"What?"
Hearing Mary's words, Russell paused for a moment.
"When we first met, your movement technique—or rather, your fighting skills—were, if not crude, then at least clumsy," Mary said calmly.
"That wasn't a deliberate disguise, but genuine amateurishness. Based on this premise, I find it hard to believe that you could single-handedly defeat five—or rather, six—fully armed bandits inside Lloyds Bank.
"Honestly, I'm very curious. How exactly did you do it?"
Faced with Mary's question, Russell fell silent for a moment before laughing.
"Physical constitutions cannot be generalized between people, Miss Morstan. Some people, in a state of extreme anger, can even punch through a twenty-centimeter-thick steel plate."
"That is a plot point from a fantasy novel."
"Exactly my point." Russell shrugged. "I can grow, too. Thanks to you, after our last encounter, I deeply realized my deficiencies in combat. So, I underwent specific intensive training."
"That adds up to less than a month in total, doesn't it?" Mary frowned, her gaze sharpening.
A month might be enough to go from amateur to beginner. But for a newly minted beginner to take down six opponents in a row—and to do so while dealing with poison gas and narrow terrain—that was a bit of a stretch.
"I put in a little effort." Russell spread his hands.
"This isn't a matter of effort anymore..."
Mary was already suspecting whether the British Empire had secretly launched some super soldier program.
Codename: Captain Britain...?
"So as I said, physical constitutions cannot be generalized. Maybe I have superpowers?"
"..."
[Mary Morstan is dissatisfied with your concealment. Malice Points +10]
See, getting anxious again.
"Fine, if you don't want to say, then don't."
Mary lifted her teacup, using the action to mask the flicker of thought in her eyes. The mellowness of the oil and the sweetness of the sugar melted on her tongue, but her mind was not on the tea at all.
Although for a split second just now, she had mentally equated the Phantom Thief before her with Russell, she quickly rejected the possibility after calming down.
He couldn't possibly have defeated six gunmen in that situation and retreated unscathed. Moreover, if Moriarty really were him, she wouldn't fail to recognize him.
Thinking this, Mary's gaze lingered on the man before her again, scrutinizing him for a moment.
Indeed, no resemblance. There were no similarities in temperament or physique. His voice was also deliberately disguised, offering no reference value whatsoever.
The suspicion remained, but the evidence was insufficient.
Sitting on the sofa, Russell sensed Mary's scrutiny, but the expression beneath his mask showed no panic. The Phantom Thief suit possessed an innate visual blurring function. Let alone his standard build, even if he found a glutton with a massive belly to wear it, in Mary's eyes, he would simply look a bit sturdy.
"You've been staring for a while, Miss Morstan."
Just as Mary was unable to extricate herself from her brainstorming, Russell's voice slowly sounded, forcibly halting that storm of thoughts.
"By staring at this mask, do you want to see through it, or see through me?"
"Is there a difference? I have no interest in you personally, only in the puzzle and threat you represent," Mary retorted, the firelight from the fireplace flickering uncertainly in her azure eyes.
"Besides, I just feel it's a bit unfair."
"Unfair where?"
"You already know about me, yet I don't even know what you look like. Do you think that's fair?"
"A Phantom Thief must maintain mystery, ma'am," Russell laughed.
"Can I ask another question?" Mary asked.
"Of course, the night is still long."
"Why do you want to be a Phantom Thief?" Mary lifted her teacup and asked.
"Out of interest, naturally. What else could it be? Do I have a superpower that makes me stronger every time I do a bad deed?" Russell shrugged.
"I mean, you clearly could have chosen other professions, couldn't you?" Mary ignored Russell's witticism and continued to ask. "Is this Mycroft's will, or... your own idea?"
Mycroft?
Russell paused for a moment, then reacted. She was asking why he, as a shadow tool, chose such an conspicuous identity as a Phantom Thief.
Hmm... should I tell her the truth? Or should I keep hiding it?
It wouldn't be fun if the riddle was revealed too early. He looked forward to the delicious expression she would reveal on the day she learned the truth. It would certainly be worth the price of admission, even if he died for it!
Russell gathered his wandering thoughts and slowly crossed his legs.
"Mycroft? What does this have to do with him?"
Mary took in his brief silence and his current small movements. This was the first time tonight he had shown obvious body language. In the girl's interpretation, this was a sign of a guilty conscience.
It proved that her previous speculation with Russell in the lecture hall was correct. Moriarty was indeed the shadow tool cultivated by Mycroft.
Thinking of this, she remained composed and raised the stakes.
"You don't need to keep pretending, Mr. Moriarty. Let's speak frankly," Mary said. "There is no one else here, only you and me. I think we no longer need to disguise ourselves from each other, do we?"
Opposite her, Russell fell silent for a moment before letting out a sigh that sounded helpless.
"How did you know?" he asked, going along with the flow.
"Even that Great Detective doesn't know about this matter."
"That's not necessarily true." Mary chuckled lightly. "She just isn't interested in you."
"Fine, you have the final say. So, what about my answer?" Russell asked. "How did you know about my relationship with Mycroft? I shouldn't have any direct or indirect contact with him, except for that one time with Ethan Roy. But I don't think suspicion should have fallen on Mycroft."
"Regarding that point, that was your dereliction of duty, Mr. Phantom Thief."
Mary chuckled softly, looking at Russell with a teasing gaze.
"If I were you, I wouldn't do anything superfluous outside of the mission. For example, stuffing a stolen love letter to an isolated university student. Am I right, Mr. Clark Kent?"
Am I right?
Right, right... oh, wait, no... right?
Russell maintained a silent posture. Although the mask hid everything, Mary still captured that momentary speechlessness, as well as the subtle movement of adjusting his sitting posture while seemingly relaxed.
Thus, the girl smiled. The smile carried a bit of amusement and triumph.
"It seems," she gently put down the teacup, the white porcelain clinking against the saucer with a crisp, pleasing sound, "I guessed correctly."
Russell did not speak. He just slowly uncrossed his legs and leaned forward slightly.
"I thought I hid it very well."
"You already did very well." Mary was noncommittal, then leaned back slightly against the soft sofa cushion.
As if thinking of something, she couldn't help but laugh and said, "If you want to blame someone, blame that guy who doesn't play by the rules at all."
"Russell Watson, huh..." Russell mused for a moment, then spoke seemingly casually: "Do you want to take a little revenge on him?"
As his voice fell, the smile on Mary's face opposite him vanished instantly.
Those azure eyes seemed like a frozen cold pool; merely meeting her gaze felt like falling into an ice cave.
"What do you want to do?"
[Mary Morstan feels hostility toward your words. Malice Points +20]
"I warn you. Stay away from him."
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