After delivering the most important information, Iver gently squeezed Isabel's hand, signaling that they could end the act.
But their conversation was not over. It continued for a little while longer.
Under Iver's guidance, they gave the consultant some information that was not particularly useful. This was meant to slightly dilute the amount of information from their earlier conversation.
Afterward, Iver removed Sherlock's shirt and treated him using a fairly "normal" method—as though he were a genuine bishop. His use of the Illumination Spell was quite standard and lacked spirituality.
Without a doubt, this was also the level "Iver" should have possessed. As a genius bishop who had reached the Third Level at the age of nineteen, it was only reasonable for him to lack experience.
When Iver's treatment was halfway complete, "Sherlock" moved his eyes slightly and slowly awoke.
"...Mr. Bishop."
"Don't call me that, Mr. Hermes."
Iver nodded slightly. Beneath the light, his shadowless face looked compassionate and gentle. "Just call me Iver."
"...Mr. Moriarty."
"Sherlock" struggled to sit up, only for Iver to gently yet firmly press him back down.
He could only knit his brows tightly and ask in a low voice, "How is Her Highness Isabel... Oh!"
As he spoke, he saw Isabel standing behind Iver.
"Sherlock" suddenly understood, tears filling his eyes. "Your Highness, thank goodness you're all right!"
"...But I couldn't help at all."
Isabel looked somewhat melancholy. "I could only cause you trouble."
She looked timid as she stood in the corner of the room, her body leaning lightly against the full-length mirror. Standing sideways before the mirror, Isabel's reflection revealed another self within it. From a distance, she looked like a pure white butterfly.
The moment she said this, Iver and "Sherlock" fell silent.
Thus, Iver could only give Sherlock an