The two of them stood quietly in front of the greenhouse for a while, then started walking again.
Louise led him across the lawn where she usually practiced horseback riding, and then deeper into the woods, to a quiet lake where swans glided over the surface.
Wherever they went, she played the part of a capable little tour guide, introducing Russell to the history of the grounds and various amusing anecdotes.
Russell, for his part, never once interrupted her. He played the role of a completely attentive listener with unwavering devotion.
From time to time, he would offer a brief comment of his own.
He did not speak much, but whenever he did, he somehow managed to drape the familiar scenery in that unique, mysterious, and romantic aura belonging only to the gentleman thief Moriarty.
At last, they arrived at a marble viewing platform that overlooked most of the gardens.
Louise sat down on the cool stone bench, propped her chin in her hands, and let out a contented sigh.
"Thank you, Mr. Moriarty," she said earnestly. "This has been the most wonderful night of my life."
"And thank you, dear tour guide."
Leaning casually against the railing, Russell replied with equal lightness.
"What about you?" Louise gathered her courage and finally asked the question she had been wanting to ask all along. "Why did you become a gentleman thief?"
"I've been asked that question before," Russell said.
"And what was your answer?" Louise asked, eyes brimming with curiosity.
"Hmm… I said it was simply because I was curious."
Russell gave exactly the same answer now.
"Because of… curiosity?" Louise tilted her head, clearly taken aback.
"Did that disappoint you?"
"No… um… how should I put it…"
The girl shook her head. After a brief silence, she finally said, "That is exactly what Mr. Moriarty would say."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Russell said with a faint smile. Then he rose to his feet, as if to signal that their midnight stroll was drawing to a close.
"Well then, it's getting late, Your Highness. I should see you back."
"But… but there are still so many places I haven't shown you yet," Louise said reluctantly. "I wanted to take you to the art studio and the collection room as well…"
"Staying up too late is bad for you. And if we're discovered, I won't be able to take responsibility."
"Ah… I understand."
Louise nodded, looking a little crestfallen, and rose from the stone bench.
Seeing the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, Russell spoke up again.
"Your Highness."
"Y–yes?"
Louise looked up at him.
"As thanks for showing me around Buckingham Palace, I've prepared a gift for you. You'll receive it later."
"A gift?"
Louise blinked, puzzled. "What kind of gift?"
"You'll know when we get back."
Russell kept it a secret.
Instead of retracing their steps, he chose a different route, letting Louise experience the thrill of sneaking back in.
When Russell once again lifted her up and landed soundlessly on the carpet of her bedroom, Louise felt a strong, instinctive resistance to the sense of waking from a dream.
"Now then, Your Highness," Russell said gently, setting her down, "it's time for you to rest."
"Then… what about my gift?" Louise asked.
"Lie down and pull up your blanket," Russell replied. "Once you do that, your gift will arrive on its own."
At those words, Louise obediently crawled under the soft covers like a well-trained kitten.
Only her amber eyes remained visible, shining with expectation as she watched the figure standing in the moonlight.
Russell drew a chair over and sat down beside her.
"The gift is simple," he said. "It's a bedtime story."
"A bedtime story?"
Louise paused, then puffed out her cheeks slightly.
You're still treating me like a child!
"So, are you going to listen, or not?"
"Of… of course I am…"
"That's the right answer."
Russell chuckled quietly.
He cleared his throat and said, "I'll tell you the story of The Little Prince."
"The Little Prince?"
Louise blinked, her curiosity piqued at once. "What kind of story is it?"
She wriggled closer under the blanket, inching toward him like a baby bird waiting to be fed.
"It's the story of a lonely little prince," Russell said softly.
His voice was calm and gentle, like an evening breeze rippling over a lake, carrying with it an inexplicable sense of reassurance.
"He lives on a very, very small planet. It might be no bigger than your room."
On that planet, there are two active volcanoes and one extinct volcano. Other than that, there is only a single rose—a rose he is very fond of, and also a little proud of. Nothing else.
"A rose?" Louise echoed.
"Yes. A rose that is unique in the entire world," Russell said, nodding.
The dying light from the fireplace cast a soft glow along the contours of his mask.
"Every day, the Little Prince waters his rose, covers her with a glass dome, and chases away the caterpillars."
He loved her very much, but the rose was far too proud. She was always pricking the Little Prince with her small thorns and hurting him.
One day, the Little Prince decided to leave his planet and travel to other worlds.
Russell's voice flowed on, gentle as a slow-running stream.
He visited many planets and met many people:
A king who wanted to rule over everything.
A vain man obsessed with admiration.
A drunkard who did nothing but drink.
A businessman who knew only how to count stars…
He met many strange adults, and yet, he still felt terribly lonely.
Louise listened quietly.
The excitement in her eyes gradually softened, and a faint sheen of moisture gathered at their corners. Russell watched her eyelids grow heavy and her breathing become slow and steady, then guided the story toward its end.
"At last, he came to the planet we live on—Earth."
"In a garden, he saw thousands upon thousands of roses that looked exactly like the one he loved."
"He suddenly felt very sad, because he had always believed that his rose was the only one of her kind in the universe."
"And… what happened next?" Louise's voice was thick with drowsiness now, sounding almost like sleep-talking.
"After that, he met a fox," Russell said quietly.
The fox told him that while there were thousands of roses in the world, the one single rose on his planet was the only one he had tamed.
He had spent time with her, watered her, covered her with his glass dome.
That was why that one rose was truly special to him.
The story came to an end.
The room was still, filled only with the gentle, even sound of the girl's breathing.
She seemed to have fallen asleep.
Russell sat silently for a while. Just as he rose to leave, her tightly closed eyelids trembled faintly, and her eyes opened just a crack.
"Are… you going to leave?" she whispered. Her voice was heavy with fatigue.
"Of course. It would be rude of me to disturb someone's sleep," Russell replied.
"But… you still haven't told me what you're after…" Her muffled words carried a childlike reluctance, as if she resented the fact that she had fallen asleep midway.
Russell couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.
He sat back down and spoke in an almost whisper.
"In that case, Your Highness, would you care to tell me what your most precious treasures are?"
"Um…"
Louise struggled to keep her eyes open. She lifted a slender finger and pointed first toward the dressing table.
"That crown… Mother gave it to me on my fourteenth birthday… It's too heavy. My neck hurts when I wear it…"
Her finger drifted toward the safe by the wall.
"They say there's a sapphire necklace in there… the one Cleopatra used to wear… It's so cold, like pressing ice against your skin…"
She went through each of those priceless items one by one—treasures any outsider would consider irreplaceable—yet there was no affection or gratitude in her tone. Instead, her blunt, childlike complaints slipped out unfiltered.
Russell said nothing, simply listening with quiet patience.
At last, when she had finished listing all those precious things, her gaze unconsciously shifted to the bedside table.
"What about that?" he asked, following her eyes.
"T–that?"
Louise's eyes flickered, and she mumbled, "It's nothing special… just an old music box. It broke a long time ago and doesn't play anymore… You probably wouldn't like it…"
With every word, her voice grew softer, like a child trying to hide a favorite toy yet not quite knowing how.
Russell's smile deepened.
"Have you ever heard an old saying?" he asked quietly.
"What…?" Louise took a moment to respond.
"Then allow me to explain," Russell said, his tone still as gentle as ever.
"Once upon a time, there was a man who saved up three hundred of silver—well, to be precise… let's just say it was a very large sum of money."
"He was delighted, of course, but he was also terrified that someone might steal it."
"So he found a deserted spot and buried his silver."
"But even then, he could not put his mind at ease. So he put up a wooden sign over the spot, and on it he wrote: 'There is absolutely no silver buried here.'"
It was a simple story. Louise understood the meaning almost instantly.
A soft blush bloomed on her cheeks, which looked a little pale with sleepiness. Embarrassed, she shrank deeper under the blanket, leaving only her amber eyes visible. She glared at Russell, a little annoyed at having her heart so thoroughly seen through.
"…"
"Good night, Your Highness."
Russell rose and pulled the blanket up around her once more.
"You'll… give it back… won't you…?" she asked, mustering the last of her strength just before she sank into sleep.
"Of course," Russell said quietly.
He watched her eyes finally close all the way and took in her peaceful sleeping face.
"Until we meet again."
He stood by the bed for a while longer, waiting to be sure that the girl was truly fast asleep. Then he turned, walked straight to the bedside table, and carefully, almost reverently, picked up the somewhat worn music box.
From the pocket of his trench coat, he took out a card he had prepared in advance, on which a simple smiling face had been drawn. He placed the card gently in the music box's original spot.
Moonlight poured in through the window, spilling over the card and illuminating the neat, elegant handwriting upon it:
Good night, Your Highness.
— Moriarty