If this curse had been cast on an ordinary person, it might have greatly reduced their ability to think.
But for Sherlock, it was just right—he actually felt his mind becoming clearer. With the noise in his head gone, he could even call upon more resources.
"...How could you cast a curse on me right in front of me?"
Sherlock's brows drew tightly together. "You're the first Curse Master I've ever seen let the cursed person watch the whole process..."
"Is that not allowed?"
Iver asked back with complete justification, "Just tell me whether you're cured or not."
"Indeed..."
"Teacher Ibn taught me."
Iver smiled. "Including the ritual."
"Tsk."
Sherlock clicked his tongue, his expression visibly relaxing as the alcohol slowly began to take effect. "I knew it. Someone who Bewitches the Lord like you must have an affinity for the Path of Transcendence..."
"I did Bewitch the Lord. What? Are you unhappy about it?"
Iver narrowed his eyes and chuckled.
"There's nothing to be unhappy about, Minister Moriarty." Sherlock spoke expressionlessly.
"Looks like you really are unhappy, Secretary Hermes."
Iver could not help laughing.
Sherlock became much more amusing after he got drunk—normally, he was practically a mute. Although he could make sarcastic remarks, he lacked flexibility. If someone pushed back a little, he would simply stop talking.
But Iver actually rather enjoyed being needled like this. After all, he had interacted with his friends this way in his Previous Life, and it made him feel nostalgic. It was just that this world lacked the art of making strange remarks... Of course, perhaps it was only old-fashioned Avalon that lacked it.
"How long will this curse remain on me?"
Sherlock asked, "And how long will the one you cast this time last?"
"Two weeks."
Iver replied casually, "Of course,