As soon as the stern-faced Principal left, Lily, taking advantage of her proximity, whispered to Little Herta, "T-Teacher Herta?! What are you doing at Cambridge?"
"What? Can't I just drop by to see you?" Herta replied casually.
Of course, it was the real Herta speaking. After Little Herta finished introducing herself, Herta had taken the opportunity to shift her attention to Lily.
"O-of course you can! But wait, you wouldn't come all the way to Cambridge just to 'see me,' right? How did you even get in?" Lily stammered, feeling utterly bewildered. To think that Herta had gotten into Cambridge University and become her classmate just to "see her"?
How had Teacher Herta managed that?
Herta didn't answer. Instead, she said, "Wait a moment. I have some things to take care of. I'll be right back."
Lily blinked. "Huh?"
Herta No. 002 seamlessly took over. "The main body has gone offline. You can talk to me instead. I'll relay everything to her later."
Lily's confusion deepened. "Wait, you're an android now? And you can talk on your own?!"
She knew Herta had androids and had even witnessed her remotely controlling them. But she was shocked that this android could speak independently after Herta had left.
After the initial shock, Lily's bewilderment turned to astonishment and excitement. "How did you do that? What kind of magic is this?"
In countless fantasy films, magicians often wave their wands, bringing brooms, teacups, feather quills, and other objects to life—endowing them with sentience, speech, and the ability to perform tasks autonomously.
But such practical magic didn't exist in Great Britain, making this spectacle utterly novel to Lily.
Herta No. 002 nodded without hesitation. "Yes, it's magic."
Technically, it's advanced technology, she thought, but explaining that would be too complicated.
Lily eagerly asked, "Can I learn it?"
"You could," Herta No. 002 replied, "but this 'magic' requires a vast foundation of prior knowledge."
Still brimming with enthusiasm, Lily wasn't intimidated by the challenge. "What kind of knowledge?" she pressed.
Herta No. 002 rattled off: "Derivatives and differentials, the Mean Value Theorem and its applications, integral calculus of single-variable functions and its applications, differential equations..."
Lily's expression froze. "This... is this some kind of incantation? Why can't I understand any of it?"
-
Meanwhile, the scene shifts to Newman. Unlike his usual routine, he wasn't at work today but instead found himself in Cambridge, shadowing the Principal and assisting with various tasks related to Herta's dissertation.
The Principal had bluntly put it: "Your job is just endless meetings that never produce anything useful for weeks on end. Taking a few days off won't matter. You might as well stay here and help me!"
"Since you're hogging the third author slot, you'd better make yourself useful. Get over here and lend a hand!"
Newman had no choice but to comply. Of course, his primary motive wasn't genuine assistance; he wanted to remain close to Herta—his mission target—so he could be there immediately if she needed him.
As Newman lugged a stack of paper documents past Herta's classroom, he glanced inside and muttered to himself, "Successfully helping her enroll should mean my mission's halfway done, right? But what about the other half? Fulfilling her demands? When exactly will that count as a success?"
Just then, three men in dark suits appeared around the corner of the hallway and strode directly toward Newman. "You're Councilor Newman, aren't you?" one of them asked in a low, authoritative voice.
Newman's heart pounded. He recognized these men all too well—agents of the Great Britain Special Intelligence Service. Their duties were numerous, including monitoring and protecting all councilors, and... hunting down spies within Britain.
Newman had concealed his actions well, but Great Britain was not to be trifled with. Even the slightest slip could lead to detection, especially after he'd broken his meticulously regimented routine and skipped work. These deviations had put him on their radar.
As Newman's mind raced for a strategy, another voice spoke up beside him. "He is Councilor Newman. What business do you have with him?"
It was the Principal of Cambridge University, who had seemingly materialized at his side.
The agents' aggressive posture softened at the Principal's presence, but they pressed on. "Our apologies, Councilor Newman, but your recent behavior has raised concerns. We need you to come with us to the Special Intelligence Service for questioning..."
"An investigation? What kind of investigation? Do you suspect him of being a spy for another country?" The Principal wasn't a fool; he instantly grasped the implication. His eyebrows arched in fury. "That's utterly impossible!"
"You have no idea the monumental contribution Newman has just made to Great Britain! In just a few days, when his paper is published, his name will be known throughout the entire nation! Centuries from now, his name will still be written in textbooks for future generations to study!"
To illustrate, imagine someone handing over cutting-edge technology to their country—a breakthrough far ahead of anything else in the world—allowing the nation to surge forward. How could such a person possibly be a spy?
Or consider this: a spy would normally focus on sabotage, not helping other countries advance their technology. If they're aiding a nation's technological progress, are they still a spy? That's practically a living saint!
As the Principal showered him with praise, Newman felt no gratitude whatsoever. Instead, he felt as if he were being scolded. He desperately wanted to blurt out: Stop praising me! I really am a spy! I don't want to become Great Britain's immortal hero!
But the Principal continued, "You have no idea how deeply Newman has dedicated himself to this project!"
A chill ran down Newman's spine. I was dedicated because of my spy mission—to assist Little Herta!
The Principal pointed at Newman and declared, "I can sense that he's genuinely dedicated to the greatness of Great Britain!"
Newman's lips twitched. Principal, why don't you just let the Special Intelligence Service take me away?
The Principal continued, "How could such a noble man possibly be a spy?"
Newman: Ugh, just kill me now.
The Great Britain Special Intelligence Service agents protested, "But... but these are our orders from higher up..."
The Principal waved them away dismissively. "What orders? Get out of here! As long as I'm here today, you won't lay a finger on him!"
The three agents exchanged frustrated glances before reluctantly backing down and leaving.
At first glance, the Principal seemed to lack real authority. But upon closer reflection, one realized that during his long tenure at Cambridge University, he had mentored countless generations of students. These elite graduates, fresh from the nation's finest institutions, had risen to become pillars of Great Britain, occupying high-ranking positions across various sectors.
For instance, the supervisor of these three agents was one of the Principal's former students.