Chapter 30: Manipulator or Symbiote?

Chapter 30: Manipulator or Symbiote?

Mrs. Jeanne Letitia Hudson.

Jeanne Leithia Hudson.

This name is quite long, but in any case, she looked at the man squatting in front of her.

For a moment, she was a little confused...

"Isn't this the slightly foolish passerby from yesterday?"

At this moment, Sherlock's thoughts were similar to hers:

"Isn't this the slightly foolish woman from yesterday?"

Anyway, the two of them stood there motionless, facing each other, until the tri-colored kitten let out a dissatisfied meow.

"Well, although it's hard to believe, but... the world is small," Sherlock stood up first, smiling.

Mrs. Hudson blinked her eyes, seemingly realizing what was going on, and asked in surprise, "You... are the tenant from yesterday?"

"Of course, my dear landlady."

"Uh..." She contemplated for three seconds, "The world... is indeed small..."

...

...

This slightly awkward encounter took up nearly five minutes of Sherlock's time.

He briefly introduced himself to Mrs. Hudson, trying to show his kindness and respectability as a lawful citizen of the Empire. At the same time, he confirmed his speculation from yesterday:

That Mrs. Hudson was simply a young girl who hadn't yet reached 20, single, and living alone.

Of course, he couldn't expose her right then and there, so he simply said goodbye with a smile and hailed a passing carriage on the roadside.

"Take me to 36 Zottland Street, White Briar Thorn Security Company..."

"I'll be happy to serve you, sir!"

The coachman flicked the reins...

Legend has it that before the gates of hell open, the land of London belongs to a continent called "Europe."

And in the traditional symbols of Europe, thorns represent "guardianship." Perhaps because the thorny bushes crawling on walls effectively hindered thieves from climbing up and down.

Under this tradition, any industry related to security, trade caravans, safes, and security doors would often include the word "thorn."

Perhaps, in some corner at some point in time, there might even be a Black Thorn Security Company.

"You're the detective who was recommended? C... Ca..."

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh, right," the middle-aged woman, the type who seemed to be trapped in the office year-round, had an attitude of "so annoying" toward anyone seeking consultation. However, she couldn't ignore the recommendation letter signed by the High Priest Office of the Church, so she reluctantly stood up and said, "Follow me!"

On the way, the woman introduced herself as "Evelyn Mary," sounding like she came from the countryside.

She was shorter than Sherlock's shoulder height, but walked swiftly, with her chest and belly trembling at the same frequency. Soon, she brought Sherlock to a door and toned down her attitude of being owed 50 pounds by the whole world. She lightly knocked on the door and said, "Father Thompson, do you remember the notice from yesterday, about Mr. Sherlock coming to report... He's here."

"Okay."

A brief musical tone came from behind the door, and Miss Mary slowly pushed it open, indicating Sherlock to enter, but added, "Take off your hat. Father Thompson values etiquette."

"Thank you," Sherlock replied and took off his hat. In that instant, he noticed Miss Mary's raised eyebrows when she saw his slightly messy hair.

"It seems the staff here are quite rigid," he murmured to himself, then entered the office.

It was morning, but the entire office was dimly lit. The curtains were tightly drawn, with only a candle burning on the desk, emitting a unique scent of brown grass. It had been mentioned in some books, a

type of incense commonly used by contract holders during meditation.

And in the dim light, a man of about 40 years old was performing a common prayer ritual. He wore a complete white priest's robe, meticulously groomed hair and beard, and a brass pendant swayed slightly in his hand. He continuously recited prayers.

From any angle, he appeared devout.

After a full five minutes, the prayer finally ended, and Father Thompson opened his somewhat grayish-white eyes, staring at Sherlock for a while before speaking:

"A detective?"

"Yes."

"A covenant holder?"

"I just completed the initiation ceremony."

"Are you a 'Manipulator' or a 'Symbiont'?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock was taken aback. These two terms were unfamiliar to him.

His reaction only made Father Thompson show a sense of annoyance:

"As expected."

He sighed and sat back in his chair, snapping his fingers.

The next moment, the curtains swiftly opened to both sides, allowing sunlight to pour into the room. Father Thompson gently extinguished the candle in front of him and said in a deep voice:

"Now, listen to what I have to say, and do not interrupt."