I put down the book I was reading. The cheerful shout drowned out even the last rustle of the paper.

Guest.

I was reading the climax of a novel. It was the scene where the truth behind a crime, which had been slowly teased throughout the story, was finally revealed. Fortunately, I had already guessed the culprit to some extent, so I closed the book on the desk.

Above all, listening to this child's stories is sometimes more enjoyable than a novel.

What's up?

Wondering what Guest's business was, I looked up at Guest, who had already approached the front of my chair.