Sherlock Holmes is not a warp god.

If we consider that when Floren first entered the school, the principal's favorability towards Floren was 5 out of 10, given that his mother was a second-generation assassin.

Upon hearing Fren's words, his favorability rating reached 10.

Although it's a 100-point scale, it's already giving Fren a lot of face.

No lofty ideal should be ridiculed. The principal looked at the boy before him and asked, "What is your plan?"

"There was once an old philosophical question about how many steps it takes to put an elephant in a refrigerator," Fren continued, sipping his herbal tea. "It's actually quite simple: open the refrigerator door, put the elephant in, and close the refrigerator door."

In my opinion, these tasks are not complicated.

"Obtain the intelligence, then eliminate the mission target."

"Very much in the style of the Carter family." The headmaster smiled as he recalled the past. "Your mother used to clear out all life near the mission target and then use highly concentrated combustion flames to burn the target to ashes."

"Is this an assassin?" Furen was taken aback. Was his mother really that fierce?

What kind of assassin has this style? He's practically a terrorist.

"At least the mission was completed well." The headmaster stood up, picked up his gardening shears, and walked inside. "The assassins have an employer-employee relationship. I have no right to interfere with their choices. Use your own ideals and will to gain their help."

The headmaster is indicating that the guests are to be seen off.

Like Mycroft, he wouldn't directly instruct the gardeners to help Floren, but he tacitly allowed Floren to communicate with the gardeners in his own way.

That was enough for Fren, since he only wanted Miss Joel anyway.

As the principal walked away, Furen bowed slightly.

After leaving the garden, Fren felt even better.

Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Joel Blair, Dusk.

This kind of clandestine mission doesn't require many employees; in Fren's mind, four people would suffice. With these few on board, Fren found it hard to imagine any organization that couldn't be dealt with.

However, Furen needs to carefully plan how to gain Twilight's trust and help.

The Western Kingdom's leadership would at most tacitly approve of this matter and would not provide any assistance to Fren.

Using lies on Huang Hun is too risky.

Miss Joel's combat abilities are top-notch, with both her strengths and weaknesses being quite obvious. That Twilight, on the other hand, is an all-rounder, proficient in everything, with a skill list far exceeding that of Conan Edogawa, and an intelligence on par with Sherlock Holmes.

As a cunning spy, lying is an essential skill. If this skill is described in detail in the Twilight's appraisal entry, then it is at least level 6.

Having infiltrated a foreign land, Twilight is accustomed to being suspicious of everything. There is a high probability that Fren's lies will be exposed, thus arousing Twilight's vigilance.

Therefore, things at dusk cannot be rushed, and Fren intends to proceed slowly.

Today is Sunday, and many people on holiday will go out to relax.

At this moment, in a circular plaza in the park, a loudspeaker is playing melodious music.

The square resembled a dance floor, where many men and women danced gracefully.

People of all ages are represented, from long-married couples to naive and immature minors.

It has become a routine that music plays here even during weekday breaks.

In places like this, there will always be people who muster up the courage to invite someone they like to team up.

Fren saw a boy of about seventeen or eighteen years old extend his hand to a girl who was with him. He had a forced composure on his face, while the girl was blushing.

Having come this far, she naturally had some idea of ​​what the boy was thinking. And her willingness to come here with him showed her attitude.

Their hands naturally came together, and they stumbled along in the circular square, performing the Vladimir dance, the most common social etiquette dance.

The people around them were very tolerant, even teasing, as the two occasionally stepped on each other's feet.

Such innocent feelings, whether they end up together or not, will be an extremely beautiful memory to look back on this moment.

Fren stood outside the square, his 1.85-meter height, handsome face, and aloof, detached demeanor attracting considerable attention. He stood like a lamppost, quietly observing his surroundings, as if worldly love and romance had nothing to do with him.

After watching for more than ten minutes, and with the dance music already on its third run, Fren finally considered leaving.

With a mental perception comparable to spider-sense, Furen sensed a human-like object approaching him from behind.

Fren was surprised, then turned slightly to the side, expressionless, as if trying to dodge.

But the newcomer precisely seized his hand, which he wanted to put behind his back, and like a bright red rose, spun him around and led him into the circular square.

"Mr. Holmes, would you like me to dance?"

Sylvia Sherwood, dressed in a burgundy gown and with her long hair flowing over her shoulders, whispered to Fren.

Fren paused for a moment, feeling that Scribe Sherwood's words came a little too late, since the two of them had already jumped up.

Fren wasn't some seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy; his memory disk contained records of every dance style he had ever studied. Even with the same Vladimir dance steps, his and Sherwood's rendition resembled a blazing battle flag, drawing astonished glances from everyone around them.

Due to a chance encounter while gathering intelligence undercover, she must shake off the pursuit of an organization. As a seasoned agent, she has erased any remaining traces of her powers and mystical influence. With only one final step remaining to escape the pursuit, she decides to use a young man she has only met twice.

Sylvia's fingertips touched Fren's raised palm, her body spun twice, her skirt swirling like a blooming rose due to centrifugal force, and then Fren embraced her slender and powerful waist with his hand.

Upon entering the park, she removed her disguise and changed into a long dress, making it impossible for those idiots following her to find her, even using mystical methods. Encountering Francessoko Holmes here was an unexpected bonus, making her escape even easier.

Now, Sylvia was face to face with him, looking into Francessoko's dark pupils, in which her own face was reflected.

Throughout, the face remained unchanged, and even the "Iron Lady," who was well-versed in human nature, couldn't detect any emotion in those eyes.

However, since the dance was over, it means that Francessoko did not reject his approach.

After the dance, enthusiastic applause erupted around them, and some even let out long shouts of praise for the handsome man and beautiful woman.

Sylvia performed a curtsy, while Floren placed his left hand on his right shoulder and bowed slightly as a gesture of thanks to the guests.

Furen's deeper thought was that she was indeed a woman who had been married and had children.

The dance just now was inevitably close-fitting, and Fren felt that he was at least a D cup.