"What do you mean?" Russell asked.
"There's a photograph on the table. Take a look yourself," Charlotte said, pointing at the table.
Russell followed her gesture and saw several photographs lying there.
He picked one up at random. It showed the notice for the challenge.
To be perfectly honest, he himself had never seen what one of the system's pre-event notices looked like—but now, finally, he did.
Frankly speaking, if he didn't know for a fact that he hadn't written it, then judging from the handwriting in the photograph alone—even Russell would have had to acknowledge it.
It was so similar. Unbelievably similar.
The notice captured in the photo stated that in seven days he would revisit Buckingham Palace to return the music box to Princess Louise.
It was almost identical to the task the system had assigned him.
"So that's it—Moriarty sent this letter to Buckingham Palace," Russell said, shaking the photo in his hand. "Mycroft must have thought that instead of going out of their way to track him down, it'd be easier to just set up a defensive line at Buckingham Palace and wait for Moriarty to walk into their trap."
That was what Russell was trying to say.
"And what," Charlotte asked, "does that have to do with you?"
"Arresting someone isn't the same as deduction," Russell said blankly. "What, does he want me to go inspect whether or not he sneaks in ahead of time?"
"I won't deny Mycroft might have had that idea," Charlotte replied calmly. "But most likely, they just want me to help catch the thief."
"With you?"
Russell pointed at himself.
"I'm a trained bartender, so I have a certain level of combat ability in close quarters," Charlotte said.
"Bartitsu…" Russell raised his eyebrows. He had heard of that fighting style.
He'd always thought it was just some kind of fitness routine.
It couldn't possibly be that good, could it?
His own rank was Hand-to-Hand Combat B, which was roughly on par with a novice or a professional fighter. If he went underground to compete in illegal boxing right now, he could at least make a name for himself, maybe even become a super-filial son to his parents.
With that level, he could probably qualify as a guard at Buckingham Palace without any trouble.
If he retired from the phantom thief business, he'd never have to worry about money again.
"No problem." Russell didn't reject Charlotte's request. In any case, he had no intention of hurting her, so he might as well just let things be.
"I wish you good luck. I hope you can bring that despicable thief to justice on the spot," he added.
"What do you mean by that?" Charlotte frowned. "You're not coming?"
"Why should I go if I wasn't invited? Do I get credits for it? Does it count toward volunteer hours?"
"I've already talked to Mycroft. You'll be accompanying me as my assistant," Charlotte said in a tone that left no room for argument.
"????"
After a brief silence, Russell said, "And what exactly am I supposed to do? I can't fight, and I can't track people. Am I supposed to be your cheerleader?"
"As long as you know how to run and how to shout for help, that's enough. You don't need to know anything else." Charlotte paused, then added, "Why, do you have other plans this Sunday?"
"Uh… no." Russell shook his head.
In a situation like this, it was better to be honest than to make excuses and arouse unnecessary suspicion.
Besides…
"It's only Monday," Russell said. "Who knows what might happen in six days? What if something comes up?"
"Nothing will," Charlotte replied with certainty.
"And since when do you have the authority to arrange my schedule?"
"I based it on your weekend activities over the past month since I moved in," Charlotte looked at him. "You hardly need me to spell it out, do you? You've only gone out twice on weekends this whole month. And one of those times didn't even really count as going out."
Once was the social event at Imperial College; the other was his date with Mary at the Phaidon Tea Room a few days ago.
Oh, and there was also that time he went to Lloyds Bank to make a deposit. Anything else?
...
Russell was momentarily at a loss for words.
Infuriating as it was, he couldn't think of a single line of argument to refute her.
Damn it, how did she manage to know him better than he knew himself?
"Alright, alright, you win," he finally muttered, shrugging helplessly and raising the white flag. "But let's be clear: I'm just a background extra. Don't expect me to actually do anything."
"If everything goes smoothly, you won't have to do a thing, and you might even get to have dinner at Buckingham Palace," Charlotte said matter-of-factly.
"What about my overtime pay?" Russell asked.
"Ask Mycroft. I doubt he'd be stingy about it," Charlotte said. She picked up her coffee, blew on it, then added, "And while you're at it, bring mine too."
"…Oh." Russell widened his eyes, deciding it was best not to embarrass himself any further.
He watched as Charlotte shifted her attention back to the information wall. Her focused profile had a sculptural, almost statue-like beauty.
"To be honest, I still think there has to be some kind of connection between Moriarty and the Professor," Charlotte murmured.
"But I just can't find any evidence," she said with a frown.
"But didn't you just confirm that Moriarty and Mycroft are working together?" Russell cut in from the side. "Moriarty can connect with the Professor, and he can also connect with Mycroft. But somehow, the three of them just can't seem to connect with one another."
"That's exactly the problem," Charlotte said. "It's possible Mycroft himself doesn't know about their relationship."
"So Mycroft is aware of the Professor's existence?" Russell asked.
"Yes, he knows. Unfortunately, he doesn't know much detail. Back when the Professor was active, he posed no threat to Mycroft, so Mycroft naturally didn't pay him much attention," Charlotte said.
She paced back and forth across the room. It was obvious that this unsolvable puzzle had left her mentally stuck in a dead end.
They said they didn't care, but in truth, it was hard to stay indifferent.
Watching Charlotte stubbornly go around in circles, Russell sighed.
At this rate, she was going to stay up all night again.
That was not a good sign.
After all, a sleep-deprived Charlotte was much harder to deal with.
What if she ended up achieving enlightenment right here on Baker Street?
"Maybe…" He cleared his throat, trying to divert her attention away from the mental roadblock. "Maybe you could try a different approach."
Hearing this, Charlotte stopped and turned to look at him. Her gray-blue eyes held a blend of confusion and curiosity.
What kind of approach?
"Right now, we can't determine the exact relationship between the Professor, Moriarty, and Mycroft," Russell said. He walked over to the information wall, picked up a marker, and wrote the three names in an empty space, connecting them with lines.
"So for the moment, why don't we assume that there's actually no relationship between them at all?"
As he spoke, he erased all the lines linking the three names.
"No relationship whatsoever?" Charlotte frowned. This hypothesis clearly contradicted everything she'd considered so far.
"Yes, none at all," Russell nodded, meeting her doubtful gaze as he continued. "Look, it's a fact that both Moriarty and the Professor showed up at Lloyds Bank."
But could that incident itself be explained as mere coincidence?
For example, the Professor wanted to stir up trouble. Moriarty also wanted to stir up trouble. And they both just happened to set their sights on Lloyds Bank.
"'Form a bold hypothesis and then rigorously test it'—that's what you taught me, isn't it?"