Chapter 8, Episode 07: Be a decent human being.

Episode 07 Be a decent human being

After parting ways with Albert, I went back to wander around the bank area.

My mind went back to the Baker Street robbery, trying to see how it could help me.

After all, Albert has repeatedly targeted me with his involvement in the banking scandal, even going so far as to cause an accident to get my attention, which is definitely suspicious.

London silently followed me as I strolled through the streets, neither urging me to go home nor initiating conversation.

But I could feel it observing me, as if waiting for me to speak first.

I will not do as it wishes.

Getting back to the main point, the Baker Street robbery is actually the Red-Headed League case or the Red-Headed League case from the Sherlock Holmes stories.

The story is about a peculiar job fair that only hires red-haired young men. The job involves copying an encyclopedia for four hours a day, for a weekly payment of four pounds.

Converted to current income levels, based on basic salary, that's roughly 5,000 to 10,000 Huaxia coins per week.

So, Holmes's client, though somewhat doubtful and apprehensive, accepted the job and worked diligently for two months. However, before he could finish copying the encyclopedia, his boss disappeared.

Of course, he was still paid his previous salary as usual.

However, the client felt it was too strange, so he went to see Holmes anyway.

Holmes, using his intelligence, quickly realized that it was a group of thieves targeting French gold in the bank's underground garage.

The biggest mystery in the story is why they specifically targeted the red-haired youth.

The rest of the story explains that this was a diversionary tactic orchestrated by the criminals.

They had their eyes on the client's shop and wanted to secretly dig a tunnel leading to the bank, starting from his pawnshop, while he was out copying encyclopedias.

I remember a similar case involving a certain elementary school student who was also a clerk at the target shop. In order to lure the shop owner away, he deliberately gave him hot spring tickets so that they could go on a trip, while he took the opportunity to dig a tunnel.

But after wandering around the area, I couldn't find a pawnshop anywhere.

Among the shops around Lloyds Bank, the only one closed for renovations was a leather goods store called "Le Sac". The shop windows were dusty, and a "Renovation" sign was posted on the door.

Interestingly, right next to this leather goods store was a street-side fried chicken shop with predominantly white tiled walls. It resembled the typical setup of a street shop in a movie or TV show—plastic chairs, metal tables, glass cabinets, a small and narrow interior, and very few customers.

London finally spoke up after I stopped at this street-side fried chicken shop for the second time.

"You probably wouldn't consider eating at this shop's fried food stall?"

"Why would I eat at a place that even locals don't go into?"

It's questioning my basic requirements and standards for food.

That's absolutely outrageous!

I condemn this.

Before I could even speak, London added, "Indeed, it has a 1.5/5 rating online."

I immediately perked up, "Such a low score? I'll have to see how it goes."

London: "...Who exactly are you?"

After a half-second silence, London returned to the main point, his tone calm and even, "So, what were you looking for just now?"

London can't read minds; it can only communicate with me from within my own mind.

"...I'm looking for a pawnshop," I told it.

"According to municipal records, there are no pawnshop registrations in this area in the last seventy years," London's voice rang out at the opportune moment, as calm as an emotionless reading.

As soon as those words were spoken, I suddenly felt as if I had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

etc!

I realized that I had unconsciously equated the Baker Street robbery with the Red Heads.

The Red-Headed League is a storyline.

The Baker Street robbery is a true story based on the plot of "The Red-Headed League" in the 20th century. Due to its bizarre circumstances and serious social impact, it quickly spread in the British media, instantly attracting national attention, and was even made into a movie later.

In other words, the Baker Street robbery had nothing to do with Sherlock Holmes.

However, this bank did not have the photos of British royal scandals that I wanted.

I was acting like an idiot, holding a 20th-century map and trying to find Victoria's way on a 21st-century street.

This is outrageous!

"Isn't this a waste of time?"

As I blurted out those words, I felt a mix of frustration and self-mockery, almost like I had a toothache, and continued, "What a waste of time."

London expressed his concern in a nonchalant tone: "Explain yourself."

"I thought there was some treasure waiting for me in this bank..."

I'll stop here.

London was indeed annoyed by this half-finished statement and paused for a moment.

When it spoke again, its speech rate increased slightly.

It asked, "...What's the connection between pawnshops and banks? Are you remembering something?"

This question piqued my curiosity, and I immediately grasped the key point: "Remember? What should I remember?"

"That's your problem, not mine," London said, his voice returning to its previous standard broadcast tone.

I:"……"

London doesn't expect a response from me either.

It's like those parents who, in order to get their children to listen to them, immediately seize every opportunity to reason with them, quickly saying, "You should just play Milverton well, and you'll naturally inherit all the memories."

So, I looked down and took out my phone.

London: "Where's the sound?"

As I texted, I said, "I'm contacting Herbers to ask if I've received any information or intelligence related to banks recently? Or any scandals related to the royal family?"

London: "…………"

I must commend Herbers for his efficiency; my message received an immediate response.

The butler, who earns a seven-figure annual salary, sent me a long list of compiled intelligence, clearly showing that he was working diligently even when I wasn't around.

What's even more remarkable is that all the data was organized into categories so that it could be retrieved so quickly.

Herbers sent a text message: "I will put the organized documents on your desk."

As I read the text message, I silently replied in my mind, "Thank you for your hard work. Have you had dinner yet?"

Helens: "Not yet."

"Then I'll bring you some food."

"Mind your place..."

Before London could finish speaking, I strode into the fried chicken shop, forcing him to swallow the rest of his sentence.

"I'm going to buy Herbs lots and lots of fried chicken so he can eat it all," I said cheerfully. "He'll be so touched he'll cry."

London's voice, barely containing his anger, came from beside him: "Please, have some decency."

Hey!

I looked up and examined the shop's sign, and suddenly found the neon sign particularly pleasing to the eye; it could obviously be used for something.

"London, I've suddenly had a brilliant idea!" I exclaimed excitedly.

London declined, saying, "Please don't come up with this idea out of the blue, thank you."

"Listen to this!"

"No, I'm not interested."

London is so cold and heartless.

A note from the author:

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Here's another chapter! Thanks for reading!

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