.
"I told you, I'm not." Mary turned back around, her azure eyes looking at him helplessly, seeming to have already recovered her usual composure.
It was only that a faint, not-yet-fully-faded blush still lingered on those pretty cheeks.
"I'm not a child anymore…"
The class bell rang at just the right moment, and the professor's figure appeared punctually upon the podium.
With practiced understanding, the two of them set aside their idle chatter and each turned to their own tasks.
When Mary noticed that Russell, unusually, wasn't sleeping but was actually listening to Professor Fields's lecture, she couldn't help feeling a little surprised.
"Did you have too much coffee this morning?" the girl asked in a low voice, unable to help herself.
"Finals are almost here," Russell shrugged. "I'm not planning to compete for any scholarships, but at the very least I've got to avoid failing."
"I'm afraid," he added, "that if I spend the whole semester like this, Professor Fields won't even be willing to bail me out when the time comes."
Hearing this, Mary let out a soft laugh and said nothing more, simply returning her attention to the lecture.
The morning's classes slipped away quietly in silence.
Russell's head gained a few pieces of knowledge he couldn't quite comprehend.
Mary's notebook gained a brand-new illustration.
At noon, the familiar empty classroom.
The girl held her sandwich in both hands, chewing in small bites as she listened to Russell recount his experience of the business trip he'd taken with Charlotte the day before.
"So, you've already gotten two of the numbers?" she asked.
"Mm, an eight and a nine," Russell nodded.
"Six digits, and even knowing two of them, there are still four digits left unknown."
Hearing this, Mary pondered for a moment, then said:
"Which means there are three hundred thousand possible arrangements in total."
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