As Edgeworth made his way across the street, he came upon the restaurant where he had been told a potential witness to the murder was currently occupying. It appeared to have been a large restaurant, much larger than the one opposite called the Tres Bien, a restaurant he had been informed was involved in a previous case where a murder took place, and an associate had been the defense attorney for the suspect of that trial.

He looked up at the towering eatery in front of him, which appeared to have just recently been opened, and thought to himself how much a similar case would stain the reputation of a high class establishment, that is assuming the information he learned of this place was accurate and not simply an embellishment of the truth. He looked up at the sign mounted on the entrance, which said 'Pomme le Banquet', and proceeded inside through the double doors.

Once he was in, he scanned the surroundings and found, to his curiosity, was a fairly well-maintained and welcoming dining area. He noticed a perfectly organized set of tables on each side, large enough to seat a dozen guests, as well as smaller tables set up at a higher platform in the dining area above the stairs where couples could make reservations, the posh décor across the walls and fountain and artistic mural on either side of the restaurant, and he thought Hmm… I wouldn’t mind making a reservation here myself. But then immediately remembered that he was in the middle of an investigation, and put it out of his mind.

He walked over to the reservation desk and noticed a bell, which he pressed once. It seemed nobody was coming after he had rung the bell, so he decided to walk further into the restaurant to check if anyone was available. As his ears scanned for any noises, he decided that no one was in the restaurant at this hour, so he decided to turn around to continue his investigation somewhere else, and come back later to check up on the place for any leads.

“Wait!” Edgeworth stopped as he heard a voice call out from behind him; he turned and saw a person standing at the front of the stairs. As he looked at the person who called out to him, he noticed what looked to be a young man wearing a chef’s uniform, and neat hair staring back at him. Edgeworth turned around to face the young man, who climbed down the stairs to walk towards him.

“Can I help you, sir?” the young man asked as he approached Edgeworth. The prosecutor examined the young man who stood confidently with his hands placed on his hips, and noticed a spatula behind the boy tucked in his pants, and assumed that he was one of the chef’s working at the restaurant. “Are you the only one here?” Edgeworth asked, to which the boy replied “Yep.” as he smiled back. Edgeworth thought this was an appropriate opportunity to find answers about the murder that had happened nearby where the restaurant was located, assuming this boy was there when it took place, or if he has any information about someone else who was.

Edgeworth began to speak, “As a matter of fact, I’m-” “Wait.” The boy interrupted again as he held his hand up and turned his face away from Edgeworth with his eyes closed, “I know why you’re here.”
Edgeworth seemed bewildered, “You do?” he asked.
“Yes.” The boy replied. “You’re here to make a reservation.”
Edgeworth stared at him silently, before replying “Actually, I’m-”
“Well, sir. You came to the right place.” The boy interrupted again, “Pomme le Banquet just so happens to be the absolute BEST place in this part of town for wining and dining, if I do say so myself.”
Edgeworth looked at him, as he crossed his arms and said “I’m sure. But right now I’d much rather talk with you about-”
“Not like that no-star disgrace you call a restaurant on the other side of the street!!” Edgeworth seemed surprised by this sudden outburst by the young man, who began wielding the spatula he had on himself and jabbed it at Edgeworth’s direction in a fit.

“Why are you so concerned about the services of that restaurant compared to yours?” Edgeworth asked him.
“Oh!” the young man suddenly realized the way he acted might’ve seemed unusual to the prosecutor, and immediately composed himself and put away his spatula.
“My apologies.” He said, nervously scratching his head as he grinned at Edgeworth. “I guess I’m just a bit nervous.”
“Nervous?” Edgeworth asked.
“Yes. To be honest, you’re the first customer I’ve received so far.”
“Am I?” Edgeworth seemed confused, as he had assumed, by the state of this place, that it would’ve received far more attention and gained more customers by now.
“Why yes. Construction for this restaurant had only just finished, and so far it hasn’t exactly gotten ‘on the map’ just yet. That’s why I wasn’t all that prepared when you arrived.”
“Wait…do you mean to tell me that you own this restaurant?”
“Yes! I’m the ‘proprietor’ (as you will) of this establishment, and the head chef to boot!” the young man smiled as he gave a thumbs up to Edgeworth, who seemed apprehensive at this development.
“But…you seem a bit young to be running such a place like this.”

“That’s what the imbecile running that shack across the street said to me when I confronted him!” the boy exploded, waving his spatula again.
“You confronted him?”
“Yes! I made sure that nincompoop knew that I was prepared to compete against his poor excuse for a dining establishment, and for some reason he disregarded my threats and slammed the door in my face!”
“So he didn’t take you seriously?”
“Yes. In fact, lots of people don’t seem to take me seriously. For some reason, they don’t believe a 16-year old can offer quality service.”

“You’re…SIXTEEN!!?” Edgeworth recoiled back in shock at this revelation. He was suddenly having second thoughts about ever making a reservation at a place like this, when the person in charge was barely out of high school.
“That’s exactly how they reacted as well! They just can’t bring themselves to comprehend that someone like me could be so talented and so gifted.” He said as he confidently grinned with his head turned and eyes closed, and his hand was playfully tossing an apple up and down.
Edgeworth looked sternly at the boy. …where on EARTH did that apple come from?!?!
“Well, I supposed I’ve rambled for long enough. So how may I be of service, good sir?”

Edgeworth had gotten over his surprise. “Actually, I’m not here to make a reservation.” The boy seemed surprised. “Oh? Then what…”
“I’m here about a murder that had happened, and I was hoping you knew something about that.”
“Oh…OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!!!!” the boy recoiled back in surprise, his red hair shooting upwards, resembling that of a rose, while the spatula he was holding flew out of his hand and went soaring past his shoulder and shot into the ceiling, getting stuck. “So you’re here about the…murder.”
“Yes.” Edgeworth replied.
The boy came over his own surprise, and composed himself again. He then lifted up his hand, flexing his fingers as he tucked them into his collar, sliding an object out of it as he unearthed what appeared to be another spatula, and tucked it into the place where his previous spatula was.
“I thought the police would arrive to question me.”
“Rest assured, I will suffice in doing their job. My name is Miles Edgeworth, and I’m a prosecutor.”
“You’re a prosecutor?” the young man seemed disappointed upon hearing this, “I thought you were here to eat! Who else would wear dress up wearing a cravat in this day and age for anything else!?”
“I happen to like wearing this cravat.” Edgeworth stated.
“Hmm…I see.” The boy seemed deep in thought, as he examined a pear he was holding in his hand curiously, “…I suppose enforcing the law is no accounting for taste…”
“EXCUSE me?” Edgeworth asked.
“Uh-I mean, never mind what I just said!” for a brief moment, the boy gripped his spatula with both hands sideways in a nervous panic. “We can discuss the murder, if that’s what you’re here for!”
Edgeworth seemed agitated, but ignored it and decided to move on with talking about the murder.

“So you saw the murder when it happened?” he asked. “Well…yes.” The boy replied “I couldn’t believe what I had seen until I had gotten over my initial shock.” The boy seemed genuinely distressed about it, which made Edgeworth believe that he might be telling the truth. “Please!” the boy continued, “You have to find out who did it! I don’t want people thinking this street was a place where criminals get away with murder! They’d started avoiding this area! It would awful for business! MY business!” the young man anxiously gripped his spatula, to the point where it looked like he was bending it a few times.
“Fret not, my dear boy.” Edgeworth smiled confidently back at him, “I’ll make sure that whoever that had committed this heinous act is behind bars, and you’re business will be given the chance to thrive.” Though I have serious doubts about it. He said to himself.
The boy looked relieved and ready to answer any questions Edgeworth had.
“Oh, thank you so much.”
“First of all, I was hoping you would explain to me the details of what transpired.”
“Of course. But could we discuss this in the kitchen? I’d hate for anyone to hear us discuss a murder happening around here.”
“Certainly. By the way, what is your name?”
“I’m Mack. Mack Newton, at your service!” Mac smiled and raised a thumbs up at Edgeworth.

Soon, Mack lead Edgeworth up the stairs and all the way into a hallway, where there were two red curtains in another part of the restaurant. As they went through the curtains, Edgeworth saw, on his way to the kitchen, on the farther wall was a garden display, and towering above it was a large image of Mack, standing triumphantly with his arms crossed, as he held a soup ladle in one hand, and an apple in the other. Just how highly does this boy think of himself!? He thought, but shrugged it off and made his way to the left of the wall, and through the double doors where the kitchen was.
“So,” Edgeworth said as they both stopped. “Tell me what you know about what you saw.”