The first time, she had been taken hostage in a restaurant.
The second, caught in a robbery at a gold shop.
And now, the third.
Three cases in just a few short days.
Inspector Megure’s gaze toward Ritsuka grew complicated, because this trend reminded him involuntarily of a few other acquaintances.
Ritsuka scratched her cheek and protested, half-embarrassed and half-indignant, “Inspector Megure, I’m the victim here!”
“Ah, right.”
Megure caught himself.
She was different from those detectives he knew.
Those detectives merely encountered cases frequently.
Ritsuka’s situation was far worse—every time she ran into a case, she was the victim.
It was only thanks to her impressive martial skills that she was unharmed.
Had it been an ordinary person, the outcome would have been grim at best.
Thinking of this, Megure’s complaints faded, and his gaze toward her softened with sympathy.
He reached out and patted her shoulder with a sigh.
“You really have it rough.”
“…Let’s just get back to the matter at hand.”
Ritsuka recounted the evening’s events.
After hearing her out, Megure couldn’t help but frown.
The incident itself was simple enough—a man assaulted her, and she defended herself.
In itself, it was neither a major nor minor matter.
The problem was, all of this rested solely on Ritsuka’s account, without solid evidence.
As long as the man flatly denied attacking her, there wasn’t much they could do to him, at least for the moment.
But unexpectedly, when the man regained consciousness, not only did he not deny his actions, he proceeded to confess every detail of his crime as if reciting from memory.
He was an unemployed drifter, mooching off his parents as his main occupation.
When he had money, he played pachinko.
When he didn’t, he liked loitering around.
Occasionally, he’d shake down elementary school kids for pocket change.
A petty thug through and through.
A few days ago, he had happened to see Ritsuka moving in alone.
Noticing that she was always by herself, with no family in sight—and that she was not only adorable but also appeared well-off—a sinister notion took root in his mind.
After secretly observing her for two days and confirming that she was indeed living alone, he decided that tonight’s torrential rain presented the perfect opportunity, and made his move.
But what he never saw coming was that this cute girl’s combat prowess was so overwhelming.
A single exchange was all it took to knock him out cold.
“…”
Ritsuka listened to all this in speechless disbelief.
She hadn’t expected something this melodramatic to actually happen to her.
She was also a little curious—why was the culprit being so cooperative?
‘Hmph.’
Just then, a familiar snort echoed in her mind.
Her eyes lit up, and she called out inwardly.
‘Count!’
‘…Yeah, yeah.’
A slightly exasperated yet indulgent voice answered, and then the Count of Monte Cristo fell silent once more within her spiritual world.
But this brief exchange told her exactly who had made the culprit so willingly spill his crimes.
She didn’t ask the Count about Chaldea.
If he hadn’t brought it up himself, it meant either he didn’t know, or she wasn’t supposed to know, or she wasn’t supposed to learn it from him.
In any case, she’d take things one step at a time.
With the culprit having voluntarily confessed, Megure had little else to say.
He waved a hand and ordered, “Take him away!”
The man was handcuffed and bundled into the police car.
Megure didn’t leave immediately, however.
He turned to Ritsuka and said with earnest gravity, “I know you’re very capable, but as that man just pointed out, a young woman living alone like you does make an easy target.
You must be extra careful when you’re out and about.”
Ritsuka nodded.
“I will.
Thank you for your concern, Inspector Megure.”
Seeing that her expression held no hint of perfunctoriness and that she seemed to have taken his words to heart, Megure nodded and prepared to leave.
“Delivery for Fujimaru-san, um…”
Just then, the uniformed delivery rider finally arrived.
Faced with the squadron of police before him, he looked utterly bewildered.
He was just delivering some food—was all this fanfare really necessary?!
“That’s my order, thank you!”
Ritsuka stepped forward and took the food herself.
The police and the delivery rider departed together.
Peace returned.
She carried the takeout inside and called out, “Little one, dinner’s ready!”
“…I’m right here.”
Shiho emerged from around the corner of the genkan.
Watching Ritsuka cheerfully unpack the takeout containers, seemingly not the least bit affected by what had just transpired, she couldn’t help but inwardly marvel.
What an optimist.
There was also something else that piqued her curiosity.
“What did that police officer mean earlier, when he said ‘this is the third time already’?”
At this question, Ritsuka’s hands paused briefly.
She gave a sheepish grin.
“The first time, I was taken hostage by a murderer.
The second, I ran into thugs robbing a gold shop.
And with this one, that makes three.”
“You…”
Shiho was momentarily at a loss for words.
She had overheard Ritsuka’s conversation with Inspector Megure and knew she had only just moved here.
And yet, within those few days, she had already encountered this many incidents.
It was hard to imagine someone could be this unlucky.
More than that, after everything she had been through, this girl could still smile as if nothing had happened.
Even for an optimist, wasn’t this a bit much?
“Here, eat up.
It doesn’t compare to my Chaldea’s Red Archer’s cooking, but it won’t taste good cold.”
Ritsuka set Shiho’s portion in front of her, then promptly began eating her own without further ceremony.
After everything that had happened, she was genuinely hungry.
And on the other side, a name Ritsuka had mentioned once again caught Shiho’s attention.
Red Archer?
It sounded like a nickname.
From the context, this “Red Archer” was probably her family’s private chef.
And a family that could afford a private chef…
Shiho ate slowly, thinking.
Her gaze drifted toward the bracelet on Ritsuka’s left wrist.
That bracelet, alternating between gold and some kind of blue gemstones—though she couldn’t identify what the blue stones were, her years of browsing fashion magazines told her that each and every one of those gems was absolutely not cheap.
Also, the vivid red tattoo on the back of the girl’s right hand was somewhat striking.
That bright crimson, mysterious pattern seemed to carry some special significance, though she couldn’t decipher it just yet.
So she must be a rich young lady?
Piecing together everything she had observed so far, Shiho guessed that this girl named Ritsuka had likely had a falling out with her family.
In a fit of anger, she’d fled home, deciding to move to Tokyo and live on her own—a naive, runaway heiress who knew little of the world.
Because she was a rich young lady unaccustomed to tidying up, the things on the coffee table were all a chaotic mess.
Because she was a runaway, upon seeing Shiho likewise stranded on the streets, she had kindly brought her home and looked after her.
Because she knew little of the world’s harshness, she relied on her bit of martial skill and didn’t take her own misfortunes or safety to heart at all.
Watching Ritsuka happily devour her dinner across the table, Shiho felt she had found the truth.
Then, she sighed helplessly.
After the meal, Ritsuka hadn’t forgotten what she’d said earlier.
She said to Shiho, “Do you still want to leave now?
I’ll see you off.”
“No.”
And then, under Ritsuka’s somewhat surprised gaze, Shiho had changed her mind.
She said, “Could I trouble you for one night?
I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”