The living room fell silent for a moment.
Mary held her cup and remained quiet for a few seconds before smiling calmly.
"As expected of Charlotte Holmes."
She said this, but it was impossible to tell from her tone whether it was a compliment or something else.
"I'm surprised you could deduce so much from just a few pieces of information."
"So everything I said was correct?"
Charlotte asked while holding her coffee cup.
"Mostly correct, right?"
Mary met her gaze calmly, without any hesitation or guilt.
"Mostly? Then which small part did I get wrong?"
"Well… Father doesn't oppose Russell. On the contrary, he respects him quite a bit. He also doesn't oppose me inviting him to the house."
Mary said this and gave Charlotte a light smile.
"Charlotte, this is thanks to you. If you hadn't agreed to the Times interview, I might not have had this opportunity."
Charlotte raised one eyebrow.
"If Mr. Morstan doesn't hold any grudge against him, then why did you run away?"
She asked, looking puzzled.
"Because I didn't want him to meet Russell."
Mary took a sip of ginger tea. "Just like how you don't want Mycroft to poach Russell and turn him into a civil servant, the fact that they respected Russell was always… for another motive."
Charlotte didn't argue. She simply took another sip of coffee.
The two didn't speak, but it felt as though something was quietly drifting in the air.
At least on the surface, there was no hostility. Rather than direct confrontation, there seemed to be a tacit understanding between them.
And once again, Mary broke the silence and spoke first.
"By the way," she said while taking a small sip of ginger tea and looking around. "I never expected Miss Holmes's room to be like this."
She spoke casually, in the same relaxed tone she used when chatting about daily events or trivial gossip in salons.
"Is there a problem?"
Charlotte countered with a question.
"I have no intention of judging someone else's private space, but…"
Mary paused, then spoke in a serious, questioning tone rather than a sarcastic one. "Don't you think it's a bit messy?"
"Messy?"
Charlotte repeated the word in a flat tone. "That's simply the result of mental imaging."
"Hm?"
Mary smiled. "I thought this was proof that Miss Holmes is bad at tidying up."
"If it's in this environment, I can find whatever I need. Pointless tidying would only disrupt this order."
Charlotte said.
"It's better to spend that time on more meaningful things. After all, not everyone has multiple maids they can order around as they please."
Hearing this, Mary clearly sensed the sarcasm in Charlotte's tone and furrowed her brows slightly.
"At least the maids get paid. Russell doesn't get a single cent. Isn't that pitiful?"
"..."
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "He did it of his own free will."
"Kindness shouldn't be exploited under the pretext of being 'voluntary.'"
"Then when he makes breakfast for you every Thursday, please pay him properly."
Charlotte said, "Gas on Baker Street isn't cheap."
"..."
Mary was momentarily at a loss for words. "He promised himself to me."
"As you yourself said, one shouldn't exploit someone's kindness under the pretext of it being a 'voluntary' act."
Charlotte threw Mary's own words back at her.
The smell of gunpowder in the air seemed to grow stronger.
The two sat silently by the fireplace, sipping coffee or ginger tea. It felt as though they had tacitly entered a kind of truce.
However, this halftime break didn't last long. Charlotte ended it almost immediately.
"You and Russell," Charlotte broke the silence and looked at Mary.
"Me and Russell?"
Mary tilted her head. "What exactly happened between us?"
"When did you two start dating?"
Charlotte asked.
"What is Miss Holmes talking about?"
"You know what I'm saying."
Charlotte said.
"I see…" Mary nodded. "You want to know when I started liking him?"
Charlotte still avoided making a direct statement.
"This might be a difficult question to answer."
Mary said, "Honestly, even I don't know."
"You don't know at all?"
"Yeah, I don't know."
She nodded. Her tone was sincere, with no trace of acting.
"All I know is that by the time I noticed, it was already too late."
Charlotte fell silent.
"You too?"
Mary threw the question back at Charlotte. "Miss Holmes, when did you fall in love with him?"
Charlotte was momentarily at a loss for words.
"What kind of affection are you referring to?"
"What other kind is there?"
Mary said. "Of course, it's romantic affection between a man and a woman. What else could it be besides a mother's love for her child?"
Hearing this, Charlotte furrowed her brows slightly, as though she couldn't understand what Mary meant.
She picked up her coffee cup, took a sip, then said, "The day before yesterday."
"The day before yesterday?"
Curiosity appeared in Mary's eyes. "Really?"
"Why would I lie about something like this?"
Charlotte countered with a question.
"Fine, the day before yesterday it is."
Mary nodded, accepting the answer.
"That means I came first, and you came later, Miss Holmes."
"You two haven't even acknowledged your relationship yet, so why talk about who came first?"
Charlotte said curtly.
"But many of his first experiences were also first experiences for me."
Mary laughed, then counted on her fingers.
"The first time we held hands, the first time we hugged, the first time we took a walk together, the first time we went on a date, even the first kiss—all of them were mine."
"If you put it that way, then the many moments when he made breakfast for someone, brewed coffee for someone, and carried someone like a princess… were mine."
Charlotte said without changing her expression.
"By the way, there's one correction I need to make. Since you only kissed him on the cheek, that doesn't count, and there won't be another chance in the future."
The moment she finished speaking, the smile instantly disappeared from Mary's face.
"What do you mean?"
"I kissed him the day before yesterday on the Thames Bridge," Charlotte said. "But only on the corner of his mouth."
She paused and looked at Mary's expression. Then the corners of Mary's lips gradually lifted.
"Yesterday, in the second-floor box at the Royal Opera House, I kissed him again. Where do you think it was this time?"
A deathly silence fell over the living room, as though the end of the world had arrived. Even the rain outside the window seemed to have stopped.
Mary stared at Charlotte. Charlotte stared at Mary. It was as though the two were exchanging some kind of information through their eyes.
During the process, neither of them spoke or moved. Only the fireplace flames crackled as they burned.
It was unclear how much time passed, but Mary finally reacted and broke the deathly silence.
She let out a small laugh, as though she had heard a funny joke.
"I thought Charlotte Holmes was just a genius who couldn't even tell a joke."
She said with a smile.
"Mycroft always said I have no sense of humor."
Charlotte also laughed.
"It seems he was wrong."
The two burst out laughing at the same time. Their pleasant laughter echoed through the living room.
Mary returned to the sofa and continued drying her hair while finishing the last of her ginger tea.
"Hey, you know what? When I ran away from home today, I felt closer to freedom than I ever have before."
Charlotte raised her eyebrows and seemed to be listening seriously.
The two tacitly avoided topics that would make the atmosphere heavy. There were some matters that shouldn't be brought up now, and some that shouldn't be overturned now.
"I've never felt this free before."
Charlotte repeated the sentence, but her tone was neither questioning nor affirming.
"Hmm." Mary nodded while holding the empty glass with both hands, her fingertips gently stroking the rim.
"It's the feeling of not having to worry about anything, not having to think about anything, just running, just running."
She paused for a moment, then turned to face Charlotte.
"Charlotte, have you ever felt this way before?"
Charlotte was silent for a few seconds.
"No."
She said, "I don't need to run away.
"I envy you."
Mary laughed. "But if you do that, you'll miss out on something."
"For example?"
"For example, holding his hand and running around the streets of Kensington."
Mary said.
"And then it rained."
Charlotte said without changing her expression.
"Yeah, and then it started raining," Mary said ambiguously. "So he pulled me under the eaves so I wouldn't get wet, but the eaves were really small."
She said quietly. "We hid there. Very close. Not as close as if we were hugging, but at that distance, something could have happened."
Charlotte said nothing and simply listened quietly.
"He said, 'If we stay here any longer, you'll catch a cold.'"
Mary spoke quietly. In this moment, Charlotte seemed to be the only person who would listen to her story, and this topic felt like something she could only discuss with her.
"But I was very stubborn. I looked at him with pleading eyes and said I didn't want to go home, and he softened his attitude."
"That suits his personality."
Charlotte's tone was flat.
"Yeah, exactly."
Mary smiled. "So he took off his coat and draped it over my shoulders, then dragged me all the way to Baker Street."
She said.
"The first half of the race, I was pulling him. The second half, he was pulling me."
"Like two lunatics."
"It's tiring to stay awake all the time."
Mary said quietly.
"Isn't it wonderful to have someone who'll go crazy with you?"
Charlotte didn't answer. She finished the last of her coffee. Mary didn't say anything more either. She leaned back in the chair and dried her rain-dampened hair with the warmth of the fireplace.
The living room fell silent again. The sound of rain outside the window seemed to grow quieter, and they could now hear sounds coming from the next room.
"It seems someone finally decided to come out of the bath."
Mary said with a light laugh.
The moment she finished speaking, light footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by the sound of someone descending the stairs.
"It seems he went to get tea."
Charlotte said.
After a while, the sound of someone climbing the stairs could be heard, and the footsteps stopped in front of the door.
"Knock, knock."
Russell knocked on the door. "Open up. I'm holding the tea set."
"I'll get it."
Before Charlotte could respond, Mary stood up and quickly walked to the door.
When the door opened, Russell appeared in the doorway. He had changed into clean clothes. Dark gray trousers and a white shirt, with the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, revealing part of his forearms.
His hair was still wet, and he had casually swept it back. A few strands of messy hair hung over his forehead, dripping water.
"Mary?"
Russell looked surprised. It was as though he hadn't expected her to open the door.
His gaze unconsciously drifted to the girl wearing Charlotte's nightgown. Her long silver hair was still wet and gathered to one side, cascading over her shoulder.
The white fabric made her appear even more delicate. The robe was a little too big for her, the collar was slightly open, and a small part of her beautiful collarbone was visible…
Mary said reproachfully. "It would be rude to keep staring."
Hearing this, Russell immediately looked away and gave a light cough twice.
"I wasn't looking."
"Really?"
Mary tilted her head, looking unconvinced.
"Really."
Russell said without changing his expression. He carried the tray and slipped past Mary.
Mary simply smiled at this and followed behind Russell, closing the door behind them.
At that moment, the fireplace in Charlotte's room was burning brightly, enveloping the entire room in a warm and comfortable atmosphere.
Charlotte sat in the armchair and watched as Russell placed the tray on the table.
"Ginger tea?"
She asked.
"Mm."
Russell nodded. "Mrs. Hudson just made it. It's good for warming up the body. Would you like a cup?"
"I'm fine."
Charlotte didn't refuse, so Russell poured her a glass as well.
"Your hair."
Charlotte suddenly said, "Why didn't you dry it?"
"I tried to make it as clean as possible, but there was no other way."
Russell shrugged. "It'll be over soon, so it's fine."
Hearing this, Charlotte furrowed her brows, set down her teacup, stood up, went to the bathroom, took out a towel, and covered Russell's head with it.
"Dry it properly."
She said firmly. "If you don't want to catch a cold."
"Let's drink this first."
Russell removed the towel and tried to drink the hot ginger tea first, but in the next moment, the towel was snatched from his hand.
"Then I'll help."
Mary held the towel and walked toward Russell with a smile. She gently placed the towel over his head.
"Come closer. I'll dry it for you."
As she spoke, she used one hand to pull Russell toward her and made him lean into her arms.
Before Russell could react, she pulled him close, gently stroked his wet hair with her slender fingers, placed the towel over his head, and began drying it.
His back stiffened for an instant. Through the loose nightgown, he could feel her body right behind him. It was the girl's soft skin.
Furthermore, through that thin nightgown, he could even sense her slightly quickened heartbeat and the faint rise and fall of her chest with each breath.
The scent of white tea once again enveloped him. The fragrance was stronger than usual because he had just taken a shower, because of the steam, and because the two of them were close enough to touch.
Warm breath drifted from behind him. The scents of white tea and ginger tea mingled, and the unique scent of the girl was added to it, enveloping Russell like an invisible net.
Mary's fingers were skillful and gentle. Their movement was less like drying and more like an affectionate caress.
The fibers of the towel passed through his hair, removing excess moisture, while her fingertips casually—almost imperceptibly—brushed against his scalp, ears, and the back of his neck.
"It's fine."
It was unclear how much time had passed, but Mary finally released her hands and let out a satisfied laugh.
Russell let out a sigh of relief as though he had been granted amnesty and unconsciously took a small step forward to create distance.
However, his shoulders were gently pushed down by soft hands.
"Don't move," Mary's voice came from behind. It was slightly languid and nasal. "It's not completely dry yet."
Charlotte said nothing and watched the scene with indifference. She knew she couldn't do something like that, and she had thought Mary would at least obediently dry his hair.
Well, the rain outside the window would stop soon anyway. It wouldn't hurt to allow her this little moment. After Mary left, she could retort again and be more aggressive.
Still… it felt somewhat unpleasant.
"Are you his mother?"
Charlotte suddenly spoke. "Do you have to do everything yourself?"
"Hmm… I'm not his mother, but I wouldn't mind taking care of him for the rest of my life. Is there a problem?"
Mary smiled and returned the same question.
Of course there isn't a problem.
Charlotte stared at the two of them and fixed her gaze on Russell's helpless face. "If he's willing to be your son, that's fine."
"Hey… Charlotte."
Russell tried to protest and raised his face, but soft hands from behind gently pushed him back.
"Don't move," Mary's voice rang out again. There was unmistakable gentleness in it. "It'll be done soon."
Her fingers stroked his hair again. The movement was slower and lighter than before. Every time her fingers touched him, it felt like feathers brushing against him, sending waves of indescribably pleasant stimulation.
Russell felt as though his scalp was about to explode.
Charlotte picked up the ginger tea, blew on it to cool it, but her gaze remained fixed on the two of them. There was no emotion in her gray-blue eyes.
"Your clothes should be dry by now."
A few seconds later, she suddenly spoke, breaking the ambiguous atmosphere.
"Hm?"
Mary paused for a moment before saying. "That's truly a shame. I should start preparing to go home soon."
"Yeah," Charlotte set down her teacup. "Please go ahead. No need to see you off."
"You seem to be in a hurry?"
Mary's fingers gently twirled Russell's hair.
"As the daughter of the Morstan family, you don't want to worry your family too much."
Hearing this, Mary was silent for a while before releasing her hands.
"You're right, Charlotte."
As she stood up, the large nightgown swayed gently with her movement.
"Well then, may I borrow your phone?"
"Go ahead."
Charlotte didn't refuse.
Mary walked to the phone, hesitated for a moment, then picked up the receiver and dialed a number.
She whispered something to the person on the other end, then hung up.
"Your clothes are dry," Charlotte said and pointed to the clothes she had brought while Mary was on the phone.
"Thank you."
Mary laughed. "May I borrow your room for a moment?"
As she spoke, she turned and entered Charlotte's room, then came out again five minutes later.
She had changed back into her black shirt dress. The disheveled appearance from the rain was completely gone, and she had returned to the elegant, composed Miss Morstan.
When it dried, the skirt regained its lightness. The lace trim no longer hung limply but curled just right.
She stood in the doorway. In the warm yellow light, her blue eyes shone brightly.
Her wet hair was mostly dry. The ends curled slightly and hung loosely over her shoulders, making her look like a model who had stepped out of a fashion magazine.
"Do I look pretty?"
Mary noticed Russell's gaze, tilted her head, and deliberately asked.
"Mm."
Russell nodded without denying it.
The sound of rain outside the window gradually quieted. Only the sound of water dripping from the eaves hitting the windowsill with soft "plop, plop" sounds remained.
About fifteen minutes later, the sound of knocking on the door downstairs could be heard.
"The carriage must have arrived."
Mary said quietly, then looked at Russell. "Will you see me off?"
Russell nodded and stood up.
The two left the room one after another. Their footsteps ascending the wooden stairs made faint sounds.
Charlotte sat in the armchair without moving, staring at the figures disappearing through the doorway. She remained there until the door quietly closed.
On the stairs, Mary walked in front. Russell walked half a step behind her.
The hallway was quiet. The only sounds were their footsteps and the gradually weakening rain outside the window.
The dim yellow wall lamps cast soft light on the walls, stretching their shadows long, overlapping, then separating.
Mary didn't turn around, but her voice could be faintly heard.
"I talked a lot with Charlotte in the room just now," she said.
"What did you talk about?"
Russell asked.
"About you."
Mary said.
"About me?"
It was a question, but Russell didn't look surprised.
"Mm."
Mary nodded but didn't stop walking.
"We talk about when you started making breakfast for me, when you started brewing coffee for her, when you first held my hand, and when she first kissed you."
Russell's steps slowed slightly.
Mary seemed to sense it. She stopped and turned around.
At the corner of the stairs, she stood two steps higher than him, looking down at him. Dim light came from the side, dividing her face into light and shadow—one side calm, the other mysteriously highlighted.
"She kissed you twice."
Mary said in a calm tone.
"Once on the bridge, once at the opera house."
Russell opened his mouth to say something, but Mary gently stopped him with a raised hand.
"No explanation needed."
She said, "I'm not angry."
She paused for a moment, a smile on her lips. "I won't lose to her."
Downstairs, the sound of knocking on the door could be heard again. This time it was more urgent than before.
Mary withdrew her hand, took a step back, and once again wore a polite smile.
"Well then, let's go. The carriage is waiting," she said.
She turned around and continued walking.
"Wait a moment."
Russell suddenly spoke and pulled her to the side.
Mary turned to face Russell.
She stood in front of a familiar door. Behind her was the night and the light rain, and in front of her stood him.
"What's wrong?"
Mary asked.
Russell said nothing. He simply took a dry black coat from the coat rack and draped it over Mary's shoulders.
"If you're afraid of the cold, wear something."
He said this in a tone that left no room for argument.
Mary stood there in a daze.
She looked down at the overcoat she was wearing. It was Russell's and still carried the warmth of having just dried, along with his faint scent.
It was clean and warm, with a scent that made one want to bury their face in it and take a deep breath.
"What about you?"
Mary asked.
"Take it. There are still plenty left."
Russell smiled, then ruffled her hair.
"Go on. Don't make your family worry."
"Hmm…"
Mary nodded and wrapped the coat tightly around her body, sinking almost completely into the thick black fabric.
The coat was too big for her. The hem almost completely covered the skirt, leaving only a small part of her slender calves and light gray boots visible.
"I'm going."
Mary said quietly.
"Mm."
Russell nodded. "Be careful on the way."
Mary took a few steps forward, then suddenly turned around, raised her face, and gently kissed him on the cheek.
"This is for today."
She laughed, then took a step back and retreated to the porch by the door.
"Do you remember what I said?" she said in a slightly amused tone. "Just wait a little longer. It'll be over soon."
When the time comes, I'll kiss you honestly and sincerely.
Mary walked to the door, opened it, and the driver… They got into the carriage holding an umbrella.
"I'm very happy today."
She said to Russell. Her blue eyes were filled with laughter.
"See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow."
Russell nodded.
The driver closed the door. The carriage slowly began to move and eventually disappeared into the rain.
The carriage left Baker Street and hurried toward Kensington.
Mary leaned against the carriage, wrapped the coat tightly around her body, and watched the passing city scenery through the window.
The scenery changed from unfamiliar to familiar. Finally, the carriage stopped in front of the gate of the Morstan residence.
The butler, who had been waiting for a long time, immediately came forward with an umbrella, opened the carriage door, and helped the girl out.
"Welcome back, Miss——"
The butler faltered for a moment when he saw the clearly oversized coat she was wearing, but quickly regained his composure and said nothing. He simply guided Mary step by step through the rain and stopped in front of the front entrance.
The taciturn man stood in the doorway, silently watching the approaching girl.
There was still a smile on her lips, as though she had just returned from an incredibly enjoyable trip. She was exhausted, but her blue eyes were clear.
That escape must have been a wonderful experience. Considering her age and status, she might never experience something like that again in her lifetime. It would become a memory she would cherish forever.
She didn't think she had done anything wrong, so she had no intention of apologizing to her father.
Father and daughter stood silently in the rain. Eventually, Mary looked up at her father and smiled faintly.
"I'm home, Father."