Chapter 37, Episode 25: This is my favorite number...
Episode 25 is my favorite number.
I've discovered that Albert is trying to harm me!
Back in mid-November, CAME held a wrap-up celebration for its new show.
Albert came along with Moran.
It's not a big deal if he doesn't come.
As soon as he arrived, I felt that he was guilty and had ulterior motives.
Because in the Jeff Hope case, I clearly had a sniper nearby.
Even though the details of the case are completely different from the Sherlock Holmes storyline, I still don't think an ordinary taxi driver would have such great abilities.
Not only can he work alone and create four consecutive "suicide cases," but he can also afford to hire a professional sniper.
Therefore, I suspect that Jeff Hope still has connections with Moriarty.
So, who is Moriarty here?
Albert is Moriarty.
Based on my previous conclusions regarding the bank robbery, this Albert is definitely not Professor Moriarty from the book, but rather an important executor of the entire group.
Therefore, I felt more than 80% certain that Albert was the sniper at the time.
Because a sniper's objective should be singular: to ensure Milvolton's death. Only someone familiar with the target would waver, or rather, possess the strongest personal motivation.
Why didn't I guess it was Moran?
Because Moran's mind wasn't on me at all. He was more of a pawn being manipulated than a strategist. He only had an unwavering determination to succeed.
Albert, however, has the power of discourse and the right to make his own choices. He can still choose to loosen the rules and doesn't have to bear too much responsibility.
I suspect that if he boarded the ship just to finish off his opponent, he's doomed.
Because Holmes and Watson, whom I had begged and pleaded with, were also on board. If he dared to harm me, I'd send him to prison. But when I found he was quite docile, I let him go.
This has absolutely nothing to do with me not having any leverage over him.
After the steamship incident ended, Albert sent me a few hastily cut camellias the very next day without any reason.
Actually, I didn't know at first that this was a very haphazardly grown camellia. I only saw that the flowers were blooming extremely beautifully, with each petal fully unfolded and the colors full. It looked particularly vibrant and even looked very expensive.
To be honest, I have always had a simple aesthetic sense and don't pay much attention to the origin or meaning of flowers. As long as they bloom well and look valuable, I will take a second look.
Therefore, my immediate reaction was also very direct.
"It's quite nice-looking, I like it."
Okay, that's all the praise I can give.
I stated my position coolly, even though I thought it was quite remarkable that this person would send me camellias as a gesture of goodwill. But I still couldn't let him get too cocky.
However, Albert was clearly in a good mood after hearing this.
I originally wanted to use this opportunity to mock him, but then I thought again, isn't he just watching my mood?
My mood calmed down.
When I got home, Herbs told me that the flowers were already fully open and would only last for another two days at most. Judging from the length of the stems, the camellias were clearly just pulled out of the vase.
I was furious. Albert was treating my house like a dumping ground!
No wonder he was so smug!
That guy is absolutely wicked!
I can't stand this kind of thing, so I immediately called him and asked, "Is your recycling bin full, so you're throwing your flowers here to be disposed of?"
Albert, still feigning innocence on the other end of the phone, asked, "What?"
The performance was so realistic.
I think if he retired to become an actor, he would definitely win an Oscar in his first year.
I didn't give him any way out and told him directly what Herbers had told me.
I said, "Those flowers are almost dead."
What's the difference between this and feeding a kitten food that's about to expire?
Albert on the other end of the phone seemed quite calm about my outburst. "I didn't say the flowers were for you."
"You said it."
“I was just showing it to you,” Albert said slowly. “But you said you liked it, so I just gave it to you.”
I don't believe it.
Me: "Did he mean he'd give it to me, or just let me see it?"
London: "He didn't say anything at the time, he just handed you the flowers."
I:"……"
Momentum conquers all.
Immediately, I said, without any sense of justice, "If I find this flower, it will be my evidence. What are you going to do then? Do you dare to bet with me?"
Albert began, "What are we betting on? How are we betting? When do we start betting?"
That's incredibly arrogant.
He added, "Will you be my servant, or will I give you money?"
This is clearly ironic; you have to listen to it the other way around.
Albert meant that if I lost, I either had to pay to settle things or he would become my master.
I quickly added honestly, "This kind of gambling makes you seem to have very low taste."
I thought you would like it.
"..."
If I win, of course I'll be happy.
“So, no more gambling.” Albert paused, then said, “It’s a real shame, it was indeed meant for you.”
He hung up the phone as soon as he finished speaking.
An 8.9 magnitude earthquake erupted within me, comparable to the collapse of the sky and the cracking of the earth.
"This person, this person, is going to drive me crazy!"
London: "...You're so childish."
Me: "So you're taking his side and not helping me anymore, is that it? Do you think that by being nice to him, he can replace me? Don't even think about it. If I become a ghost, I'll stick it to your forehead."
London: "Don't be angry. What's there to be angry about?"
Me: "I'm not going to talk to you anymore."
London: "..."
Me: "If you don't say anything, I'll drive you crazy."
This was just a small prelude.
Because after that incident, I was invited to the maiden voyage of the Noah's Ark cruise ship. There, I met the respectable Albert. I was also discussing the details of publishing *A Study in Pink* with Watson.
Albert appeared before us and greeted me, saying, "Would you like some pineapple?"
I guessed that Moran must have told him about my recent obsession with canned pineapple in syrup.
After a moment of caution, I nodded.
Watson smiled at Albert, whom he had never met before, and when he saw Albert actually go to the fruit self-service area to get a pineapple, he said, "This guy really knows how to take care of people."
I must not speak ill of others in front of Watson.
"I guess so."
As soon as I finished speaking, London responded with a puzzled voice: "?"
"Because people who speak ill of others are of poor character. I don't want Watson to think I'm of low quality."
London: "So it doesn't matter if you act rudely in front of me, is that right?"
I readily agreed: "Why are we still distinguishing between you and me? That's too formal."
London: "It's better if we keep to ourselves a bit more formal."
A little while later, Albert actually brought me a small dish of golden pineapples. He said, "Enjoy yourselves." After saying that, Albert left.
I guessed he wouldn't dare poison me, so I started eating without worry.
Watson remarked, "This gentleman is so considerate."
I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows in confusion.
Seeing that I didn't respond, he took a bite as well, but quickly said, "I think it's a bit sour."
But I didn't feel that way at all. I thought this was the natural flavor of pineapple, a sweet taste bursting from every fiber. I thought it was absolutely delicious.
So, as I was eating, a blond young man walked towards me from the opposite direction.
He seemed to recognize me; his eyes were exceptionally clear.
But I don't know him.
We just stared at each other like that.
His eyes were excessively clear, like two newly calibrated lenses, reflecting my image, yet lacking any of the social warmth one would expect from a normal person.
The eye contact lasted for two seconds, long enough for Watson to suppress his smile. The young man then offered a perfectly curved smile: "Sir, may I have a second of your time? What is your favorite number?"
Anyone would find this person who suddenly struck up a conversation strange, but his demeanor was extremely quiet and upright, his posture was non-aggressive, and even had a scholarly sincerity. This subconsciously made people feel that he had his own reasons for doing things.
So I put down my fork, leaned forward slightly, and met his gaze.
"185," I said without thinking.
He caught it.
"A very specific integer."
He paused, a hint of hesitation, like emotion, appearing in his voice for the first time, "Can you satisfy my curiosity? What is the special significance of this number to you?"
"Because this is your height."
I leaned back in my chair, gave a knowing smile, and repeated, word by word, "I estimate your height to be 185 cm."
These words were like a pebble thrown into a still lake. The perfect tranquility on his face was finally shattered.
This wasn't panic, but a profound and unpredictable surprise.
I asked again, "Did I say something wrong?"
"That's right."
He paused for a full breath before finding his voice to continue, "...precise observation."
This sounded like a compliment, or perhaps a confirmation. He said nothing more, nodded politely, and left, his steps still steady, but his straight back seemed a little more tense than when he arrived.
Watson watched his retreating figure and asked, "What does he need a number for?"
"I don't know, you're not going to play with binary, are you? Count how many zeros are in 185?"
Watson then turned to me and said, "There's a public lecture on number theory from the University of London on the cruise ship. Could he be an invited guest?"
"So what if it is?"
I don't like math, so "if I have insomnia, should I ask him to give me a math lesson next to me?"
I was so focused on eating pineapple that when I got to the second-to-last piece, the pineapple juice, with its sour taste, exploded in my mouth.
I couldn't help but frown.
"This tastes so sour and astringent."
Watson: "If it tastes sour, then don't eat it. You've almost eaten a whole plate."
London: "Then don't eat it."
"It was just one really sour piece."
I chewed it a few more times and ate the last piece of pineapple. "Overall, it was quite delicious."
But soon, I realized something was wrong.
Just as I was about to eat the strawberry, I felt my entire tongue go numb.
I grabbed Watson and said anxiously, "Watson, can you check if my tongue is swollen? My whole tongue feels numb."
Watson realized: "You probably ate the flesh near the core of the pineapple."
I immediately realized what was happening.
"It's Albert, he's the one who's got me into trouble!"
London: "..."
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Author's Note: A new case begins!! 20 small red envelopes will be randomly distributed!
Okay, let's set a time from now on. After 10 p.m., everyone should stop waiting and go to sleep early.
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