Although surprised by Her Highness the Princess's proactive cooperation, Shard still carried the cat to Princess Angelina Cavendish, bending down to place the cat, which was clutched by the back of its neck, before her hands.
Mia had no habit of biting, so she did not attempt to bite the beautiful hand stretched out in front of her. Adhering to the principle of sniffing anything to determine if it was food, she indeed made a light sniffing action. Now the cat slightly curled its body, and combined with its impressive appearance, the sight was quite attractive.
The young princess, just sixteen years old, actually reached out her uninjured hand to touch it, but was directly rejected by the cat's paws. Rather than angering Angelina, this made her and the surrounding girls laugh.
"Very good, it seems Her Highness has no issues, so onto the next one,"
Shard was quite satisfied with Mia's behavior.
With the princess having taken the first attempt to be sniffed by the cat, other noble ladies also laughed and let Shard bring the cat to sniff their hands. Shard always emphasized that his cat would absolutely, absolutely not miss anyone with a special scent on their hands; however, in reality, Shard didn't care what Mia would smell but rather closely observed each person's expressions.
When about two-thirds of the hand-sniffing procedure was completed, Shard finally noticed a girl, who had been sitting quietly on the sofa without speaking, wearing a blue long dress adorned with lace, discreetly rubbing her hands on her skirt.
"Perhaps it's just a coincidence, but..."
When it was her turn, Shard, carrying the cat, came before her and bent down to place the cat:
"Miss, please stretch out your hand."
The girl with chestnut-colored hair clearly did not want to stretch out her hand, but now that everyone was watching her, she hesitantly stretched out both hands, half of her palms hidden inside the beautifully patterned sleeves.
Shard lowered Mia's height, but she was already fed up with the action of sniffing hands.
The cat actually meowed... because Shard's left hand had quietly tapped its tail.
The detective furrowed his brows, as if he had encountered some difficult trouble. The ladies watching also caught his exclamation.
Shard carefully looked at the girl before him, scrutinizing her attire with an inquiring gaze. The girl in the gauze dress timidly looked at him, then cautiously asked:
"Detective, why have you suddenly stopped?"
Shard made a troubled face because he truly did not know if he had found the right person.
But he knew someone knew the answer, so his eyes shifted toward President Stan, who had walked back. The middle-aged man, slightly thin with a high nose and deeply set eyes, stood beside looking quite surprised at Shard, his face bearing a faint smile.
Shard knew he had found the right person.
"Miss, what have you had on your hands?"
He asked softly, lifting the cat back onto his shoulder and then gently stroking its little head. The girl's face in front of him flashed a momentary look of panic. She hadn't undergone any special training, so all her emotions were displayed on her face.
So Shard very carefully said nothing but looked toward Princess Angelina Cavendish. The sixteen-year-old princess looked sternly at the girl before Shard, whose lips twitched:
She lowered her head.
Now, the girls who had been laughing and watching Shard carry the cat to sniff everyone's hands also fell silent, the previously lively atmosphere suddenly quieted down.
Shard glanced at President Stan again, and seeing that he remained silent, knew he had truly found the right person. He then hugged the cat in his arms to stroke it, as a thank you for its little help, before finally bowing slightly to Princess Angelina Cavendish:
"Then Your Highness, I believe this investigative assignment is concluded."
"Rejed's Hamilton, you did very well,"
The red-haired girl said softly, her expression now resembling Lecia more.
As the princess stood up to leave, two maids, one on each side, followed the girl "discovered" by the cat, with the princess's other friends closing their mouths and following behind.
"Your compensation for the investigation will follow shortly,"
she said and then walked out the door. Shard looked toward President Stan who also stood by, the middle-aged man making a silencing gesture and following the crowd together with Shard.
The group returned from the second floor to the first, then from the hall on the first floor to the outside. The time was approaching dusk, and the sky was gradually darkening. Three carriages drove up in the distance, stopping consecutively in front of the Prophet's Society, the girls getting into the carriages one by one, then heading in the direction of Yordle Palace.
Whether they were going to Yordle Palace and what would happen to the caught girl was no longer of Shard's concern.
He stood with President Stan outside the Prophet's Society, watching the convoy depart.
The Prophet asked Shard softly,
"Does it feel a bit inexplicable?"
"Indeed, even if one wanted to hurt another, such a minor method shouldn't be used. If it were an accident, why not apologize immediately?"
Shard could never understand this point.
"This matter is complicated... Although the Society is close to Yordel Palace, we shouldn't discuss too much about what happens there."
President Stan sighed softly,
"Politics, it's always the most troublesome affair."
The sunset glowed through the mist, tinting the sky above Tobesk red. The two men stood together on the bustling Silver Cross Avenue, in front of the busy entrance to the Prophet's Society.
Carriages passed before them, their wheels rhythmically crunching over the road, and the metal pipes clinging to the walls reflected the remaining sunlight, making the streets particularly bright. Together, they looked towards the fiery sunset over Yordel Palace, and beyond the hazy mist, the Steam Age streetscape of Northern Pearl, Tobesk City.
The setting sun made the cat fur on Mia's shoulder seem aglow; the cat yawned, unsure if it was hungry or sleepy, but it suddenly took an interest in a bird flying overhead.
The bird swooped over Silver Cross Avenue, over the densely-packed urban skyline. It flew over the billowing black smoke from the chimneys, over the heads of barefooted workers carrying sacks, over the heads of well-dressed gentlemen, flying over the thousands of homes in Tobesk.
August was about to reach its mid-point; the hottest days of the year were coming to an end, and autumn was on the way.