When the plot-skips players into the game world

He looked quite young, probably just over twenty, like a college graduate fresh out of university.

His build was lean, with a sharp, hawk-like nose and thin lips that were perpetually pursed, giving him a somewhat severe appearance.

As he read the newspaper, Hayna stood by his side, incessantly mumbling something.

"...that's the way it is, Mr. Sherlock! I've told you everything I remember, so can you answer that question for me now?"

Hayna was clearly excited.

Not only had she made a name for herself, but she had also been interviewed and featured on the front page of the Glass Staircase Daily. She might have even caught the Queen's attention—this made her feel as if she were walking on clouds, almost deliriously happy.

After realizing she might have become famous, she resolutely clenched her teeth and spent all her money, except what was necessary for daily life, on that issue of the Glass Staircase Daily. She planned to take them all home during the holidays to share with relatives and friends.

Today, she happened to run into Counselor Sherlock at work, and with a mix of excitement at seeing her former idol and a desire to show off, she asked him a question—

"...What question?"

Sherlock Hermes looked up and casually asked, "Are you asking 'why Mr. Aiwass could guess there was something off with that bartender'? That's simple because he's a very smart man.

"He knew the bartender's name, which means he had been here before; Mr. Aiwass carries himself upright, sits with good posture, and it's clear he is not an old man—the shoulders of an old person are different from a young man's. Of course, considering the bartender might not understand this anatomy, I think more conclusive, more direct evidence would be his boots.

"Handcrafted Elven boots made with mystical skills of Alchemy and Blessing. They deodorize, absorb sweat, ventilate, are waterproof, and increase grip to prevent slipping. A pair of such shoes would cost at least one hundred and twenty Silver Crowns. Not something a common Knight Family could afford.

"Bars in Lohar District often engage in illegal activities, and they are good at sizing people up. He could not have missed such obvious characteristics. Yet, he recognized Mr. Aiwass but deliberately addressed him as 'old sir'... Do you think a bartender from Lohar District would utter such polite and cultured words?

"Moreover, why wasn't he afraid when he saw you? One of the jobs of the Supervisory Bureau is to collect taxes by force from people who appear not to have paid them. To extract the little savings they have, it would be strange if they did not resent or fear you. People in business would fear you even more—because their accounts usually have some irregularities.

"So why wasn't he afraid of you? That means he didn't care if you were going to ask him for money. Or maybe he's simply not a local—or even possibly not an Avalonian, unaware of what an unplanned appearance of an Inspector in this country means.

"And the image in the newspaper was clear, the wheelchair only highlighted the style of his boots—even more so, his Elvish Style precision wheel-chair. The etchings in the Elvish Language were very clear—Moriarty. Here, in the open. Didn't you see it?

"I mean, Miss Hayna... the Professor mentioned you graduated with high marks. I would think you passed in Elvish, didn't you?"

"...Ah, yes. I recognize it."

Embarrassed, Hayna replied, "I just didn't notice it."

While she had been quite excited and proud, she now felt a significant dampening of her spirits following the scolding, along with a sinking feeling of inadequacy, as if she were not as good as she thought she was.

There were actually some things she hadn't divulged—for instance, on the day Aiwass was attacked, he had taken a banned book to that bar. It was a secret of Mr. Aiwass's, and she was determined to keep it for him.

—Because they were accomplices in reading the same banned book, grasshoppers on the same string!

And yet, even without knowing this crucial piece of information, Counselor Sherlock was still able to deduce the truth from other details—details that Hayna admittedly had overlooked.

It was as magical as how Mr. Aiwass had deduced that the true criminal was hidden in the cellar from the bartender's actions!

Hayna was extremely excited, but also a bit deflated.

Because she felt as if she had fallen back into the state she was in at the beginning of university—as soon as she encountered a broader world, she realized she might not be so exceptional after all.

If she had been told all these important details and evidence, Hayna felt that while she might be slower, she surely could have figured out the truth. But she simply did not see those details—that was the biggest gap between them.

The gap might appear small, but in reality, it was as vast as a chasm.

"It seems that you have come to appreciate Mr. Aiwass's remarkable capabilities. That's good."

The young Mr. Sherlock commented sharply, "Sadly, it seems you are probably among the more capable at your job. You could be called the smartest among idiots. The rest with muscles in place of brains are just fools.

"They're always incapable of getting anything right, just making a mess of things. Even if I tell them the truth, I always have to explain over and over to convince them.

"And this Mr. Aiwass—pardon my bluntness, his observational abilities are stronger than more than half of the Supervisory Bureau put together."

"...You have such a high opinion of Mr. Aiwass?"

Hayna was quite surprised.

She had basically only heard Mr. Sherlock say that this person was incompetent, that person was stupid.

"Of course," Mr. Sherlock said indifferently, "in my view, the fact that you could 'join forces' to solve this case was entirely reliant on his observation and judgment.

"If you lacked him, you would have definitely failed to solve the case; whereas he absolutely did not need to take you along to resolve this incident. You were merely pushing the wheelchair, not even fulfilling the duty of a protector—when he clearly told you to attack the opponent with all your might, why did you hold back? If you choose to trust in someone's command, you must trust completely. Half-trust combined with your own thoughts is even more frightening than no trust at all.

"He possesses excellent observational skills, correct reasoning ability, decisive judgment, calm execution, a mindset more mature and steady than yours—and precise shooting skills. Be it in talent, personality, or capability, he is quite outstanding, far surpassing over ninety-nine percent of the people in this country at just eighteen years old. He is worthy of my addressing him as 'Mr.'

"I find him very interesting. I heard he is a freshman? Then I must go back to my alma mater to see him—I have a premonition that working with him or conversing would be quite enjoyable."

Having said that, Mr. Sherlock precisely folded the newspaper in his hand and handed it back to Hayna.

It was a perfect alignment of all four corners, without a single deviation. Through this, one could glimpse the perfectionism inherent in Mr. Sherlock.

"Ah, he actually dropped out for two or three months and hasn't started school yet..."

Hayna somewhat awkwardly took the newspaper.

The dark-haired young man did not seem surprised by this outcome, simply nodding calmly: "That's normal. Universities cannot educate true talent. They are merely a group of knowledge nannies, trying hard to break down knowledge into a mush that is easy to digest, stuffing it into the mouths of the lazy and foolish, in an attempt to mold them into barely usable social instruments. It is not a place dedicated to serving geniuses, solely teaching the intelligent.

"I guess Mr. Aiwass's knowledge and wisdom, most likely come from the professor's personal tuition. Even within the entire Royal Law University, Professor Moriarty is among the smartest of the lot."

"...I see."

Hayna said sheepishly.

She felt a bit disheartened... because she thought her record of getting into the Royal Law University and serving as the class representative for girls from her sophomore year was quite impressive. But she also knew that Mr. Sherlock indeed had the right to speak in this manner—because he too was a valedictorian graduate from the Royal Law University.

When Hayna was a freshman, Mr. Sherlock was the senior in his fourth year. With no guile and no background, relying solely on her excellent academic performance and good relations, she managed to run the student council work smoothly, entirely depending on the many rules laid down by Mr. Sherlock before her.

The same title of valedictorian, the same position of student council president, and also the same full marks upon graduation. Yet the gap between them was still significant. After all, the transcendent subjects were meant for ordinary people starting from zero, and for transcendent individuals with a higher level, getting full marks wasn't that difficult.

"—Wait a minute, Mr. Sherlock," Hayna finally couldn't help but speak up, "I have a question:

"If you consider the Supervisory Bureau to be a bunch of fools, to the extent that you refused the internships from the Supervisory Bureau and even the Supervisory Court when you graduated... why are you now working at the Supervisory Bureau as a mere counselor?"

No matter how well a "counselor" performs, they can't climb up the ranks. All the achievements belong to Director Kent, and at most, he could only get a book or two as a personal gift from the director.

If he had chosen to enter the Supervisory Bureau back then, by now he might have already been a deputy director. And sooner or later, he would become the director—by that time, the entire bookshelf would be his.

"...'Mere'?"

Upon hearing this, Mr. Sherlock turned around in mild surprise.

After sizing up Hayna for a few moments and understanding her words, he sighed.

The young man shook his head and lowered his voice: "Remember not to say such things to others in the future.

"Followers of the path of authority should not be so focused on 'advancement' and 'prospects'. An inspector should not have such clear-cut 'ambition', as it signifies that you possess suitability for the path of transcendence.

"In Avalon, those who wish to get promoted are the very ones who will not be promoted—do you understand what I'm saying?"