You said you were going to make games, how did you become the richest man without doing anything?

"There's no use thinking about it anymore." Sherlock stood up and began packing up his medical tools. "Fou, it's about time we got ready for lunch."

"Hmm. Sherlock, what would you like to eat?"

I want to eat vegetable dishes.

"Dowa wants to eat fish!" The werewolf girl raised her hand high, her tail wagging incessantly.

"Are you two out of your minds? Eating meat is the best choice." Leia crossed her arms and sneered, her muscular body gleaming healthily in the sunlight.

“Nobody’s asking for your opinion,” Sherlock sighed. “Wait, you’re planning to eat here?”

"Of course," the three said in unison.

"...Then at least choose a dish that you can all accept."

So, the three demi-humans reluctantly drew lots and finally chose "fish".

"YES!" Dova clenched her fists, her face beaming with the joy of victory.

“Huh? I protest.” Leia frowned. “The fish is skinny and weak.”

“I’d rather eat grass,” Fina muttered, equally dissatisfied.

"You can eat my fur," Dova said with a grin, moving closer to him.

"roll."

Ophelia, who was sitting to the side, saw this scene. She floated up gently, the hem of her robe silently brushing the ground.

“Sherlock, I’m going back upstairs to rest for a bit. Speaking of which,” she glanced back at him, a faint smile playing on her lips, “although there are so many people in the entire capital, you’re probably the only one who can get along so intimately with such a big shot from the slums.”

Sherlock paused for a moment, then sighed:

"I feel like I'm raising a pack of wild beasts that are hard to take care of. I don't want there to be more and more of these troublesome patients."

"And so, the therapist Sherlock unknowingly planted the seeds of his own downfall..."

"Please don't just disappear with that ominous prophecy!" Sherlock's angry shouts echoed through the asylum.

G-chan, trying not to laugh, explains:

[Sherlock: I just wanted to be an ordinary healer, but I end up in a daily hellhole]

Ophelia's departing figure is so evocative.

[A major character is about to appear! The vice commander of the Royal Guard Division is coming!]

Meanwhile, on the other side of the capital.

"...Is this really a slum?"

Annabelle stood at the entrance to the dilapidated street, and what she saw was not the chaos and bloodshed of the past, but an unusual peace and liveliness.

The lizardman and the werewolf carried the wooden crates side by side, laughing as they worked.

Not far away, two orcs were playing a dice game with several children sitting around the roadside, their faces full of relaxation and joy.

In front of a tavern on the street corner, a group of young people of different races were drinking and raising their glasses, making a lot of noise but without a trace of hostility.

The air was filled with the faint aroma of wheat and stewed meat, and even the sunlight seemed exceptionally bright.

Annabelle subconsciously slowed her pace, her brow furrowing slightly.

This is completely contrary to all the knowledge she had about "slums".

"Could it be... that the rumor is true?"

She murmured to herself, her long golden hair swaying gently in the wind.

Legend has it that an "arbitrator" ended the long-standing conflict between the three races.

She didn't believe it before setting foot on this land.

She was the deputy commander of the Imperial Guard Division and had participated in numerous martial law and suppression operations in the slums. She had personally witnessed how these demi-humans would turn on each other over a small piece of land, and had personally arrested dozens of warmongers and imprisoned them.

But now, the scene before me seems like another world.

She draped herself in a tattered cloth, disguised herself as a traveler, and quietly entered the streets and alleys.

On the street, a lizardman sat on a low stool smoking a hookah, with several baskets of fruits and vegetables he had just brought back from the market piled up beside him.

Annabelle walked over and greeted her cautiously:

"Sir, may I bother you for a moment?"

The lizardman raised his head and gave her a lazy look.

"Ma'am, is there something you need?"

"Big sister... never mind." She held back her anger. "I haven't been to the slums in a long time, and the atmosphere here... feels very different."

"can you?"

"I see you get along well with those werewolves and orcs."

“Yes.” The lizardman grinned, revealing sharp teeth. “After actually spending time with them, I realized that they are all good people.”

"But I remember that you two didn't get along before."

“In the past…” He squinted and exhaled a puff of smoke.

"What exactly happened in between?"

Actually, it's because—

Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly fell silent, his gaze darting away, and hesitantly put away his water pipe.

"……What's wrong?"

He didn't answer, but simply turned his back to her and slowly walked away.

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Annabelle stood still, gazing into the depths of the street with a complex expression.

She knew there must be something hidden behind this. But what bothered her even more was why these people were unwilling to speak out.

who is it?

Who exactly is it that can make the three races put aside their hatred, and even make these volatile demi-humans willingly shut their mouths?

Her hand slowly rested on the magic gun at her waist.

……

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are, but I don't want to reveal this. Because that person taught us not to be too high-profile."

"Can't we be too high-profile?"

Goodbye, eldest sister.

"stop."

Annabelle walked around to the other person and reached her hand into the tattered cloth covering her body.

She quickly pulled out the magic gun from her waist and pressed the muzzle against the man's stomach.

"Tell me the truth now."

"Who...who exactly are you?"

"Enough with the nonsense. Just answer my question. Who is this 'arbitrator'?"

She increased the pressure on the trigger.
-
Annabelle stood on the street corner, watching the lizardman's disappearing figure, and remained silent for a while.

Her gaze darkened, like ripples spreading across a frozen lake.

"These demi-humans...are they afraid?"

As the deputy commander of the Imperial Guard Division, she had witnessed countless faces of the poor: cunning, irritable, and unruly. But today, there was no hostility or defensiveness in their eyes, only a deep-seated awe—

"Whom do we revere?"

She turned around and slowly walked forward with the flow of people.

The streets of the slums were much cleaner than she remembered. Although the buildings were still dilapidated and rats still roamed the corners, the pungent stench of decay had faded considerably, replaced by the aroma of food and the laughter of children.

She quickly noticed a building that stood out from its surroundings.

It was a two-story building with a simple painted exterior. A wooden sign that read "Treatment Center" hung at the entrance, with a smaller note below: "Unlicensed operation, please do not report."

Several chairs were placed in front of the door, where residents of different races were leisurely sunbathing; some were holding cats, while others were chatting quietly.

Annabelle stood across the street, quietly gazing at the building.

"This is it."

G-chan's live stream quietly switched in at this moment, her tone full of excitement:

[Attention viewers! The Royal Capital Line and the Treatment Clinic Line have fully merged!]

[Deputy Division Commander VS Unlicensed Healer: A Fateful Encounter Is About to Begin!]

This is the first direct clash between royalty and the streets!

Annabelle took a deep breath, pulled up her hood, crossed the street, and pushed open the door.

The doorbell rang.

"Welcome—oh?"

She was greeted by Fufu, an elf girl wiping the floor at the door, holding a wet rag in her hand.

She looked up and saw the person, paused for a moment, then quickly flashed a professional smile. "Hello, welcome to our treatment center! What's wrong?"

Annabelle looked around.

The lobby wasn't large, but it was very clean. To the left was a waiting sofa, and to the right was a wooden table with a few old books and a pot of hot tea on it. A faint scent of herbs and black tea filled the air, creating an unexpectedly cozy atmosphere.

"I...have a bit of a headache," she said softly.

"Please wait a moment, I'll call the doctor out."

Fufu quickly turned around and ran into the small house at the back.

A few seconds later, Sherlock came out, carrying a linen cloth for wiping his hands.

"Hello, I'm the person in charge of this treatment center—"

His words stopped abruptly the moment he saw Annabelle.

At that moment, she raised her head, her hood slipped down, revealing a face as cold as ice and as sculpted as a statue.

Her long, golden hair cascaded down like a waterfall, her blue eyes were sharp as swords, and her fair skin was almost transparent in the light.

Sherlock was stunned.

"...You are..." He frowned, the face in front of him seemed familiar.

"I am a traveler, just passing through. I've heard that the healing magic here is excellent," Annabelle said calmly, her eyes sweeping over his fingers and noticing that his fingertips were slightly white, showing signs of fatigue from using healing magic for a long time.

“Oh, traveler.” Sherlock forced a smile, his tone tinged with wariness. “Please have a seat. You said you have a headache? Are there any other symptoms?”

"No." She walked over and sat down, her back ramrod straight.

Sherlock walked to her side, gently placed his palm on her forehead, and silently released a faint detection spell.

"There is indeed some poor blood circulation, but it's not a big problem."

He rummaged through the medicine box next to him and took out a bottle of light green medicine.

"This is a remedy I concocted, containing peppermint, rosemary, and a small amount of magic solvent. It will make you feel much better after drinking it."

Annabelle took the medicine bottle, glanced at it, and then drank it.

"tasty."

“This is not a beverage,” Sherlock said irritably.

The atmosphere between the two was somewhat subtle, neither like that of a doctor and patient nor like that of strangers.

Just then, the sound of pots and pans clattering came from the backyard, accompanied by Duowa's angry roar.

"Who fried the fish so black?!"

"It's you, you idiot! You said you'd flip it in five minutes, and then you went to take a shower instead!"

"I just want the fur to be a little fluffier!"

"Stop arguing, Fufu is going to make black tea!"

"Fufu, you've brewed three pots already!"

Annabelle turned her head to look at the backyard, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"It seems like quite a few people live here."

“Hmm.” Sherlock shrugged. “They’re all troublesome patients.”

"Are they demi-humans?"

Yes. Do you mind?

Annabelle shook her head.

“I grew up in a slum.”

Sherlock was taken aback, never expecting to hear such words from this woman with such a cold and aloof demeanor.

"So what do you do now?"

"...civil servants."

"A civil servant?" Sherlock looked at her suspiciously. "You wouldn't happen to be..."

"Deputy Division Commander," she calmly stated her identity.

Sherlock froze, and the air seemed to solidify instantly.

"What are you doing here?" His tone suddenly turned cold, and his eyes sharpened.

“An investigation.” She made no attempt to evade the question. “I’m under orders to investigate an ‘arbitrator’ who could potentially disrupt the order of the capital.”

“Then you’ve come to the wrong person.” Sherlock stood up, his tone displeased. “I’m just an unlicensed healer; I have no interest in the order of the capital.”

"But what you've been doing has already begun to disrupt order."

Annabelle also stood up, and their eyes met in the air, sparks flying.

Just then, Ophelia floated in, a teacup held leisurely between her fingers.

"Crack crack crack... I knew my premonition was right."

Her gaze swept back and forth between the two men, her smile carrying a deeper meaning.

"You two really look like you're incompatible."

G-chan burst out laughing in the live stream:

[Here it comes! The Iron Lady versus the Necromancer King, the healer is caught in the middle and about to explode!]

[Sherlock: I'm just a doctor, why does every day feel like a coup d'état?]

[Annabelle: I'm not here to date, I'm here to investigate you.]

Sherlock pressed his temple and let out a long sigh.

"I already have enough of a headache, can you guys please stop making things worse..."

Annabelle's gaze remained calm, but in a corner of her heart, an unprecedented turmoil quietly stirred.

She didn't say it aloud, but she knew—

That investigation has become corrupted.

She had intended to find an "arbitrator".
But then she met someone who would truly upend her world.

The air was filled with the mingled aroma of black tea and herbs. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a silvery glow on Annabelle's shoulder armor. A brief silence filled the treatment center, like the dark calm before a storm.

Sherlock sat back in his chair, rested his elbows on the table, and stared at the "patient" in front of him.

"So, you're here to investigate me?"

“To be precise,” Annabelle said calmly, “we’re here to confirm whether you are the ‘arbitrator’.”

Do you think I look like it?

Sherlock countered with a low voice, yet it carried an invisible pressure.

Annabelle didn't answer immediately, but instead gently placed her fingers on the table, her blue eyes fixed on him.

"According to intelligence, you have close ties with the leaders of the three major demi-human forces. Moreover, the conflict between them did indeed end after you appeared."

Do you think I have that ability?

“You have no power, but you have influence,” Annabelle said softly. “You may not realize it, but your actions are already changing the structure of the slums.”

"I'm just treating patients," Sherlock said calmly. "Whether they fight or not is none of my business."

"But you knew they were dangerous individuals, yet you still took them in and even built trust with them. Don't you think that's problematic in itself?"

“I don’t think so.” Sherlock sneered. “If you were willing to treat these people’s injuries for free from morning till night every day, and then be treated as the ‘center’ by them—you might understand.”

Annabelle frowned slightly.

She hadn't expected Sherlock's attitude to be so firm.

“I’m not here to be hostile.” Her voice softened. “I’m just here to investigate and determine if you pose a threat.”

Sherlock leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Have you finished your investigation?"

"……not yet."

This reply immediately made the atmosphere between the two tense again.

Just then, a light footstep broke the tense silence.

"Fufu has brewed the black tea! Wow... something seems off?"

Fufu walked in carrying a teapot, wearing a cat ear headband, completely unaware of the tense atmosphere between the two.

Are you two arguing?

“No.” Annabelle immediately stood up, resuming her stern military posture. “I should take my leave.”

"Aren't you going to continue the investigation?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“I will come again.” Her tone left no room for argument.

With that, Annabelle turned and left the treatment center, her cloak billowing in a clean, sharp arc. (End of Chapter)