Her voice was like the first breeze through a forest at dawn—cool, carrying the scent of white tea, gentle, not the least bit annoying or fanciful.
Russell's sleepiness nearly vanished. He slowly lifted his head to see Mary's blue eyes smiling at him like the Aegean Sea. She wore her proper school uniform today, with her long silver hair simply tied back—not looking at all lazy.
A few strands of her hair fluttered across her white cheek like fine snowflakes, stirred by the soft breeze from the window. She sat beside him, as if the blank space of awe and exclusion around them simply didn't exist. Or perhaps, Mary Morstan enjoyed this exclusivity.
"Good morning…" Russell replied flatly, as usual scanning around before mumbling an answer.
Immediately, all the eyes that had been glued to them scattered like startled birds the moment he turned his head—though, if anything, even more covert looks of jealousy and confusion lingered.
Unfortunately, this time, Russell earned no malice points.
The girl's smile grew even brighter.
"Didn't sleep well again last night?" Mary asked, placing her textbook on the table, her tone casual.
"Hmm… not bad." Russell yawned, lounging comfortably in his chair, squinting into the pleasant sunlight.
"I see." Mary didn't push, just sat quietly, flipping the pages of her book. She seemed to enjoy the atmosphere—the peaceful moment of simply being near this interesting soul, free from all the calculating stares of those around. It was like finding the only person at a masquerade without a mask. (Though, perhaps, Russell simply couldn't be bothered to wear one.)
Soon, the old professor entered, lightly tapped the blackboard, and began class—making Russell even sleepier.
Just then, Mary's voice sounded again, low enough for only Russell to hear.
"By the way, did you know Timmy Roy dropped out of school?"
"Hm?" Russell raised an eyebrow. "Well, if I got slapped by a girl in front of the whole class—no, in front of all the freshmen—I'd drop out, too. It's probably a testament to his mental strength that he didn't just off himself after all that."
"That's the story, but truthfully, he didn't drop out on his own," Mary said quietly, shifting her gaze to Timmy Roy's old seat in the front row. "When the story hit the Times, the parents of everyone involved were furious. They pressured the school, and with Ethan Roy disgraced, the school quickly expelled Timmy. If the love letter incident hadn't happened, the Roys' downfall alone wouldn't have affected Timmy."
At least, he could have continued as a student at Imperial College London.
"So—" she hesitated, as if waiting for Russell to elaborate.
"So, you're saying he got expelled because of me?" Russell said.
"That's right." Mary smiled.
"And?" Russell yawned. "Is it my fault?"
"I didn't say that." Mary shrugged. Her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight with a touch of sarcasm. "But I just don't want to share a classroom with some piece of scum who plays with girls' feelings. Surely, you're not that kind of guy, Russell?"
"Still, there must be some girl who's willing to throw her heart at me," Russell couldn't help but mumble.
[Your answer has upset Mary Morstan; Malice Level +10]
Eh? DANGER! Instantly, Russell's drowsy eyes cleared. Crap—he'd said the wrong thing!
He slowly, somewhat stiffly, turned his head toward the girl beside him. Sunlight was still warm, tree shadows gently swayed outside, the old professor's voice like a lullaby—everything serene.
Except for Mary Morstan.
Her smile remained, but the warmth had long since faded. Instead, a deadly calm—a quiet before the storm—had settled on her face.
"…Well…" she said softly, her voice as gentle as always, but utterly lacking warmth. "If you had the choice, would you want to become a scumbag who plays with young girls' feelings?"
"I never said that," Russell immediately shook his head.
"Then what did you mean by that last remark?" Mary asked, her eyes fixed on Russell's.
"Ah, that was just self-deprecation. Yeah—me poking fun at myself," Russell hurriedly explained. "Look at my current situation: everyone tries to keep at least ten meters away from me. Can't even have a normal conversation, let alone play with someone's feelings. And even if I could—I wouldn't want to."
Mary's expression didn't change at first, but gradually the invisible frost melted. It was replaced with a faint, mocking—and triumphant—smile, like a cat toying with its prey.
"Don't worry, Russell," she said softly. "I was joking. You didn't really think I was mad, right?"
You never can tell, Russell thought privately, though his words were honest.
"I just wanted to clear up any negative or mistaken impressions you might have about me," he said.
"Is that so?" Mary remained vague, then turned her gaze back to the podium as if nothing had happened.
For now, it's safe…
That can't go on, Russell thought. He'd need to change the subject desperately.
Come on, don't be so dense. Think of something to talk about!
Russell collapsed onto the table, racking his brains for a new conversation topic.
I've got it—Holly David's case!
His eyes brightened, and he sat up straight.
"By the way, Mary, have you—"
"By the way, Russell—"
They spoke simultaneously. Then fell silent, surprised by the other's initiative.
Finally, Russell relented, letting Mary speak first: "Ladies first."
Hearing this, Mary smiled, glanced over at the podium, and—after making sure the professor's attention was elsewhere—began in a careful whisper.
"Actually… I was thinking about Moriarty."