Sherlock Holmes is not a warp god.

Ostalia Empire, capital Berlin, city hall.

[A young woman who's going to a stranger's house for vigorous exercise tonight, and who's recently been feeling down about not being able to find a marriage partner.]

Good morning, Mr. Holmes.

The young woman, in her early twenties, had shoulder-length, inward-curling black hair and a tall figure. She bowed slightly upon seeing the handsome young man.

She was a full-time employee of the city hall, wearing a uniform: a white collared shirt over a light green suit vest and a pencil skirt.

Good morning, Ms. Blair.

Floren Holmes glanced at the identification label above Ms. Blair's head and nodded slightly.

Although he was only in his early thirteens, his current height of 1.85 meters made him a head taller than the girl in front of him.

Engaging in strenuous exercise at a stranger's house...

Given Ms. Blair's circumstances, it would likely have excited that stranger to the point of cardiac arrest.

After exchanging greetings, and without making a sound, taking in Ms. Blair's hairstyle and stockings, Fren steadily walked towards his office.

As an ordinary new employee, Fren was able to have a 20-square-meter office, and he attributed it to his own excellence without any sense of shame.

Closing the office door, Floren sat in his custom-made leather chair, instantly deflated like a punctured balloon. His previously upright back went limp, and he slumped lazily into his chair.

Like a patient with hemiplegia, Freun didn't sit up straight, but instead flipped through the documents on the table with one hand.

The city hall serves as a window for communication between the government and the people of Dongguo, with an emphasis on "communication." Matters that ordinary employees are responsible for are generally not of great importance. Those involving supernatural abilities or national security are naturally handled by the Supernatural Affairs Bureau and the secret police.

As he flipped through the documents, he thought the uniforms in the city hall were a bit monotonous, and he could offer some suggestions for improvement. Even Floren, seeing Ms. Blair in the same outfit every day, was getting tired of it.

Two weeks ago, Furen had another name, Jinjue. At that time, he liked to drive around with his girlfriend in remote, desolate places, living a life where they were barely clothed.

Then a stroke of good fortune struck, and he successfully made it through.

When he recalls his past life, he has become Francessoko Holmes.

He was adopted from an orphanage by the Holmes couple at the age of four, and entered Eden Academy at the age of six until his recent high school graduation. Because he graduated early, he still has six months before college, and his favorite thing to do is stay at his family's manor.

Gee...

If it weren't for his elder brother Mycroft Holmes's recommendation, he would probably still be soaking in the lake at Holmes Estate, which is the size of four football fields.

Of course, it's not that taking a bath is bad, but the Ostonia capital city hall offers him a much wider world.

Thinking of the beautiful legs of young women, girls, and mature women outside the office, Furen secretly sighed. Although he was adopted, his older brother's love for him was no less.

Before the mystery of her being in the womb is resolved, Furen's reactions may be a beat slower, but her personality will still be that of Jin Jue. More precisely, it should be described as a state after someone has lost their memory.

Now that her memories have returned, she feels perfectly at ease and has seamlessly integrated into her current life.

The style of this world is roughly that of late 20th-century Europe, with some fantasy elements mixed in.

There are righteous gods and evil gods. In addition to humans, there are many other races living on the various continents, and there are also all kinds of extraordinary professions.

Less than a hundred years ago, after a war that engulfed the entire continent, the nations of Ostonia and Vestalis were established. Although the great war ended, the two nations still occasionally clashed or even fought at their borders.

The Holmes family were nobles who existed on this land before the founding of Ostonia, but not much of their extraordinary knowledge has been passed down; at least, Fren had never seen it.

Even if there was a tradition, it was overtaken by a more powerful one because it couldn't keep up with the version. After all, truth is relative, and there is no knowledge that is always advanced. This principle also applies to the extraordinary realm.

After reviewing the documents on the table, Furen had a plan in mind for how to handle the situation.

The former Fren was simply a bit slow in thinking, but his abilities were still extremely strong. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to become the "Emperor's Apprentice" in the elite Eden Academy.

Now, all the lingering illnesses have vanished, and the illusions of the past life have dissipated. Putting aside everything else, the ability to remember everything he sees is enough to make his past self envious to death.

As for just how smart he is, even Fren himself can't say for sure.

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, but it might be quite difficult for you to raise a child who isn't a genius."

While processing the documents, Furen pondered how his 32k high-definition image-based memory, which had no hard drive capacity limit, compared to his two older brothers' memory palaces.

This job was very challenging for Fren because he needed to spend half an hour writing down his ideas.

He spent the rest of the morning eating, drinking, and reading in his office. In Fren's memory, this body did get hungry quite easily.

It seems that maintaining one's own healing ability also requires the conservation of energy; a level 4 healing factor cannot achieve the near-blood-regenerating freakishness of Wolverine in the comics.

It must be said that the food in this world is indeed unique.

After straightening his clothes, Floren stood up, regaining his British demeanor, and opened the door to hand over the processed documents.

Upon arriving at another shared office, about half the size of a classroom, I found four beautiful women working inside, including Ms. Blair, whom I had met that morning.

"Ms. Sharon, please inspect."

Fren walked up to another dark-haired woman and handed her a stack of documents.

Sharon wore glasses; she was not yet thirty, but already had children and was enrolled at Eden Academy. Dressed in a standard uniform, Sharon exuded a style quite different from Ms. Blair's—a sophisticated yet approachable look, like a young woman next door.

"Mr. Holmes, you finished very quickly today." Sharon didn't even look at the notes, preparing to submit them directly. During this time, Fren's abilities had been proven; his work speed wasn't fast, but the quality was guaranteed.

Fren nodded slightly. "Most of today's work involves data integration, which is my forte compared to work on the city's appearance and citizens' opinions."

"I understand. These tedious tasks are exactly what we're not good at." Sharon smiled gently. "Since you put it that way, then I'll leave similar tasks to you for the time being."

"Mr. Holmes, here is your salary for last week."

Just as Fren was about to turn and leave, the blonde curly-haired beauty next to Sharon handed him an envelope.

"Thank you, Ms. Camilla." Fren reached out and took the envelope from the sexy woman's hand.

Then, in front of everyone, he opened the envelope, inside which was a thin banknote, a brand new 100 ducats.

Both Ostalia and Vestalis actually share the same economic currency, namely the dactyl and penta.

Gold and silver are not naturally currency, but currency is naturally gold and silver. A dactyl is a 3.49-gram gold alloy coin. Other metals are added to maintain its hardness, since it is well known that gold is soft.

As for how much gold is actually here, who knows?

Pentium is another, cheaper metal, which is equally hard.

The conversion relationship between the two is: 1 ducat = 100 pentats

In terms of purchasing power alone, 1 dakt is roughly equivalent to 20 RMB.

In my previous life, working at the city hall was a secure job with a monthly salary of nearly 10,000 yuan. There was little work, no overtime, and you could leave early if you finished your work ahead of time—the dream of countless office workers.

Leaving City Hall, he glanced at the time on his mechanical watch and decided to grab some breakfast. Although he'd eaten quite a bit in the office, he was now feeling a bit hungry again.

Fren hailed a taxi, got in, and left.

...

"I really envy him."

Camilla watched Jin Jue disappear, sighed softly, rested her chin on her hand, and her eyes gleamed. "From the moment you join the company, you'll have your own office."

"The minister probably thinks it would be inconvenient for all the women in our department to share an office," Sharon said, marking each of Fren's documents as completed. "Besides, he's only been at City Hall for six months."

"That's just how these nobles are, isn't it?" Millie, the youngest in the office, always had a slightly cold expression on her face whenever she saw Fren. "Even on the battlefield, don't they just stay in headquarters and command the ordinary soldiers below them? When danger really comes, they're the first to flee the front lines."

Wasn't he able to get here through arrangements made by his powerful family?

Millie, who is usually sunny and cheerful, has this kind of attitude when talking about the powerful and high-ranking people. Sharon is already used to it, but she thinks that Fren's personality is okay, so she tells her some inside information.

"I heard that Fren was just an orphan adopted by a fallen noble family, and his brother was just an ordinary clerk in the central government."

Millie pursed her lips, remained silent, and continued working. Prejudice is not easily eliminated, and what is easily eliminated is not prejudice.

......

A simple Ford sedan drives on the road, the streetlights and greenery outside the window receding into the distance.

As Fren sat in the taxi, he suddenly felt something was off. The road seemed unfamiliar; it didn't seem to be the way to the restaurant he wanted to go.

Just as he was about to speak, the driver suddenly braked hard, and due to inertia, Fren's body lurched forward and slammed into the back of the passenger seat in front of him.

Before I could even react, I felt a chill on my left temple.

"Bang!"

A spent cartridge case ejected from the silenced pistol, while a penetrating wound appeared on either side of Fren's temple.

The bullet, carrying blood, cerebrospinal fluid, and other substances, struck the car door.

Fren was a little puzzled, wondering who he had offended.

what...

Although I'm currently very weak, I'm still alive.

Magic.