8:00 PM. The Mouri Detective Agency.
Conan had returned an hour ago, a deflated balloon of a detective. He kept shooting sidelong glances at Kurosawa Hoshino, who was lounging on the tatami mat with infuriating calm.
He'd tailed Sato's team. They'd found the building matching the second-to-last neon pattern on the map. The rooftop held the final clue—or rather, the lack of one. The last pattern was missing.
But Conan was Conan. A glance at the skyline, a calculation of sightlines… he'd pieced it together. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Detective Sato beat him to it, announcing the treasure's location loudly—and crediting the deduction to Kurosawa Hoshino.
Conan had been stunned. Hoshino hadn't even been there.
If the lucky guess with Yoko was just that… luck… then this isn't luck at all. Is this guy… the real deal?
A chill of wariness settled in Conan's gut. I need to be more careful around him.
"It's on! The news is on!" Ran's cheerful voice cut through his thoughts.
"Tch. Being on the news. Big deal," Kogoro Mouri grumbled from his desk, the envy poorly disguised in his voice.
"Dad! Don't be a sourpuss!"
Kurosawa Hoshino just smiled. Sato had texted him the moment they'd found the hoard. Reporter Mizunashi Rena had apparently rushed the story to air. Right on schedule, a notification chimed softly in his mind—Origin Points awarded. One step closer to his next ability.
The TV screen filled with the excited face of a news anchor.
[Breaking News! The long-lost cache of 15,000 Maple Leaf Gold Coins recovered in a stunning citizen-led operation!]
The report played, complete with footage of the arrest and the glittering pile of coins.
[It all began this afternoon with high school student Kurosawa Hoshino, whose sharp eyes and quick thinking…]
"Hoshino-kun, you're amazing!" Ran beamed.
"Just a coincidence," Hoshino shrugged, offering his usual, infuriatingly modest line. "I saw a similar puzzle in an anime once."
"…"
Conan and Kogoro Mouri shared a perfectly synchronized eye-roll.
"Kid," Kogoro leaned forward, pointing a finger. "This 'anime.' Is it the same one from last time?"
"Probably."
"I knew it!" Kogoro snorted. "Listen, humility is one thing. But too much humility is just arrogance."
"I'm being honest."
"Really?" Kogoro's eyes narrowed. "Then you must remember the name this time. Tell me the anime's title, and I'll believe you."
"Yeah! What Uncle said!" Conan piped up, seizing the chance to probe. If Hoshino could name it, both instances were flukes. If he couldn't…
Hoshino let out a long, theatrical sigh, though a faint, unshakeable smile played on his lips.
"Honestly… I really can't recall. Maybe one day it'll come to me, and I'll tell you."
"Get out of here." Kogoro waved a dismissive hand. "News is over. It's late. Take the brat and go to bed."
"Right. Let's go, Conan."
After a few more words with Ran, Hoshino led the subdued boy downstairs and across the street to his apartment.
The silence between them was heavy. Once inside, Hoshino turned, his gaze settling on Conan with unsettling stillness.
"Conan," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Don't run off like that again."
A cold jolt went down Conan's spine. Those calm eyes felt like they were seeing straight through his child-sized disguise. He ducked his head, layering on the childish tone.
"Hoshino-nii… I know. I won't."
"Heh." A soft chuckle escaped Hoshino. He said nothing more, but his mind was alive with amusement.
So this is the fun of knowing more than you let on. No wonder clever people love this 'mysterious observer' act. Just wear a serious face, and they tie themselves in knots trying to figure out what you know. Especially clever ones like him. Priceless.
Somewhere in Tokyo. A Pharmaceutical Company Bar.
The ambiance was cool, quiet, lit by low amber lights. Gin sat in a plush booth, slowly swirling a glass of red wine, his sharp eyes fixed on the wall-mounted TV.
The news report played. When Kurosawa Hoshino's face and name flashed on screen, Gin's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the stem of his glass. A fraction of a second later, his expression was once again a mask of ice.
"Tsk tsk." Vodka shook his head at the broadcast. "Shame. If Kir had just blown her cover and snatched all those coins right then, Boss, you wouldn't have to sweat squeezing protection money from those small-time gangsters."
The air around Gin dropped several degrees. He didn't look at his partner, but the silence became oppressive.
Vodka, misreading the chill as encouragement, leaned in. "Hey, Boss. The report says they found the coins just over an hour ago. They've gotta still be at the Metropolitan Police Department evidence lock-up." A slow, eager grin spread across his face. "We should go rob it."
Gin finally turned his head. The pale, lethal focus of his gaze pinned Vodka to his seat.
"Sure."
Vodka's face lit up. He began to rise.
"You'll lead the team personally," Gin continued, his voice a soft, deadly whisper. "You know the price of failure."
Vodka froze mid-rise. Slowly, he sank back into the booth, the eagerness draining from his face. He coughed, suddenly finding his glass very interesting.
"On… on second thought, Boss," he mumbled, "The Met Police building… lots of personnel. Probably a few competent ones. Without proper intel and prep, it's a huge risk. Maybe… maybe not worth capsizing the boat for."
Gin said nothing. He finished his wine in one slow, final sip, placed the glass down with a definitive click, and stood. Without a backward glance, he strode from the lounge, his long coat sweeping behind him.
Vodka scrambled to follow, falling into step behind his boss like a chastised guard dog.
Employees in the hallway instinctively pressed themselves against the walls, eyes downcast, not daring to breathe until the two men in black had passed, leaving only a lingering trail of cold dread in their wake.