I have a nemesis: Sherlock Holmes.
The reason is simple. I'm half Chinese, my mother is a Daoist, and I use metaphysics to solve cases because it's faster.
Mr. Sherlock Holmes is clearly very skeptical of this. Whenever I'm in a hurry and pull out my coins, he gives them a critical look, then scoffs.
And when he solves a case, I stare at him gloomily. It's one thing to mock me, but he even questions the wisdom passed down by my ancestors. I resent him for that. He thinks I figured it out through deduction or learned it somewhere else. Thanks for asking, but I'm really not as smart as he is.
When he jumped off the waterfall, I laughed at him without mercy. But I laughed so hard that even Heaven couldn't stand it, and I threw out my back and fell in too.
Before I died, I even heard John saying, "Don't do anything foolish!"
"Sylvia's trying to kill herself!"
I've never had such bad luck.
Then I was reborn. It seemed I'd arrived in London many years later. I was also forced to accept the whole magic thing. I knew metaphysics was the best all along.
Just as the Sorting Hat placed me in Ravenclaw and I was grinning like an idiot,
"Sherlock Holmes."
My grin disappeared at once.
"Gryffindor."
I smiled again.
"John Watson."
I watched as John and Sherlock said something to each other. I'd bet anything they were saying something about me trying to kill myself. Slander, pure and simple!
Theme: The truth is always buried beneath the filth.
