A night breeze blew from the Thames, carrying damp cold air that made Charlotte's hair flutter.
She paid no attention to her hair blowing in the wind and simply maintained her current posture, her gaze fixed on Russell.
Russell also looked at her, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu at the sight.
For some reason, he suddenly recalled the question the student from the newspaper club had asked him that afternoon: "What do you think of Charlotte?"
He had taken it for granted and answered, "She's my partner."
But now, standing on this bridge, buffeted by the cold winter wind, being stared at by Charlotte like this——
Russell suddenly realized that if he were to answer the same question at this very moment, he probably wouldn't be able to answer as naturally.
Charlotte seemed to be more than just a partner to him.
But what exactly that was… even Russell himself didn't know.
He felt that he was a greedy person who only thought about himself.
"Later…" Russell repeated the word, drawing out the syllables as though giving himself time to think.
Charlotte nodded, but although she had seen through his clumsy thinking, she didn't rush or urge him.
"Later."
She only emphasized the pronunciation and then fell silent.
Russell was silent for a few seconds.
In the end, he let out a helpless sigh.
"Charlotte."
He said in a tone filled with helplessness, "This question is even harder to answer than the previous one.
Why do you have to make things difficult for a struggling university student?
Can this world get any better?"
"Why?"
Charlotte asked.
"Because no one can be certain what will happen in the future, right?"
Russell sighed and stared at the river.
"Even if I make you a promise in one moment, I might lie to you in the next for some other reason.
I basically don't like making promises I can't guarantee."
Charlotte listened quietly and didn't answer, simply gazing at Russell's profile while waiting for him to continue.
"There are all kinds of lies," Russell continued.
"Malicious ones, well-intentioned ones, to hide something, to protect something...
If I really had a terminal illness and only had a few days left to live, and what I showed you before was just me putting on a brave front, how would you evaluate that?"
He said this and smiled.
Charlotte remained silent, as though she wouldn't speak until she received a reply.
Seeing this, Russell couldn't help but sigh again.
Being ignored is truly terrifying.
"I'll do my best."
He said, his voice more serious than before.
"Do your best?"
"Yeah, I'll try."
"In what respect should we do our best?"
"I'll do my best not to lie to you."
Russell looked at Charlotte.
"If there's really no other way, I'll do my best to make sure you don't find out."
After he finished speaking, he laughed at himself.
"What kind of guarantee is that supposed to be?"
He shook his head as though mocking himself, then looked to the side.
"...Fine."
Charlotte said quietly.
Russell was slightly taken aback.
"Fine?"
He looked at Charlotte, appearing somewhat surprised.
"Mm." Charlotte nodded. "That's a good answer."
Seeing this, he was silent for a while before laughing.
"Does that mean I passed?"
"Think about it yourself."
Charlotte straightened up and turned around to walk away.
Russell watched her retreating figure, then quickly followed.
"Are we heading back already?"
"Mm."
"Didn't you come out for some fresh air?"
"I'm done."
"Alright."
Russell kept both hands in his pockets and walked beside her, heading toward Baker Street.
Along the way, neither of them spoke, but the silence was different from the silence on the way there.
When they arrived, each of them had their own thoughts.
Now, it had become an unspoken understanding.
Just as Charlotte reached the door of 221B, she suddenly stopped.
"Russell."
"Hm?"
"Today——"
Charlotte paused.
"Thank you."
Russell raised one eyebrow.
What do I have to be thanked for?
Although Russell had doubts, he ultimately didn't ask.
"You're welcome."
He shrugged.
Charlotte pushed open the door and went inside.
Mrs. Hudson was already asleep. The living room light was still on for the two of them.
Charlotte climbed the stairs one by one. When she reached the top, she stopped for a moment before returning to her own room.
Russell also returned to his room.
A faint scent lingered in the bedroom. The bed was slightly messy, the blanket was crumpled, and the pillow was out of place.
That really is a bad sleeping posture.
Russell couldn't help but think to himself.
Whoever gets to sleep with her in the future will be truly lucky.
He bent down, spread out the blanket, straightened the pillow, and then lay down.
A faint fragrance came from the pillow.
It smelled like coffee, then tea, and also like paper…
Could this really be called "fragrant"?
Russell's mind began to wander.
He closed his eyes but couldn't fall asleep.
So Russell opened his eyes again, sat up in bed, went to the living room, poured a glass of milk, added two spoonfuls of honey, drank it, and then decided to try to sleep soundly.
However, just as he was about to roll out of bed and get up...
Russell's gaze unconsciously turned toward the space under the bed.
He didn't know why he was looking in that direction. It was like a strange instinct or muscle reflex.
As though guided by an invisible force, Russell slowly bent down and peered under the bed.
The suitcase he used to store clothes was still quietly lying in the shadows.
But Russell furrowed his brows.
The position of the suitcase was different from what he remembered.
A very slight difference.
He might not have noticed it before.
But at this very moment, when his attention was most focused and his reconnaissance ability was at its peak, he noticed it.
The suitcase had been tampered with by someone.
Russell reached this conclusion almost without hesitation.
Now, who would touch this suitcase?
The answer seemed obvious.
Russell reached out, pulled out the suitcase, and opened it under the moonlight.
The neatly stacked pile of his summer clothes was quietly inside.
He had only glanced through it.
Just like before, he reached a conclusion in an instant.
Russell took a deep breath and then leaned against the wall.
"I'm being suspected…"
He let out a soft sigh and then chuckled lightly. The laugh was filled with relief and peace of mind.
So that's why she had been acting so strangely these past few days.
"Eh? So that's what it was?"
As he spoke, he closed the suitcase and returned it to its original place.
He had already upgraded the phantom thief costume by using Malice Points, transforming it from mere clothing into a more portable form.
This was all thanks to Mrs. Hudson.
If she hadn't come into his room looking for Charlotte's clothes, he probably wouldn't have thought of something like this.
Russell lay down on the bed and muttered to himself while staring at the ceiling.
"Since when did she start having doubts...?"
He couldn't help but think.
He should have been able to hide it well.
Was it after they returned from Buckingham Palace? Or did it start from the Hannigan incident?
Russell's thoughts, like a projector rewinding, began playing back the events of the past few days frame by frame.
In the end, for some reason, he recalled the scene that night when Charlotte had been lying on his bed.
Russell suddenly laughed.
Looking back on that scene now, it really did seem to carry an indescribable meaning.
If her only purpose had been to search for evidence, she should have left immediately after checking inside the box.
But she hadn't.
Not only had she not left, but the moment she lay down, she had fallen asleep.
And she had slept soundly and peacefully.
What did this tell them?
Charlotte's suspicion and trust toward him coexisted as contradictory emotions.
Strange, but it made perfect sense.
Just as she suspected him, she still wanted to be with him. Even while testing him, she had asked him by the river, "Do you plan to lie to me in the future?"
She could have pushed him away, but she had still chosen to sleep in his bed.
During today's interview, Cross had asked him, "What kind of person do you think Sherlock Holmes is?"
His answer had been "She's troublesome."
But now, if he were asked to answer again...
Therefore, a more accurate answer would be this:
She's a troublesome problem.
"What a contradictory person she is."
He said quietly.
Whether it's her or me.
Russell turned over, lying on his side, and stared at the moonlight streaming in through the window.
He still couldn't sleep.
Russell silently gazed at the night sky outside the window.
He had a feeling he would be troubled by insomnia.
If that's the case——
Russell sat up in bed once more.
He walked to the window and let the moonlight envelop his entire body.
When the evening breeze blew, the shadow at his feet clung to the hem of his trousers as though it were alive and slowly crawled upward.
Charlotte had no chance of finding the phantom thief costume.
Because it was right at her feet, right beside her shadow.
This was an upgrade Russell had performed using 1,000 malice points.
Completely separated from the physical body, this existence used shadow as its vessel and could summon the shadow to attach to itself and complete the transformation with just a little thought.
In the blink of an eye, his pajamas disappeared and transformed into the familiar yet flashy phantom thief costume.
"Phew——"
Russell let out a sigh of relief, reached out and pressed against the window frame, then leaped over it.
If I can't sleep, then no one should be sleeping.
…