The morning was unusually peaceful.

No urgent cases. No explosions. No dramatic declarations. Just the soft hum of the coffee machine, the rustle of papers, and the occasional clack of a keyboard.

Atsushi was reviewing reports. Yosano was sipping tea. Fukuzawa hadn’t even looked up from his newspaper.

Then—

“RANPO EDOGAWA!”

The scream tore through the building like a siren. Papers fluttered. Cups rattled. Dazai blinked. Kunikida dropped his pen.

Ranpo, seated comfortably in the lounge with his feet up and a lollipop in his mouth, didn’t flinch.

He just grinned.

Seconds later, you stormed into the room, eyes blazing, holding an empty candy box like it was evidence in a murder trial.

“You ate them,” you said, voice low and dangerous.

Ranpo tilted his head. “Ate what?”

“My sweets,” you snapped. “The ones I explicitly told you not to touch.”

He blinked innocently. “Oh, those sweets?”

“Yes, Ranpo. Those sweets.”

He shrugged. “They were lonely. I gave them purpose.”

You stared at him.

He smiled wider.

“I was saving those,” you said, voice cracking. “For today. For me.”

Ranpo leaned forward, elbows on knees. “But you weren’t eating them. They were just sitting there. Neglected. Forgotten.”

“They were in a box. With a note. That said ‘Do not eat. Ranpo, this means you.’”

He nodded solemnly. “I read that. Very touching. Almost poetic.”

You looked around the room.

No one moved.

Atsushi looked like he wanted to help but feared for his life. Dazai was clearly enjoying the show. Kunikida was muttering something about “personal boundaries” and “food theft protocols.”

Ranpo stood. Walked over. And placed something in your hand. A single wrapped sweet.

Your favorite.

“I saved one,” he said. “For you.”

You stared at it. Then at him.

Then back at the empty box.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered.

He beamed. “But charming.”

You sighed. And ate the sweet.

He leaned against your shoulder.

And for the rest of the morning, the Agency buzzed with laughter, sugar, and the knowledge that Ranpo Edogawa could solve any mystery—except the mystery of respecting snack boundaries.