While the Inspector and Cameron were discussing the Wilderness Traveler Gazette, its founder, Angel, was sitting face-to-face with Laplace on a fishing boat.
"You..." Laplace looked at Angel, who had suddenly appeared before her. After a long silence, she finally said, "Did you come to laugh at me?"
"Huh?" Angel froze for a moment, not immediately understanding what Laplace meant.
Not until he glanced at the thick stack of The Book of Fishing beside her, and then at the empty fish basket, did he seem to understand a little.
"This book doesn't work?"
"It's not that it doesn't work. It's just strange—I can't catch anything no matter how I fish." Laplace frowned. "Could my luck be that bad?"
"Maybe?" Angel did not know much about fishing either, so he could only casually echo her.
Laplace calmed herself, set the fishing rod aside, and silently looked at Angel.
Angel said, "You're not fishing anymore?"
Laplace replied blandly, "The book says that one needs to remain quiet while fishing. If someone is nearby, not only will they disrupt the angler's state of mind, they will also startle the fish beneath the water."
"Since I can't catch any fish for the time being because of you, I'll give up for now. Later, I'll follow the book's records and find a suitable spot to fish again."
Angel said, "..."
He had only just arrived, yet the blame for not catching fish for dozens of hours had been dumped on him? That blame had been tossed at him far too directly!
Besides, he had barely made a sound, much less shouted. Water was denser than air; whether the fish could even hear him was a question mark in itself.
Angel felt helpless inside, but his face still wore an apologetic expression, as if to say,