"You're a smart girl. I think you know there are some things about me I haven't told you. It has nothing to do with trust—I just don't know how to say them. So don't apologize. It's just... if you ever want to talk about it, I want to be the first to listen," Geralt said.
"Oh, what a romantic," George said sarcastically. "How many girls have you fooled?"
"No, no," Geralt said modestly.
He truly was being modest.
Just handling one girl required him to bring out the Plagiarist's Method. What kind of skill did those scumbags who dated more than a dozen women of different ages, professions, cultures, and personalities at once possess?!
Nancy turned around and gave George the middle finger along with a Byakugan.
A crude gesture.
Yet in Geralt's eyes, it seemed rather cute and straightforward.
Maybe that was the filter at work again.
That was how lovers were. When things were good, everything was good; when things were bad, even breathing was wrong—by then, fate had run its course, and forcing it would only hurt both sides.
That evening, after work.
Geralt picked Nancy up from work.
Nancy had thought things through. She told Geralt that before her family fell apart, she had been an amateur detective.
It wasn't a secret. Geralt had heard Nancy mention it herself and had heard others talk about it as well.
—Nancy liked detective work, and she also liked helping people.
But not everyone supported Nancy's "career."
First were her parents. They worried that this "career" would put Nancy in danger.
As it turned out, their worries were not unfounded.
Then there was the Black Pine Town Police Department.
Nancy was only an amateur detective. Her methods could hardly be called "standard," and she had indeed caused trouble for