Charles's scream, filled with terror and despair, shattered the silence of the sanatorium.
"Calm down, Charles! Calm down and look at !" Charlotte stepped forward and lightly tapped the glass, trying to recapture his attention. "Tell , what's the password? The one the Professor wrote in the letter!"
"Devil! The devil is coming!" Charles let out an uncontrollable cry. He curled up in the corner of the bed, covering his head with both hands and shaking violently from extre fear.
Damn it!
Charlotte muttered under her breath, her face twisting with frustration.
Dr. Vanessa, who had been standing beside her, imdiately pushed open the door and hurried to Charles's side.
"Charles, look at ," she said, her voice gentle yet firm. "Take deep breaths. It's okay—there's no devil here. It's just ."
She tried to calm him, but Charles paid no attention. He had withdrawn into his own world, letting out aningless screams.
[Terror from Charles: Malice Points 100]
Russell silently accepted the surge of malice. He watched the chaotic scene through the glass, pinching the bridge of his nose in helpless frustration.
It seed tonight's trip had been a complete waste of ti.
"Take him to the quiet room," Vanessa instructed the nurses who had rushed to the door.
Charles was quickly restrained by several burly nurses and led out of the ward.
The only ones left in the room were Charlotte, Russell, Lestrade, and a visibly exhausted Dr. Vanessa.
"I'm sorry, Miss Hols," Vanessa said, rubbing her temples. "His condition is far more unstable than I thought."
"Was it because he blurted out the password?" Russell asked.
"Maybe," Vanessa nodded. "Human mory is interconnected. Reminding him of the code essentially forces him to recall what happened that night. If the recollection had co gradually, it might have been manageable, but…"
"But the mont he opened the vault, Moriarty appeared," Charlotte added. "The connection between the two events was simply too strong."
"Therefore, any attempt to recall the code inevitably brings Moriarty to mind."
"Exactly. That's more or less it," Vanessa nodded. "In other words, unless we can separate these two tightly linked mories… otherwise…"
She didn't finish the sentence, but her aning was clear.
It was extrely difficult.
Once she had spoken, Vanessa gave Charlotte and the others so space and left the room to care for Charles. Charlotte leaned against the wall, her brows furrowed.
The lead had slipped away again.
"If we're looking for a silver lining, at least we didn't co back empty-handed," Russell said from the side, handing Charlotte a notebook.
Charlotte didn't take it; she only glanced at what he had written.
There were only two words:
A-3 and 12.
"We didn't get the password from him, but at least we managed to narrow down the possibilities, right?"
"Narrowed, but not completely," Russell interjected. "If I rember correctly, there were at least twenty safes in that vault room."
That ant they would have to investigate the life stories of these twenty people one by one and compile a list of possible passwords.
"Good grief, that's a far more grueling task than searching for a missing fugitive in London," Russell said, his face twisting into an expression even uglier than when he cried. "If we're looking for a silver lining, at least… we have sothing to do."
"Russell, I already have plenty of things I have to do every day," Lestrade said wearily.
"Alright, that's enough," Charlotte straightened up and headed for the door.
"They're gone now."
Russell remained silent and quietly followed behind her. Lestrade hesitated for a mont before quickly catching up.
"Wait, are we really going to Lloyds Bank?"
"Let's head back to Baker Street," Charlotte said. "We'll talk about the Lloyds Bank matter tomorrow. I have no intention of wasting energy on such tedious physical labor."
The three of them boarded a carriage and left the sanatorium.
…
Back on Baker Street, Charlotte reopened the information wall, displayed the entries related to the Professor, and noted down the clues they had gathered that night.
Area A-3, Vault 12.
After saying that, Charlotte turned to Russell.
"Do you know what's there?"
"How could I possibly know that?"
Russell shrugged.
"With the amount deposited, you wouldn't even qualify for a mbership card, let alone access to the underground storage room. You should ask Mary instead, but I doubt she knows either. After all, it was sothing her father deposited."
Charlotte silently looked away.
After a brief pause, she continued, "Let's go to Lloyds Bank together on Saturday."
"Huh? ?"
"Is there a third person here? Or are you planning to go to the Faidon Tearoom with Mary again?"
"No, nothing like that."
Russell shook his head. "I was just wondering why it has to be Saturday."
"Because I have to go to Buckingham Palace on Sunday," Charlotte explained. "Of course, if you can skip classes or take a day off tomorrow, we could go then too."
"Then let's do it on Saturday."
"It's settled then."
Charlotte nodded, and thus the weekend plans were finalized.
She turned back to the information wall, added a new sticky note, and boldly underlined the key information [A-3] and [12] in red marker. Next, she used black silk thread to connect them to the na "Professor."
"By the way," Russell said, sinking deeply into the sofa and sipping the hot tea Mrs. Hudson had just brewed. He asked casually, "Why do you think the password has to be related to the vault owner?"
"Because humans are lazy creatures," Charlotte replied without turning around. "Especially when it cos to mory. They prefer combinations that hold special aning to them and are easy to rember over creating and morizing random strings of complex numbers. Birthdays, anniversaries, house numbers… or repeating certain lucky numbers. To them, these are not just codes—they're also psychological anchors."
"That makes sense," Russell said vaguely. "But there are always exceptions, right?"
"Of course there are," Charlotte finally said, turning her gaze away from the wall.
She faced Russell and continued, "For example, soone with extrely strong self-discipline, highly logical, and possessing an extraordinary sensitivity to numbers. Or perhaps a paranoid individual who is so cautious that they keep every secret locked tightly inside themselves. Or maybe…"
She paused, directing a faintly amused glance at Russell.
"…a phantom thief who finds joy in committing cris and enjoys dancing on the edge of a knife."
"..."
Russell silently took a sip of his black tea.
"Why are you looking at like that?" He shrugged. "I'm not Moriarty."
"I was just giving an example."
Charlotte looked away and began writing and drawing on the wall again.
Seeing that she had entered her "do not disturb" state once more, Russell wisely said nothing further. He quietly finished his tea, bid Charlotte farewell, and returned to his own room.
He had so free ti tonight, so he decided to get a little sleep to recharge his energy before heading out for so good deeds after midnight.
After all, only four days remained until the Buckingham Palace restitution agreent.
His wallet needed replenishing again.
As long as there was food in his pocket, he wouldn't panic over anything.
…
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