The Moron Curse

About three or four hours after Hai Na left, Sherlock finally returned home.

Iver sat on the sofa with his hands clasped in front of his abdomen and his legs crossed.

His tone was somewhat displeased. "I've been waiting for you for a long time, Sherlock. I told you before that I was coming."

"Thank you."

Sherlock looked quite tired when he entered the house. "I'm glad you've waited so long for me, my friend."

He then asked Ms. Mina for a glass of Hot Brandy to relieve his headache.

Ms. Mina hesitated for a moment, but then agreed.

"Do you want a drink?"

Iver was startled by Sherlock's reaction.

He vividly remembered that Sherlock was easily intoxicated by alcohol and had a rather unruly drinking habit. That's why he rarely touched alcohol—it would embarrass him.

But Iver did not stop Sherlock.

He wanted to see Sherlock's remorseful expression after he sobered up.

"I need to have a drink, I have a bit of a headache."

Sherlock covered his forehead, his brows furrowed. "After I was 'resurrected,' Director Kent took me away to solve the backlog of cases that had accumulated over this period. I've been busy until now, and finally, I've solved all the cases from this period."

"... That doesn't make sense, does it?"

Iver with some confusion, "Logically speaking, this amount of work shouldn't make you feel tired, right?"

Sherlock is a seasoned office worker.

Moreover, he's the type who voluntarily works overtime—he's like a large dog, brimming with inexhaustible energy. If he doesn't release all that energy through work, which he uses as a way to "walk" the dog, he'll feel restless and uncomfortable at home.

He could even work for three days straight, sleeping only four or five hours in total. And even then, he would only feel tired, and his energy would return as soon as he woke up.

Moreover, Sherlock has advanced to a higher level—in theory, his mental abilities should have been further developed.

"It's not that I'm tired. It's that I have a headache."

Sherlock corrected Iver's statement.

What's the difference?

"Both of us starved to death, but one was from malnutrition, and the other was from prolonged starvation followed by overeating and then dying from overeating. I died from the latter."

Sherlock provided a precise metaphor.

He plopped down on the sofa, picked up the cookies Ms. Mina had baked for Iver from the table, and began to munch on them like a starving ghost.

He grabbed three handfuls of cookies before his complexion improved.

"This promotion didn't really enhance my physical abilities, but it did significantly enhance my brain... I'm starting to lose control of my brain."

"It was such a simple question, and I almost immediately figured out the answer, but it started making its own connections and analyzing a whole bunch of meaningless things..."

Sherlock paused, then added, "It's like after a concert, when you lie down to sleep and the echoes keep replaying in your mind. Right now, my damn brain is constantly, repeatedly, and pointlessly thinking about things that already have answers!"

"So you need to numb your brain with alcohol."

Iver suddenly realized. "It seems your promotion this time has brought you some good benefits."

"Hmm. Although it's a bit troublesome, it should be a good thing."

Sherlock, however, didn't mince words, simply nodding in agreement. "It's just that I can't control it right now. If it keeps replaying the details and interpersonal relationships of those dozen or so cases in my mind, I simply won't be able to sleep."

"With my brain so active, even if I fall asleep, I'll probably have nightmares."

"This is why the ' Dream Wandering Monk ' belongs to the Path of Wisdom."

Iver said with a smile, "I know what the problem is with you right now."

"This situation occasionally occurs in the Parthian Ancient Kingdom, and it also happens in the Narcissus Principality. It's called ' Spiritual Body Imbalance,' a disease caused by your soul being far more powerful than your body."

"Can you save me, doctor?"

Sherlock sighed, "For the first time, I've realized that thinking can be such a painful thing... It's mainly because it's impossible to stop, and I'm thinking about several things at the same time, and even if I wanted to stop them, it would be impossible... I'm starting to think back to my classmates from college, and my brain is constantly analyzing them... Thank you, Ms. Mina."

As he spoke, he accepted Ms. Mina's signature hot apple cider.

Sherlock drank it down without hesitation or change in expression, clearly intending to force a shutdown in this way.

"Because Law Mage are a profession that primarily enhances rationality, and so are mages. If you already have a good foundation, then with two percentage points of enhancement, the excessive rationality will lead to an imbalance in your soul."

"In order to balance this imbalance, your soul will begin to draw power from your body to amplify your emotions and constantly inject excess rationality into your mind... This is why you become impulsive, why you become unusually tired, and why your brain cannot stop thinking."

Iver explained, "Simply put, it's genius disease. It's not a big problem... your brain will adapt after a while. This is how the Path of Wisdom is at an advanced level—without this kind of drastic transformation of your brain, you can't adapt to higher levels of wisdom."

"But I'm really upset, you stupid Fox!"

Sherlock's voice rose slightly.

He quickly realized he had lost control of his emotions again, and rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "At this rate, I won't be able to sleep at all tonight. Without enough rest, I won't be able to start my work, let alone accompany you to Eagle Cape Village for the investigation..."

"Come here."

Iver sighed, and a faint glow appeared on his right hand.

Sherlock immediately shut his mouth, leaned closer, and closed his eyes—because the light emanating from Iver's hand was too intense, even with his eyes closed, it was still dazzling.

Soon, he felt Iver place his palm on his forehead. A continuous flow of warmth surged in, like soaking in a hot spring, with warm, gentle water washing over the back of his head... It felt as if something warm was melting from his brain, and he couldn't help but shiver.

The accumulated fatigue melted away in the blink of an eye, and the headache caused by the jumble of thoughts was gradually soothed.

Sherlock couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, feeling this rare sense of tranquility.

But then, Iver removed his right hand.

Sherlock immediately realized this—because the moment Iver took his hand away, Sherlock's mind slowly started working again.

"... That doesn't seem to be a fundamental solution, Fox!"

Sherlock covered his head, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

"I just wanted to ease your discomfort."

Iver said coldly, then got up and walked towards Lily.

From her pouch, Iver found Black Goat wool, charcoal, a small wooden puppet, ginger oil and rosemary oil, as well as a black crystal.

Iver walked over without any politeness and pulled a strand of hair from Sherlock's forehead—a strand, not a single hair—causing Sherlock to jump up from the sofa in pain.

"Does your headache still last?"

Iver checked the severity of Sherlock's headache.

Then, in front of Sherlock, they began setting up the ceremony.

Damn it, how could it not hurt! Sherlock was about to curse, but seeing this scene silenced him and he swallowed his words.

He watched as Iver cut his finger and smeared the smear on the puppet's heart. He then wrapped the puppet's forehead with Sherlock's hair. Afterward, he poured his magic into the black crystal, crushed it, and plunged several sharp, dagger-like pieces into the puppet's forehead and heart.

Seeing this, Sherlock, who had initially thought Iver was going to use a ritual to heal him, raised an eyebrow. "This is a ritual?"

"This is a curse."

Iver replied casually, his hands still moving. "The Mist of Ignorance Curse... Of course, I prefer to call it the Moron Curse."

Next, Iver wrapped the puppet in the Black Goat's wool, lit a fire with charcoal, and placed the puppet inside.

As Iver chanted incantations, Sherlock gradually felt a hazy mist rising in his mind. The headache that had been constantly nagging at him also gradually dissipated.

"... Can curses cure diseases?"

Sherlock covered his forehead, somewhat surprised.

"Poison can also save lives."

Iver chuckled, "Learn from me, little brother! Hurry up and thank me!"

Sherlock gritted his teeth, about to retort, when he remembered that Iver had just treated him. He could only reluctantly say thank you.

What a blunder! How did we only get 10,000 votes?! (Pounds the ground)

I originally planned to add more chapters next month, so when I saw that there were 12,000 votes for January 28th, I set a target of 10,000. But it only took one day...

I'll see if there's an extra update tonight. The second update will probably be around 2 AM, and the third update might be around 6 AM...