Chapter 15: The Vanishing Felines

Clint burst into laughter.

“Haha, I’m just teasing.”

“Oh…”

“But are you sure you want to go to a place like that with me?”

Simon was startled once again. He hadn’t even officially asked him to go yet.

“Weren’t you about to ask? That’s the second wish, right?”

“Well, yes… but how did you know?”

“Just a hunch?”

Clint gave a playful, mischievous grin. Simon quickly looked away, fidgeting with his sleeve for no reason. Smiling like that was unfair—it made his heart flutter so much he could hardly look back.

“Is your fiancée okay with it?” Clint asked.

Simon stammered for a moment. He hadn’t expected Clint to know he had a fiancée. Every time Clint spoke as if he knew him well, Simon felt a strange, floating sensation. We haven’t really interacted before, yet he knows. Is this the power of a detective?

It was true that Simon had a fiancée: Annis Kendall. She was two years older than him. Because their parents were close, Simon’s father—always worried about Simon being alone—had betrothed them when Simon was only three. Since Simon’s family was overwhelmingly wealthy, Annis’s parents had readily agreed. Perhaps because it happened so early, Simon and Annis felt more like close siblings than a couple destined for marriage.

While the engagement had continued simply because there was no reason to break it, Simon couldn’t imagine a life married to her. Annis felt the same.

In the end, we never did get married anyway.

Something had happened to Annis long before Simon’s death in the previous timeline.

“Annis is fine. In fact, she’d probably tell me to have a good time.”

Annis herself hated loud crowds and loathed masquerades. Once, when he had vaguely mentioned going, she told him to “go with a friend”—knowing full well he didn’t really have any.

“There’s no need to worry about her.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I thought I might have to prepare to have my hair pulled out.”

“Your hair?”

“You know how the Kenyon Masquerade is. You either go with a lover, or you come back having found one.”

“Is that what it’s for?”

Simon was genuinely shocked. Hadn’t it just been an exotic party that young people liked? Since he had his own ulterior motives toward Clint, he suddenly felt self-conscious. He hesitated before finally asking:

“Then… are you okay with it, Mr. Clint?”

“Of course. I promised to help you, didn’t I?” Clint answered coolly.

“I see…”

Go with a lover, or return as lovers. Clint clearly wasn’t overthinking it. Simon, who had asked with such solemnity, felt the wind leave his sails. Of course, a perfect man like Clint wouldn’t have someone like me on his radar.

“Then we’d better hurry with the preparations. Do you have a costume ready?”

“No.”

“Hmm, I wonder where one prepares for something like this?”

Clint seemed unfamiliar with such things as well. It was in moments like these that his status as an outsider became apparent. Simon decided he would ask his maid, Lizzie, once he got home. For now, they headed back to the agency.

Waiting for them at the office was an unexpected visitor.

The guest was an elderly woman with her white hair tied back neatly. She was sitting in the cafe downstairs, dressed simply in well-kept cotton clothes with a hand-knit shawl, sipping tea. She explained she had waited on the first floor because the stairs to the second were difficult for her.

“What’s the matter? Did Nora run away again?”

Clint approached her with familiarity. Simon followed, feeling puzzled.

“Yes. That little one left home again…”

The grandmother replied weakly, her wrinkled face full of worry. Clint explained to Simon that she was known to the neighbors as the “Apple Tree Lady” because of a magnificent apple tree in her front yard.

After her children moved away, she had taken in a cat named Nora—a fluffy white cat with calico patches. Having rescued her as an abandoned kitten, the cat was like a child to her. Nora was energetic and left home about once a month, but occasionally she wouldn’t return within a day, leaving the grandmother frantic. Clint had helped find Nora several times before.

“How long has she been gone? Don’t you think she’ll come back if you wait?”

“It’s already been four days.”

“Four days? That’s quite a while.”

The grandmother handed over a piece of paper. On it was a hand-drawn picture of a calico cat. Though not a masterpiece, the markings were drawn with such detail that her affection was obvious.

“I gave her a collar since she leaves so much, but it doesn’t seem to help much.”

“Well, a collar makes it easier to identify her. I’ll look into it,” Clint promised readily.

“Please, I beg you. I worry she’s starving out there…”

“Don’t worry. She’s likely doing just fine.”

“I hope so… oh, I must pay the fee.”

The grandmother pulled out a few coins and pressed them into Clint’s hand. Simon noticed the coins were polished to a shine.

“Go home and rest. Don’t worry too much. You know my skills, right?”

Clint spoke lightly to ease her burden. He seemed skilled at handling the elderly. He escorted her to the public carriage and returned.

“Well, now we have work to do!” Clint said energetically. It seemed he hadn’t found practicing card tricks all that fun either.

Simon and Clint stepped out into the street.

“How do you find a cat?” Simon asked.

“Nora has specific places she always goes when she leaves home. We’ll check those first, ask around, and then we might have to stake out and wait. It’s not particularly exciting.”

Clint called it boring, but Simon was looking forward to it. This was his first official case. Besides, finding a cat was a staple of detective novels.

Their first stop was a small local eatery. The owner loved cats and always left food bowls out back.

Clint greeted the owner and asked about Nora.

“Nora’s gone again? I haven’t seen her around here.”

“Really? She usually comes here whenever she runs away.”

“I know. Try somewhere else. Lately, the cats’ territories seem to have shifted. Even the regulars aren’t showing up. The food isn’t even disappearing as much.”

The owner promised to let them know if Nora appeared. Simon stood behind Clint, just watching. There are people who actually put out food for stray cats? It was fascinating to him.

Next, they headed to a dried fish shop—a place where strays usually loitered.

“Hello, sir. I’ll take this, and could I ask you a question?”

Clint bought some dried fish strips and struck up a conversation with the shopkeeper. He showed the drawing of Nora, but the owner didn’t even look at it, swatting the paper away.

“Ugh, don’t shove cat pictures at me! I can’t stand the things!”

The shopkeeper clearly disliked cats—understandable, given he likely spent his days fighting them off his merchandise. Realizing they wouldn’t get anywhere, they turned to leave. Behind them, the shopkeeper grumbled.

“Why bother looking for a cat? Hmph. I’m just glad I haven’t seen any of those pests lately. It’s a relief!”

Clint stopped and turned back. The shopkeeper looked at him as if to say, “What?”

“Sir, have the cats been missing lately?”

“Yeah! It’s like someone snatched them all up. Good riddance!”

“I see. Thank you.”

Clint bid him goodbye and left the shop. He stood outside, scanning the surroundings. He visited a few more shops, but no one had seen Nora.

After finishing their rounds where people gathered, they headed into the alleys between the buildings. They went deep until they turned a corner where discarded wooden crates were piled haphazardly. Despite being a secluded spot, it was a place where the sunlight hit particularly well.

“Not here either?”

“What’s not here?”

“The top of those crates is a favorite spot for cats. There are usually one or two here, but today it’s empty.”

Clint’s expression turned pensive.

“Why? Is something wrong?” Simon asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

“Don’t you find it strange? We haven’t seen a single stray cat today.”

“Is that unusual?”

Simon had never really paid attention to stray cats in his life, so he hadn’t thought it odd.

“Where could they have all gone? To have them vanish as if they were swept away… it’s very strange.”

Simon suddenly remembered the newspaper article from that morning—the one about the headless animal carcass. The animal in the article had been a horse, so it had nothing to do with cats, yet he felt a sudden chill. What if someone is indiscriminately harming animals? Simon’s face turned pale.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yes.”

“You don’t look okay. Sit down for a bit.”

Clint spread a handkerchief over a wooden crate and had Simon sit. It was an excessive amount of care for a grown man, but Clint seemed concerned after seeing how frail Simon could be. Simon wanted to insist he was fine, but his legs actually ached, so he sat down obediently.

As they sat in silence, a warm early summer breeze drifted between them. Simon stared blankly at the blue sky. Finding even one cat isn’t easy. Reality is tough.

Then, as if reading Simon’s mind, Clint spoke.

“Detective work isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”

“…”

“Things like you see in novels rarely happen. Most of it is just cleaning up other people’s messes,” Clint said.

Simon didn’t want to criticize someone’s profession, but it was certainly different from the glamorized version in books. It was much more tedious and taxing. Not very “cool.” Suddenly, Simon felt curious.

“Mr. Clint, why do you do this work?”

He had been wondering this for a while.

“That’s a tough question.”

“Is it?”

“To put it simply—Detective Sevardo. I was drifting at the time… and I suppose I was just too deeply impressed by it.”

Clint let out an embarrassed laugh.

That’s too short! Simon’s true heart wanted him to talk for the rest of the day. What does he mean by ‘drifting’? Why was he so impressed? He had so many questions, but being a refined gentleman, he held them back.

“Still, it’s impressive.”

“This? Impressive?” Clint asked as if it were absurd.

“Yes. Anyone who has read Detective Sevardo has imagined what it would be like to be a detective themselves. You actually did it. That’s what makes it impressive.”

“Do you imagine being a detective too, Mr. Grayan?”

“Of course.”

“Ah, well, I suppose that’s why you asked to be an assistant.”

Simon gave a bashful smile at Clint’s remark. Since it was a rare sight, Clint found himself staring blankly at Simon’s face.

Just then, they heard a rustling sound from somewhere nearby.