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The next morning, Park Noah awoke from her peaceful slumber to a familiar sound of incessant knocking. After several times of hearing it, she has memorized the melody of the knocks. With merely one tap against the wooden door of her cabin, she could immediately recognize whose it belonged to—Kyle Leonard.

Knock. Knock. And then four more times with the same beat.

She arose and hurriedly descended to meet the impatient man, the quilt of her bed dragged along the staircase. Reaching the door, she peeked through the curtains and saw the sun already high up in the sky, its rays piercing through the windows.

Park Noah was surprised. Usually, the investigator would come in the middle of the night. She rubbed her tired eyes and unlocked the door, revealing a black uniform. 

“Weapons…remove…” She mumbled, still groggy from her sleep.

“Let me in. I have something to tell you.”

Traumatized by the previous unpleasant experience, Park Noah refused to concede to the man, even in her dazed state. “Revolver…give it to me…”

However, neither protest nor excuse left the investigator’s lips. He immediately responded to Park Noah’s commands and unfastened the holster latched on his belt, dropping his revolver somewhere along the floor.

Park Noah glanced at the revolver in fear, her drowsiness instantly evaporated into thin air. Straightening her posture, she asked firmly, “Are you here as a butler or an investigator?”

“Of course it’s the latter. What the hell do you think I am?”  

“Good night, then.” She replied, closing the door in his face. As she turned around to return to her bedroom, she was halted by a series of knocks. “I don’t deal with investigators,” she spat.

“…Are you not having breakfast?” The man behind the door grumbled, his jaw clenched.

Park Noah pondered for a moment. She was completely starving because she had slept last night, skipping dinner.  Her stomach growled at the thought of a delicious breakfast, which Kyle Leonard mastered at.

With hunger dominating her, Park Noah turned around again and opened the door. “Will you heat up the milk, too?” She couldn’t let the golden opportunity slip her grasp.

“….” Kyle Leonard glared at the shameless woman in pajamas across him. Suddenly, he grabbed the doorknob and pulled it hard. Park Noah, who held the knob from the inside, was dragged along.

“Uck!”

Before her nose could slam against his chest, a pair of arms grabbed Park Noah by the shoulders. Kyle Leonard clicked his tongue in dismay. “I thought you’d be awake by this time. If I hadn’t come, you’d be asleep till nightfall.”

“People who are sick should get a good night’s sleep.” Park Noah retorted, composing herself.

“And make sure they eat their meals. Let’s go in.” He added, thrusting the quilt she had wrapped around her head onto her face. 

Park Noah scoffed. He doesn’t even want to look at me because I look terrible.

He walked into her house, holding Park Noah as if she was a child, still wrapped in her quilt like a cocoon. Her arms crept around the man’s neck. “Since you’re carrying me, please take me up to the bathroom.”

“You’re so brazen.”

“Then get out.” Park Noah could almost hear the curses spewing in the investigator’s mind. Still, despite resentful, Kyle Leonard took her to the bathroom.

Almost an hour later, Park Noah emerged from her hot bath, her hair tangled and wet. She sniffed the air as the savory aroma of breakfast engulfed the room.

Descending the staircase, she noticed Kyle Leonard’s coat draped on a chair in the living room and hurriedly snatched it. She threw it into the corner of the room, causing a loud clank.

Phew. He must be a human weapon. I must confiscate every weapon of his.

Park Noah tiptoed toward the coat she threw, until a deep voice caught her off guard.  

“Don’t touch it.” A pair of violet orbs stared intently at her. Without a doubt, anyone would cower beneath his piercing gaze if it wasn’t for the pink apron decorated with bears that he was wearing. 

“You can’t handle it. Don’t touch that revolver.” Kyle Leonard commanded and returned to the kitchen. There was a sound of something boiling.

“What’s the menu?” Park Noah asked, trailing behind him.

“It’s potato soup.”

Within minutes, a dish, steaming and savory, was served to Park Noah. 

It looks very dangerous in detective mode, but it can’t be more desirable in butler mode. “Sir, if you ever retire, live with me. I’ll hire you.” She offered, basking in her meal.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to slap me in the face yesterday?” Kyle Leonard raised his brow.

“Who was the one who pointed the gun at whom?” Park Noah shot back.

“There are inevitable instances that will happen during investigations, and there is nothing we can do about it.” He reasoned out, diverting his eyes. “Don’t stare. Just eat.”

Park Noah stirred her soup, still staring at the man across her. But no matter how different each persona is, does it make sense that a person who was so wary of me yesterday enough to point a gun at me suddenly changes like that?

When in butler mode, other egos show up…?

“You look better than yesterday.”

Upon hearing Kyle Leonard’s words, Park Noah came up with an assumption: maybe, amidst his indifference, he actually felt guilty for pointing a gun at her yesterday.