Sunlight streamed into the room, making Selene, who was huddled under her blankets, frown and turn over in bed. The blurry dream scene flickered—the snow-covered wooden corridors receded into the forest, the bright sunlight gradually dissolving everything. She was about to wake up, but as she was waking up…

“Selene! I’m starving!”

Louise’s shout and the loud banging on the door echoed.

Selene frowned and turned over again. But the banging continued incessantly, never stopping. Finally, she gave up on trying to ignore it, kicked off her covers, and, imitating Louise, yelled,

“If you don’t stop, I’m only making you potato water!”

Today, Lady Nitya’s Detective Office opened for business in peace and warmth.

...

The two sat at the dining table, their expressions gloomy.

“So, what are we eating?” Louise’s face brightened with hope.

“Potato water,” Selene replied coldly.

“What? I stopped working the instant I heard you say that!” Louise was shocked, then her face fell. “My dear friend is so fickle, ungrateful, and faithless. Is it even worth it?”

“What else do you want to eat? There’s nothing else in my house. Should we go out to eat?” Selene stared at her with dark circles under her eyes.

Louise looked out the window. There was no one on the street. A cold wind blew past, and the sound made the elf’s ears, which weren’t fond of the cold, twitch.

“I’m still hungry.” Louise sighed.

The two leaned back in their chairs, conserving energy. After a moment, Louise, as if she remembered something, suddenly said,

“I saw a gentleman yesterday. A middle-aged man. Not dressed like a worker. It seemed like he came to see you. I told him to come again today.”

Selene hummed in response.

“That must be Mr. Modi, a wealthy merchant from Vimos Street. His profession is quite rare. He’s a physician. Last month, he hired me to investigate his wife.”

“Investigate his wife?” Louise was curious.

“She’d gone too far…” Selene answered halfway, then suddenly heard a knock on the door. She quickly sat down in the armchair in front of the fireplace, casually picking up the thick book she always used as a prop and placing it on her lap.

A dozen seconds later, Mr. Modi, who Louise had mentioned, arrived.

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He was wearing a black tailcoat over a white shirt, a classic Mittal style. He sat down in the chair opposite Selene, his right leg crossed over his left.

“Good morning, Mr. Modi.” Selene greeted him, noticing his eyes glancing past her towards Louise, and added, “Louise is a friend of mine. She’s staying here for a few days.”

The very composed Mr. Modi nodded slightly and didn’t ask any questions, immediately getting to the point and asking about the progress of his commission.

Selene reached under the table, pulled out a stack of papers secured with pins, found Modi’s file, and placed it on the table, in front of Modi.

“This is…?”

“Unfortunately, your wife is indeed having an affair,” Selene said in an emotionless tone. “This is the evidence I’ve gathered.”

“Who is it?” Modi’s emotions were clearly stirred. He listened patiently to Selene, then, at an incredible speed, asked, “Who is she having an affair with? Is it a worker, or…”

“That’s a bit complicated.” Selene chose her words carefully, turning through the documents to find several sketches of buildings and people, handing them to Modi. “During my investigation, I discovered that she frequently visited these places, staying for anywhere from an hour to three hours.”

The intelligent people of Mittal hadn’t invented cameras yet, so she had to rely on drawings to describe the people and the scenes in detail… This might have been the reason her painting skills improved so suddenly.

Modi’s hands trembled as he received the materials, looking at the very realistic sketches, which were accurate and detailed, even including house numbers. His voice was hazy,

“These… are…?”

“Yes, these.” Selene glanced at the six buildings, her voice subtly showing compassion, “They’re located on Green Cliff Road, Hedel Street, Whistle Street, and Reeves Street. I’ve investigated the identities of those homeowners. They are, in order, a foreign artist, a warehouse worker from the east of town, a trainee guard, and… three unemployed people. They’re living on financial support from their families.”

Then, remembering the tavern she passed by yesterday when she was following “Shadow Walker,” she added,

“The artist on Green Cliff Road seems to have passed away. Suicide.”

Louise, carrying two cups of tea. Selene’s cup had some sugar.

Modi’s right hand trembled as he accepted the teacup. He took a small sip, his left hand gripping the realistic drawings tightly. The names, professions, addresses of the homeowners, and the exact times they’d met his wife were all listed, down to the hour. The information was well-organized and incredibly detailed. It was undeniably impressive.

He silently stared at the writing, then sighed with relief, took a purse from his chest, and placed five silver coins on the table.

Selene quickly counted the coins, then asked dubiously,

“I remember your balance was only two silver coins…”

“With this evidence, the divorce will be much easier,” Mr. Modi suddenly looked decades older, his voice weary. “Luckily, our child is still young, and won’t remember much about that woman…”

Selene thought for a moment and was about to ask if she should check if the child was his, but Louise, who knew her thoughts well, cleverly threw a plate at her, interrupting the dangerous suggestion.

Mr. Modi happily paid the rest of the fee, took the documents, and left in a hurry. Judging by the direction he went, he wasn’t heading home, but towards Thel Street. He probably had other business to attend to.

Selene watched him go, then turned to ask Louise why she’d interrupted her fascinating suggestion, when she heard a knock on the door.

So many visitors today?

A dozen seconds later, the slow, steady footsteps of a visitor appeared before them.

It was Richter, without his umbrella or lantern. He was wearing a scarf around his neck. His left hand held a book.

Louise frowned, and Selene instinctively wanted to cover her face with a book, but she noticed that Louise’s hand had subtly moved to her lap. The two exchanged a look, a silent contest, and Selene lost.

Richter’s face showed a suitably surprised and unexpected expression. He slowly walked over, sat opposite Selene, and smiled.

“Miss, we meet again.”