The carriage came to a halt at Scotland Yard.
Charlotte pushed open the door and walked briskly toward the station interior.
The officer on duty at the entrance attempted to stop her, but immediately heard an order from Lestrade.
"Just let her in."
And so, Charlotte arrived at the interrogation room without obstruction. Under Lestrade's arrangement, she met the first bandit.
He was the one whose arms and legs had been broken, and who had subsequently been scared into fainting by Russell.
Charlotte sat behind the glass, arms crossed over her chest and legs crossed. Russell sat on the other side, holding a pen and paper provided by Lestrade.
"Name."
Charlotte's voice rang out.
As the words fell, Charles's body trembled violently.
He did not answer. His lips merely quivered, as if he were still immersed in the incomprehensible nightmare of the previous night.
"I asked for your name," Charlotte repeated.
Charles still did not answer.
He simply raised his head, staring dead at Russell behind Charlotte with eyes that looked as if they were seeing a monster.
"Face... face is melting..."
He muttered to himself like a madman, only capable of repeating the same sentence.
"Face is melt..."
Russell's pen-spinning action paused slightly.
Did this guy recognize me?
"His brain doesn't seem to be working very well. Shall we switch to another one?" he suggested.
"Wait a little longer." Charlotte shook her head, her gaze fixed tightly on the man behind the glass.
"Charles Brown. Former Army Corporal. Discharged for drunken brawling. That is your name," Charlotte stated his information directly.
"I'll change the question. Last night, apart from your group of stupid companions, who else did you see? That guy who beat you all down—who was he?"
Charles was still struggling, his mouth constantly repeating those mad ravings.
It wasn't until Charlotte's voice rang out again.
"It was Moriarty, right?"
The moment the words fell, Charles's struggle came to an abrupt halt.
The entire interrogation room fell into a deathly silence.
Immediately after, a scream filled with extreme terror tore through the dead silence.
"Ah—!!"
Charles struggled with all his might, leaping up from the chair, only to be firmly restrained again.
[Fear from Charles, Malice Points +50]
"..." Russell tried hard to keep his expression calm.
"Devil! He is a devil!!" Charles roared.
"Don't come over! Don't come over!!"
Charlotte's expression sank completely.
She waved her hand, signaling Lestrade to take the man away, and then switched to another person.
The second one brought in was Jack, whose teeth had been shattered by Russell's knee.
His mental state was much better, though the look he cast toward the one-way glass still carried unconcealed fear.
"Name."
"Jack Harris." This time, he answered.
"Last night, who sent you?"
"It was The Professor."
"The Professor?" Charlotte repeated. "A code name?"
"Yes." Jack nodded, his voice hoarse. "We only know him as The Professor. No one knows his real name."
"What does he look like?"
"No one has ever seen him."
Charlotte fell into a brief silence. After a while, she continued, "Go on. Tell me every detail of his contact with you."
A trace of struggle appeared on Jack's face, but he ultimately chose to cooperate.
In the following half-hour, he revealed everything about The Professor. From the letter that appeared out of thin air five days ago, to the daily letters that gradually perfected the action plan.
"Where are the letters?" Charlotte asked.
"Burned," Jack said. "The boss burned them."
"You trusted him that much?"
"You simply don't understand what The Professor represents. There were no problems with his plan!" Jack said, his tone filled with awe.
"His arrangement for every link, every point in time, was achieved to the extreme. If... if not for that guy suddenly appearing..."
"Which guy?" Charlotte keenly caught the keyword.
"Moriarty." When saying this name, Jack's voice noticeably paused for a moment.
"What did he do?" Charlotte pressed.
"He was like a ghost..." Jack's gaze began to lose focus, seemingly falling into a memory.
"A cloud of smoke, and then he appeared in our midst... no, behind us... no, everywhere!
"We couldn't see him, but we knew—he was right there."
"What do you mean?" Charlotte frowned. "Can he create clones?"
"I don't know... but he just... just could appear in any place we couldn't imagine!" Jack shook his head, his emotions beginning to get agitated.
Charlotte did not speak, only listening quietly.
In the observation room, the pen in Russell's hand drew a curling cloud of smoke on the paper.
"How many of you were there?"
"Five. Plus Richard, a total of six."
"Richard?"
"He was the mole," Jack said through gritted teeth. "The guard at the bank last night."
"The six of you were wiped out by Moriarty?" Charlotte's tone carried a hint of undisguised mockery.
Jack's face turned a deep purple, yet he could not refute it.
"He... he is not human." After a long while, he squeezed this sentence out through his teeth.
"Then what is he?"
"A monster."
[Fear from Jack, Malice Points +50]
The third, the fourth...
Charlotte patiently fished for fragmented information about The Professor and Moriarty from the mouth of every bandit.
The image of The Professor gradually became clear and complete in her mind.
A planner hiding behind the scenes.
He never showed his face, issuing orders only through letters, like a god high above, overlooking everything on the chessboard.
This was a perfect, pure wise man who treated crime as art.
A person very much like herself.
Aside from that, the image regarding Moriarty became increasingly chaotic and contradictory.
Based on the verbal accounts of those criminals, Charlotte roughly summarized the characteristics of Moriarty:
First, his face can melt, he can summon smoke, and he possesses abilities suspected to be cloning.
Not only that, his speed is very fast, and his combat skills far exceed those of ordinary people.
These fragmented, subjectively charged descriptions could not piece together a concrete person at all.
They contradicted each other, full of surreal colors.
It was as if what appeared in the bank's underground last night was not a person, but an army composed of devils, ghosts, monsters, and madmen.
This Moriarty is practically a ghost.
Charlotte frowned.
She decided to ignore that thief filled with mysterious colors for now and focus her attention on The Professor.
At least this Professor sounded somewhat human.
"Why did The Professor have you attack Lloyds Bank?" Charlotte looked at the man behind the glass and asked.
"What?" The man frowned. "How would I know that? The Professor surely had his own plans."
"No, think carefully." Charlotte stared tightly into the other's eyes.
"His first operation after resurfacing—he didn't have you bomb the Parliament building, nor did he have you kill, commit arson, or smuggle.
"He specifically had you attack an underground storage room. Why?"
"This..." The man fell into silence for a moment.
"Aside from the plan's proposal, did he not ask you to do anything else?" Charlotte continued to prompt.
Hearing this, the man came back to his senses, suddenly realizing something.
"I remember now. He wanted us to open a storage room door—to open one of the safes!"
"Which one?" Charlotte pressed.
"I... I don't know. The letter didn't say." The man shook his head. "He only gave the password."
"What is the password?"
"I couldn't remember it. I wasn't responsible for remembering the password; the person responsible for picking the lock was."
"Who was responsible for picking the lock?"
"Charles Brown."
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