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The next day, Okinawa.
On the highway, a red Ferrari tore through the traffic like a bolt of lightning, standing out sharply amid the steady flow of cars.
"You still haven't answered me," Vermouth said, hands on the wheel, eyes locked on the road. "Where did you pull that sniper rifle from last night?"
Even now, she couldn't let it go.
"Baby, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Steven replied with a straight face and a hint of mischief. "That big sniper just appeared out of thin air. Too bad you usually use my other gun, or I'd have gifted it to you."
Before heading out, to avoid drawing attention from Japanese police or the FBI, Vermouth had disguised him and put him in a well-tailored luxury suit.
At first glance, he looked exactly like a high-powered business elite.
"Enough jokes," she said, glancing at him, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. "How did you manage to make the bomb explode without leaving a single trace behind?"
She'd personally tested that gun last night. It worked beautifully, so well she almost didn't want to put it down.
"I am the bomb," Steven said absentmindedly, watching the scenery fly past outside the window.
With explosive powers like his, only an idiot would bother studying bomb-making.
"Don't joke around. You're a bomb?" Vermouth laughed, assuming he was just dodging the question with nonsense.
"Don't believe me? Watch closely."
Too lazy to explain, Steven plucked out a strand of hair, opened the window, and tossed it out.
A few seconds later, a deafening explosion echoed behind them.
Boom!
The road was blown into a massive crater, forcing the cars behind them to screech to a halt.
"Believe me now?" Steven said calmly, lighting a cigarette and taking a leisurely drag.
"Who knows what kind of trick you used," Vermouth scoffed. "I'm not three years old."
The Conan world might stretch science, but it wasn't outright fantasy.
Turning a human body into a bomb was way beyond its rules.
"Well, we tried last night. With how big you are, there's no way you're three," Steven shrugged. "If you don't believe me, that's on you."
He didn't bother explaining further.
Wooo—wooo—
Suddenly, police sirens wailed. The speeding Ferrari had been spotted.
"Shit," Vermouth muttered. "A bunch of cute little idiots want to race me?"
"Hold tight. I'm speeding up."
She glanced back, smoothly shifted gears, and slammed the accelerator.
The red Ferrari and several blaring police cars launched into a thrilling chase.
Vermouth's driving was flawless. Tight overtakes, drifting through corners, clean and decisive. Every so often, she even slowed down on purpose, waiting for the police cars she'd shaken off to catch up.
The scene made Steven think again of the original Conan plot, the one that was supposed to happen a year ago.
Back then, it was Yukiko being chased, with Vermouth appearing at the end to bail her out.
Now the roles were reversed. He had no idea when this chase would end, or how it would wrap up.
Half an hour later.
Screech!
Vermouth slammed the brakes. The Ferrari stopped in front of a theater.
The police cars arrived moments later. One officer walked up and knocked on the window.
"What seems to be the problem?" Vermouth asked, rolling it down and blinking innocently.
True to her reputation as a legendary actress, there wasn't a trace of acting to be seen.
"Miss, the speed limit here is 60. Our radar clocked you at over 120. Please show your driver's license."
The officer took out his notebook.
"I'm terribly sorry," Vermouth said apologetically, pretending to rummage through her bag. "I was in a rush and forgot to bring it."
People from the Organization never needed licenses.
"You look really familiar…" the officer said, frowning.
"You probably met her while handling a case," a short, balding man stepped in, cutting him off.
"Hyoue Kuroda, sir!"
"You can go," Kuroda said. "I know this lady. She's an undercover officer from the Metropolitan Police. She must've been chasing a suspect and accidentally sped."
With a single sentence, Kuroda sent the officer away.
Damn. Has my identity been exposed?
With the timeline already shifted and himself fitting Kuroda's description a little too well, Steven prepared to strike first just in case.
With a thought, he pulled out Jodie's service pistol from the system inventory.
If Japanese cops died by an FBI gun, they could tear each other apart.
"Don't be reckless. Trust my disguise," Vermouth whispered, secretly grabbing his hand.
Then she smiled at Kuroda outside the window.
"Thank you, officer."
Even Vermouth didn't understand why Kuroda had helped her.
They were total strangers.
The only thing she could be sure of was that Steven's identity wasn't exposed.
If an extremely dangerous bomber had really shown up, Japanese police would never send just one officer.
"No need," Kuroda replied. "I was asked to help. Just be more careful driving. You might not be this lucky next time."
Asked to help?
Steven put Jodie's gun away and exchanged a look with Vermouth.
They shouldn't have any acquaintances in Okinawa.
Just as they were puzzled, a striking woman walked over.
"Chris Vineyard. Long time no see. You're still the same, obsessed with speed and thrills. You almost caused a big mess this time, didn't you?"
Yukiko Kudo!
The moment Steven saw that signature curly hair, he recognized her.
Behind Yukiko stood Mouri Kogoro, Mouri Ran, and Conan.
Everyone who was supposed to be here had arrived.
Steven silently thanked Vermouth for disguising him. Otherwise, that four-eyed little brat would've definitely tipped off the police the moment he saw Steven's real face.
"Miss, the person you should thank is Mrs. Kudo," Hyoue Kuroda said to Vermouth. "My job's done. I'll be going now."
He nodded to Yukiko, got into a car by the roadside, and drove away.
"Officer Kuroda is a fan of mine," Yukiko said with a smile. "He knew you loved racing, so I showed him your photo and asked him to wait here. Just in case you needed someone to bail you out."
The plot was starting to feel familiar, just with the roles switched.
Comparing it to the scenes he remembered, Steven guessed that although the musical Golden Apple had been delayed by a full year and the venue had changed, the overall storyline probably hadn't.
After all, when the Grim Reaper of the Mouri Detective Agency showed up, the people destined to die never managed to escape.
"Good thing you planned ahead," Vermouth said. "Otherwise I wouldn't have known how to get out of that."
As she spoke, she glanced at Steven in the passenger seat.
"Let's go."
Once they got out of the car, the group entered the theater together.
They had barely taken a few steps when Steven heard an ear-piercing voice.
"Okinawa has beautiful scenery and plenty of pretty women. It's a true jewel of our great island nation, handed down by our ancestors…"
Snap.
Staring coldly at the sleazy, balding man who was droning on, Steven felt his anger explode. He strode straight up to the man.
The sudden turn of events left Vermouth and the others completely confused.
"....."