The skies above Goumn were still shrouded in gray clouds when Ciel arrived in front of the old house. Two brown paper bags still hung awkwardly from his hands. His breathing was slightly heavy as he recalled what had happened at the store earlier. How had he agreed to the employee's offer without even thinking about it? Could it have been some kind of magic?
"Well, I suppose it was worth the price," Ciel said, trying to convince himself.
He pushed the door open slowly.
The scent of damp wood and old dust greeted him—the scent of a home he had known since childhood, yet now it felt different. Quieter. Emptier.
Light footsteps echoed from the direction of the kitchen.
Ciel turned and saw Arianna already standing there. Her hair was neatly tied back, and she wore simple but clean clothes—a cream-colored long skirt and a thin coat that had begun to show signs of wear. Carrying a bag in her left hand, she looked beautiful beneath her white lace-trimmed hat.
"Leaving already?" Ciel asked softly.
Arianna gave a small nod. "Yeah. If I don't leave now, I'll be late. I have to walk there."
Her tone was flat, but there was a fatigue she couldn't hide.
Ciel placed the shopping bags on the small table near the door. "Wait a moment," he said. "I'll make something for you."
Arianna looked as though she wanted to refuse, but Ciel had already walked into the kitchen. He hung up his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and opened the old wooden cabinet. Their supplies were limited—a few potatoes, some onions, a little salt, and the remnants of butter in the corner of a tin container.
Ciel decided to make a simple potato soup to give Arianna enough energy for school. Besides, he used to make this dish often whenever he couldn't afford bread back in London, so he was very familiar with it.
The knife tapped softly against the wooden cutting board. The potatoes were peeled with practiced movements, roughly diced, and dropped into a pot along with a small amount of butter. A gentle flame flickered beneath it, and soon the aroma of melting butter mixed with onions filled the kitchen. Arianna stood by the doorway, watching without saying a word.
"You don't need to cook," she finally said. "We need to save money."
Ciel didn't look back. "You don't need to walk today, either."
Arianna fell silent. Watching Ciel focus on cooking reminded her that he never really liked cooking.
"I thought you didn't like cooking?"
"Not liking it doesn't mean I can't do it, right? I've been thinking about a few things since yesterday, and this is one of them," Ciel replied, still focused on the pot.
Several minutes later, the soup was finished. The broth wasn't particularly thick, with diced potatoes and perfectly softened onions floating inside. Its color was a pale golden hue—simple and almost boring. Yet when poured into a bowl, warm steam rose gently into the air, carrying a comforting aroma.
Ciel placed the bowl in front of Arianna.
"Eat first," he said. "Afterward, I'll give you money for public transportation."
"I—" Arianna quickly shook her head. "No. We really need to—"
"It's alright," Ciel interrupted gently but firmly. "You shouldn't leave on an empty stomach. If you're hungry during class, how are you supposed to pay attention?"
Arianna lowered her head. Her hands gripped the edge of her skirt. Several seconds passed before she finally sat down and picked up her spoon. The first spoonful entered her mouth hesitantly.
The taste was simple—nothing heavily seasoned. The potatoes were soft but not falling apart, retaining just enough texture to be satisfying. The slowly cooked onions added a subtle sweetness that blended with the light saltiness. The butter contributed a savory richness that lingered pleasantly on the tongue without becoming overwhelming.
Arianna ate slowly, but she didn't stop. The warm steam brushed against her face, and the tension in her shoulders gradually eased. Ciel sat across from her, silently watching her eat.
After the bowl was empty, Arianna let out a small sigh.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Ciel smiled faintly. He took out several coins totaling five skotl and handed them to her. "This is for public transportation. Don't refuse."
Arianna hesitated for a moment… then accepted the coins. "I should get going."
At the doorway, she stopped and turned around.
"Good luck with your job interview," she said.
"You too," Ciel replied.
The door closed softly. Arianna's footsteps faded away until they were swallowed by the sounds of the city.
Ciel stood still for a few moments before returning to the table. He cleaned the bowls, put away the remaining soup, and wiped down the wooden table scarred by years of use. His hands moved automatically until everything was spotless.
After finishing, he prepared himself for today's interview. He changed into the black coat and tried to put together a three-piece suit using some of his grandfather's old clothes. He straightened everything as best he could, put on a tall hat, and pinned his grandfather's brooch inside the coat so it wouldn't attract attention. His hand paused briefly when he touched it. For some reason, carrying it made him feel calmer, causing Ciel to regard it as a lucky charm.
A short while later, he left the house and walked through the bustling streets carrying a medium-sized old suitcase containing documents that might prove useful during the interview.
The bar where Johan was waiting wasn't particularly crowded. It was located on Rebel Street, west of Blackpearl Street. The area was noticeably better than Blackpearl Street. Homeless people and beggars were rare there; most residents were factory workers.
When he opened the door, the smell of alcohol, old wood, and cigarette smoke mixed together, filling the air with a familiar heaviness. Most workers from Rebel Street gathered at this bar during their lunch breaks or before beginning work.
When Ciel looked around, he spotted a young man with gray hair wearing glasses. Without a doubt, it was Johan Manvile.
Ciel immediately walked over and sat across from him.
"Hey, Johan. Long time no see."
Johan adjusted his glasses and replied, "Ah, Ciel. I wouldn't say it's been that long. What are you ordering?"
"A glass of beer, please."
As soon as he asked, a waiter brought him a beer and set it down in front of him.
After taking a small sip, Ciel decided to ask first, "So, how did it go?"
"How did what go?"
After Johan answered, the two simply stared at each other in silence.
"Hahaha, relax. I get it," Johan laughed before continuing. "There's a position open as an assistant detective under Mr. Jonathan Watson. People say the requirements are too strict, and most applicants don't get accepted. But if it's you, I think you've got a good chance. His office is on Houndog Street. Go there and head to Room 007. You'll see a rather large sign that says 'Hory Detective.'"
Johan finished the beer he had ordered earlier and handed a slip of paper to Ciel.
Without thinking, Ciel accepted the paper and glanced at it before slipping it into his coat pocket. He sighed, took another sip of beer, and spoke.
"Thanks. You know... for being my friend."
Johan fell silent for a moment.
Although Johan came from a wealthy family, he had never looked down on commoners attending university or anywhere else. In the end, he and Ciel became close friends during their university years and remained so even now. To Ciel, Johan was almost like a younger brother.
Although Johan came from a wealthy family, he had never looked down on commoners attending university or anyone else. In the end, he and Ciel had become close friends during their university years and had remained so even now. To Ciel, Johan was almost like a younger brother.
After a moment, Johan burst out laughing loudly, drawing the attention of several patrons in the bar.
"Come on, my friend. No need to be so formal. By the way, I'm sorry about your grandfather. I've been there too, you know, when my mother passed away two years ago. Maybe the Goddess of Night will show you a path forward."
"You don't need to worry. I can handle it," Ciel replied confidently.
Both of them were followers of the Goddess of Night. While Ciel wasn't particularly devout in his prayers, Johan was the exact opposite—a deeply faithful believer.
"I've got something I need to take care of. Ciel, sorry for rushing off. Here, I'll cover the bill for you."
Johan stood up first, leaving two pirch on the table without looking back.
Ciel stared at the coins for a moment.
Then he sighed, picked them up, and walked to the cashier to pay for their drinks.
After leaving the bar, he made his way toward Houndog Street. The sky grew darker as low clouds hung overhead, making it seem as though the city was being pressed down from above. Gas lamps flickered to life one by one, casting yellow reflections across the stone-paved streets.
Eventually, he arrived in front of an old building. It was an apartment building made of neatly arranged red bricks. Following the corridors through the floors, Ciel soon reached Room 007 and saw a sign that read: Hory Detective.
However, the door was closed. A simple note had been attached to it at an angle.
Temporarily Closed. If you are here for a job interview, please proceed to Egghead Bar, Howscart Street. Ask for the cashier.
Ciel stood there in silence for several seconds before letting out a sigh. Clearly, traveling across three different districts in a single day was making both his legs and his wallet cry. For comparison, Howscart Street was located east of Blackpearl Street, while Houndog Street lay west of both Rebel Street and Blackpearl Street.
He turned around and headed for Howscart Street. It was a long detour.The atmosphere there was lively, largely because Howscart Street was home to many government officials and wealthy residents. Some people strolled leisurely through the streets. Some wore tailcoats, while others wore office attire. The women wore elegant dresses and netted hats. Ciel felt as though he didn't belong there.
One hour passed. Then two.
Finally, at the corner of a narrow street rarely used by pedestrians, he found a small bar. Its lights were dim, and it was nearly empty. The establishment was in stark contrast to the luxury of Howscart Street.
When he stepped inside, only one person sat behind the counter.
An old man, around one hundred and fifty centimeters tall, with a wrinkled face and sharp eyes that contrasted with his small frame.
"Can I help you?" he asked flatly.
"I... came for a job interview," Ciel replied. "From Hory Detective."
The old man glanced at him briefly.
Then, without another word, he pointed toward a small door behind the bar.
"Basement."
Ciel obeyed.
The staircase leading downward was dark, narrow, and seemed endless. Every step echoed heavily.
The air grew colder and denser the farther he descended. After several minutes, a wooden door appeared before him.
Ciel took a deep breath and knocked.
After a brief pause, a low voice came from inside the room.
"Come inside."
Ciel inhaled deeply, feeling slightly nervous, and opened the door.
Inside, a middle-aged man sat casually on a sofa. Both of his feet were resting on the table. His face was hidden behind a newspaper.
"Excuse me," Ciel called out.
The man lowered the newspaper slightly.
One eye stared directly at Ciel.