“Ding-dong, ding-dong.”
“Woof, woof, woof!!”
Having stayed up late after the promotion ceremony, Herman dragged his tired body downstairs from the second floor, woken by the duet of the doorbell and the dog—or rather, bird—barking.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”
He called out as he tugged at the coat draped over his shoulders and reached out to open the door.
Roxy Morton was standing outside.
She wore a white blouse with a butterfly bow and plaid suspenders.
Her slightly curled, tea-colored long hair was tied into a cluster that draped down over her right shoulder.
Her misty blue eyes held a hint of brightness, and the morning light filtering through the eaves cast interlacing shadows on her porcelain-white face, giving her an air of serene gentility.
Miss, your hairstyle is quite risky.
Herman was momentarily stunned by the movement, then his mind wandered in an unseemly direction.
“Good morning, Mr. Hughes.”
Seeing him look over, the young lady bent her knees slightly and lifted the hem of her skirt with both hands, nodding politely.
This was a noblewoman’s etiquette she had picked up from reading that Dark Night Count novel out of boredom that morning.
“Ah, ah, um, good morning, Miss Morton.”
Herman spoke while slightly lifting the hem of his coat with his intact hand.
Roxy: “???”
What are you pretending to be this time, a maiden?
“Hello, sir.”
“Hello.”
Two women standing two paces behind Roxy on the steps greeted in turn.
Herman glanced over.
One was dressed as a maid; the other wore a long coat and trousers, one hand shoved into a pocket, legs spread apart in a ready stance—it looked like a bodyguard.
“Hello.”
After Herman finished greeting, Roxy turned her head and instructed, “Wendy, you and Miss Mei wait in the carriage for a while. I have some matters to discuss with Mr. Hughes.”
Personal maid Wendy hesitated slightly.
After all, noble families always valued face.
Their young lady was an unmarried woman, grown into a captivating beauty.
Being alone with a man in a room was somewhat improper.
Mei, whose skin was slightly dark and cheeks a bit flushed, spoke awkwardly in Sothic with a slight accent:
“Miss Morton, I can wait for you at the door. If there’s anything, it’ll be more convenient for you to give me instructions.”
Islands Accent? Judging by her skin tone, she’s probably been sailing the seas for years—an adventurer or perhaps a former pirate?
After being promoted to Executor of the Path of Seeker 7, Herman’s pre-existing Path abilities had been enhanced, and he was more accustomed to his ‘detective’ identity, subconsciously analyzing others’ expressions and movements.
For example, this seemingly glamorous Viscount’s daughter likely wasn’t very comfortable in her outfit. That could be seen from her occasional unconscious tugging at the hem of her suspenders.
“Miss, I’ll wait at the door with Lady Athena.”
Not wanting to contradict her young lady but fearing trouble that might lead to the lady’s anger, Wendy chose to stand with the newly assigned bodyguard by the young lady’s side. If anything went wrong, at least the two could share responsibility.
“Mm.”
Roxy didn’t trouble her staff, nodded, then looked at Herman.
“May I come in?”
“Of course.”
Herman stepped aside to make room.
Once Roxy stepped inside, he closed the door and casually asked:
“Would you like something to drink? I have black tea and coffee.”
“Coffee, thank you.”
“Make yourself comfortable.”
Herman said this, then turned toward the kitchen.
Roxy took the opportunity to inspect the private detective’s residence.
The first floor wasn’t spacious; the entrance led directly into the living room, with stairs to the second floor on the left and an open kitchen on the right.
The furnishings were simple—a tea table for guests, a two-seater sofa beside it, and a single armchair.
To be frank, Roxy’s bedroom was bigger than this entire place.
She had thought Pathbearers were well-paid; perhaps Herman was just modest?
After all, he looked sly and low-key, not someone who liked to show off.
As she pondered, she heard a dog’s bark.
“Woof! Woof! Woof woof!!”
Hmm? Why did it sound like the barking was coming from right above her?
Looking up, Roxy saw a multicolored large bird perched on the coat rack, cocking its head at her.
“Woof!”
Roxy: “……”
Just then, Herman returned with the coffee, noticing the staring contest between the woman and the bird at the door. He raised an eyebrow.
“Let me introduce you—this is my partner, Peanut.”
Although the Sothic pronunciation of ‘Peanut’ had no relation to ‘Watson,’ the coincidence made Roxy smirk.
The great detective Herman Hughes and his partner, a parrot that barks like a dog named Peanut.
“…You’ve got good taste in names.”
Herman shrugged, set the coffee on the tea table, then pulled a small cloth bag from his pocket. Untying the string, he sprinkled some powder horizontally toward the door.
Though Roxy couldn’t see any change in the space, she felt the environment suddenly grow quiet.
This strange phenomenon piqued her curiosity. She couldn’t help asking:
“Is this also a Pathbearer’s ability?”
“Is it unique to you?”
Herman sat down in the armchair, took a sip of coffee, crossing one leg and leisurely said:
“Miss Morton, you know, asking a Pathbearer about their ability…”
“Is as rude as asking a lady or gentleman what color their underwear is today.”
Since there was no one else around and they’d already seen each other’s true nature in this castle, Roxy, already a bit annoyed by the ‘Morton’ affair, pursed her lips and shot back:
“Then may I ask, Mr. Hughes, what color underwear are you wearing today?”
Herman: “……”
He lifted his lips, about to answer, but before he could, that sweet, sticky voice continued:
“Oh, actually, you don’t have to tell me.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Neither in your ability nor the color of your underwear.”
Having said that, Roxy sat on the two-seater sofa, imitating the pose as she took a sip of coffee.
“!!!”
So bitter! Doesn’t he add any sugar?!
Roxy’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, but to save face, she swallowed the coffee, letting the dryness linger in her mouth.
Once she put down the cup, Herman sighed:
“I wasn’t sure of your taste, Miss Morton, so I didn’t add anything randomly.”
“The sugar cubes are just under the tea table—I was about to offer you some.”
“But it seems, Miss Morton, you might actually prefer this taste?”
“I can’t swallow coffee this bitter without sugar.”
Roxy: “???”
He’s doing it on purpose.
Roxy put down the cup, a slight smile curling at the corner of her lips as she said with a faint smile:
“Coffee, no matter how bitter, is much easier to swallow than poison.”
“Don’t you think so?”
“My dear Detective.”