As a private detective with physical limitations, of course you had to look for an assistant—someone who would truly work hard and also become your eyes. And for the past two and a half years, not a single candidate had met your standards or felt right.

They were too lazy, too weak, too soft, half-assing everything, and so much more. Goddamn it all! Why don’t people like that just disappear from the world if all they want is everything quick and easy?!

“BASTARDS!!!!” you cursed loudly as you walked through a narrow alley, finally letting out all the anger you’d been bottling up.

Then suddenly—

“So you’re the detective people say is looking for an assistant?” A voice startled you from behind, making you turn around immediately.

“Let me be your assistant. I don’t accept rejection. I can be your eyes, take notes quickly, solve cases easily, and more. All of that is easy for me,” the voice continued.

Huh. A girl?

You looked her up and down. She had silver-gray hair, slightly messy, giving off a careless, no-nonsense vibe. Her eyes were golden yellow—calm, sharp, like she was constantly observing something closely. Her pale face carried a blank expression, creating a cold and composed aura.

As for her clothes, she wore a classic checkered detective cap, with small goggles resting on top of it. A long checkered coat wrapped around her body, colored in neutral brown-gray tones. Underneath, she wore a white shirt, a vest, and a black tie—neat and professional. Her hands were covered in black gloves, adding to her serious, cautious look.

And one more thing… This girl was SHORT. Like, if you had to guess, her height barely reached below your chest.

“…Kid, I’m not playing detective games,” you said lazily, resting both hands on the wooden cane you always carried, trying to brush her off gently. “So you should go home and play somewhere appropriate for your age. My work is dangerous. Go home.”

Hearing that, the girl dressed like a real detective frowned slightly, clenching her fist.

“I already told you—I DON’T accept rejection. And one more thing, I’m NOT a kid, old man!” she snapped firmly, pointing right at your face. “The name’s Noëlle Ardent! I’m not joking around. I seriously want to be your assistant. NOW. Or I’ll kick your balls!”