When they returned to Baker Street, Charlotte imdiately shut herself in her room and began examining the docunts. Russell didn't help. After all, he had finally found sothing for Charlotte to do; if she enjoyed it, he figured he should just leave her to it.
At least for the next while, they should be able to live a relatively peaceful life.
…
Monday, Imperial College London.
The familiar lecture hall, the familiar seat in the back row, the familiar girl who slled of white tea.
"Good morning."
Russell said.
"Good morning." Mary smiled and replied, "So, how did it go? What was the result?"
"Last week, didn't you and Charlotte say you were going to Lloyds Bank on Saturday?"
"Ah, that's right," Russell said with a yawn. "It was… a huge success."
"Then what about the process?" Mary blinked. "Did you really use that letter to beat up the supervisor?"
"How could I do sothing like that?" Russell waved his hand. "I'm a cultured person. I wouldn't do anything so rude."
"So what did you do?" Mary raised one eyebrow.
"Of course, we had a proper talk with him," Russell said.
He recounted the events of the day before yesterday in detail, and the girl leaned forward like a curious child. When she heard the final part, she couldn't help but laugh.
"So this Mr. George Adler seems quite similar to you," she comnted.
"Where do we resemble each other?"
"Chaleons." Mary said aningfully, "You two."
She paused for a mont, then asked, "By the way, do you really know Buckingham Palace's phone number?"
"Of course not. That's already over," Russell said flatly. "I only went to Buckingham Palace to help a little, but I actually didn't do much. Why would they give their contact information?"
"Then why did you…" Mary tilted her head.
"The issue is, if I presented a letter of authorization from Buckingham Palace and said I was going to call Buckingham Palace, would you believe if you were in his position? Or would you have the courage to bet your career on the possibility that the letter was fake?"
Russell countered with a question.
Hearing this, Mary raised one eyebrow, and a faint look of admiration appeared in her eyes. "That's quite an interesting psychological battle."
"Humans are essentially driven by the desire to pursue benefits and avoid harm," Russell shrugged. "Besides, Mr. Adler has only been in the position for less than a month."
"So, did you get the list?" Mary asked for more details.
"Hmm," Russell nodded lightly and added, "There are a total of 27 personal files stacked up to about knee height." He made a rough gesture. "Charlotte has been shut up in her room since yesterday afternoon studying them."
"Did she find anything?" Mary asked in a voice mixed with tension and curiosity.
"Who knows. Probably not yet," Russell shook his head. "Those materials are even more boring to than textbooks. There's too much information, it's disorganized, and you have to select the useful parts and then interpret them…"
"Just listening to that makes tired." After avoiding a direct answer, Mary glanced at Russell and asked, "Aren't you going to help her?"
"Please spare , that's way too difficult." Russell sprawled across the table. "If Charlotte asked for help, I'd probably mix in aningless data like gender and make things even more complicated for her. I won't deny that."
Hearing this, Mary smiled and said nothing more.
Just in ti, the school bell rang, ending the short morning conversation.
When the professor entered the classroom and saw the person in the back row already dozing off, he realized it was ti to start the lecture.
Mary sat up straight, opened the notebook Russell had returned to her, and listened attentively to the professor's lecture while taking diligent notes.
However, as ti passed, the girl who had been concentrating gradually grew distracted.
The reason wasn't just the lazy dog beside her—it was because winter had arrived in London earlier than expected.
Just a few days ago, the autumn wind had been pleasantly cool, but today it was biting cold, forcing people to tighten their collars.
Fortunately, the lecture hall's heating was sufficient, so the students didn't suffer from the cold during class. But being too warm wasn't always a good thing either.
Except for Russell, who was already sound asleep, the others began to feel drowsy too.
Compared to the other students, Mary was quite energetic. She didn't nod off; at most, she was a little distracted.
As thoughts arose, the girl's fingertips unconsciously began fiddling with the pages of her notebook. Before she realized it, she had flipped past the pages with blackboard notes and written mos, and once she started, she couldn't stop.
When she turned to a blank page in the notebook, the neatly organized notes from before disappeared.
In their place were several simple yet expressive doodles.
Anyway, today's class was just a summary and review of last week's lesson, so she had already taken all the necessary notes.
It's okay to skip listening once in a while.
Mary stared at the familiar doodles for a while. After silently apologizing to the professor in her heart, she picked up her pen.
Just as the girl was thinking about what to draw today, her eyes were suddenly drawn to a doodle in the corner.
It was also a simple stick figure, but not one she had drawn.
Setting aside the fact that the drawing style was different, Mary had never seen a stick figure in this kind of pose before.
It was a stick figure wearing a tuxedo. The lines were simple, yet surprisingly elegant and dignified.
The stick figure was holding a teacup and appeared to be conversing with soone.
Charlotte.
The na flashed through Mary's mind almost instantly.
No one else would leave sothing like this in Russell's notebook.
In the end, there was still that dense guy who hadn't even noticed the doodles.
Moreover, besides Charlotte, probably no one else knew who she was drawing, let alone the eye-catching tailcoat.
Mary stared at the doodle. A montary look of confusion appeared in her beautiful blue eyes, but it quickly turned into sothing more complex.
It was a mixture of competitiveness and sothing that even made her want to laugh.
It was like a cat finding another cat's scent on its own toy.
What is this? A provocation?
"Childish," Mary muttered in a voice only she could hear, with a contemptuous comnt.
Then she picked up her pen and began drawing her own picture next to the stick figure Charlotte had left.
On that notebook, a quiet doodle war was secretly unfolding.
…
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