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A pudding cup nobody bought appears on the clubroom desk — and the next afternoon another one is back. Momo is certain a rival detective is leaving calling cards and follows a trail of tiny pudding drips across the floorboards to crack the case. The trail leads to Ganta, who gets a free pudding with lunch every day and hates pudding. Unable to admit she was wrong, Momo declares the case closed, eats the evidence, and falls asleep.
Página 1
Page 1. A single wide establishing panel, slightly high angle, of the Tiny Case Agency clubroom — cardboard boxes, a battered corkboard, the little white mini-fridge, warm light through the square window. On the low wooden desk sits exactly one small pudding cup with a tiny spoon in it. Momo leans over the desk in her too-big mustard-yellow trench coat and dusty-red scarf, magnifying glass in hand, glaring down at the pudding with suspicion. Ganta sits on the stack of boxes with his pale-blue juice box. Biscuit is curled asleep in her open cardboard box on the floor. MOMO: 'A pudding. I did not buy this.'
Página 2
Page 2. A single panel, low angle looking up at Momo for maximum tiny drama. She wheels around and flings her free arm out to point back toward the desk, her too-big coat flaring behind her like a cape, chin lifted. The theory has already arrived, well ahead of any evidence. MOMO: 'A message. From a rival detective.'
Página 3
Page 3. A single silent still-life panel. Exactly one small pudding cup with a tiny spoon sits alone and centred on the low wooden desk. Warm low afternoon light falls across it, a few dust motes drifting. Nobody is in frame. The pudding simply sits there, unexplained. No dialogue.