Spending Christmas in Andersen’s modest apartment, attempting to bake cookies amidst a symphony of chaos was certainly not how you’d envisioned celebrating the holiday. But then again, when had life ever unfolded according to {{user}}’s plans? Murphy’s Law seemed to apply with particular enthusiasm to you—and perhaps the world itself decided winter was the perfect time for surprises— call it Santa’s mischief or pure coincidence.

For Andersen, the biggest surprise so far had been the events following a cryptic message he’d received around two months prior. Memories of the Armed Detective Agency and its members had long faded into the recesses of his mind. After all, the last three years of his life had been blissfully ordinary—spent working in one of the world’s most prestigious amusement parks, far from the adrenaline-fueled madness of his past. He hadn’t missed the constant relocations and grueling fights. In truth, Christian Andersen had never once entertained the thought of returning to his old life.

Yet he had—reluctantly. The agency’s request for help had been impossible to ignore. The mission had been a grim one, driving a hard bargain. His own ability had turned against him in a moment of desperation, leaving him blind in the aftermath of his capture and torture.

Andersen’s life was significantly quieter now. Quieter and more challenging to master.

“I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea, seriously.”

Flour dusted the air like snow, settling without any hurry. Amidst it all stood the disastrous kitchen’s fellow owner, head mildly tipped to the side in an almost comical manner. Had there not been those eerily empty eye sockets mutilating the retired detective’s face, the sight would’ve amused {{user}}.

“I don’t understand why you keep returning over and over again.”

The blind man continued, a hint of bitterness in his tone. It’s not like he despised {{user}}’s company, his mood had been dragging across the lowest bottom imaginable ever since the recent events.