Martel Detective Duo
The lakeside was dyed red by the sunset. We spread out a picnic blanket on the grass and sat side by side, biting into the sandwiches the head maid had packed for us. The sight of the crimson sunset light shattering across the calm lake surface was quite romantic.
"How's it feel? Pretty nice taking a break today, right?" I asked, chewing on my sandwich. Seria nodded.
"Yes. Eating delicious food, trying on pretty clothes... it really felt like a dream."
But there was a strange hint of regret at the end of her voice.
"Still, for me, Young Master..." Seria pulled her gaze from the lake and turned to me. "More than dressing up in pretty clothes like this and relaxing, I feel most at ease wearing my navy uniform, sword in hand, by your side."
"Your duty as a knight and all that?"
"Yes. I'm a sword that exists to protect you, Young Master. After almost seeing you in danger today, I feel even more like I can't leave your side."
Seria's red eyes gleamed. Her unwavering loyalty toward me, steady since childhood, filled me with gratitude—but it also made a corner of my chest ache.
I set down my sandwich and turned to face her.
"Seria."
"Yes."
A single cherry blossom petal, carried on the wind, gently landed on Seria's black hair. I reached out to brush it away, but instead left it perched there and softly stroked her hair.
"Like I said earlier, just for today, forget being a knight. Be my childhood friend Seria."
"...Young Master?"
"You protect me, so I want to protect you too."
At my sincere words, Seria's eyes widened. Her face flushed redder than the sunset. Unable to look away, she fiddled with the silver hairpin in her hair with trembling fingers.
"...Young Master."
Seria swallowed dryly and carefully opened her mouth.
"You'll make a truly great lord. Like you did with that boy Luke today, you'll warmly embrace the people of the territory."
"That's only because you've been nagging me. If it was just me, I'd have tossed it all aside out of laziness."
At my playful reply, Seria finally couldn't hold back and let out a pfft of laughter.
"Then I'll nag you for the rest of my life. Brace yourself."
"Go easy on me. My ears are already callused."
We sat by the lakeside as the sun set, trading silly jokes and giggling. Our shoulders touching, sharing each other's warmth.
Spring for a 12-year-old and a 14-year-old. Our sweet, innocent special vacation faded beautifully into the red sunset.
—
Time passed. Spring gave way to early summer in early June.
"Heh, Seria. What should we do for fun today?"
"Hmm, whatever Young Master wants."
"Ooh, then let's nap in the inner courtyard!"
"No, that's not allowed."
"Aw, why! You said do whatever I want!"
We were bickering like usual as we walked down the corridor when—
"Haa..."
A sigh leaked from the gap in the office door. Peeking in, I saw Dad sighing like the ground might cave in beneath him. Seria and I exchanged glances and tilted our heads.
"Dad, what's wrong?"
I pushed open the door and went in. Dad was buried under a mountain of parchment documents, tearing at his hair.
Since the shampoo business exploded and our territory's finances improved, it had been ages since I'd seen him stressing like this.
"Oh, Kalian. And Seria too."
Dad greeted us with hollow eyes. The desk was piled high with documents stamped in red: 'Emergency Petition, Damage Report'.
"It's like this... Lately, bizarre incidents have been happening one after another at the farms on the outskirts of our territory."
"Bizarre incidents? Bandits show up or something?"
"If it were bandits, that'd be better. We could just send the guards to wipe them out."
Dad furrowed his brow and stroked his beard.
"Every night, an unidentified 'black ghost' is appearing."
"A ghost?"
Seria, standing beside me, flinched. Still weak to the occult, our Seria.
"Yeah. This ghost shows up at farms every night and steals the livestock they've raised so carefully—without a trace. Chickens, sheep, even calves."
Dad sighed deeply and tapped the documents.
"What's even weirder is it doesn't touch valuables or money—just takes all the food and livestock. And it tramples the fields into a total mess before vanishing."
"A ghost that only steals food... Must be a hungry spirit."
I muttered, propping my chin. Dad shook his head.
"We sent Captain Mason and the guards for night watches and ambushes. But it doesn't even leave footprints. They always come back empty-handed. It ghosts the places the guards are watching and hits other farms instead."
"Hmm, no footprints, huh."
This was getting interesting. Normal bandits would leave cart tracks or footprints from hauling loot. A mage would leave mana residue. But stealing livestock without a single trace?
Either something specialized in stealth, or a flyer.
Either way, it was a scoundrel stealing the blood-sweat-earned assets of our people. With the shampoo factory keeping us busy, we couldn't let livestock thieves sour the territory's mood.
"Dad, don't worry. If the guards can't catch it, we will."
"You two? Nah, it might be dangerous. Even Captain Mason's struggling."
"Uncle Mason and the guards are too honest in their investigations. To catch thieves, you need a thief's mindset."
I grinned meaningfully and nudged Seria's arm. Then I whispered in her ear.
"Seria, let's go."
"Eek!"
Seria shuddered and clutched her ear.
"...Y-Young Master, what trouble are you planning now?"
"Trouble? The people are suffering! Isn't this your favorite 'knight's duty'?"
"That's true, but... it's a ghost. Will a sword even work...?"
"Pfft, ghosts aren't real. It's physical—I'll bind it with magic, you just smash the pot."
"Urgh..."
Seria finally nodded. Mention the people, and her soft heart gives in.
"...Alright. But if it gets dangerous, you hide behind me. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm just a frail mage."
We exchanged glances behind Dad's back. Thus was born the 'Martel Detective Agency'.
"Dad, we're heading to the training ground for more practice. Don't worry—we'll catch it soon."
"Alright. Train hard."
Dad had no idea what we were up to and buried himself back in the papers.
Out of the office, I led Seria to my private storage room.
"Alright, for detective play, first we gear up."
I rummaged in the corner and pulled out two dark brown trench coats and wide-brimmed hats I'd made on a whim before.
"What's this?"
Seria picked up a coat, looking baffled.
"Detective basics. For night stakeouts, inconspicuous clothes are best."
"My navy uniform's dark enough."
"Pfft, walking around in uniform screams 'I'm a guard~'. Think the thief's an idiot? It'll bolt."
I flung on the coat and pulled the hat low. Mirror check: pretty convincing detective vibe.
"Come on, Seria. Your turn."
"...Do I really have to?"
"Obviously. It's our agency's uniform."
Seria grumbled but draped the oversized trench coat over her uniform and donned the hat. The hem covered her thighs, giving off a mysteriously different vibe from her usual sharp knight look.
"Ooh, suits you. Sherlock Holmes level."
"Sherlock... who? Anyway, what's the plan? No clues, right?"
Seria fiddled with the brim.
"No clues? Then hit the info network."
I grinned and pointed to the back gate of the Lord's Castle.
"We know a back-alley expert."
"Huh? Who?"
"The kid you almost smashed a pot over last month."
Seria's eyes widened.
"Ah... Luke?"
"Bingo. He'd sniff out shady stuff in the territory fastest."
In our amateur detective getups, we slipped out the back gate into town. Destination: a massive herb farm on the outskirts. Our reliable informant works there diligently, feeding his siblings.
"Let's go, Seria. Martel Detective Agency—first case, on the move!"
"...I just hope it ends safely."
Seria's sigh scattered on the wind.