That voice was like the first breeze through a morning forest—carrying a faint chill and the scent of white tea—soft in exactly the right way.
Not irritating, yet not ethereal either.
Russell's sleepiness vanished by half.
He slowly lifted his head, and his unguarded, still-drowsy face fell straight into Mary Morstan's smiling, Aegean-blue eyes.
Today, she was still in her neat school uniform. Her silver hair was simply tied back, keeping her from looking too languid.
A few strands—like fine snow—brushed her pale cheek in the breeze drifting in from the window.
She sat quietly beside him, as if the invisible vacuum around him—built from awe and avoidance—didn't exist at all.
Or perhaps Mary Morstan… was enjoying that exclusivity.
"Morning…" Russell answered vaguely, then reflexively glanced around.
In an instant, the stares that had been magnetized to him scattered like startled birds the moment he turned his head.
In their place came something more covert—spying mixed with jealousy and confusion.
Unfortunately, this time there was no "malice value" payout.
Getting his response, the girl's smile deepened.
"Didn't sleep well again last night?" Mary set her textbooks down and asked casually.
"Mm… so-so." Russell yawned, slumping lazily against the chair back, letting the warm sunlight spill over him until his eyes narrowed in comfort.
"Is that so." Mary didn't press. She simply sat quietly, flipping through her book with her fingertips.
She seemed to enjoy this atmosphere—
to enjoy being pulled out of the surrounding glances full of calculation and profit, and spending this brief peace with the interesting soul beside her.
It felt like finding the only person in a noisy masquerade ball who wasn't wearing a mask.
Even if this guy might just be too lazy to put one on.
At some point the elderly professor entered, tapped the blackboard, and began the lecture.
Which only made Russell sleepier.
Then Mary spoke again.
She deliberately lowered her volume, but kept it at exactly the level Russell could still hear.
"By the way… Timmy Roy seems to have withdrawn from school."
"Mmh?" Russell lifted an eyebrow. "If I got slapped one after another by female classmates in front of the whole class—hell, in front of the entire freshman cohort—I'd withdraw too.
Honestly, after something like that, not killing yourself already counts as mental toughness."
"That's true," Mary said softly, her gaze drifting toward the front row—the seat Timmy Roy used to occupy.
"But in reality, he didn't withdraw voluntarily.
After the Times came out the next day, the parents of those involved were furious.
So they pressured the school together. And since Ethan Roy lost his influence because of all that dirt, the school simply took the opportunity to issue Mr. Timmy Roy an expulsion notice."
After a pause, Mary looked back at Russell and added pointedly:
"Actually, if the love-letter incident hadn't happened—then even if Ethan Roy fell, it wouldn't have affected Timmy Roy much.
At the very least, he would still have been able to continue studying at Imperial College as a student.
So—"
She drew out the final note, like she was waiting for Russell to supply the answer.
"So you're saying the reason he got expelled is basically… me?" Russell said.
"Correct~." Mary smiled.
"So what?" Russell yawned, completely unconcerned. "Blame me, then?"
"I didn't say that." Mary shrugged, her blue eyes glittering with teasing in the sunlight.
"I just don't want to be in the same classroom as a scumbag who likes playing with girls' feelings.
Russell isn't that kind of person… right?"
"That still requires a girl willing to give me feelings to play with." Russell yawned again and answered without thinking.
[Your reply has displeased Mary Morstan. Malice Value +10]
…Huh?
Danger.
In an instant, Russell's half-lidded eyes snapped wide awake.
Crap. I said the wrong thing!
He turned his head—slowly, stiffly—toward the girl beside him.
The sunlight was still warm. The shadows of the trees outside swayed gently. The professor's voice droned on like the finest lullaby.
Everything was quiet and peaceful.
Except Mary Morstan.
The smile was still on her face, but the warmth behind it was long gone.
In its place was the dead calm before a storm.
"Is that so…" she murmured, her voice still soft—yet utterly without temperature.
"So you're saying if you had the option… you'd like to be the kind of scumbag who plays with girls' feelings?"
"I didn't say that!" Russell shook his head hard.
"Then what did you mean just now?" Mary stared straight into his eyes.
"Uh… that was… self-deprecation. Yeah, self-deprecation." Russell hurried to explain.
"Look at my situation, right? People see me and they want to stay ten meters away.
In this situation, forget playing with anyone's feelings—I can't even have a normal conversation with people, right?
And I'm not saying that if I could talk normally, I'd go play with people's feelings."
Mary's expression didn't change much as she listened.
But the invisible frost melted away, replaced by a faint smile—teasing, triumphant.
Like a cat toying with prey in its paws.
"Don't panic, Russell," she said lightly. "I'm just joking. You didn't really think I was angry, did you?"
…Hard to say.
Russell answered in his heart, but out loud he was painfully honest:
"It was just a necessary explanation to avoid giving you the wrong negative impression of me."
"Is that so." Mary neither agreed nor disagreed. She turned her gaze back to the lectern, as if the little episode had never happened.
We're safe… for now.
This can't go on, Russell thought.
I need a new topic—turn the page.
Brain, move. Find something, anything!
Russell lay on the desk, wracking his mind for a usable subject.
Got it—Holly David's case!
His eyes lit up, and he straightened abruptly.
"By the way, Mary—"
"By the way, Russell—"
They spoke at the exact same time, then both stopped at once.
Mary and Russell stared at each other, both a little surprised by the other's initiative.
In the end, Russell spoke again and tossed her the floor.
"Ladies first."
Mary smiled, then glanced at the professor at the front.
After confirming he wasn't looking their way, she carefully said:
"I was actually thinking… about Moriarty."
....
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