❝My ultra deduction tells me that...❞
❝That...?❞
❝... That you're in love with me. ❞
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⋅✧⋅
There were many unique people Y/N had come across in her life, but no experience of any sort could prepare her for the dark-haired boy with enticing...
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Y/N WOULD'VE PREFERRED to stay cooped up in her apartment a little longer to mope around in peace, but she'd quickly come to realise that unfortunately, her funds were much too insufficient for that.
So, after over a week of lying around and doing absolutely nothing but reminiscing her sister and the memories they shared (and then bursting into tears), Y/N had finally found the will to return to the bakery.
It had been difficult to walk inside. Her gaze had immediately moved to the tiled floor where her sister's body had been, as cold as the bitter bite of winter and as stiff as stone. While the police had been kind enough to get the bakery cleaned for her (free of charge too), she still vaguely saw the blood prints—figments of her imagination, of course. Her mind was simply deceiving her.
As for S/N's body, her funeral had taken place two days ago. More people than Y/N had expected showed up, including every member of the Armed Detective Agency and even a young man who Y/N had learned was a close friend of her sister's—though with the way he had talked about her, she figured that there had been something more between them than just a platonic friendship.
That particular thought had saddened her more than anything.
Maybe one day, her sister would have made it official with this man, who, by the looks of it, had truly loved S/N with his whole heart. Maybe one day, they could have even started a life of their own together, like S/N would often fantasise.
But now...
Y/N closed her eyes, counting steadily to three to calm herself down before releasing a breath. There was no point mulling over what had happened. The past was the one thing that couldn't be reversed or altered—that was the harsh truth, no matter how much it hurt.
Setting those negative thoughts aside, the girl reached for the apron on the hook, tying the straps behind her back. There'd be no customers today; the sign outside read CLOSED, because Y/N needed to prepare all the cakes and pastries for the week. Nobody would be happy getting week-old bread.
Making her way to the kitchen at the back of the bakery, Y/N decided to start with just that—bread. It was the most popular thing on the menu, mostly because the bakery was closest to a set of apartments on the other side of the street, so the residents often came down early in the mornings to get freshly-baked bread.
She rummaged through various cabinets and shelves until all the ingredients for the dough were laid out in front of her. However, just as she was about to begin, a knock sounded from up front, the glass of the french door ratting the slightest bit at the intensity.
Y/N wondered who could've possibly seen the sign on the door and still decided to knock. Though as she exited the kitchen and the street came into view through the large windows, she realised there was only one person who could be that stubborn.
Y/N unlocked the door to let the detective in.
"Ranpo?" She was surprised to see him here. She hadn't told him she'd be coming—it had been a last minute decision for even herself. "How did you know I'd be here?"
