When I mentioned him, she clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Be-au-ti-ful!” she pronounced, her eyes beginning to shimmer again.

I scratched my head, scowling slightly. “What do you mean ‘beautiful’?” I couldn’t remember Daidouji behaving like this over anything but a mystery. It was kind of creepy seeing her act this way over a guy, like a normal girl.

The sound of my voice seemed to focus her slightly on a reality where several important facts were immediately relevant. One – the strangely dressed redheaded guy was nowhere in sight. Two – I was in sight. Three – the detective’s butler seemed to have vanished. And four – one of Daidouji’s precious cakes, lovingly crafted by the finest bakers the money of the Kakinouchi family could buy, was looking distinctly squashed at our feet.

Daidouji frowned slightly at reality. “But . . . The vibe that person gave out,” she said, completely ignoring my question, “it felt exactly like someone I know . . .”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Someone . . . Who?” I asked, trying not to sound impatient when she was finally beginning to sound like the Daidouji I knew. But taking her reaction into account, it seemed unlikely that she’d just have forgotten this guy if she’d ever met him before.

She stared at the air in front of her with an expression of great concentration on her face, as though the air molecules held the answers to the secrets of the world. She tapped her lower lip with one finger. “I wonder . . .” she said, more to herself than to me. Then, she shrugged. “Don’t know!” she announced cheerfully.

I groaned and put my head in my hands. After taking a moment to compose myself, I lifted it again and glared at Daidouji. “You should pick your cake up, Daidouji. It’s looking rather the worse for wear. And the detective’s butler has disappeared.”

I expected her to shout out ‘mystery!’ as she usually would in response to such a statement. But she merely looked up at me from the ground, her hands around the cake’s crushed box, and shook her head slowly.

I looked over my shoulder, in the direction she was staring, and found myself face-to-face with the butler. I jumped. He beamed at me. “Hello, Koutarou-san.”

“He doesn’t look disappeared to me, Koutarou-kun,” Daidouji said as she stood.

I scowled as the butler fumbled in his pocket. “I, uh, realized when Mayura-san dropped that cake that I had lost my wallet at some point on our walk and, uh, had to go back and find it . . .” he trailed off, smiling at us expectantly.

What a crappy liar, thinking we’d fall for such a pathetic story.

“You did find it, though, right, Yamino-san?” Daidouji beamed at him and he nodded like a puppet on strings.

I rolled my eyes. For someone so obsessed with mysteries, Daidouji never seemed to notice when there was one right under her nose. “Come on, Daidouji, let’s get these back to your place.”

“The Detective Agency!” she corrected me. “I’m going to share with Loki-kun.” She smiled up at me before starting off. I snorted as the butler ran after her. I knew exactly which of her two cakes she’d be willing to share with the detective.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and followed them, walking past the street the strange man had gone down.

I froze.

All along the street, women were sitting on the ground, or lying off to the side, or leaning against the buildings’ walls for support. They were all fanning themselves, or giggling, and they were all, as one woman, staring in the same direction.

That guy . . .

I ran forward, grabbing Daidouji’s arm. She turned to face me, blinking, and nearly dropping her damn cakes again. “Koutarou-kun?”

“I just remembered a, uh, a meeting I have to attend! For my father. I’ll see you later, Daidouji.” I let go of her arm and the butler turned to look at me over his glasses. I met his gaze firmly, one bad liar to another, and then ran off in the direction the women were staring. They were better than street signs.

I stepped carefully over the body of a very young and remarkably cute nurse as I entered an alley. The weird guy was still in sight and I ran for him. I caught his arm before he reached the other end of the alley, and he turned around to look at me with annoyance on his face that rapidly yielded to surprise.

He did look kind of familiar. Tall, well, not really tall, my height, actually, with red hair and green eyes, and clothing in a colour that did not go with his hair at all. I thought that he might be an actor, which would explain the bad clothing, and it might explain the girls.

I let go of his arm when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to try and run off again. He brushed the spot I had been holding and looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Well?”

“Who are you?” I asked. First things first, after all.

“I could ask the same of you,” he said, looking over his shoulder. It was hard to believe that he’d actually be worried about any women following him.

“Kakinouchi Koutarou. Now you.”

He gave a shrug, as though it didn’t matter, and grinned. He waved one hand about lazily for a minute, before finally answering: “Luke Laufeyiarson.”

The name was completely unfamiliar. Not an actor then. A foreigner. That might explain the clothing, then.

“What can I do for you, Kou-chan?”

I frowned, at him and the name, and slid my hands into my pockets in order to make sure he knew that it didn’t really matter in the long run and I was just mildly curious. “I wanted to know about all those women back there.”

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes wide. He was completely silent before he doubled over in a massive coughing fit.

“Luke-san?” I asked uncertainly, reaching out to smack his back. The man gasped for breath, his hands braced on his knees. After several minutes of this, he inhaled deeply and straightened, surreptitiously brushing tears out of his eyes.

I lowered my hand, eyeing him suspiciously.

“The . . . women?” he asked carefully.

I nodded and waved my hand to encompass everything female in the area, including a pair of school girls who walked past the end of the alley, turned to walk backwards, and stared at us, giggling wildly. They had the same dreamy, unfocussed look in their eyes that Daidouji’s eyes had contained.

“That,” I pointed to the girls, “isn’t normal.”

He looked over his shoulder and grinned at the girls. “They look perfectly fine to me,” he said, and one of the girls, a cute brunette with long legs, collapsed into her friends arms, the force of their giggles increasing exponentially.

“Not the way they look,” I snapped. “The way they’re behaving. Girls just don’t collapse in ecstasy whenever a good-looking guy walks past.”

He grinned. “Maybe not for you,” he said. “Circumstances are different for different people, after all.” He looked around the alley, then sighed. “Could we continue this conversation somewhere quieter, Kou-chan?” he asked as a handful of women began gathering at either end of the alley.

I cast them a wistful look but nodded. “Of course, Luke-san.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, he had grabbed my arm, wrenched a nearby door open, and dragged me inside. The door shut with a slam as he rested his back against it, letting go of my arm. He grinned at me.

It was very dark. I sniffed the air and kicked the floor with my foot, disturbing a cloud of dust. We both sneezed and he wandered away to inspect something in the darkness.

“What the hell?” I asked, reaching blindly after him. “What are you doing?” The thought hit me, too late, that the man might have recognized my name and have decided he could use me to pick up some extra money. I swallowed. “Luke-san?”

“Here,” he popped up in front of me, holding something. “It’s a lantern,” he explained, before something lit on fire inside it.

“What the hell?!” I yelped, jumping backwards as he set the lantern down. “How did you do that?”

He straightened, eyes glowing in the creepy firelight. “Magic,” he answered with a simple smile.

So that explained the clothes. Finally.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “So, the women?”

He smiled. “You’ve never had a girl try to throw herself into your arms as soon as she laid eyes upon you?”

“Well . . . a few . . .” Usually after they’d have a few drinks, my conscience pointed out nastily. I stepped on it. “But not every woman I walk past on the street throws herself at my feet.” Unfortunately.

His response was an overly-sympathetic look, a shrug, and a sad shake of his head. “Maybe you’ll get better at it when you’re older, Kou-chan,” he said, his cheerful tone completely incongruent with the sad expression on his face.

My jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He shook his head, face the picture of solemn honesty. “There are some things women can only find in an older man . . .”

“I don’t believe you’re more than eighteen!”

“Have it your way,” he shrugged. “The youthful appearance only adds to the charm.”

“Not,” I said firmly, stabbing him in the chest with one finger, “in that jacket.”

He froze and his eyes met mine. He pushed my hand away from his chest slowly. “And what,” he asked softly, “is wrong with my jacket?”

I spread my arms out wide. “I do not have words to even begin to describe how stupid it looks. The style – what is that, Edwardian? Never mind. Whatever it is, it’s antique. I’ve seen better-looking school uniforms – ”

“Yours isn’t that flattering either,” he muttered.

“Shut up. And the colour doesn’t suit you. People with red hair should be taught before they get their hair dyed – ”

“Hey!”

“ – that red clothing should under no circumstances ever be worn with red hair. Ever.”

“Pastel green,” he said, eyes alight, “isn’t flattering on anyone.”

We glared at each other, the tension in the abandoned room rising, and the light played across his face. Abruptly, he relaxed, and smiled at me. “If it’s as unflattering as you say, Kou-chan, then just imagine the damage I would do to the female population without it. Perhaps,” he slowly began to unbutton the jacket, looking at me with a wicked smile on his lips, “I dress like this to save the sanity of all the charming, beautiful ladies I encounter on a daily basis.”

The jacket fell to the floor and he stood in front of me in a white shirt – which also looked stupid, by the way – and a weird ribbon thing holding the collar shut. He smiled at me, the way he had smiled at the girls in the alley. I swallowed and took a step back toward the door. “I think I have somewhere to be right now . . .”

He undid the tie around his collar, arching one eyebrow at me curiously. “Didn’t you want to know about my . . . gifts with women, Kou-chan?”

“Not that badly,” I mumbled, trying to find the doorhandle without turning my back to him.

“Don’t you want to be able to charm every woman you meet, Kou-chan?” he drawled my name out and put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me gently but firmly up against the door.

“I don’t do too badly as it is,” I answered sulkily as he pressed his forehead against mine, grinning wildly.

“But not as well as you could, Kou-chan. Because you limit your options. Remove your boundaries, and you’d be amazed by what happens,” he whispered, his lips moving against mine as he spoke.

“You can’t expect me to believe,” I said unsteadily, “that women like guys who are – ”

“Versatile,” he finished smoothly before pressing his mouth against mine.

I choked and tried to push him away. Instead of taking the very obvious hint, he forced his tongue into my mouth and began to massage my shoulders with his hands.

It was definitely weird, kind of like being high – not that I’ve ever done anything, I’d never dream of doing drugs or anything like that, not until my father’s dead, anyway – and impossible to resist, even though a voice in my head kept pointing out, very loudly, that I did not, have never, will never, can’t ever be attracted to guys.

His hands travelled from my shoulders down to my chest, stroking and probing, and he pushed my jacket off and began to undo my tie. Without thinking, I moved my own hands to undo the buttons of his shirt and push it off. He laughed into my mouth and finally pulled away, tracing kisses down my throat and onto my chest as he threw my tie to the ground and opened my shirt.

One hand travelled further downward to unzip my pants. His mouth left a trail of fire, and he had begun tracing one of my nipples with his tongue, when things began to go blurry and, quickly, completely black.

I woke up to find Daidouji’s blushing face right next to mine. I swore thickly and shook my head. I felt horribly hung over.

“Koutarou-kun, are you all right?”

I grunted and tried to sit up.

“Allow me, Koutarou-san.” Ugh, she brought the damn butler. I craned my head over my shoulder to watch as he . . . as he . . .

As he removed my belt from where it had been binding my wrists together?! That was enough to bring my mind out of the hazy realm of the hangover and a few quick glances around the storage room revealed my school blazer hanging on the doorknob, my tie on one of the rafters, and my shirt on the floor a few feet away. My pants and underwear were around my ankles and my shoelaces were tied together.

I couldn’t even remember drinking, and it was surely still the middle of the day . . .

Daidouji was babbling some overexcited garbage about going to the detective’s place with her cakes – right, we’d been shopping at one of Father’s bakeries – when the butler had said it was rude of them to let me walk home by myself after I’d been so nice – or something – to them, and so they’d come looking for me, and . . .

I shook my head slowly, beginning to go red, and pulled my pants back up, turning my back to them both for the sake of something like modesty.

The image of a not-quite-familiar, grinning face with green eyes and red hair swam in front of my mind’s eye. I swore.

“Koutarou-kun?”

“Uh . . .” I bent down to pick my shirt up. When I turned around, the butler had my blazer and tie hanging over one of his arms.

The butler smiled at me. “Mayura-san thought that someone may have attempted to kidnap you, Koutarou-san, when we were not around, because of your father’s wealth. Is that what happened?” The bright, idiotic smile on the man’s face grew wider. He knew.

“Yes, yes, that must be it. Uh, they probably went to get a phone to call my father and tell him to bring the ransom money or something. It’s a very good thing you found me, Daidouji, before they got back.”

Daidouji clasped her hands instantly and her eyes began to sparkle. “A mystery!” she exclaimed.

Only Daidouji would be delighted at the thought of a friend being kidnapped.

The butler nodded in solemn agreement. He was pointedly not-looking at me now. “It is indeed a mystery. For Koutarou-san’s sake, Mayura-san, I think we should go and tell Loki-sama of this immediately.”

“And put away your cakes,” I said, shrugging into my shirt and accepting the blazer from the butler, tossing it over my shoulder and draping the tie around my neck. She was still carrying them around after all this time – I couldn’t have been . . . out for that long, then.

She nodded cheerfully, running to the door and out. Then her head popped around the corner. “Are you coming, Koutarou-kun?”

“Uh, no, I should, uh, go and make sure my father knows what happened . . .”

“Mm!” she nodded in agreement, her head disappearing again.

I glared at the butler. “Shouldn’t you be going with her?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, smiling serenely and wandering out ahead of me.

As I shut the door to the empty building, I heard a quiet squeaking. I tried not to think about what the noise meant.

After I had returned home, had a long shower, and changed into clean clothing, I realized something that had horrified me more than waking up naked on the floor of an abandoned building.

I had indirectly turned down something that was almost a date with Daidouji. Twenty minutes later I was being shown into the detective’s house by a tactfully silent butler, a box tucked under one arm. I didn’t say anything as he showed me into the dining room where Daidouji and the detective were sitting and eating cake.

The detective had his fork in his mouth. Daidouji was scraping sadly at the remains of the crushed cake on her plate.

I cleared my throat and set the box on the table in front of her. “Detective,” I said, and he nodded at me absently. “Daidouji.” I tapped the box with one hand. “Because of the accident early today – although it wasn’t my fault – I thought you might appreciate a replacement.”

Daidouji looked up at me, broke into a huge smile, and opened the box to reveal the elegant piece of confectionary delight inside. She set it on her plate with a cry of “Thank you, Koutarou-kun!” and, before plunging her fork in, turned to look at me, searching for words. “Koutarou-kun . . .”

“Yes?” I asked, as my self-confidence returned to its proper position.

“Koutarou-kun . . .” she stared at me, eyes wide. “I . . .”

“I think you’re much more attractive when you aren’t wearing that pastel green uniform, Kou-chan,” the detective interjected smoothly, pulling his fork from his mouth as I lost my balance and hit my head on the side of Daidouji’s chair before falling to the floor.