When the plot-skips players into the game world

Hearing Sherlock's words, Aiwass raised an eyebrow and showed a smile brimming with meaning, "What do you think?"

"... I had some ideas originally."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly, and his gaze became sharp, "But now I have some doubts it was you. Even if it wasn't, you at least know the insider information."

"Who did you originally think it was?"

Aiwass asked with interest.

Sherlock bit the unlit cigar in his mouth and answered, "I was thinking... could the professor have not died?

"Because the style of this new Minister seems somewhat similar to his. Those who can interact with the Queen and be trusted by Her Majesty without any merit are few, and excluding those who are already Ministers, there are not many left."

Without a doubt, the "professor" Sherlock was referring to was James Moriarty, Aiwass' foster father.

During his previous investigation, Sherlock had nearly been killed by Edward. It was only because Sherlock backed down at the last moment, and Edward, considering their friendship, decided not to finish him off to silence him.

Although Sherlock had claimed he would no longer investigate, he hadn't forgotten the content of his previous investigations.

"If you can fake death, and I can fake death... then is it possible that the professor could have also faked his death?"

Sherlock made a very reasonable speculation.

Others might not think of this for a while, but this was something within Sherlock's cognition. Since Sherlock was aware of this, he could of course guess this possibility.

"From this perspective, it's possible that even if the Minister is Edward. The professor might have faked his death in public, and then secretly become Edward's counselor..."

"Why can't it be Edward?"

Aiwass asked with some amusement, "Why must he necessarily be someone's proxy?"

"...Hmm."

Sherlock pondered for a moment and thought of a more polite way to respond, "I don't think it's quite in his character to make such a decision."

The implication was that Edward wasn't that smart.

"Do you think I resemble him?" Aiwass asked with a smile.

"It's indeed possible. Setting aside the curse that could bring controversy and backlash, the way you mercilessly exploited the affair of Master Lars killing a female student... it's a bit like your style."

Sherlock fell into thought, "But since you've asked like this, then perhaps the matter is not so straightforward..."

"Style? What style do I have?"

Aiwass was curious about Sherlock's assessment, not knowing what style he himself had.

Sherlock commented, "A bit like an Iris Flower noble, or maybe a newspaper editor, or even a magician performing in a tavern."

"So basically a liar full of lies. Is that what you want to say?"

"Not only that. Apart from being good at lying and convincing, you're also very cunning. Even though what you say is true, you can mislead people in different directions. You enjoy playing with words and language, thereby playing with people's hearts..."

"I see. You're insinuating again that I'm a fox spirit, aren't you?"

"Yes, just like the fox spirit the Primordial Beings spoke of."

Sherlock said with an unchanged expression, teasing, "Entrancing and deceiving like a fox."

"Then what are you, a seagull? Or a pelican?"

Aiwass pointed at the cigar in Sherlock's mouth, "Clutching a smoke but not smoking it."

"I don't smoke because you're here, Mr. Fox."

Sherlock glared at Aiwass, his tone not very friendly, "Mrs. Mina has already told me many times that you're not in good health, not to smoke in front of you—frankly, I also haven't noticed anything wrong with your health."

"—You do seem to look a lot better, Sherlock."

Just then, a clear and calm voice came from the entrance, "Have you started keeping healthier habits and diet?"

It was the voice of Mr. Mycroft Hermos.

Sherlock's face changed slightly, the foot propped up on the table was withdrawn, and the lazily reclined body was propped up. The cigar in his mouth was taken out—since the cigar case was beside Aiwass, and he couldn't reach it in time, he tried to hide it under the table.

But that would be too unhygienic. Aiwass promptly took the cigar and placed it back on the rack in front of him.

The next moment, Mrs. Mina appeared at the door with Mycroft.

Mycroft entered with a smile, nodding slightly toward Aiwass.

This tall and big man, resembling a fat seal, took off his black top hat, revealing his black hair and bright amber eyes, which were indistinguishable from Sherlock's.

Aiwass also stood up, smiling and nodding to him in greeting.

"Your brother has come to find you, Sherlock."

Mrs. Mina looked somewhat troubled, "I originally wanted to cover for you, but he was very certain you were here... so I brought him up."

Mrs. Mina, as usual, was wearing the black dress of a fortuneteller, obviously, she had been tending the shop downstairs when she was caught by Mycroft.

"Thank you for bringing me up, Mrs. Mina. I greatly appreciate it—and another part of my gratitude is for taking good care of Sherlock. The Hermes Family will cover all his living expenses during this time and in the future."

Mycroft's voice was neither thick nor authoritative.

He wasn't as languid, elegant, and sarcastic as Sherlock, but instead he had a calming and comfortable presence that could easily be overlooked, yet always provided a feeling of security.

Just like that kindly relative, an uncle or an in-law, who always brings back gifts from trips—not too closely related, thus not scolding every day, and somehow becoming friendlier while maintaining a distance.

"It's fine, Sherlock is very sensible. He's not a child anymore; it isn't much of a task to take care of him..."

Mrs. Mina glanced at Aiwass, and after seeing Aiwass nodding, she reassuredly left, "I still need to watch the shop, sorry I can't make tea for you..."

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Mina. We'll take good care of ourselves."

Aiwass smiled and waved his hand, sending off the landlady.

After Mrs. Mina left, Mycroft sat down on another sofa, right between Aiwass and Sherlock. As soon as he sat down, the sofa caved inward, uttering a creaking noise that sounded like stepping on snow, as if it could scarcely bear his weight.

The first thing Mycroft did after sitting down was to glance at the brand of the cigars on the table.

He looked toward Sherlock and casually asked, "Out of money again?"

"Tch…"

Sherlock didn't respond with a foolish question like "how did you know," but rather scratched his head with some annoyance: "It's been quite a while since I've worked, after all."

By "working," he meant solving cases for the Supervisory Bureau—they paid him some rewards as compensation for his work as a consultant detective.

"It has nothing to do with that; your income isn't low. The main problem is you spend too much, you never save."

Mycroft's gaze was as calm as a lake when he looked at Sherlock: "You're going to advance in rank in just a few days, can you still afford the materials?"

"The full moon ceremony doesn't require anything expensive."

Irritated by his brother's scrutiny, Sherlock retorted, "What can't I afford? Besides, I wrote a book, and once it's published, I'll have money."

"And then you'll quickly spend it all, right?"

Mycroft watched Sherlock, speaking gently and calmly, "You do know I'm talking about Dream Intoxicant."

"It's not my first time advancing, it won't be a problem."

Sherlock was somewhat defiant: "Only if I suffer immense pain in my dreams, or I get disturbed in reality, there's a chance that my advancement dream could be disrupted. I've advanced normally once, and this time, I have the princess and Aiwass…"

"It's exactly because the princess is involved this time. What if something goes wrong on your end?"

Mycroft didn't get angry; he continued speaking methodically, "You don't think Princess Isabel is here to help you advance, do you?"

After saying this, he took out two small boxes from his pocket.

They were two metal little round boxes, the size of a thumb, akin to containers of balm, etched with a crescent moon bearing a human face.

This was the Dream Intoxicant.

"Both are fresh from this year, and even if not used, they can last a good few years. One for each of you."

Mycroft smiled at Aiwass, "This isn't some 'reward for taking care of Sherlock' or anything that could pass for an official congratulatory gift—just think of it as a casual present brought while visiting a friend."

Your casual presents happen to be worth hundreds of White Crown Coins. A well-trained purebred hunting dog would fetch about the same price.

Aiwass thought to himself. However, he didn't refuse, and gladly accepted the gift.

To him, it was indeed not a lot of money. Even though he hadn't yet taken over the Moriarty Family's business, it would be rather simple for him to ask Edward for the money to buy an equivalent gift in return.

"A celebratory gift?"

Sherlock caught the phrase: "The Minister of the Department of Care of Magical Creatures is you, isn't it?"

Mycroft didn't slap Sherlock's head, nor did he make any physical contact, but he spoke calmly, "Now that you know, you should show some more respect to Minister Moriarty, Sherlock. Minister Moriarty is the right-hand man of her Majesty, and likely, of the future monarch as well."

"…Yes."

Reluctantly, Sherlock stood up and bowed to Aiwass, "My apologies, Minister."

Out of Mycroft's sight, he subtly mouthed the word "Fox" to Aiwass.

Aiwass wasn't the slightest bit troubled, but instead nodded incessantly with a smile, feeling refreshed.

As part of the iron-blooded Queen's faction from the Hermes Family… Sherlock now had to bow his head in front of him.

"How about it, Sherlock?"

Aiwass said with a smile, "Do you want to join my Department of Care of Magical Creatures? I should still have a position for a secretary available."

That was indeed what he wanted.

Sherlock thought to himself.

He didn't entirely dislike Avalon's civil servant system. He just hated those ministers… He had once desired to be Mycroft's secretary, but Mycroft sent him packing with a few subtly difficult problems.

—But how to make himself seem less eager?

"That's easy to say, but it still needs the Queen's approval."

Mycroft interjected, "After all, Sherlock isn't a civil servant. While the Department of Care of Magical Creatures doesn't deal with departmental politics, it's not a place where one can just be parachuted in… He needs some sort of official title. How about Royal Secret Agent? What do you think, Minister Moriarty? That way, his faked death would have an explanation, and it won't look too foolish—it would be a task from her Majesty, and our parents surely won't be too harsh on him."

"I think it works."

Aiwass agreed, "And please send my regards to Lord Arthur."

Together, the two of them settled Sherlock's future.

Sherlock didn't dislike the idea; in fact, he breathed a sigh of relief.

After that, Mycroft chuckled and began discussing serious matters—clearly, he wasn't here just for his brother.

"Minister Moriarty, are you aware of the Barrel Club I own?"

"Sherlock has mentioned it; what about it? Also, you can just call me Aiwass."

"It's not a big problem, nor a small one."

Mycroft elaborated slowly, "It's that Mr. Lars Graham has left some documents and inheritance at my club. I don't want this to draw the Supervisory Bureau's attention because the club is full of people who detest trouble and noise. But it also wouldn't be right for me to deal with these things privately… Experience more on empire

"So could I ask you to come over to act as a witness? If you think there's anything dangerous that needs personal safeguarding, you could also point it out in time, to prevent unnecessary trouble due to improper sealing and storage."

What he meant was, we dare not touch the things the Bone Sculptor left behind.

If you want them, please take the trouble to remove them; we do not wish to attract trouble.

"Of course… No problem."

Aiwass answered with a beaming smile, "I'm not afraid of trouble."