Knock. Knock.
Percy was currently changing the damp bedsheets that still carried the faint smell of sweat when the sound came from downstairs.
Almost immediately, his eyes drifted toward the revolver resting nearby.
For several silent seconds, he remained motionless before shaking his head slightly.
Probably Mrs. Callyst.
Still…
Just in case.
He quietly grabbed the revolver and hid it behind his back beneath his coat before making his way downstairs.
The moment he opened the door, relief spread through him.
Mrs. Callyst stood outside.
Though unlike usual, she looked worried.
Percy blinked.
Wait…
How did she know I was home?
I don't think anyone saw me this morning.
Before he could think further, Mrs. Callyst spoke first.
"Percy, dear, are you alright?"
Percy forced out a small smile.
"Of course. Why?"
"Well first of all, you look exhausted."
Her eyes swept across him.
His coat was wrinkled, his hair messy, and his overall appearance honestly looked rather terrible.
"And second," she continued, "you're home during working hours."
She looked at him carefully.
"You usually don't stay home unless you're sick or something urgent happened."
Percy scratched his scalp awkwardly.
"Well… I was doing some chores, so I probably don't look very presentable right now."
He coughed lightly before adding,
"And I had a terrible hangover yesterday. I drank too much, so I couldn't really go to work in that state."
Mrs. Callyst gave him a doubtful look but did not continue the matter.
Instead, she handed him a glass jar.
"But how did you know I was home, Mrs. Callyst?" Percy asked while taking it.
"I ran into Miss Silia this afternoon," she replied. "She was on her way to Luken Street to deliver something."
Luken Street…
Percy immediately understood.
He remembered Silia working on that expensive-looking suit earlier.
Most likely for some wealthy customer.
After all, Luken Street was one of the richer areas in town. There was no rule saying poor people could not live there, but realistically almost none did. The land prices alone were absurd enough, and most businesses preferred operating within middle or lower districts where actual customers were plentiful.
"I see… so she informed you."
Percy scratched his cheek lightly.
"Well, did she say anything else?"
Mrs. Callyst sighed softly.
"She seemed rather worried about you."
Her expression softened.
"She asked me to check on you and would appreciate being informed if… anything ominous happened."
Percy felt slightly awkward hearing that.
"Well, you won't have to do that, Mrs. Callyst. I'll explain everything to her tomorrow."
His gaze lowered toward the jar.
"And thank you for this."
Mrs. Callyst smiled faintly.
"It's mixed pickles. One of my friends gave them to me."
"Well, thank you for sharing them."
Percy hesitated briefly before asking,
"Would you like to come inside for some tea?"
Mrs. Callyst shook her head.
"Not today. I still need to feed the cats."
She smiled warmly afterward.
"I'll accept another time."
Percy nodded and watched her slowly head back toward her own house.
Only after she disappeared from view did he close the door.
"…Well, I guess I won't need to cook much tonight."
He glanced at the jar in his hands before heading back inside.
---
The following morning, Percy still felt exhausted after waking up.
Thankfully, the soreness throughout his body had lessened somewhat compared to yesterday. At the very least, walking no longer felt unbearable.
After freshening up and eating a quick breakfast, he finally forced himself toward work once more.
The revolver remained hidden beneath his coat.
Even now, carrying the thing around made him nervous.
Every passing guard or officer unconsciously drew his attention.
Thankfully, nobody paid him any particular notice.
By the time Percy arrived at Beningham Styles, several workers were already preparing fabrics and organizing orders.
The moment Miss Gracy spotted him entering, her brows furrowed.
"Percy?"
"…Morning."
"You disappeared again yesterday."
Percy smiled awkwardly while removing his coat.
"Sorry. I got a hangover and wasn't feeling too well."
Before Gracy could continue questioning him, another voice interrupted from nearby.
"At this rate, you'll collapse before winter even arrives. Try controlling your drinking a little."
Silia spoke calmly without lifting her eyes from her stitching.
Though her tone remained casual, the concern beneath it was obvious.
Percy scratched his cheek lightly.
"I'm alright now."
"You said that last time too."
Percy could only laugh weakly.
Thankfully, nobody pushed the topic further afterward.
Still, he noticed several workers occasionally glancing toward him throughout the morning.
Probably wondering whether he had gotten himself involved in something troublesome.
Honestly speaking— They were not entirely wrong.
The morning passed relatively peacefully after that.
At least until noon arrived.
The bell above the entrance door rang softly.
Percy paid it little attention at first while continuing his stitching work.
Then the shop gradually became quiet.
A few seconds later, Percy looked up instinctively.
And nearly froze.
Charles stood inside the tailor shop.
The older investigator calmly removed his gloves while his dark overcoat rested neatly over his shoulders.
His sharp eyes slowly swept across the interior before eventually landing on Percy.
Percy immediately felt his heartbeat rise.
Why is he here?
Several nearby workers also looked slightly uneasy because of Charles' imposing appearance.
Meanwhile, Silia approached professionally.
"Good afternoon, sir. Are you here regarding the coat from before?"
Charles nodded once.
"It should be finished today."
"It is."
Silia glanced toward Percy.
"Percy."
Right.
The coat.
Percy quickly stood and retrieved the repaired overcoat that had been carefully folded nearby.
Thankfully, he had spent nearly the entire previous day fixing it properly.
Charles accepted the coat before calmly inspecting the damaged areas.
Several silent seconds passed.
Then he nodded lightly.
"Well done."
Percy secretly felt relieved hearing that.
Afterward, however, Charles did not leave immediately.
Instead, his gaze shifted toward Percy once more.
"You seem tired, Mister Percy."
Percy forced out a small smile.
"Rough few days."
"I can imagine."
The response sounded oddly meaningful.
Percy did not like the sound of that.
Did he know something?
Before Percy could think further, Charles suddenly spoke again.
"Would you accompany me for a short walk after work?"
The entire shop seemed to quiet down even further.
Several workers subtly exchanged glances.
Percy himself almost choked mentally.
A walk? With you?
He genuinely wanted to refuse.
But refusing an investigator who already suspected strange things would probably look even worse.
"…Sure."
Charles simply nodded.
"Good."
Then, just like that, he turned around and calmly left the shop.
The moment the door closed behind him—
Everyone immediately looked toward Percy.
Miss Gracy blinked.
"…What did you do?"
"I honestly don't know either."
Though deep down— He definitely had a few ideas.