The next morning. The sky had not yet fully brightened; everything outside the window was a hazy gray.
At 221B Baker Street, Russell yawned as he placed the last perfectly soft-boiled egg on the plate, stacking it atop the fully cooked one. Just as he set it down, footsteps came down the stairs.
Charlotte appeared at the landing right on schedule, like an NPC.
"Morning," she said, voice still a little hoarse from sleep.
Russell turned. She was wearing an oversized negligee and looked sleepy as she descended. "Morning. Breakfast is ready."
Charlotte pulled out a chair and sat. She stared at the two perfectly shaped fried eggs for a moment, then shifted her gaze to the newspaper beside her. Today's front page carried no articles about Moriarty. After the Hannigan incident, Russell's phantom-thief activities had dropped sharply. There was already plenty to do; stealing could wait. Final exams were approaching, and he could no longer afford to sleep in class. He needed to start reviewing—he didn't want to fail a course.
Charlotte spread toast, stacked the two eggs on top like a lid, and took a bite.
"How is it?" Russell asked, sitting across from her and picking up his own sandwich.
"Good," Charlotte replied vaguely, licking her lips. The different textures and doneness levels blended in her mouth; the runny yolk wrapped around egg white and toast, creating a rich experience.
"Have the sales figures for The Times and The Guardian arrived?"
"They're here." Russell handed her the report. "See for yourself."
The numbers were almost identical—practically the same once odd counts were excluded. But when you looked at the actual figures, The Guardian's sales were noticeably higher. The Times had still not fully recovered from the losses caused by the Lloyds Bank incident. Given that The Guardian had time to promote in advance, its top position wasn't surprising. Perhaps Mary had bought a copy for every servant in the house.
"Looks like a draw," Russell said sarcastically, deliberately ignoring the slight difference in the final digits.
Charlotte pursed her lips, tossed the report aside, and focused on her meal. Breakfast ended on a relatively peaceful note. Russell finished his milk, returned to his room, and continued reviewing documents while thinking about the two numbers Charles had mentioned.
He grabbed his backpack and left Baker Street for Imperial College London.
…
Imperial College London – Lecture Hall
When Russell appeared at the doorway, Mary turned and smiled. "Good morning."
"Morning." He sat beside her.
Only one day had passed since they last met, yet seeing her again felt strangely distant—as though far more time had gone by. It was odd.
"What are you thinking about?" Mary's voice pulled him back. She rested her chin on her hand, clear blue eyes sparkling in the morning light, studying him with curiosity, as if she could see straight through every thought and lie.
"Nothing." Russell shook his head and smiled. "It's only been one day, but it feels like much longer."
"That means you were looking forward to today, right? Russell, were you that eager to see me?"
"Yes." He nodded at once. "If I don't see Mary for even a day, it feels like ants are crawling all over my body."
When the attack lands, the dragon kneeling atop the mountain appears!
The smile vanished from Mary's face in an instant. Something in her chest fluttered; her breathing quickened. Morning light slanted across her, warming her ears.
"He's saying strange things again," she muttered, fiddling with her long hair and trying to hide her burning ears behind her silver locks.
Russell raised an eyebrow at her flustered profile and faintly pink ears, his smile deepening. "It was a joke."
Mary didn't turn around, only let out a faint, muffled growl through her nose.
"Are you angry?"
"No," she answered in a small voice.
That means she is angry. Russell smiled. "Hmm?"
Mary turned back, her usual composure seemingly restored, though a faint blush still colored her cheeks. "I'm not a child anymore…"
The school bell rang at the perfect moment. The professor stepped onto the podium, and the two tacitly ended their conversation.
Mary noticed that Russell—unusually—wasn't sleeping and was actually listening to Professor Fields' lecture. She was a little surprised.
"Did you drink too much coffee this morning?" she whispered. "Final exams are coming," Russell shrugged. "I don't care about scholarships, but I at least want to avoid failing. If I keep studying like this all semester, I'm worried Professor Fields won't help me anymore."
Mary gave a soft laugh and said nothing more, returning her attention to class.
The morning passed quietly. Russell's mind was filled with knowledge he had never understood before. Fresh illustrations appeared in the notebook.
At noon, in the familiar empty classroom, Mary held her sandwich with both hands, chewing slowly while listening to Russell recount yesterday's outing with Charlotte.
"So you already know two of the digits?"
"Yeah—8 and 9." "Even knowing two out of six, the remaining four are still unknown."
Mary thought for a moment. "That means there are roughly 300,000 possible combinations."
…