A brief silence fell over the interview room.
Miles's hand holding the pen froze in mid-air, his gaze fixed intently on Charlotte.
Henry Scott, standing beside him, casually leaned forward. In eyes that had seen countless people, there shone a seasoned curiosity.
That's a good question.
"Strange?"
Miles raised one eyebrow, glanced at Russell, then turned back to Charlotte and asked timidly.
"What exactly is so strange about him?"
Charlotte did not answer immediately.
Her gaze was directed at Russell beside her, as if re-evaluating him—or perhaps confirming a conclusion she herself was not entirely sure of.
Russell met her gaze, curiosity filling his dark eyes.
"I don't know how to explain it specifically."
Charlotte looked away, sinking deeper into her chair, furrowing her brows slightly as though truly troubled by the question.
"This man is usually lazy. If he can sit, he sits. If he can lie down, he lies down. He especially loves sleeping during class."
"If it weren't for those pitifully few credits, he could have dozed off in any class at Imperial College.
Even when he wasn't sleeping, he wasn't listening seriously—he was just spacing out."
"On top of that, he likes to argue with me over trivial things."
As she spoke, she glanced at Russell.
Russell: "..."
Miles and Henry exchanged glances, their eyes sparkling with further gossip.
"But sometimes, he becomes… a completely different person."
"For example?"
Miles spoke in a low voice so as not to interrupt her thoughts.
"For example…" Charlotte's gaze flickered for a moment, as if recalling something, then returned to Russell.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Her gray-blue eyes appeared especially clear in the afternoon light—like a winter lake, calm and quiet on the surface, yet hiding something vague in its depths.
She simply stared at him.
Russell felt slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. His cheerful smile gradually faded, replaced by unease.
Charlotte might have stared at him for three seconds, or longer—or perhaps it was only an instant.
From this moment, the sense of time's flow became somewhat unstable.
In other words, before Russell lost his composure, she looked away from him and returned her gaze to Miles.
"He is a troublemaker."
She said.
Miles paused for a moment, then touched the tip of his pen to the notebook.
"Trouble?"
"Yes," Charlotte answered in a calm, confident tone.
"He talks a lot, does a lot, acts however he wants, often interrupts me when I'm thinking, and always puts milk in my coffee."
She spoke in an extremely serious tone, listing each charge one by one as if reading a criminal record.
"Hey——" Russell couldn't help but open his mouth.
"And another thing," Charlotte cut him off without even glancing at him.
"Sometimes, around 7 a.m. or late at night, he knocks on my door, hides the coffee beans, or leaves the milk in an obvious place."
"He knows I don't want to waste time looking for coffee beans, so I have no choice but to endure it."
She paused briefly, as if trying to recall whether she had overlooked any evidence of misconduct.
"Also, he explains too much when I don't need an explanation, and deliberately doesn't explain when I do need one…"
Miles's eyes grew brighter and brighter.
Henry cleared his throat and signaled Miles with his eyes—go easy, don't be too obvious.
Miles took a deep breath and tried to maintain a professional expression, but he didn't miss a single word.
"So… Miss Holmes, what you're saying… it all sounds like complaints?"
"This is a complaint."
Charlotte nodded matter-of-factly without denying it.
"Then…" Miles chose his words carefully. "What exactly do you think of Mr. Watson?"
Charlotte fell silent again. The girl lowered her eyes, her lips slightly pursed.
She unconsciously picked up her teacup and tried to take a sip, but it was empty.
Seeing this, Russell naturally picked up the teapot and poured her some warm tea.
Charlotte watched the clear amber liquid being poured into the cup. The rising steam blurred her vision.
"He is…" Charlotte set down the teacup and said in a very small voice.
She was thinking.
No—rather, she was calculating.
In Charlotte's mind, the person named "Russell Watson" had been decomposed into countless keywords and data and was being defrosted.
"Miss Holmes?"
Miles called out cautiously.
Charlotte did not respond.
Her eyelashes trembled faintly, like a butterfly dancing in the wind alighting on a petal. The tremor was so slight it was almost unnoticeable.
Why do I need to think about these things?
She asked herself.
This isn't for solving a case, so there's no need to collect so much irrelevant data.
These questions have nothing to do with any case, nothing to do with Moriarty, nothing to do with Hannigan, and nothing to do with those damned 300,000 password combinations.
Why do I need to think about it?
Why does my brain automatically try to retrieve these meaningless, worthless pieces of information the moment this question is asked?
Because this question requires an answer.
She told herself.
It's like a puzzle. You input the question and must output a conclusion.
But… why is the output result "troublesome"?
She had called him a "troublesome guy" because he talked too much, did too much, liked to act on his own, put milk in her coffee, and hid the coffee beans.
These were objectively existing facts—undeniable facts.
But what comes after the trouble?
What comes after the difficulty?
Charlotte's brows furrowed slightly. The change in expression was so minimal that Miles, sitting across from her, didn't notice at all.
But Russell, sitting beside her, saw it.
Her fingers unconsciously curled, as if gripping something invisible.
Her lips pressed together even tighter, leaving only a thin pink line.
What is she thinking?
Russell wanted to know too.
At that moment, Charlotte was constructing a massive logical framework in her mind.
Just as she had done in the past when facing troublesome or complex cases.
The first step is to list all observable facts.
After she stayed up late, he knocked on her door to urge her to eat breakfast.
When she fell asleep in the carriage and slumped to one side, he supported her head.
He saw her messy hair and then laughed.
He answered interview questions on her behalf when she found them troublesome.
The second step is to eliminate all variables unrelated to this problem.
For example, height, weight, educational background, and crime-solving ability.
Since this may be related to his personality traits, let's set that aside for now.
Next, analyze the relationships between these variables.
He did these things because he was her assistant—it was within the scope of his duties.
But supporting her head was not part of her job description. She should have simply been woken up.
The job description did not include remembering how strong she liked her coffee or replacing her coffee with milk.
Would she allow any other assistant to put milk in her coffee?
Would she allow them to knock on her door at 7 a.m. and swagger into her room?
When faced with this problem, does your heart rate become abnormal?
Of course not. This kind of situation couldn't happen with anyone else…
Is my heartbeat abnormal?
Charlotte was startled and unconsciously looked down at her chest, feeling the abnormally rapid beating.
When did this start?
…