Monday morning.
The post-rain air carried a bone-deep chill that made you shiver.
Russell—rarely this sensible—put on a thick overcoat, then headed downstairs at an unhurried pace.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson."
He reached the ground floor and greeted her.
"Good morning, Russell." Mrs. Hudson emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of freshly baked scones, her face warm with kindly amusement. "Up early for once. I thought you'd sleep until noon again."
"I'm a student, you know," Russell said with a grin. He took the plate from her, pinched up a still-steaming scone, and shoved it into his mouth without the slightest shame.
"And Charlotte?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"Probably still asleep." Russell shrugged. Then he grabbed another biscuit, clamped it between his teeth, and spoke around it, words muffled. "I'm off."
"Winter's coming," Mrs. Hudson called after him. "It's getting cold—wear more layers."
"Yeah, yeah—got it!"
Imperial College London.
The back row of the tiered lecture hall was warm as always—at least, warm compared to everywhere else.
Russell sat in what had effectively become his personal seat, and the sunlight—like a loyal servant—poured the most comfortable heat straight onto him. He half-lidded his eyes and slumped over his desk, looking as though he might melt into the warmth at any second.
Compared to two weeks ago, nothing much had changed.
The entire back row remained empty—except for him and Mary.
The other students had either grown used to it or simply accepted the unspoken rule. Even the lecturer had started treating it as normal.
As long as it didn't disrupt class, who cared?
Russell yawned lazily.
Just then, footsteps sounded behind him, carrying a trace of outdoor chill into the room.
A familiar white-tea fragrance drifted into Russell's nose. He lifted his head and looked at the figure who sat down beside him.
Mary was still in her neat uniform. Her silver hair was tied back with a deep-blue ribbon, a few strands left to fall by her ear and sway with every subtle movement.
Today, though, she was slightly different.
Around her neck was a beige scarf, loosely wound, diligently holding back the cold.
"Good morning, Russell."
The greeting landed by his ear, the way a stage announcement opens a youth drama.
"Morning, Mary," Russell replied, drowsy. His gaze settled on the scarf. "Nice scarf."
"Thank you." Mary smiled, then set her textbooks on the desk with practiced calm. "By the way—have you read the papers these past couple of days?"
"About Lloyds Bank?"
"Yes." Mary dipped her chin. "Scotland Yard must be running themselves ragged."
"Pretty much," Russell nodded. "Yesterday morning I wasn't even awake yet, and Lestrade was already knocking on our door, asking Charlotte for help."
"Help?" Mary's brows lifted. "Weren't the criminals caught already? What does he need Charlotte for—catching Moriarty?"
"Not that." Russell shook his head. "Even though Lloyds has been putting pressure on Scotland Yard, Lestrade doesn't seem interested in wasting time on Moriarty."
"Why would Lloyds pressure Scotland Yard?" Mary blinked innocently, pressing.
Russell asked the same question in his head.
This girl was a top-tier professional at playing dumb.
Good thing he was one too.
"Because…" He paused, glanced left and right, then leaned in and lowered his voice, conspiratorial. "Lloyds' vault got breached—and they didn't make a fuss."
"Who got robbed?"
"No idea." Russell shrugged. "Lloyds didn't tell Scotland Yard. According to Lestrade, the vault wasn't opened by the gang—it was opened by Moriarty.
He took out six armed men by himself, then picked a safe, took what was inside, and left.
So Lloyds is panicking now, pushing Scotland Yard to recover the stolen property."
"Hm… you know, my family has items stored in Lloyds' underground vault, too," Mary said lightly.
"Seriously? That'd be one hell of a coincidence," Russell said, putting on a look of wide-eyed surprise.
"Who knows." Mary shrugged. "When Father called to ask, they told him everything was perfectly safe."
"Then it probably isn't that kind of coincidence," Russell agreed smoothly.
"Yes," Mary echoed, equally smooth. "Probably not."
"And besides that?" she continued. "If Lestrade isn't planning to humor Lloyds, but still needs Charlotte—then it must be something else."
"Yes." Russell nodded. "He went to Charlotte mainly for another matter."
"Another matter?"
"A codename."
"A codename?" Curiosity flickered in Mary's eyes. Without thinking, she leaned a little closer. "What codename?"
"The Professor," Russell whispered.
In the instant the word landed, Mary's body stiffened—so slightly it was almost imaginary—then returned to normal.
"The Professor?" Mary repeated, her tone rising just a touch. "What kind of codename is that?"
"Basically, the Lloyds incident on Saturday night was planned by someone called 'the Professor.' The men in prison are just the muscle he hired."
Russell explained it like he was recounting a bedtime story.
"From the interrogations, the Professor seems to be a very capable… consultant. A criminal consultant.
He's orchestrated several perfect crimes. Scotland Yard never found the real beast behind them.
And if Moriarty hadn't coincidentally picked the same vault as his target that night… the Professor's comeback might've been a flawless finale."
"A comeback?" Mary listened quietly, her face betraying nothing—except the occasional faint furrow of her brow. "Why a comeback?"
"Because according to those idiots, the Professor vanished from London's underworld about a year ago," Russell said. "Then, a few days before the job, their boss received a letter from him.
The Professor gave them a perfect plan and asked only one thing: hit the underground vault, open a specific storage room door, and take something from a particular safe.
Too bad Moriarty ruined the whole thing. Charlotte's lead snapped with it, and she's been complaining nonstop."
He delivered Lestrade's breakfast-table intel with the relaxed cadence of a storyteller.
Mary didn't interrupt. She propped her cheek on one hand, fingertips tapping lightly against her skin without realizing it. In her sea-blue eyes, the light grew brighter and brighter—
as if she were listening to someone describe her own legend.
"So Charlotte accepted Lestrade's commission?" Mary asked when Russell finished.
"Accepted?" Russell sighed. "She didn't even finish breakfast. Dragged me and Lestrade straight to Scotland Yard to interrogate the robbers."
"Find anything?" Mary pressed, her voice threading in a hint of nervousness.
"Other than more 'legendary tales' about the Professor? Nothing." Russell shook his head. "Charlotte tried to squeeze the Professor's real target out of them, but the only two people who knew the safe's code—
one is still at large, and the other got scared insane by Moriarty."
....
My Patreon : patreon/RuneA
If you want to read the novel in advance, you can subscribe for early access. I also have many more novels in my collection that you might be interested in
I upload ten novels a day, with 3 to 4 chapters per title depending on the length. If you're following a particular series, please wait your turn a little
If there's a particular novel you're enjoying on Patron, please give it a 'like' so I know to focus on it