Chapter 8: The Misunderstanding

“May I come in?”

“Yes. For now.”

The interior of the detective agency was as desolate as it had been yesterday.

A display cabinet would look perfect against that wall, Simon thought, mentally measuring the space for furniture as he sat on the sofa. Clint took the seat opposite him.

“So, what brings you here today?”

Clint got straight to the point, making Simon hesitate. Truthfully, while Simon liked Clint, he didn’t dare dream of becoming his lover. Why would someone so handsome, free, and cool ever like someone like him? He didn’t even have the confidence to keep Clint from leaving. Who am I to him?

All Simon wanted was to be close to him. A friend, or even something less, was fine. If he could just exchange a proper farewell when Clint eventually left this place, he would ask for nothing more.

But no matter how much he thought about it, there was no common ground between them. So, he decided to create some. Conveniently, he had several wishes he needed to fulfill before he died.

“Mr. Clint, you’re a detective, right? I’ve come to commission you.”

A commission.

It was the only way Simon could think of to stay connected.

“I have a few wishes. I’d like you to help me achieve them.”

Simon spoke while gripping his hands tightly. Clint looked surprised, and Simon waited anxiously for an answer. When he had set out for the office, he had been optimistic. Since Clint had helped Rut so naturally yesterday, Simon vaguely assumed he would do the same today.

However, reality was not so kind.

“I appreciate you coming to me, but I don’t take cases I’m not interested in.”

Clint rejected the request outright. Simon was flustered.

“I haven’t even told you what the wishes are yet.”

“I don’t need to hear them to know I’m not interested,” Clint replied casually.

Simon wondered if Clint had somehow read his mind—if his “dark intentions” of using the commission as an excuse to get close had been discovered. But when Simon mustered his courage to meet his gaze, Clint seemed unmoved. Did he not realize I like him?

Forcing his trembling heart to still, Simon asked, “…Why aren’t you interested?”

“Let’s just say I have a feeling that getting involved with a Grayan will lead to annoying complications. Just a hunch.”

Clint gave a small shrug.

What kind of reasoning is that? A “hunch” about annoying complications? It sounded like a convenient excuse to turn him away. But Simon was no longer the type to say, “Ah, I see,” and retreat the moment he heard a rejection.

In the past, his motivation would have hit the floor, and he would have left quietly. But now, things were different. When he thought of his final wishes, when he realized he had returned to the past, the first person he thought of was Clint. He had met a man he thought he’d never see again. It was the best thing about this second chance at life. He wanted to get close to him this time, even if he had to manufacture the opportunity himself.

Simon was earnest. He believed that if he conveyed his sincerity, Clint might change his mind.

How can I make him understand?

This miraculous second life, this limited time… how could he explain the desperation born from that?

Thinking back to the books he’d read, most problems arose from a lack of communication. Even protagonists who hated each other would fall in love once the truth came out. Simon made up his mind. He would tell him everything. He would pour out the truth and ask for help!

“Could you please reconsider? This is very important to me. The truth is… I don’t have much longer to live.”

Simon’s voice caught in his throat. Clint’s smile vanished. He stared at Simon intensely, as if measuring his sincerity. Meeting those green eyes was difficult, but Simon didn’t look away. He continued, fueled by desperation.

“…I will die in half a year. That’s fixed; it can’t be changed. These wishes are essentially my last will and testament. So, please, think of it as fulfilling a dying man’s wish—”

Pfft.

Clint suddenly burst out laughing. Simon stared at him, dumbfounded. Clint rubbed his lips, trying to contain himself.

“Ah, I’m sorry. You were talking, and… it’s just something I hear quite often lately, so I couldn’t help it.”

“What do you mean…?”

“Well, threatening me with one’s life?”

“I’m not threatening you, I’m telling you the truth…”

Simon was bewildered. Threatening?

“Right, let’s go with that then.”

Clint clearly didn’t believe a word of it. “I don’t know what kind of desperate wishes require you to stake your life, but to be honest…”

Clint hummed, pretending to think for a moment before flashing a smile. His lips curved into a beautiful, perfect line.

“I don’t think it’s any of my business.”

“!”

Simon was stunned.

How could he say something so cold while smiling so beautifully? His ability to charm with his eyes while striking a blow with his words was masterful. Simon couldn’t even think straight. As Clint continued to smile at the dazed Simon, he finally realized: Clint was only pretending to smile. His eyes were cold and sunken. Simon knew instinctively that the man was angry.

Why is he angry?

Simon was at a loss. He had only shared his truth; he didn’t know which part had offended him. Was it because he kept pestering him after being told no? The man who had been so kind yesterday had turned freezing cold, leaving Simon even more flustered. As Simon struggled to respond, Clint stood up.

“I think we’ve talked enough. I’ve been as polite as I need to be.”

Clint gestured toward the door. It was an incredibly elegant way of kicking someone out.

The confidence that had reached the ceiling when Simon arrived had now plummeted to his toes. His spirit was completely broken. Simon stood up hurriedly, even stumbling as he lost his balance, but Clint simply watched him.

He’s like a different person from yesterday.

Was he really that out of line? Simon felt like crying.

“Excuse me then…”

Simon trudged out of the office.

THUD!

The door slammed shut. He even heard the click of the deadbolt being turned.

…I blew it.

He must have done something horribly wrong. But no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t figure out what. Had he made another mistake because he was ignorant of the world? His chest felt tight, and he was angry at his own stupidity. He felt sorry toward Clint and bleak about having ruined everything. Tears welled in his eyes.

Simon tilted his head back and blinked. Crying was exhausting. If he looked like he’d been crying, Rut would worry. He took long, deep breaths. It wasn’t easy to suppress the rising emotions, but luckily, Simon was used to holding back tears. Since he was a child, he’d been scolded for crying because it “sapped his energy.” He skillfully calmed himself and carefully dabbed the tears from his eyes with a handkerchief.

When he finally composed himself and looked back, he saw the firmly closed door of the agency. He stood there for a moment, but the door did not open again. He still had no idea what he had done wrong.

Simon returned to the manor. Rut and Lizzie met him at the front door.

“Welcome back, Master,” Rut greeted.

“Yeah…”

Simon answered vaguely and walked past them. Seeing a man who had left so excitedly return with his shoulders slumped made it obvious something had happened. Lizzie and Rut exchanged looks.

‘Looks like something happened.’ ‘I’ll go check.’ ‘You have interviews for the new servants. I’ll go.’

The two quickly communicated without words. Lizzie followed Simon. Without even taking off his jacket, Simon collapsed face-down onto his bed. He tucked his hands under his pillow and buried his head between them.

Lizzie approached him, starting with a casual opening. “Master Simon, if you’re going to sleep, you should change your clothes.”

“I’m not sleeping…” Simon mumbled.

“Then why are you lying on the bed in the middle of the day?”

“…”

While one might typically pity someone so dejected, Lizzie had a bit of a fiery personality. While a servant isn’t supposed to interfere in a master’s business, she couldn’t stand seeing Simon acting as limp as a boiled onion.

“Tell me what happened! Speak up! I can only help you if you tell me!”

Lizzie grabbed Simon’s arm and shook it, prompting him. Since they had worked together to help Rut, she had become much more comfortable around him. Simon didn’t mind her forwardness.

“…I failed,” Simon muttered gloomily. He was timid, but it was his way of signaling he was willing to talk.

“Failed at what? Asking Mr. Clint out on a date?”

Lizzie said. Simon bolted upright, his eyes wide.

“H-how…?”

“How did I know?”

Simon nodded. Lizzie spoke triumphantly.

“I’ve worked here for three years. I can tell just by looking.”

“Then, does Clint also…!”

Simon was terrified, but Lizzie waved her hand dismissively.

“Mr. Clint probably doesn’t know. Your poker face was excellent.”

Lizzie had figured out Simon’s crush during the carriage ride to the agency. A man who was usually lethargic was suddenly anxious and restless; he was tense, his face was flushed, and his eyes were sparkling. He looked exactly like someone on their way to meet a person they liked. It was so obvious she couldn’t have missed it if she tried.

And yet, Simon had acted completely nonchalant in front of Clint. On the outside, he appeared to be nothing more than a polite gentleman who was perhaps a bit awkward in conversation.

“How are you so good at hiding it?”

“My father taught me how to manage my expressions to hide my emotions in public… He said a gentleman must do that. But if that’s the case, then he didn’t reject my commission because he figured out my hidden feelings…”

Simon let out a deep sigh and leaned his head back on the pillow. Lizzie patted his arm comfortingly.

“What kind of commission did you offer?”

“…I just asked him to help me fulfill my wishes. I only said that, and he rejected me.”

“Hmm, what did he say when he turned you down?”

“He said it seemed like getting involved with me would be ‘annoying.'”

“Ah… isn’t that because of Lord Dalton?”

“Huh?”

Simon blinked. Why is my uncle coming up now?