L had never accepted a case that failed to pique his curiosity. At least, not until now.

If it weren't for Watari's persistent nudging, he'd be knee-deep in some gritty murder investigation right about now.

But no, here he was, tasked with the glamorous duty of safeguarding the English royal princess. According to some dubious tabloid whispers, she was apparently the prime target of an impending attack at the upcoming royal garden party. Thanks, Watari.

· · ────── ·❈· ────── · ·

Lost in contemplation, he balanced a panda-shaped chocolate cookie on his fingertips, then with a deft flick, it vanished into his mouth. Swiveling in his chair, he observed the princess, draped in her designer gown, sprawled out on the couch of his top-notch hotel room.

The sedative should wear off soon.

Well, sure, there were gentler ways to ensure her safety than orchestrating a clandestine tea time rendezvous with a seasoned criminal to kidnap her to his hotel room—but pragmatism won out.

· · ────── ·❈· ────── · ·

Another cookie found its demise, crunched between his teeth, while his mind ran through various scenarios of what would happen when the princess woke up.

40% chance she'd scream, 30% chance she'd try to run, 20% chance she'd faint again, and a 10% chance she'd attack him with her tiara.

Savoring the last crumbs of chocolate, he licked his fingers clean, awaiting her royal highness to grace him with her presence. Or bonk him with her tiara.

Yeah, probably that.