"He got away."
Gazing up at the empty top of the tower, Mycroft finally reached this conclusion, overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness. He turned around, pinched the bridge of his nose wearily, and looked at the still-shocked guards behind him and the pensive Charlotte.
"Let's call it a day," he said, waving his hand. "Tonight ends here."
Meanwhile, Louise remained standing in a daze, staring up at the empty night sky for a long time without moving an inch. The voice of her maid finally pulled her back to reality, and the maid guided her back to her bedroom.
On the other hand, Charlotte had begun searching for Russell inside Buckingham Palace. She hurriedly opened door after door, looking for the familiar figure.
She checked nearly every place he might be—from the restaurant to the gallery and even the corridors they had strolled through the previous day.
However, he was nowhere to be found.
Anxiety and an indescribable emotion began to spread through her heart like vines, tightening their grip more and more.
She wasn't worried about the man's safety—Charlotte told herself that firmly. She was certain Moriarty wouldn't harm him.
She simply wanted to find him quickly, mock him mercilessly, and ridicule him as an incompetent assistant who was utterly useless in critical moments. Yes, that was it exactly.
The moment she thought that, her steps unconsciously quickened as she headed toward an unexpected location—the Royal Garden.
As she walked along the long path of white pebbles, the familiar white gazebo came into view not far ahead, quietly standing under the moonlight.
The instant Charlotte stepped into the garden, she unconsciously slowed her pace.
She approached the pavilion step by step. The familiar small white structure entered her sight.
Breathing a little heavily, Charlotte slowed down and cautiously drew closer, one step at a time.
And then, she found the person she had been searching for.
Leaning against a cold white marble pillar carved with rose patterns inside the gazebo was the familiar figure. His head was slightly tilted, and he was breathing peacefully.
He appeared to be asleep. His head drooped a little, and in the quiet night only the faint sound of his steady breathing could be heard.
Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the gazebo's roof, casting dappled shadows on him and softening his usually melancholic sleeping face.
Charlotte stopped about three meters away from him.
She stood there silently, gazing at him. A flicker of relief appeared in her gray-blue eyes.
Her heart, which had been pounding violently with anxiety and worry, gradually calmed the moment she confirmed he was safe.
An evening breeze blew through, swirling the fallen leaves and gently tousling the few stray strands of hair on his forehead.
He looked like a carefree boy napping in the afternoon sun—sleeping deeply and serenely.
Charlotte stood there for a long time. Her gray-blue eyes, especially clear under the moonlight, swirled with emotions she herself couldn't understand.
Finally, she took a step forward and entered the pavilion.
She walked over to Russell but didn't wake him immediately.
She simply sat down quietly beside him, savoring the peace they had reclaimed—and the peace of this moment alone.
For some reason, the anxiety that had lingered in her heart ever since Moriarty's successful escape began to fade away little by little.
In its place, complex emotions welled up.
She stared intently at Russell's sleeping face, her eyes filled with sharp observation.
Why is he here? This place wasn't far from the princess's bedroom, but it wasn't particularly close either.
From the time she and Mycroft had heard Russell's alarm until they confronted Moriarty, the entire process hadn't even taken three minutes. Even if Moriarty had used some aerial means, it would have been utterly impossible for him to move the unconscious Russell from the room next to the princess all the way to this garden in just three minutes.
Unless he had come here on his own.
But if that were the case…
Thinking that, Charlotte's expression toward Russell grew even more complicated.
Consider this as thanks for helping with his tuition and rent payments.
After all, you do have some obligation to do something.
Charlotte tried to convince herself of that.
"Why does everyone want to get involved with that man?" she muttered as she reached out and gently shook his shoulder.
"Hey," she called. "Wake up, Watson."
"Uh…"
Russell frowned as if irritated by the sudden disturbance and mumbled faintly.
He shifted his posture, rubbing his head against the cold stone pillar, but showed no sign of waking.
Tch. Still pretending, huh?
Charlotte frowned.
"Wake up. It's all over."
She reached out, pinched his cheek, and spoke in a slightly louder voice laced with a hint of revenge.
This time, Russell finally responded.
He slowly opened his still-sleepy eyes.
"Charlotte?"
He stared at the beautiful face in front of him, his mind going blank for several seconds.
"Wait, why are we here? Did we go back to yesterday?"
"What do you think?"
The same question lingered in the girl's heart, but the words that came out of her mouth were completely different.
"It's over."
"Over?"
Russell sat up straight, rubbing his slightly aching neck as he looked around.
"Where's Moriarty? Was he captured?"
He asked a question to which he already knew the answer.
What do you think?
Charlotte didn't reply. Instead, she asked, "I'm more curious about why you're here than where Moriarty went."
"How could I possibly know?" Russell started scratching his head. "All I remember is rushing into the room and seeing that man coming in through the window. Then I tried to grab him, but suddenly everything went dark. It was probably a smoke bomb or something."
"And then what happened?" Charlotte continued questioning.
"After that, I tried to pinpoint his location by sound, but…"
"You didn't hear anything and just passed out?"
"Yeah. It felt like he blew something into my face, and then I lost consciousness." Russell nodded. "When I woke up, I was here."
"It's the same as what happened to me and Mycroft…" Charlotte's expression didn't change, as if she had expected it.
"So… does that mean I messed up?"
Russell looked worried.
"In that situation, the result would have been the same no matter who was in charge." She comforted him. "It's not your fault. Don't worry about it."
That was the truth.
Even without Russell's help, considering the strange movements the man had shown when fighting her and Mycroft, the outcome probably wouldn't have changed much.
After a brief pause, she added, "Just don't be so impulsive next time."
In other words, that man hadn't intended to harm anyone. If it had been someone else…
"I promise."
Russell nodded.
"Alright, let's go. We shouldn't stay here."
Charlotte turned around. "Let's head inside."
"Uh-huh."
Russell stood up as well.
"Where's Mycroft?" he asked. "He must be incredibly busy right now, right?"
"More or less," Charlotte replied vaguely. "He's not only dealing with the aftermath but also handling the situation with His Majesty the King, who was woken up."
"So what about us?"
"The mission is complete. Rest well tonight. Tomorrow, we'll return to Baker Street by carriage." She paused. "If you'd like, you may have lunch before departure."
"Sounds pretty good."
Russell nodded in satisfaction.
Then, as if something had occurred to him, he turned toward Charlotte.
"By the way, when did you find me?"
"Just now."
Charlotte answered without looking up.
"Really?"
Russell raised one eyebrow. "I had a feeling someone was standing next to me for a while while I was sleeping."
"It was either an illusion or a hallucination from the cold."
Charlotte replied without changing her expression, but her steps quickened ever so slightly—almost unnaturally so.
"When we get back, don't forget to drink plenty of warm water."
"Oh."
Russell nodded and didn't press further.
The two of them walked through the moonlit garden and returned to the warm, bright interior of the palace.
Perhaps because the farce-like event had ended, the corridors were very quiet, with almost no servants or guards around.
After confirming Russell was safe, the staff let out sighs of relief and told him not to worry.
As the two prepared to rest again, Russell suddenly thought of something and asked, "By the way… where's the music box?"
The moment those words left his mouth, everyone froze.
Immediately after, a beautiful melody began to flow from Louise's bedroom.
"When…?"
Charlotte frowned.
"I remember… When Mr. Moriarty first appeared, he said the music box had been returned to its original place," Louise chimed in from the side.
"But before he could finish saying the location, Miss Holmes interrupted him."
"So…" Russell trailed off. "Does that mean he had returned the item from the very beginning, and everything that happened after was just… part of a performance?"
For a moment, everyone was enveloped in silence.
A ghostly hand gently wound up the music box, and a beautiful, mysterious melody played.
It felt like the final note of the night.
…
…
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