"After this treatment period, his condition has improved considerably."
Dr. Vanessa pushed up her glasses as she spoke. "Learning from last time's experience, I put a great deal of effort into stress management this round."
"His emotions were now more stable than before. At the very least, minor stimuli no longer immediately triggered a stress response."
"So… can I ask him about the password now?" Russell asked.
"If it's only theoretical, that approach should be fine," Vanessa replied. "He has become more tolerant and can now accept a certain degree of… probing. However, if you directly mention Moriarty's name or anything related to him, his sanity will collapse instantly."
Vanessa explained, "The connection between the cipher and Moriarty is far too close—essentially inseparable. Therefore I do not recommend approaching from that angle. It would be better to try from another perspective."
She paused, then added, "In addition, I've also been monitoring Charles Brown's current condition. If he experiences a few more stressful events, his brain's defense mechanisms are likely to activate."
"What happens if the protective mechanism activates?" Charlotte asked.
"His brain will try to protect him by making him forget part of those memories," Vanessa said.
"In other words," Charlotte folded her arms, a crease forming between her brows, "this is our last chance."
"It may not be the absolute last," Vanessa smiled, "but it's best to act as though it is."
"Understood." Charlotte took a deep breath. "Let me see him."
The room was the same familiar hospital room with its stark white hospital bed. Charles Brown sat on the edge of the bed, head lowered, both hands resting on his knees. He looked much calmer than last time, though his eyes still held a distant, vacant look.
When Dr. Vanessa entered, he slowly raised his head. A brief flicker of light appeared in his cloudy eyes before fading again.
"Good morning, Charles," Vanessa said in her usual gentle tone. "How are you feeling today?"
"I'm all right," Charles replied, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson have come to see you."
Vanessa turned slightly; behind her stood Charlotte and Russell. Upon hearing this, Charles lifted his face and looked at the two of them. His body instinctively tensed, but unlike last time he did not immediately succumb to terror.
"Charles, please don't be nervous," Russell stepped forward with a calm smile and spoke in a gentle voice. "We've only come to chat with you like ordinary friends."
As he spoke he pulled a chair closer and sat down not far from Charles. Charlotte sat beside him but did not speak immediately. When it came to breaking the ice and lowering people's guard, Russell was clearly better at it than she was.
"Chat?" Charles repeated, looking slightly confused.
"Yes, just chat." Russell nodded. "Would it be all right if we talked about the past?"
Charles gave no answer. He remained silent, lowered his head again, and unconsciously began tracing patterns on his oversized hospital gown with his finger.
"Let's talk about something cheerful," Russell's voice flowed gently, like a stream under the afternoon sun. "For example, when you were in the army, were you very popular?"
Charles's fingers paused slightly. He raised his head; a faint light returned to his cloudy eyes, as though a distant memory had been stirred.
"That's all in the past…" he murmured.
"Yes, I heard you were the best mechanic in your unit," Russell nodded, "and also a master lock-picker, I'm told."
"Ah… ah…" Charles nodded. His tense body seemed to relax a little. "Everyone used to call me 'Key' because there was no lock I couldn't open."
"That's quite impressive," Russell said with a perfectly timed compliment. "Logically speaking, you must have been very proud back then, right?"
"Back then… everyone needed me." A faint smile appeared on Charles's usually expressionless face. "The officers always praised me."
"That must have been a wonderful time," Russell agreed with a smile.
"And after you were discharged? How did you spend your time?"
"Not well…" The moment Charles began talking about life after discharge, his smile vanished, replaced by a dark expression. "I made a mistake. I got drunk, got into a fight, and was forced to leave the army for a serious violation of military discipline. It was a very serious problem… I can't receive the benefits a veteran should receive because there's a stain on my record… I can't even find a decent job."
He covered his face with both hands, his expression tormented. Seeing this, Vanessa was about to signal Russell to change the subject when she noticed that Charles showed no signs of losing control. On the contrary, Russell's words seemed to be gradually opening his heart. As long as they avoided mentioning Moriarty, Charles appeared far more receptive to other topics than she had expected. She therefore remained silent and quietly observed how the young man would handle the situation.
"What happened after that?" Russell asked patiently. "What did you do after leaving the army?"
"I… tried all kinds of jobs, but none of them worked out. The only things I'm good at are repairing guns and picking locks, but there are no decent jobs that require those two skills. Even if I applied to a locksmith shop, they'd reject me because of my record."
Charles's hands covering his face trembled slightly. "I needed money…" he finally forced out in a hoarse, desperate voice between his fingers. "I had to survive. And then… Bilson found me."
The moment he finished speaking, both Russell and Charlotte were surprised—not because of the experience itself, but because Russell had never intended to steer the conversation toward Bilson. He had only planned to find a topic that would lower Charles's guard first, then slowly probe indirectly. Who would have imagined the man would start talking about it on his own?
"Bilson?" Russell continued. "How did you meet him?"
"He found me… I was really struggling at the time and had to go around asking if anyone could offer me work."
Charles said, "Then Bilson contacted me. Because he had also been in the army, he said he could give me a job. He invited me, saying there were many people there who needed my skills and that I could earn a lot of money."
"You accepted," Charlotte's voice suddenly rang out—calm yet firm.
Charles looked at her. After a long silence he finally nodded. "I had no other choice."