Chapter 12: The Detective’s Assistant

The next morning, Simon woke up in a state of pure bliss. Since returning to the past, everything had been going remarkably smooth.

Pu-hehe.

Simon couldn’t suppress the giggles escaping his lips. Yesterday, Clint had finally accepted his request. Since “fulfilling wishes” was a somewhat vague objective, Clint had attached a few conditions: he would back out if things got too troublesome, and he wouldn’t help with every little detail—only the three major wishes. Simon had agreed readily.

They had made a verbal agreement, and today they were to draw up a formal contract. That meant he got to see Clint again today. I must get ready quickly. Simon sat up, pulled the bell cord to summon the servants, and stretched lightly. A moment later, Rhett entered, pushing a cart and followed by a couple of maids.

“Good morning, Master Simon.”

“Good morning.”

Simon returned the greeting cheerfully. Every morning, he felt glad he had boldly fired the previous butler. With Rhett back, the mansion was rapidly stabilizing. Rhett had filled the staff vacancies through his own connections and was reportedly tidying up the messes left behind by his predecessor. The new servants were all respectful and diligent. Even in just a few days, the improvement in the estate’s condition was visible—a testament to Rhett’s competence.

Rhett poured a cup of tea. While sipping, Simon picked up the neatly folded newspaper.

It feels so much better not having to take that medicine.

He thought of how right he was to throw it all away. After the experience at the party, he realized he needed to stay informed. If he had paid closer attention to the news about the Polion charity event, he might have remembered Sonia’s accident sooner and prevented it. He resolved to read the newspaper consistently to jog his memory.

The local news was mostly quiet. Being a peaceful region, the paper was often a bit dull.

A headless animal carcass was found? That’s a bit chilling… other than that… wait, huh?

Simon’s eyes widened at a specific article. The headline read:

Wealthy Gentleman Saves Poor Orphan Girl!

As he read on, it was clearly about him. It detailed how Simon Grayan, who usually shunned social activities, surprised everyone by appearing at the Polion party and featured the heartwarming story of him rescuing a girl during the tent collapse. It was a small blurb in a corner, less than the size of a palm, but Simon’s name was there in print.

As Simon sat there in a daze, Rhett wore a proud smile. Rhett had seen the paper first and knew the article was there; he had stayed quiet just to see Simon’s reaction.

“To think something like this made it into the news.”

“Your engagement and inheritance matters were in the papers too, Master Simon,” Rhett noted.

“Those were in the social columns. This is the local news section!”

It was the first time an article had been written solely about his own merit. It hadn’t felt like such a grand feat, but he felt an inexplicable mix of embarrassment and pride.

“Would it be too much if I cut this out and kept it?”

“I have already ordered a frame. We must display it where it can be easily seen.”

The butler went a step further, shrugging her shoulders as if the achievement were her own. Simon thought a frame might be overkill, but he didn’t hate the idea. When else will my name be in the paper for something good? He decided to indulge in the fuss.

“Will you be going out today as well?”

“Yes. I’m meeting Mr. Clint.”

“You two meet quite often.”

“Yes. We’ll be seeing each other much more frequently from now on.”

Because his first wish was going to make it so.

Dropping off in front of Clint’s agency, Simon walked inside without hesitation this time.

“Mr. Grayan, wait a moment!”

The cafe owner called out to him. When Simon turned, she was gesturing for him to come over.

“You’re here to see Mr. Clint, right? I’ll go call him for you, so sit here and have some tea and pie first.”

Caught by her enthusiastic invitation, Simon ended up at a table. Before he could even refuse, she set a cup of tea and a slice of pie before him as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.

“I saved a slice just for you. Look, hasn’t business picked up?” she whispered.

Simon looked around. Even though it was the same time of day as yesterday, there were more customers. It wasn’t packed, but more than half the tables were occupied.

“Giving out the pies yesterday really worked. It’s all thanks to you. Now, enjoy.”

She thanked him again and vanished to fetch Clint.

I don’t have much of an appetite…

He had already had tea at the manor and wasn’t particularly hungry, but he had been taught that refusing hospitality was ungentlemanly. Simon forced himself to take a bite. As the owner had boasted, it was delicious.

As he nibbled on the pie, he watched the stairs. The owner came down, followed shortly by Clint. He was tall and handsome as ever. Today he wore a navy jacket and trousers that even by Simon’s standards looked high-quality. With his tie-less, relaxed style, he stood out instantly.

Clint found Simon immediately. Their eyes met, and Clint approached with a light smile. At his grin, the gazes of several women in the shop shifted toward him. He brushed off the attention with practiced ease and sat across from Simon.

“You’re here?”

A casual greeting. To think Clint was approaching him with a smile—it felt like a miracle.

It was worth dying for!

Simon felt a thrill. Clint looked at Simon’s pie and licked his lips.

“The pie here is great, isn’t it? Boss, why don’t I get any?”

“You got plenty for free yesterday, Mr. Clint!” the owner barked back.

Simon watched the exchange with fascination. The two were trading the kind of playful barbs only close friends use. It was so different from the vicious rumors surrounding him. Up close, Clint was surprisingly sociable and warm.

Why does a man like this have such a trail of bad rumors?

Simon wondered again. Since Lizzie didn’t know and asking Clint directly would be rude, his curiosity remained unsatisfied.

Eventually, the owner brought Clint a pie as well.

“Thanks for the food.”

Clint didn’t even use a fork; he picked the pie up with one hand and devoured it. He made it look so appetizing that Simon’s own appetite finally stirred. Suddenly, he really wanted to eat the pie in front of him. Simon carefully took off his gloves and, following Clint’s lead, picked up the pie and took a large bite.

The layers of pastry shattered crisply. The filling—minced meat and vegetables—burst with flavor. The richness of the meat and the tang of the sauce blended perfectly.

“It’s delicious!”

Simon was amazed. It tasted so much better than the first few bites. Earlier he had felt he was eating out of obligation, but now he genuinely wanted more. He finished the pie quickly, just like Clint. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed food this much. If Rhett, who was always pestering the chef to fatten Simon up, saw this, she would have hired the cafe owner on the spot.

After finishing his tea, Simon took a breath. Clint, seeing that Simon was settled, pulled out a contract. It contained the details of the request they had discussed.

“You can sign here.”

Simon read through it. It was exactly what they had agreed upon yesterday, so he signed it.

“The contract is settled then. I look forward to working with you.”

Clint held out his hand. Simon shook it reflexively. Since he hadn’t put his gloves back on, he felt the direct contact of Clint’s skin. Because he always wore gloves when meeting others, this was arguably the first time since childhood he had touched someone’s bare hand. It was a strange feeling—dry yet seemingly clinging to his skin, making him feel a bit bashful. His expression, however, remained characteristically stoic.

“So, tell me. What is your first wish?” Clint asked.

Simon suppressed his racing heart and spoke calmly.

“I want to be your assistant.”

“An assistant? You mean at my office?”

Simon nodded. Clint looked taken aback.

“Why?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a detective! Even if I’m not a huge help, I want to watch you work and assist you so I can experience the job indirectly.”

“Mmm…” Clint looked troubled. “Can’t you think of another wish?”

“I really want to do this. I promise I won’t get in the way.”

“Well… it’s not as glamorous as you think, but if you insist, fine.”

Success! Simon clenched his fists under the table, missing Clint’s somewhat deflated expression.

“Can I start today?”

“Suit yourself. Oh, but there’s something you need to do immediately.”

“…?”

“You should go over there and buy a lot—and I mean a lot—of reading material. You’re going to have absolutely nothing to do.”

Clint pointed to the second-hand bookstore across the street.

“…?”

Simon didn’t understand why he needed them, but he did as told. He went to the bookstore to pick out some titles. Seeing Simon for the first time in a while, the bookstore owner welcomed him with open arms.

Simon bought a series recommended by the owner: the complete collection of Detective Sevardo, a mystery novel that had been a national sensation a decade ago. He already owned it, but this second-hand set was in better condition than his own, so he bought the whole thing. Leaving the payment to a servant, Simon returned to Clint’s office. The bookstore owner kindly helped carry the books over.

“You bought all of those?” Clint asked, stunned by the dozens of volumes. “You won’t have anywhere to put them.”

Clint’s office didn’t have a proper bookshelf.

“Then… may I bring a bookshelf in?”

“Go ahead,” Clint agreed easily. If he had known Simon’s true intentions, he might have stopped him, but for now, he was oblivious.

I have a great excuse now.

Simon decided he would buy the largest, heaviest, and most expensive bookshelf he could find to put in the office.

“Where should I sit?”

“Just anywhere on the sofa? Do as you like.”

Simon sat on the sofa. On the table were refreshments set out for guests. He still found it surprising that Clint knew how to treat guests properly; based on the rumors, he expected Clint wouldn’t even give a visitor a glass of plain water.

“Starting tomorrow, you aren’t a guest, so don’t expect that kind of treatment.”

“Yes! Of course. Now, what should I do?”

Simon waited for Clint’s instructions, his heart pounding. What kind of cases were waiting for him?

“Just play,” Clint said.

“Pardon?”

I must have misheard him, Simon thought.