Exploring Technology in a Wizard World
Chapter 507 - 505 Sherlock

Chapter 507: Chapter 505 Sherlock

"I guess I’ll have to visit him then," Richard muttered to himself. "But... if I go, I need to bring something for exchange. What should it be..."

While speaking, Richard glanced around his study, finally settling his gaze on a wooden box on a shelf.

With a snap, he opened the box and took out an object the size of an egg with an oval metal shell, nodded, and walked towards the door.

At the doorway, Richard paused, turning his head to look at the Corpse Oil Painting rolled up on the table.

"This item, the other party might also be interested in."

Richard said, his eyes twinkling. For safety purposes, he picked up the Corpse Oil Painting and truly stepped out the door.

...

Over an hour later.

Somewhere in the center of Florence City.

In a quiet alley, Richard stopped in front of a very spacious courtyard, reaching out to knock on the door.

"Bang, bang, bang! Bang, bang, bang!"

The knocking sound echoed, and soon footsteps were heard from inside, followed by a creaking sound as the door opened. A woman in her thirties, plump but stern and cold, stood inside.

As her gaze met his, the stern woman asked, "Excuse me, sir, whom are you looking for?"

"I’m looking for the owner of this house, Mr. Sherlock."

"And you are...?"

"I’m his friend, named Richard. You can let him know."

"Well—," the stern woman hesitated, then bowed slightly, "then please wait here, sir. I’ll be right back."

"Alright." Richard nodded, watching the stern woman walk deeper into the courtyard.

...

Soon, the stern woman returned with a friendlier expression on her face, and bowing to Richard, she said, "Mr. Richard, Mr. Sherlock invites you in. Sorry for the inconvenience earlier."

"No problem," Richard responded, following the stern woman into the courtyard, walking deeper inside while observing the surroundings.

Richard noticed that although he had been here before and it hadn’t been too long, the scene in the courtyard had changed a lot. Perhaps because spring had arrived—the ground had been carefully turned over and was sprinkled with seeds, likely flower seeds, foretelling a sea of flowers in bloom soon.

Also, in the center of the courtyard, a square pool about four meters each way had been constructed, with a fountain in the middle continuously spraying water.

In the pool, there stood a statue of a young girl, with fountain water splashing onto the face of the statue. The statue’s hands were slightly lifted as if blocking her face, seemingly shyly shouting, "No!"

Watching all this, Richard slowly walked through the entire courtyard, arriving in front of a spacious drawing-room.

Here, the stern woman halted her steps, stepped aside, and then a cheerful voice sounded as a figure quickly approached, who was none other than the owner of the courtyard—Sherlock Melrose.

Looking over, one could see the other person dressed in a pale pink, extremely form-fitting nobleman’s suit, with snow-white lambskin boots. His tousled golden hair reflected a dazzling sheen in the sunlight, and his face was prettier than most women’s with angular cheeks that were not overly feminine, adding to his elegance.

"Hey, my dear friend, Richard, what brings you here? Surely you missed me?" he greeted with a characteristic exuberant tone, "Of course, it doesn’t matter whether you missed me or not because our friendship is eternal, right?" After saying that, he winked at Richard, as if flirting.

Richard: "..." Although he had guessed the other would be like this, he was still not quite used to it.

After a moment of silence, Richard spoke, "Sherlock, you really should change the way you greet people; otherwise, even if I have something important, I wouldn’t want to come over."

"Okay, okay, I will try to change," Sherlock clasped his hands together as if apologizing, then his tone shifted, "But whether I can change is questionable. After all, you know how I am. Anyway, let’s go inside and talk instead of standing out here, it’s not the way I treat my friends."

As he spoke, Sherlock gestured towards the door, Richard shrugged his shoulders and walked in.

Entering the drawing room and sitting down on a chair, Richard and Sherlock began to chat.

After a while, Sherlock suddenly remembered something, clapped his hands, and called to a small door connected to the drawing room, "Lucia, we have a guest, could you make two cups of tea?"

"Right away, Mister Sherlock." Just as Sherlock’s voice fell, a young girl stepped out from the small door, clearly already prepared. She carried a silver tray with two cups of hot tea, filled with a large number of petals—carefully collected from the previous year, coated in honey, and then dried, emitting a refreshing, sweet scent.

Richard was rather indifferent to this, as he thought any petal tea in the world was essentially sugared water in some sense. As the girl placed the tea on the table next to him, he took a simple glance and turned his head, preparing to explain the real purpose of his visit to Sherlock.

The next moment, however, he noticed something, raised his eyebrows, and his gaze suddenly fixated on the tea-serving girl.

Hmm?

Richard’s eyes flashed and then narrowed, a look of surprise crossing his face as he recognized the tea-serving girl as the pitiful girl he had seen being auctioned off previously.

How is she here?

Could it be that the nineteenth bidder who spent four thousand five hundred gold coins at the auction, Sherlock?

Impossible!

Richard shook his head internally, denying it.

As far as he knew, Sherlock was quite averse to such places and would not normally attend them, not to mention that Sherlock would absolutely not disguise himself as an old man deliberately.

So, what on earth was going on?

Richard wondered.

Noticing Richard’s unusual behavior, Sherlock looked over and asked, "My dear friend, what’s wrong? Do you find anything displeasing about Lucia? Or perhaps, you are smitten by her beauty?"

"Um—" Richard looked at Sherlock and said, "It’s nothing serious, I just think that this maid of yours looks a lot like a girl I saw at the auction."

The girl trembled upon hearing this, as if recalling unpleasant memories, which confirmed Richard had not mistaken her identity.

Sherlock, noticing the girl’s distress, quickly stood up, comfortingly patted her shoulder, and then looked at Richard thoughtfully, "Auction, huh, the person who sold Lucia to me did seem to mention that."