The fairy maid cheers for her deceased master today.

As it turns out, even Elena couldn't just find any patrol post or registration card stub.

The equation for equivalent exchange that I had planned is no longer needed... so I can only change the equation.

In other words, reset the fake identity.

So the next day, Ax arrived at the apartment where they met up early.

Looking out from the apartment, the London morning mist, like a gray velvet cloth, slowly blankets the streets.

The sound of horse-drawn carriage wheels rolling over cobblestone streets, mixed with the steam whistles from distant factories, created the city's unique morning symphony.

"Are you ready?" Irene's voice came from behind her. She was adjusting her bow tie in front of the mirror, her movements elegant and precise.

As long as she doesn't show her canine teeth, she can still maintain an elegant and sophisticated look without much trouble.

X turned to his partner: "I'm fine. I have professional disguise cosmetics."

Of course, they all come about through equivalent exchange.

Angel jumped off the bed, her leather boots making a light, tinkling sound on the wooden floor.

Today, as usual, she disguised herself as the daughter of a noble family, wearing an exquisite pink dress and ribbons in her hair, looking like a lady who had slipped out of an earl's house.

"Do I look good enough?" Angel asked softly.

"No, too cute," AX couldn't help but laugh. "Remember, in the police station, you have to act like a spoiled noblewoman, full of curiosity about everything, but with the arrogance unique to nobles."

Angel nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite.

This time, she wasn't playing a stranger, so Angel couldn't just cover her ears with ribbons or headscarves.

However, she could wear a wide-brimmed hat, using the hat's veil and decorative ribbons to cover her ears.

Elena gave her disguise one last check—a middle-aged noblewoman, wearing a dark wool dress, lace gloves, and carrying an exquisite feather fan. She then covered her ears with fake curls.

The three of them left the apartment, got into a carriage, and the horses set off on the road to Scotland Yard's Second Precinct.

Scotland Yard, the name for the London police force, represents both justice and order, as well as power and oppression, in the hearts of Londoners.

Its architectural style is typical of the Victorian era, which is in line with Aix’s impressions—towering Gothic spires, thick stone walls, and windows decorated with intricate patterns, all of which demonstrate the majesty and power of the British Empire.

However, Scotland Yard does not refer to all police stations, but only to the police headquarters. Before the journey, Axe discovered that some people were confused, thinking that Scotland Yard was a nostalgic collective name for all police stations.

It only refers to the headquarters.

Therefore, the Second Precinct that Ex is now heading to is actually not as magnificent as the headquarters.

"Let's review our plan one last time," Ex said in a low voice. "Elena, you're in charge of negotiating with the front desk officers, showcasing your aristocratic status and privileges. Angel, you need to be lively and distract them. And I, I'll persuade the police when the time is right."

The carriage slowly approached the police station's second precinct, and its building gradually came into view; it was also a simple and ancient building.

Above the main entrance, the British Royal Warrant gleamed golden in the morning light.

"This is it," Elena took a deep breath. "Let's begin."

X nodded, a sharp glint in his eyes: "Investigate this thoroughly."

The carriage stopped in front of the police station, and a uniformed doorman immediately stepped forward and respectfully opened the carriage door.

X got out of the car first. He was playing the role of Irene's butler, dressed in a black tuxedo, with a serious and respectful expression.

Indeed, after careful consideration, X decided to abandon the idea of ​​playing an inspector from headquarters.

The reason is simple – London is currently covered by a network of telegraph lines, making communication very convenient.

This is why Angel was able to report the case so quickly back then.

If someone were to impersonate an inspector and go to the branch office, and the branch office used a telegraph machine to verify their identity, that would be a huge problem. Or, if the branch office members were very familiar with the inspector, they could easily recognize that it was a fake.

Irene then placed her hand on X's and slowly walked down, her posture elegant and noble, as if she were born to belong to the upper class of this world.

Angel followed closely behind, curiously looking around at everything, her eyes wide with childlike wonder.

This naive young maid had never been to a place like this before. Although there wasn't much to see here anyway.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," the doorman bowed slightly, "How may I help you?"

Irene gently covered her mouth with a feather fan, her voice carrying the cold indifference characteristic of nobility: "We want to see your sheriff to report a serious case involving a noble family."

The doorman's expression noticeably became more respectful: "Of course, ma'am. Please come with me, and I will arrange things for you immediately."

The three followed the doorman through the police station's doors. The interior of the lobby was even more refined than the exterior, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and portraits of police officers adorning the walls, their gazes stern and scrutinizing, as if monitoring everyone who entered.

"Interesting," Ex whispered to Elena. "Every inch of this space reminds people who is in charge here."

Irene nodded slightly, her expression still maintaining the aristocratic indifference, but X noticed that her fingers were tapping lightly on the handle of the feather fan.

This shows that she is not as calm as she appears on the surface.

Angel was completely immersed in her role, curiously observing everything in the hall, from the police officers' uniforms to the decorations on the walls, occasionally letting out a soft gasp of amazement.

"Please wait here," the doorman led them to a reception room. "I will notify the sheriff immediately."

The reception room was furnished with several heavy wooden chairs, and a map of London and some legal statutes hung on the walls. Elena sat down gracefully, while Angel walked curiously to the window and peered outside.

X stood to the side, outwardly a respectful butler, but in reality his mind was racing, analyzing the surrounding environment and possible variables.

He knew that infiltrating was only the first step; the real challenge was just beginning.

The door to the reception room was pushed open, and a tall, middle-aged man in an inspector's uniform walked in. His face carried a professional seriousness, but his eyes revealed a hint of respect for the nobles.

Elena immediately stood up, and Angel ran over from the window, hiding behind Elena and curiously observing the inspector.

According to the original owner's memories, following the police department's career system of "superintendent-police officer-inspector-sergeant-constable," the inspector was already the second-highest position in the precinct.

"Good morning, madam." The inspector gave a slight bow. "I am Richard Hawthorne, in charge of the police department's day-to-day operations. I heard you have a case involving an aristocratic family to report?"

Elena gently fanned herself with a feather fan, her posture elegant and noble: "Yes, Inspector Hawthorne. I am Countess Winston, this is my daughter Nicole, and this is our butler, Black."

Inspector Hawthorne's gaze lingered on Angel for a moment; the lady's aristocratic air and innocent expression made him unconsciously lower his guard.

This pleased Ax, who had noticed this.

Angel sometimes appears very innocent... or rather, naive and silly. Perfect for deceiving others.