"Where is this place, Master?"
After breakfast, Strange was transported by Noah's magic to a room that looked old and unadorned.
Just as Wang had said.
Without any prompting, Strange naturally switched his accent to British English.
That alone surprised Noah.
People often assumed British and American accents were similar, like they were easy to swap between.
They weren't.
In Noah's previous life, even closely related regional dialects took serious effort to learn.
But for Strange, that difficulty simply didn't exist.
In just one month-without deliberate practice-he had already mastered it through listening alone.
"This will be your office from now on," Noah said plainly, spreading his hands. "Baker Street. Number 221B. You'll be working here."
"Baker Street... 221B?" Strange froze.
He hadn't expected this.
Not at all.
Over the past month of intensive study, Strange had developed a deep understanding of modern magical history.
And in that history, nearly everything led back to one person.
Noah Phiniel.
The sorcerer standing in front of him-who looked even younger than Strange himself-was the one who had broken the magical world out of stagnation.
Strange remembered a book by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov: The Man in the Case.
It described a mindset terrified of change, obsessed with avoiding trouble.
That mindset had perfectly encapsulated the magical world of the past.
Fortunately, it hadn't fallen into something like Tsarist autocracy.
Otherwise, the chaos would have been unimaginable.
Noah's arrival had been like a stone thrown into still water.
Ripples spread.
And every dormant thing beneath the surface was forced awake.
Among Noah's early achievements were the creation of two sorcerer alliances and the defeat of the dark wizard who had plagued the British magical authorities-Voldemort.
There wasn't much to say about that man.
In the current magical climate, he had simply been courting disaster.
Strange wasn't particularly interested in him either.
As for why Voldemort had ever wielded such influence, Strange saw it clearly.
British arrogance.
Nothing more.
What truly caught Strange's attention was the establishment of the Sorcerer Alliance.
It gave young sorcerers early independence.
It tempered them.
And more importantly, it bridged two long-separated groups within the magical world.
Exorcists.
Wanderers caught between the magical and mundane realms, treated as oddities by both.
Under Noah's direction, their situation had changed drastically.
All of this was recorded in modern magical history.
And Noah's evaluation within those records was absurdly high.
Strange had read every word carefully.
Which was why he knew exactly what Baker Street 221B represented.
This was the very first office Noah had established with the exorcists.
"It's really here..." Strange nodded slowly, then looked at Noah with a complicated expression.
"But Master... why?"
"Why what?" Noah sat down casually. "Why here? Or why you?"
"I still seem to be-"
"You're not qualified," Noah interrupted him directly. "So I need another approach."
Before Strange could react, dizziness washed over him.
The next moment, he found himself seated in a chair.
A teacup appeared on the table without warning.
Brown milk tea gradually formed inside it, as if poured from nothing.
Noah took a sip and spoke calmly. "Wang gave you the elementary spellbook already, right?"
"Yes. This morning." Strange nodded, then took a cautious sip himself.
"Good. Let me test you."
"Vampires are basic magical creatures. Where do their legends originate? How do you deal with them?"
"Vampire legends originate in Balkan and Eastern Slavic folklore," Strange answered immediately. "They describe corpses rising from graves to drink human blood. Over time, they evolved into their modern form. Common methods of dealing with them include silver weapons and magical attacks."
"Continue," Noah said. "Harpies. Their characteristics. And how do you identify a victim."
"Harpies hoard treasure and steal voices. They attack in flocks and ambush their targets. Victims usually bear deep claw marks-three per strike. Special potions or magic are the most effective countermeasures."
The answers were standard.
Textbook-perfect.
Noah smiled, then shook his head.
Medical students were excellent at memorization.
That wasn't the issue.
The problem was that Strange was treating knowledge as static rules.
And that wasn't enough.
Even many students from the Sorcerer Alliance handled this better than he did.
"The books aren't wrong," Noah said, spreading his hands. "But you have a lot left to learn."
"Let me ask you this. If the scene is destroyed, how do you determine whether it was a vampire or a harpy?"
"This..." Strange hesitated.
That wasn't in the book.
"You examine the body," Noah continued. "The damage. Tearing wounds suggest vampires-or possibly werewolves, depending on context. Cutting wounds point to harpies. Their claws are sharp and destructive."
He stopped there.
If it were Noah himself, he would simply use a flashback spell to reconstruct events.
But even without such spells, he could still reach accurate conclusions.
That came from foundation.
Before mastering powerful magic, Noah had painstakingly studied magical creatures.
Their anatomy.
Their habits.
That knowledge had paid off many times.
Dragonborn magic, for instance, had been learned at an absurd speed precisely because of that accumulation.
Strange's potential was enormous.
Which was why Noah refused to be careless with him.
Every necessary step would be taken.
Even if the process was compressed, nothing would be skipped.
Here, Strange would serve as an exorcist.
He would study spells.
Apply them.
Learn through practice.
That was the purpose of sending him here.
And Noah would provide the necessary support to make sure nothing went wrong.
"You'll stay here from now on," Noah said, sipping his milk tea. "This place is open for business."
"So I'll be... an exorcist?" Strange's mouth twitched. "Alone?"
"For now," Noah nodded naturally. "You can hire help if you want. Or find someone to split the rent."
"I charge for this place."
"Split... the rent?" Strange's expression collapsed.
He hadn't expected that.
Was this really how a master treated his apprentice?
Strange sighed.
But he understood.
If he refused, his only option was to go home.
And if he went home, his memories wouldn't remain intact.
He'd read about it.
Early in the Sorcerer Alliance's history, Noah had used memory charms as leverage.
He admitted it openly.
The people involved acknowledged it.
Given the circumstances at the time, those actions were seen as decisive, not cruel.
Strange didn't want to experience that firsthand.
So following Noah's arrangement was the only sensible choice.
He took another sip of milk tea, already thinking about how to reduce rent pressure.
After a moment, he asked, "Does my assistant have to be from the magical world?"
"No," Noah shook his head. "An ordinary person is fine."
"An ordinary person?" Strange frowned. "Wouldn't that complicate my work?"
"Why would it?" Noah smiled.
"You're an exorcist. A sorcerer."
"You do what you're meant to do. Understood?"
Strange froze.
Then he looked at Noah with a gaze filled with disbelief-and reverence.
He nodded firmly.
"I understand, Master. I know what to do."
"Huh?" Noah scratched his head, not bothering to decipher what Strange had just realized.
"That's good enough."
He paused.
"Oh. One more thing."
"From now on, your name here is Sherlock Holmes."
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