Early the next morning.
The first rays of sunlight pierced the lingering mist and cast a hazy golden glow over London.
The half asleep city was jolted fully awake by an unprecedented, ear splitting clamor.
"Extra! Extra! The Times headline: Moriarty Infiltrates Buckingham Palace!"
"The Guardian puts out an emergency edition! Moriarty sighted on Fleet Street last night!"
"Morning Post! Daily Telegraph!
"Jeweler Hansen Borey accused of forging gemstones! Earl Harrison suspected of an affair with his stepdaughter! Lord Phineas Black under suspicion of espionage!"
The newspaper boys' cries were sharper and more fevered than ever before. Like a volley of rockets ignited with gunpowder, they raced to every corner of the city with unprecedented zeal and speed.
This time, there was no need for suspense, no need for a teaser.
The facts were laid bare before every citizen of London in the simplest—and cruelest—way possible.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer's history of bribery was printed in full on the front page of the Daily Telegraph. The shower of shocking figures burned themselves into the memory as vividly as if they had happened only yesterday.
The honest king of jewelry's secret ledger, which recorded smuggling and tax evasion, became the Guardian's most powerful weapon. The black ink ripped his hypocritical mask to shreds, leaving irrefutable proof behind.
The frank and passionate love letters sent by a respectable earl to his stepdaughter occupied the entire front page of the Morning Post's entertainment section and instantly became the talk of the town.
A storm of paper and ink swept across London with unprecedented ferocity.
In this moment, the dignity and prestige of high society were trampled into dust.
Names that had once commanded respect now lay printed on cheap newsprint alongside the filth of the sewers, exposed to countless eyes and becoming objects of scorn and derision.
At the center of this storm was another name, one now repeated by every tongue with a mingled sense of awe, fear, and wild excitement:
—Moriarty.
He had not only stolen the secrets of the upper classes, he had plundered Buckingham Palace itself.
The photographs of the gold snuffbox studded with rubies occupied the most prominent positions in every major newspaper. The clearly visible royal crest quietly proclaimed how astonishing last night's operation had been.
Even though no one knew how he had done it, it was more than enough to set people's imaginations on fire.
Not even thirty minutes after the papers hit the streets, Scotland Yard was already bursting at the seams.
Enraged nobles, agitated reporters, and curious onlookers all converged, wrapping Scotland Yard in layer after layer of human walls and turning what should have been a solemn, dignified street into a chaotic marketplace.
Lestrade was so busy his telephone never stopped ringing. Question after question came at him from all directions, and his head felt ready to explode.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it… Moriarty!"
…
[Lestrade's Malice Points +100]
Baker Street, 221B.
Russell awoke to the relentless chime of system notifications ringing in his head.
He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Instead of getting up right away, he lay in bed for a while longer.
As far as he was concerned, the work on the advanced mission had been completed, and the reconciliation phase was proceeding at a leisurely pace.
Current task (Phase 1): Completed.
[Successfully infiltrated Buckingham Palace and stole Princess Louise's music box.]
Evaluation: S (The operation was completed without alerting any guards or servants, and the princess's most precious treasure was taken at the same time.)
Reward settlement:
All Malice Points spent during the mission have been refunded (4,000).
Malice Points +3,000 from Scotland Yard, Buckingham Palace, Mayfair, Kensington, Belgravia, Knightsbridge, and more.
Attribute Point +1.
New items have been added to the Shop.
[The next phase of the mission has begun: The Return.]
Next Saturday, return to Buckingham Palace and give the music box back to Princess Louise.
Until the music box is completed and safely delivered, you must not allow the guards or servants to learn of the mission. Otherwise, the mission will be considered a failure.
[Task Time Limit: 24 hours (frozen)]
[Task Rewards: Refund of purchase costs; Malice Points acquisition increased by 20%; unlock access to purchase special items; Attribute Point +1.]
[Penalty for Failure: Personal information leak.]
The notification messages were sent automatically.
Seven thousand Malice Points were refunded all at once.
Adding together the Malice he had accumulated over the past several days and what he had just gained from today's news release, his balance had now climbed into five digits.
He was, at last, on the road toward a moderately comfortable life.
System, we're rich now.
Russell couldn't help but hum a little tune in bed.
All right, let's start with an upgrade.
First, drag all existing attributes up to B, then use the Attribute Point to push Stealth up to B++.
Upgrade complete.
In any case, there were still seven days left until the next mission stage, which meant plenty of time to just lie around and do nothing.
Since things had come to this, he might as well take a look at what new items the shop had updated.
Thinking this, Russell opened the Shop panel.
Compared to the last update, there weren't many entirely new functions this time. Instead, several existing items had been upgraded.
For example, after the Teleport Anchor was upgraded, Russell could first teleport there as a spirit form, observe the surroundings, and then decide whether or not to teleport his physical body.
Ghost Hand had gained the ability to pass through walls. While he still couldn't pull objects through solid barriers with it, he could now unlock doors from the other side.
Moreover, the Mist Array he used most frequently had also been enhanced.
Any items that he had already purchased and used, but had not fully consumed, were automatically upgraded as well.
That was, in a word, humane.
After lying on the bed for a while longer, Russell finally got up at an unhurried pace, washed his face, and headed downstairs.
Charlotte was already at the table. A mug of hot cocoa and a plate of sandwiches sat in front of her, and she was reading the newspaper with great interest.
Why is it so noisy outside?
Already knowing the answer, Russell sat down across from her.
"What big thing did Moriarty pull off this time?"
"A very big thing," Charlotte replied, handing him the paper. "Read it yourself."
Russell took the newspaper, his eyes immediately drawn to the eye catching headline.
He spread butter on his toast, slowly reading the story about his own heroic exploits printed there.
He had to admit, the reporters' imaginations were truly impressive.
In their writing, he had been turned into a modern urban legend—an almost mythical figure who could soar through the sky, descend from the heavens, and take on hundreds of enemies on his own.
Phrases like "he strolled leisurely through a hail of bullets," "the bullets couldn't even catch his afterimage," and "his presence struck hellish terror into the hearts of the brigands" were all used to describe his actions.
Anyone who didn't know better would think he had opened a divine weapons shop.
Ah, they really let themselves go, don't they.
Well, that's fine.
"They're only pandering to the public imagination," Charlotte's voice drifted in from the other side of the room. She lifted her coffee cup and blew lightly at the rising steam, as if she had guessed what Russell was thinking.
"People don't need the truth. They just need a story that's legendary enough to satisfy their fantasies."
Hero, villain, idol—whatever the label, they just needed someone to pin their cheap sense of justice and adoration on when they had nothing better to do.
Moriarty just happened to play that role, nothing more and nothing less.
"So, what do you think?" Russell swallowed his bite of food and asked, "What do you think his purpose was with last night's performance?"
"How would I know?"
Charlotte set down her coffee cup. Her voice carried a note of undisguised disdain.
"I told you from the very beginning, speculating about that man's motives is meaningless."
"You don't sound particularly bothered by any of this," Russell said.
"Why waste emotion," Charlotte countered with a question of her own, "on something that was bound to happen and is perfectly logical?"
"More importantly, Moriarty's success has only made me more certain of one thing."
"What's that?" Russell asked, right on cue.
"Mycroft never told Buckingham Palace the explanation I gave him," Charlotte said decisively. "There's definitely something shady between him and Moriarty."