A Man Who's Bad at Mornings and a Witch Who Excels at All-Nighters

Elliott Howard was not a morning person.

For about an hour after getting out of bed, his thoughts and movements were sluggish, so he only vaguely remembered Cyril yelling at him back in his days at Serendia Academy. The fact that he barely remembered it should tell you just how foggy his head had been.

When he lived at his family home, his nanny, who had served the Howard family for many years, would dress him while scolding him and fix his hair.

But at the Lane Field estate, he had brought almost none of the servants from his family home.

Above all, it was too undignified for a lord, so lately Elliott had been drinking mint tea when he woke up and relying on sheer willpower to manage the rest.

“...Ugh... What time is it...?”

Elliott woke up at the desk in the records room and, without lifting his face from the desktop, moved only his eyes to look around.

What his bleary, just-woken eyes took in was a mountain of documents, then another, and another—and beyond them, a petite girl writing away.

(Monica Norton... No, that was an alias. Her real name was Monica Eve... Eva...? Ah, what was it again? The Silent Witch...)

Monica was expressionless, silently moving her quill...