Ch. 131..140

Chapter 131 - 131: Children's Antipyretic Suppositories

The heavy clouds outside mirrored the weight hanging in the air inside the room.

Haibara Ai lay on the bed, her breathing shallow and labored. Her flushed cheeks were alarmingly red, and a faint sheen of sweat clung to her forehead and neck. Though wrapped tightly in the thick quilt, her body continued to tremble from within.

Hayashi Yoshiki had already rushed back upstairs with the medicine box. He had hoped for a better outcome. Something easier.

But the only antipyretic medicine inside…

A children's suppository.

He had tried, briefly, to delegate the matter.

"Can you manage it yourself?"

"...I'll try,"she had whispered, her voice barely audible.

But minutes passed.

When he returned, she was lying awkwardly on her side, the suppository still gripped in her trembling hand. Her coordination had failed her. Even her pride couldn't overcome the fever's suffocating grip.

Her quilt had slipped halfway off, exposing her thin arms and part of her back.

Hayashi Yoshiki frowned and moved quickly to cover her again.

"I'll go get Ran—she can help—"

"No."

The answer came instantly, hoarse but determined.

Ai's pride was like steel beneath porcelain—elegant, but inflexible.

She didn't want Ran to see her like this. Not even another girl. Not like this. Not weak. Not undone.

"You're being too stubborn."

"I… can do it…"

"Are you sure?"He narrowed his eyes, unconvinced.

There was a long pause. Then she murmured, so quietly he almost missed it:

"...Or it doesn't matter if I don't."

Her words hung there, exhausted and resigned.

That decided it.

Without another word, Hayashi Yoshiki crossed the room, turned, and closed the door.

The latch clicked shut.

The soft rustle of footsteps on wood.

Haibara's eyes opened slightly in alarm.

"What are you doing… Cointreau?"

Her voice trembled, this time not from fever.

He didn't answer immediately.

He simply walked to her side, crouched beside the bed, and gently took the medicine from her hand.

His gloved fingers brushed against her feverish palm, removing the suppository with a kind of practiced calm.

Then, without a word, he gently lifted the edge of the quilt again.

Her breath hitched.

A rare flicker of panic lit up in her half-lidded eyes.

"Wait—!"

"You're burning up,"he said, voice low, but not unkind.

"If we don't reduce the fever soon, your body won't last the night."

His tone wasn't teasing. It wasn't cold. It was matter-of-fact—but with a thread of something deeper underneath. He wasn't doing this for amusement. He wasn't even reacting to the absurdity of the situation.

He was just… calm.

Unshakably so.

That made it worse.

"Cointreau…" she whispered again.

He met her gaze for a moment.

"If you're still worried about appearances," he murmured, "pretend you're unconscious. That's what most people would do in this situation."

She didn't respond.

But her face, already red from fever, deepened another shade.

He worked quickly and efficiently. His hands moved with the same quiet precision he used to write a name or fire a shot. In less than ten seconds, the medicine was administered.

Then he pulled the blanket gently back over her.

She didn't speak.

She just lay there, her small frame visibly trembling—not from cold now, but from sheer confusion and heat and the remnants of helpless shame.

He stood up, washed his hands with alcohol sanitizer from the kit, then sat by the bedside.

"The medicine should kick in within thirty minutes. Try to sleep."

Her lips parted.

"...You didn't have to do that."

"I know."

He looked out the window. Snowflakes were beginning to fall again, catching light from the villa's porch lamp like drifting stars.

"I'll stay here until your fever drops."

"...That's unnecessary."

"Humor me," he said simply.

Haibara Ai, still feverish and curled up in the bed, looked at the figure sitting beside her—his back to the window, long coat draped around him like a shadow.

She closed her eyes, not just from exhaustion but because…

I can't bear to keep looking at someone like that.

Not when I feel this weak.

Her breathing slowly began to steady.

Outside, the wind whispered through the eaves, and the snow piled silently around the old villa.

In the dim glow of the bedside lamp, Hayashi Yoshiki sat, silent, sentinel.

 

 

Chapter 132 - 132: Perversion

After noon, the mountain villa slowly emptied as guests began packing up to leave. Inside the foyer, muffled steps echoed softly as everyone gathered their belongings.

Hayashi Yoshiki stood by the door, securing the final bag. Beside him, Haibara Ai followed quietly, a surgical mask covering her still pale face. Her steps were light, and her small frame was wrapped in a thick coat.

"How's the child doing? Feeling better now, Mr. Hayashi?"

Araki Yoshinori, ever warm and helpful, was carrying luggage toward the exit. His concerned gaze briefly shifted to the silent girl at Yoshiki's side.

"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Araki," Hayashi Yoshiki replied with a gentle smile."Her fever broke about two hours ago. She still needs rest, but she'll be fine."

"That's a relief."

The group stepped out into the snowy world.

Their boots crunched against the fresh powder. The cold wind swept softly through the trees, brushing against flushed cheeks and scarves. Almost instinctively, Hayashi Yoshiki took hold of Haibara Ai's hand.

Out in the yard, yesterday's snowmen stood slightly misshapen but still cheerful. Haibara Ai glanced at them without a word.

"Ai-chan, are you feeling okay?" asked Ran, her eyes full of concern.

"I'm fine."

Her reply was short, cold even—but Ran only smiled. She could tell the girl was in high spirits, even if she didn't show it.

In the backseat, Ran and Sonoko were chatting softly.

They spoke of maybe going shopping after they got home. Sonoko had half a mind to invite Yoshiki along, but after hearing Ai had just recovered, she gave up on the idea for now.

They reached the car, crossed the narrow suspension bridge, and began the journey back to the city.

"Brother Yoshiki," Xiaolan said after a while, "aren't you going to offer Mr. Doito a ride?"

"No need. He said he'd fly back later," Hayashi replied.

"Fly back?" Sonoko repeated, puzzled.

"Mhm."

His tone was casual, too casual. The girls blinked at each other in confusion.

Then from beneath her mask, a muffled voice emerged:

"...That's Kaito Kid in disguise."

"Wha—!?"

The girls gasped in unison.

"The name Katsuki Doito," Ai continued calmly, "rearranged in katakana, spells out 'Kaito Kid'."

Their eyes widened. The dots connected instantly.

"Wait, so that's what Yoshiki meant when he said we'd met him before!?"

"Unbelievable... That was really Kaito Kid!?" Sonoko squealed. "I was chatting with him online!? I—I'm gonna faint!"

Hayashi Yoshiki said nothing. He focused on the road.

Beside him, Haibara Ai cast him another glance.

That thought had come to her the night before—somewhere between fever dreams and strange suspicions. She realized that he had seen through it almost instantly, just from walking into the room.

No wonder he's trusted even by Gin...

Two hours later, after dropping the girls at the Mouri Detective Agency, Hayashi Yoshiki turned the car toward Dr. Agasa's house.

The snow had begun to thin, but the chill in the air lingered.

"Even if the fever's gone down," he said gently, "you should keep checking your temperature. Just to be safe."

"...I know."

Haibara Ai lowered her head. The mask hid the faint red creeping across her cheeks.

She was still reeling—not from the fever, but from what had happened.

Twice.

Last night, and again this morning.

Despite her resistance, Cointreau had… administered the medicine himself.

Her pride had been crushed beneath his sheer composure. The memory of his calm expression—completely unaffected as he treated her like a child—burned in her mind.

He's… really not someone you can resist once he's made up his mind.

His kindness had the softness of silk, but the resolve of steel beneath it.

"...Pervert," she muttered under her breath.

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

Hayashi Yoshiki reached into his coat and produced a small medicine box.

"By the way, Araki-san gave me another dose of fever meds. Just in case. But looking at you now, I figure you'll be able to use it yourself."

"No need! Dr. Agasa has everything I need."

"Alright, then."

They stepped into the Agasa residence, the familiar warmth of the home wrapping around them.

After the doorbell rang, Dr. Agasa welcomed them at once.

"Ah, Mr. Hayashi! Perfect timing—I've made that fire-retardant coating you asked for!"

"Already?"

"Haha, well, it wasn't that hard. Come, come—Ai, help Mr. Hayashi get seated."

Agasa shuffled into the lab and returned moments later with a bottle of clear liquid and a few sheets of paper.

"I call it a fire-retardant coating, but don't expect miracles. It doesn't make the paper fireproof, just gives it a bit more time. Ten seconds maybe, before it chars."

He lit two identical pieces of paper: one treated with the solution, the other plain.

The untreated paper curled into ash almost instantly. The coated one resisted the flames, lingering for several long seconds before finally catching fire.

"That's perfect," Hayashi Yoshiki murmured.

He wasn't looking at the flame.

He was thinking of names written in invisible ink. Of paper sealed in a trap wallet designed to ignite in an instant.

Of how to use that to control someone—without lifting a finger.

Kurosawa Jin… soon.

"How much do I owe you, Doctor?"

"Owe me? For this? Don't be silly!" Agasa chuckled. "But… why is Ai wearing a mask?"

"She had a high fever last night," Hayashi answered, keeping his tone light.

Agasa's face darkened in concern.

"Oh dear. Poor girl—must have been tough."

He didn't press further. He knew Ai's circumstances better than most.

"Use this for now, Mr. Hayashi. If you need more, you know where to find me."

"Thank you again, Dr. Agasa."

As the afternoon light waned, the snow outside the window glowed softly.

Inside, quiet voices and the smell of tea drifted through the warm room.

Somewhere behind Haibara Ai's mask, her lips curled into the faintest of smiles.

Even if she couldn't say it out loud...

I'm grateful.

 

Chapter 133 - 133: New Testing and Release Conference

The queue outside the venue stretched across the plaza, winding like a parade. Police cordons had to be temporarily set up to keep the peace, and fans continued arriving with bags stuffed with memorabilia and books clutched to their chests.

Inside, Hayashi Yoshiki's smile had begun to stiffen.

His hand, trained in neat calligraphy and fast writing, had been moving without pause for nearly an hour. Still, he maintained a composed expression, occasionally raising his head to nod or make small talk with fans.

"Please keep warm on the way home."

"Thank you. I'll treasure this forever!"

"I'm so nervous…!"

"Don't be. Thank you for coming."

Each exchange was small, but his charm radiated in every moment. And that, more than the signature, seemed to be what the crowd had come for.

Several meters outside, the air was thick with snow and tension.

Tequila let out a low grunt, arms crossed as he glared ahead. He didn't really get the appeal of writing books or reading them—but he understood power. And this was power: the kind that drew thousands, that bent crowds to one man's charisma.

"Is this guy really one of us?" he muttered.

Chianti gave a twisted smirk, bubblegum popping between her teeth.

"You look like you're ready to kill someone just from standing in line."

"Don't tempt me," he muttered, glancing down at the man he'd manhandled earlier, who was now watching from a safe distance, trembling.

Cohen, unusually anxious, shifted from one foot to another, his gaze locked onto the building entrance. The longer he waited, the more he itched to see Cointreau's new manuscript—not because he cared about literature, but because it meant something when a man like that wrote a story.

Chianti narrowed her eyes at the crowd.

"If any of these dumb girls knew what he did in his free time…"

"They'd probably fall harder," Vodka added absently. "You know how people get when they think they've found a tortured genius."

"That ain't tortured. That's lethal."

At the very back of the line, the Junior Detective Team was beginning to realize just how long the wait would be.

Ayumi stood on tiptoes, trying to peer forward, but the queue snaked around the plaza and out of sight.

"Maybe we can sneak forward a little?" Genta whispered hopefully.

"Don't you dare," Ai replied without looking up.

Her voice carried such calm finality that the large boy instantly shut up.

Mitsuhiko wiped his fogged-up glasses, glancing at Ai, then at Ayumi, then back at the endless line.

"We should at least calculate the rate of movement. If he signs one book every 30 seconds—"

"You'll have time to recite the periodic table before we get inside," Conan sighed.

He kept his tone casual, but his eyes were focused sharply on the venue.

Hayashi Yoshiki's popularity was understandable. He was smart, charismatic, mysteriously well-connected… and dangerous.

Too dangerous.

Conan couldn't shake the feeling that Yoshiki's growing public image was a shield—a façade growing thicker with every book signing, every fan interaction. The more famous he became, the harder it would be to touch him.

"He's gaining influence," Conan muttered under his breath. "And hiding right in plain sight."

Behind the table, Hayashi Yoshiki briefly excused himself to sip warm tea brought by a staffer. The slight pause in signing created a ripple through the room as murmurs ran through the crowd.

"He's so elegant…"

"Did you see how he held the pen? Like a calligrapher!"

"I want to name my kid Yoshiki…"

He could hear it all.

And with every admiring voice, every flash of a camera, every trembling fan—Hayashi Yoshiki felt his own shadow thickening.

They don't know a thing about me.

But that was fine.

They weren't supposed to know.

His eyes scanned the room—past the staff, the fans, the decorations—and landed on a tall figure dressed in black at the far side of the security cordon.

Cohen.

His stare met Hayashi's with a cold stillness.

Hayashi simply smiled… and nodded.

Cohen grunted in return.

Nearby, Chianti stuck out her tongue and made a gun gesture with her fingers.

Hayashi's eyes narrowed in amusement, but he turned back to the next person in line without comment.

Next: Shirley

From her place in the waiting line, Haibara Ai looked on in silence.

Even from this distance, even behind the makeup of popularity, she could feel it:

He's hiding something again.

He always smiled like that—like nothing could touch him. But the deeper his smiles became, the more she felt the walls he was building.

She gripped her book tighter.

I want to understand you... but I also want to stay away.

And yet, there she was—standing in line, ready to step closer once again.

 

Chapter 134 - 134: Surprised or unexpected?

"Thank you for your hard work, Yoshiki-kun."

Yoko stood in front of the signing table, wearing large sunglasses, a bucket hat, and a neutral-toned hoodie, yet somehow still radiant. Her hair was pulled up into a loose ponytail, and despite the long day she herself had endured on set, her voice carried a kind of sincere concern.

The staff member managing the line started to approach her—ready to explain the session was ending—until he noticed Hayashi Yoshiki raise his hand slightly, signaling that it was fine.

"Yoko-san," he said with a tired but genuine smile. "You made it just in time."

"Of course I did!" she said with mock indignation. "You promised to sign mine personally."

She placed a first edition of The Earl of Darkness on the table. Its protective sleeve was still pristine, and tucked inside was a folded pamphlet from one of her concert appearances—probably a keepsake she'd meant to gift him.

"This copy is special," she added in a quieter tone, so only he could hear. "It's the one I read every night during shooting breaks."

Yoshiki looked at the cover, opened the book, and began signing.

To Yoko-san, who lights up the stage and the page alike.

He handed the book back to her, and their fingers briefly brushed. He didn't make a show of it, nor did he try to read into the moment, but the way Yoko blushed slightly behind her sunglasses was enough of an answer.

From a distance, Haibara Ai watched the scene.

Yoko's bright, friendly presence and Hayashi Yoshiki's polite attentiveness formed a picture that was difficult to interrupt. Something about seeing the two of them interact triggered a strange twinge in Ai's chest—not quite jealousy, but more like a quiet observation of a world that still felt foreign to her.

So normal, she thought.

So casual, so warm.

Hayashi Yoshiki was someone who kept secrets—deep, dangerous ones—and yet here he was, smiling at an idol as if everything about him was safe.

But Ai hadn't forgotten what she saw earlier: Vodka, Cohen, Chianti at the signing event.

They came here... in public. Just for this?

No.

That was impossible.

The Organization didn't waste time like that. They didn't "support" anyone out of goodwill. Which meant...

They came to deliver a message.

And yet Yoshiki hadn't flinched. He hadn't missed a beat. Even as they stood right in front of him.

What was going on?

Conan's Silence

Meanwhile, Conan walked a few paces behind the Detective Boys, clutching his signed book and deep in thought.

Ai had acted strange.

And now that he thought back, she seemed especially tense when the black car pulled away... He didn't see who was inside, but he had a terrible hunch. He glanced at Ai, then at Hayashi Yoshiki—still casually chatting with Okino Yoko.

Don't tell me they were here too?

He couldn't prove it.

Not yet.

But something about the way Ai avoided his eyes confirmed what he feared: the Organization was closer than ever. And Cointreau—Hayashi Yoshiki—might still be walking a very thin line.

As the final guests filtered out of the signing venue and the staff began to pack up the banners and tables, Hayashi Yoshiki gently stretched his sore fingers.

"That was a marathon," he muttered, rotating his wrist.

Editor Asamiya approached with a bottle of hot tea.

"You were amazing today, Hayashi-sensei," she said. "We broke every attendance record we projected. You're officially our bestselling author this quarter."

"Then I expect the celebratory dinner to be extravagant."

"Already planning it."

Okino Yoko lingered near the side, waiting for the crowds to thin.

When she finally walked up beside him again, she looked almost shy.

"Are you free for a late dinner?" she asked.

Hayashi Yoshiki raised a brow.

"You're the one who just finished filming and still ran here. Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Let's call it mutual concern, then."

Far away, in a quiet parking garage, Gin sat in the driver's seat of a black car. A half-smoked cigarette burned low between his fingers as he reviewed the photos that Vodka had forwarded.

Cointreau—posing as a public darling, shaking hands, taking pictures, laughing.

He's playing a dangerous game.

And Gin wasn't sure anymore if he wanted to stop him… or just see how far the man would fall before he burned.

He flicked the cigarette out the window and drove off into the snowy Tokyo night.

 

 

Chapter 135 - 135: So you are a pervert! ?

After buying Hayashi Yoshiki's new work, Conan opened it and began reading as soon as he got home.

The name of this new work was The Wax City Murder Case.

The story begins with Kindaichi being invited to participate in a mystery event called Mystery Night, attended by famous detectives from all over the world. The event takes place in a wax-figure city named Bardo Castle, known as the resting place of the dead.

Since the winner of Suspense Night would receive an entire castle and 200 million yen in cash, many people participated, including the detective Kindaichi, famous mystery authors, critics, detective agency presidents, crime reporters, psychologists, elite detectives, and more...

The luxurious cast immediately sparked Conan's excitement.

After all, with so many reasoning experts featured, if each plays a role, then the case that's about to unfold will certainly be neither sloppy nor simple.

Moreover, knowing Hayashi Yoshiki's character, it's impossible for him to write a dull case that would tarnish his reputation and pride.

Yes...

In Conan's eyes, Hayashi Yoshiki is a very proud man.

He kept reading.

In the story, Bardo Castle was relocated from medieval Germany. The castle only used candles for lighting, and under the author's descriptions, the torture instruments in the basement exuded a faint scent of blood.

The castle was divided into a West Wing and an East Wing, connected by a wax figure gallery displaying 1:1 wax statues of all the guests invited to the event.

The incident begins when the protagonist, Kindaichi, follows a clue left by the event organizer and places the wax figure of a mystery writer in the gallery in a specific pose and location — making it appear as though the figure was stabbed and left a dying message... After a simple deduction, everyone quickly pointed to Kindaichi as the "murderer."

This small game easily established the elite personalities of the supporting characters, causing Conan to nod in appreciation.

But shortly after, everyone discovered that the mystery writer whose wax figure was used in the game was actually dead in his room — in precisely the same manner as the wax figure setup had depicted.

The castle's entrances and exits were sealed.

No one could leave until the event concluded. Amid a snowstorm-like isolation, people began dying one by one — and before each person died, a wax figure was posed to replicate the victim's eventual death scene.

The most unbelievable part: everyone had an alibi...

"There are hidden rooms in both the East and West Wings... The chimneys in the castle can connect to both locations—"

"But how did the alibi come to be?"

Conan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

His mind raced as he turned the page.

Meanwhile, in a bar in Beika Town…

In a dimly lit corner of a bar far from the Mori Detective Agency, Gin sat by the counter, flipping through a book signed by Hayashi Yoshiki — a copy he had taken from Vodka.

"Because of the foreshadowing, everyone naturally assumed the victim would be killed the same way the wax puppet was posed...

"By exploiting this idea and cleverly disguising oneself as a wax figure, an alibi could be created."

"Hmph… That's the kind of overcomplicated scheme you only see in mystery novels or third-rate killers."

Gin, having finished the novel, sneered.

Next to him, Vodka took a sip of his vodka martini and turned toward him:

"Ah, didn't Cointreau do a great job, bro?"

Gin didn't answer.

Although he didn't care for detective novels, he had to admit — Cointreau's craftsmanship was indeed exceptional.

In truth, he had been quite engrossed.

Detective novels are sometimes a game between author and reader. After laying out the murder and planting clues, it becomes a race to see if the reader can deduce the truth before the protagonist does.

Even Gin had been a step behind.

Whether it was the wax figure setup, the double-secret room structure, or the "preconception manipulation" affecting both the characters and the readers, the execution was subtle. Only at the end, when the killer made a small mistake, did the entire mystery unravel — the progression was smooth and thrilling.

Even Gin had to admit it.

Still, he thought this killing method was unnecessarily complicated. Wouldn't it be easier to just plant bombs and blow up the castle and everyone inside?

"But... it is indeed Cointreau!"

With an amused glint in his dark green eyes, Gin placed the book down on the bar.

They say that creativity is deeply personal — creators often reveal their inner thoughts through their work.

Gin believed this.

When the murderer in the story was caught, he repeatedly ranted about "artistic crime," "criminal masterpieces," and "the art of the perfect murder"... As expected, Cointreau viewed murder as an art form.

Elsewhere...

"Why is Big Brother getting so into this?"

Vodka watched, unsure whether to speak.

Chianti, annoyed by Cohen's enthralled expression, grumbled:

"Still not enough? You've reread that paragraph ten times!"

"..."

Without looking up, Cohen adjusted his sunglasses:

"I saw my name."

"And?"

"Cointreau killed me off."

A strange blush crept across Cohen's face:

"Locked in a medieval iron maiden... impaled by spikes... bled to death... It was brilliantly written."

"So you're a damn pervert!?"

Chianti leaped up and scooted away, drink in hand.

Cohen didn't respond, continuing to read.

In the middle seat, Tequila flipped through the pages quickly, finishing the book in a flash — yet unable to appreciate it.

He was a rough man, adept at killing and arson.

It wasn't that he was uncultured — but reading, especially something that demanded such concentration as a detective novel, wasn't his forte.

"Why not just drag Vodka and the others to a brothel?"

At the same time...

Those who had a deeper interest in Hayashi Yoshiki's works were reading it as well — the High School Detective from Kansai, the Phantom Thief from Ekoda, the Transfer Detective...

Everyone focused on the book — except for one particular witch, dressed in strange clothing and hiding in a dark basement. She flung the book aside and shouted through clenched teeth:

"Damn you, Hayashi Yoshiki—!!!"

"Bastard!"

"I'll never forgive you!!"

 

 

Chapter 136 - 136: Bluffing only shows your weakness, Koizumi Akako

"A Perfect Crime That Blows Your Mind!"

"The Wax City Murder Case – A Masterpiece of Parallel Weirdness and Deduction"

"A First-Rate Work by a First-Rate Detective"

— The Wax Figure Weeping —

"Popular Idol of the Mystery Fiction World – Hayashi Yoshiki"

"A Historic Release Day!"

Following the release of Hayashi Yoshiki's new work, both his name and that of Kindaichi filled the headlines across major mystery-related and entertainment news outlets.

Futaba Publishing had everything planned to perfection.

They capitalized on the initial momentum, ramping up marketing and promotions while inviting well-known mystery critics and experts to publicly endorse the novel. Even the atmosphere of the release-day book signing event was spun into publicity: Hayashi Yoshiki worked non-stop throughout the day. Despite being visibly exhausted by the end, the smile never left his face.

"Well, everyone lined up and supported me so earnestly… Even though it's tiring, that's no reason to be half-hearted."

"After all, everyone's working hard."

"If my new work manages to satisfy everyone, that would be best."

His humble and sincere remarks during an interview earned him yet another wave of adoration.

Of course, about 90% of the fans were female, drawn by his looks rather than a love of mysteries… but Hayashi Yoshiki didn't mind.

What he hadn't expected, however, was that his rising fame would also draw certain people out against him.

That morning, Hayashi Yoshiki discovered a letter in his office mailbox.

"Dear Mr. Hayashi Yoshiki,"

"You are cordially invited to attend a charity gala hosted by the Hongyan Advertising Company, scheduled for December 21st at 7:00 p.m., to raise funds for orphans of traffic accidents."

"Sincerely, Beniko Suo, President, Hongyan Advertising Company."

"We look forward to your attendance."

That was all the letter said.

Beniko Suo. The name stood out in Hayashi Yoshiki's memory.

Once a well-known singer—dubbed the "Oriental Canary"—she had transitioned into business and eventually became the president of an entertainment company. She never sang again.

But what stood out even more to Hayashi Yoshiki was the bizarre way she died—or was said to have died: allegedly killed by a cursed mask from her own collection. The method had been so outlandish it left a lasting impression on him.

He vaguely recalled that Su Fang Hongzi was someone who used the banner of charity as a front to embezzle donations.

Behind her benevolent persona lay a darker truth: in the past, she had caused a fatal hit-and-run accident, and then paid someone to take the blame, staging it to look like a suicide.

Hayashi Yoshiki turned on his computer to confirm: she had indeed been preparing the charity gala for over ten days. Just the night before, she had announced on her personal website that Hayashi Yoshiki had received an invitation.

"How very interesting…"

His fingers flew across the keyboard as he dug deeper, piecing together a clearer picture from memory and records.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

The number was unfamiliar.

"Hello, who's calling?"

"Good evening, Mr. Hayashi. This is Beniko Suo."

Hayashi Yoshiki's lips curled upward in amusement.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just wanted to confirm—did you receive the invitation letter I sent to your detective agency?"

"Yes, I just saw it."

"May I ask, then, if you'd be interested in attending our charity dinner?"

"Sorry. I'm not interested."

"...Ah?"

Beniko Suo sounded genuinely taken aback.

Her warm tone quickly turned sharper.

"May I ask why? Our charity gala has long received support from many public figures. The public pays a great deal of attention to it… If word gets out that someone like you, Mr. Hayashi, refused to attend, I'm sure many will feel it's quite a shame."

Her words were laced with veiled threats.

With Hayashi Yoshiki currently in the spotlight and enjoying a glowing reputation in the media, refusing to attend a charity event could easily be twisted as proof of arrogance or selfishness.

Moral coercion, while despicable, is undeniably effective.

And Beniko Suo was not burdened by morality.

She knew full well that Hayashi Yoshiki's appearance would bring immense publicity—and she had also set her sights on his lucrative earnings.

"As for the reason," Hayashi Yoshiki replied, "I'd prefer not to help you line your pockets."

"...What did you say?"

The stunned silence on the other end only made him smile.

"I said," he clarified calmly, "that some people exploit the kindness of others to benefit themselves. Society has people like that, Ms. Beniko Suo."

"Mr. Hayashi! What is the meaning of this? You must take responsibility for your words!"

Her voice suddenly turned icy.

"If you can't show solid evidence, we at Mahogany Promotions. will take legal action for defamation!"

"Empty threats only highlight your desperation, Ms. Beniko."

Still smiling, Hayashi Yoshiki hung up—after she barked:

"We'll see about that!"

What could she possibly "show him"?

As the president of an entertainment company, it wasn't hard to imagine the petty methods at her disposal. But unfortunately for her, her real name, photographs, and her secretary's identity were all publicly available online.

Compared to Hayashi Yoshiki, she was no more threatening than an ant.

"Truly amusing..."

Hayashi Yoshiki opened the Death Note resting in his drawer.

Over the years, he had periodically purged the names inside—leaving only a few for special reasons.

Among those were:

Kyosuke Fudo, the re-named psychologist,

and Akemi Miyano, who was undergoing recovery.

It had been a long time since Hayashi Yoshiki last saw Kyosuke for therapy, and Akemi Miyano had nearly made a full recovery. In the near future, Hayashi planned to begin hypnotizing and brainwashing her, possibly even persuading her to change her identity to avoid the fate that awaited her.

If it worked, everyone would be happy.If not… then so be it.

Meanwhile, Beniko Suo, whose name had just been written in the Death Note, sat clutching her office landline, a dark expression on her face.

She couldn't comprehend how Hayashi Yoshiki could so confidently accuse her of embezzlement—unless he had hard proof. No sane adult would dare say something so bold without evidence.

But she wasn't unprepared.

Years of hosting charity events had taught her to expect resistance. She immediately summoned her secretary, Inaba Kazuyo, and issued discreet instructions.

Still, even after giving orders, she looked visibly disturbed.

She hadn't secured her prize, and worse, now had a potential enemy.

Seeing Hayashi Yoshiki's name plastered all over the newspaper only deepened her irritation.

 

 

Chapter 137 - 137: The organization will handle it

Koizumi Akako's reaction was just as Hayashi Yoshiki had predicted.

For the past two days, newspapers had been saturated with reports about the charity gala hosted by Mahogany Promotions Company. The released guest list, featuring celebrities from all sectors, stirred widespread discussion.

There were also glowing articles about how the donations were actively supporting charitable causes across the country.

In the midst of the praise, Hayashi Yoshiki, recently in the spotlight, was suddenly dragged into the narrative. When someone "coincidentally" noticed that Beniko Suo had mentioned on her website that she had invited Hayashi to the gala — yet his name was absent from the final guest list — the tide quickly turned.

Once staff from Hongyan revealed that Hayashi Yoshiki had directly refused the invitation, the uproar grew louder.

Headlines and Hostility

The Selfish Detective

Fame ≠ Character

While You Rise to Stardom, Don't Forget Charity

The Hypocrisy of the Great Detective!

Some articles were filled with baseless speculation. Others targeted Hayashi Yoshiki directly.

Part of this was clearly orchestrated by Beniko Suo, but rival publishing houses jealous of Futaba Publishing's success likely joined the fray as well. And of course, some media outlets simply fanned the flames for higher sales.

Even celebrities who had attended the gala dropped veiled comments on talk shows, intentionally or not.

Hayashi Yoshiki could only chuckle grimly — the entertainment industry was exactly as ruthless as expected.

Clearly, Beniko Suo, wounded by his blunt rejection, was hellbent on retaliation. While refusing a charity event wasn't a crime, the media was already spinning the narrative.

Though the reaction wasn't entirely one-sided, the sheen of Hayashi's recent fame had been noticeably smudged.

"BASTARD!!!"

Bang! Bang!!

The recent newspapers infuriated Kisaki Eri, who slammed the table several times, her elegant features flushed red with anger.

"You don't have to be so worked up, Aunt Eri,"Hayashi Yoshiki said with a chuckle.

But Eri scowled.

"Yoshiki! Why didn't you tell me something this big was happening? If Ran hadn't mentioned it, I'd still be in the dark!"

"It's not that big of a deal."

His indifferent tone only agitated her more, but upon realizing the storm he was enduring, she softened.

Taking a deep breath, Eri swept her bangs back and composed herself.

She had foreseen this kind of thing when Hayashi declared his desire to become a detective. Back then, she imagined a case where he failed, and the media ridiculed him mercilessly.

But this wasn't so different.The media doesn't care about fairness — it only cares about profit.

Even though it was past office hours, Eri immediately called her secretary, Kuriyama Midori:

"Midori, compile a list of newspapers that published slander about Yoshiki. I want to sue them."

"And dig up anything on Hongyan Advertising. Any dirt or black files — I want them on my desk tomorrow morning."

"Yes, understood."

"I'll give you a big bonus later."

She didn't stop there. After hanging up, Eri began scanning her address book for more contacts.

As the undefeated queen of Japan's legal world, Kisaki Eri had built a formidable web of influence.

Yoshiki, watching her spring into action, couldn't help but smile. He stepped onto the balcony, letting the cool air hit his face.

His phone had been buzzing all day. A flurry of texts and calls had come in:

Mōri Ran:

"Yoshiki-oniisan, are you okay?""Don't worry about the papers! All the girls in my class think it's total garbage."

Suzuki Sonoko:

"I'm SO MAD!!!""I asked my parents for info on the gala, and now I've got someone investigating them.""Ran said she'd tell Aunt Eri too, so don't worry!"

Haibara Ai:

"What happened?"... (second message came 30 minutes later)

Dr. Agasa:

"Hang in there, Yoshiki!"

Okino Yoko:

"What's going on, Yoshiki-kun? I asked someone to look into it!""I have a talk show tomorrow — I'll publicly support you on-air!"

Even Ayumi, Inspector Megure, and Kaito Kuroba had sent messages of concern.

Hayashi Yoshiki stared at the screen in silence.

How to describe this feeling...?

At that moment, he felt oddly comforted.

That feeling, however, quickly shifted the moment he picked up his second phone.

The Black Organization Responds

Gin:

"Wait.""The organization will handle your situation."

Cointreau:

"...What are you going to do?"

No response.

At the Black Widow Bar, Gin calmly cleaned his Beretta M92F while Vodka typed furiously at a laptop beside him.

"Boss, we traced the money — the editors-in-chief of those papers all received hefty deposits recently. They were clearly paid off to slander Cointreau."

Bang!

Gin's fist slammed the counter, rattling the bottles.

"Someone dares mess with our guy?!"

Tequila snarled, his fury boiling over.

Vodka didn't react, instead glancing at Gin again:

"Orders?"

"Investigate that washed-up diva. You know what to do."

"Heh… If I can't find anything, I'll forge something. And those celebrities who spoke out — I'll deal with them too."

His sunglasses glinted as his grin widened.

Cohen, ever the blunt one, quietly pulled out his sniper rifle.

"Why don't I just take her out?"

Gin barely looked at him.

"I'll decide later. You won't be needed."

"..."

Cohen sulkily put the gun away.

Chianti, silent up to now, smirked as she typed on her phone:

"Aww, poor Cointreau~""Tsk tsk tsk~""Want me to take you for a ride to blow off steam?""Or we can drop by that old hag's place — I'd love to see her brain splatter."

 

Chapter 138 - 138: Collapse

The temperature had dropped slightly that day.

As the cold wind outside swept snow from the tree branches, Beniko Suo pulled her luxurious mink coat tighter around herself.

She was already in her sixties.

But as the saying goes, wealth preserves beauty. Beniko Suo had always appeared elegant and radiant in the public eye, every movement exuding refined dignity.

She gestured for someone to pour her a glass of red wine.

With only seven days left until the charity gala, everything had been progressing smoothly.

That rude mystery novelist who had dismissed her over the phone had made no public moves. Perhaps he was overwhelmed by the barrage of negative press. After all, Beniko Suo had meticulously orchestrated it all.

Charity, in her eyes, was no different from business.

While she was earning money, she was also expanding her network — with celebrities, socialites, and even political figures on her contact list. Her entertainment company held real influence in the industry. She knew how to leverage relationships and channels to craft narratives in her favor.

Compared to someone like her, Hayashi Yoshiki was merely a fledgling.

To be safe, she had her secretary double-check potential vulnerabilities and patch up inconsistencies. She was confident that Hayashi held no definitive proof. After all, she wasn't foolish enough to directly siphon donations into her personal accounts.

After Hayashi's rejection, she had even considered inviting Sleeping Kogoro, now a media sensation. But the moment Mōri Kogorō heard her name on the phone, he coldly hung up without a word.

Do I have some grudge with detectives now...?

She was secretly livid. She had planned to use Kogorō's presence to step on one genius while propping up another — a perfect PR maneuver.

Bad News Arrives

"Madam Beniko! Madam!!"

Urgent knocks at the door broke her thoughts.

"Come in! What's going on?" she asked, startled.

Her secretary Inaba Kazuyo burst in, clutching several newspapers with a grim expression.

"Something terrible has happened!"

Beniko's stomach dropped. She hurried forward.

"What is it?"

"Read this—quickly!"

She snatched the newspaper from Inaba's hands.

A single glance made her hand tremble.

"H-How could this be…?"

She hastily flipped through the stack.

The headlines screamed at her:

"The Truth Behind Mahogany Promotions' Charity Gala!"

"Offshore Accounts? Internal Ledgers?"

"The Business of Charity – A Queen's Greed Unmasked"

"Kisaki Eri Makes a Move – Lawsuits Filed Against Multiple Outlets!"

"Mahogany Investigated for Fraudulent Charity and Illegal Fundraising"

"Super Idol Okino Yoko Speaks Out"

"Suzuki Conglomerate Establishes Their Own Charitable Foundation"

"Police Launch Official Investigation into Mahogany Advertising"

"The 'Eastern Canary' Now a Crooked Crone"

What... is happening?!

She staggered backward, her face drained of color.

"How could this happen?! Where did this evidence come from?! This doesn't make any sense!"

She clutched Inaba Kazuyo's sleeve in desperation.

"You—didn't we patch everything?! How could this information leak?!"

Inaba's own face had gone pale.

She, too, had received a share of the embezzled funds over the years. Seeing the words 'police investigation' sent ice through her spine.

Though the room was freezing cold, Beniko Suo was sweating through her designer coat.

The tiny black print on the newspapers swam before her eyes. Her mind buzzed with panic as she tried to focus, only to catch snippets accusing her of profiting from orphans under the guise of charity.

Her chest tightened. Her breath shortened.

Lies! These are malicious rumors!

What kind of monster would target an old woman like this?

But when she read through other papers and saw the solid evidence printed there — she knew:

She was finished.

Inaba Kazuyo's phone suddenly rang. Her face turned ghostly as she answered.

Without a word, she grabbed the TV remote and turned on the screen.

The news station had switched to a live press conference.

Standing before a crowd of cameras was the rock musician Aikawa Touya.

He faced the cameras solemnly, eyes blazing with hatred.

"I apologize for disturbing everyone. I am Aikawa Touya. Today's press conference has one purpose — to expose Beniko Suo as a murderer."

The crowd of reporters exploded in an uproar.

Shutters clicked. Flashes lit up the stage.

Beniko Suo sat frozen, staring at the screen, her mouth dry.

No… No… Not him…

She collapsed onto the floor.

Five years ago, Beniko Suo had committed a hit-and-run accident.

To escape accountability, she pinned the blame on her maid — then later, killed the maid and staged it as a suicide.

That maid had a son.

Aikawa Touya.

When… when did he find out?!

Beniko Suo shivered uncontrollably.

Touya's voice rang out again:

"I also accuse Beniko Suo of embezzling charity funds for years, and she—"

"Turn it off! TURN IT OFF!"

The old woman shrieked.

She lunged at Inaba to grab the remote. In the chaos, she accidentally changed the channel again.

Hayashi Yoshiki's Voice

"Following recent news surrounding Mahogany Promotions' alleged fraud, we are honored to welcome renowned mystery novelist Hayashi Yoshiki for an exclusive interview."

"Before bringing him on stage, let's play a recording from a phone call between him and Beniko Suo."

"Sorry, I'm not interested."

"As for the reason? I don't want you pocketing the money."

"Some people survive by abusing others' kindness for their own benefit."

"Bluffing only exposes your weakness, Ms. Beniko Suo."

"Now, please welcome Mr. Hayashi Yoshiki."

Beniko Suo stared at the television, her soul crumbling.

The world she built over decades — crumbling in seconds.

 

Chapter 139 - 139: You can't hold back your fucking itch, right?

A Farce.

From the bottom of his heart, Hayashi Yoshiki thought it was all just a farce.

After the scandal surrounding Beniko Suo and the collapse of Hongyan Advertising, all the negative press about him vanished overnight.

The newspaper that had initially driven the narrative issued a formal apology in response to a letter from Kisaki Eri's law office. Other major outlets quickly followed suit, now praising him with glowing language.

It was a perfect showcase of the media's ability to bend with the wind.

Thanks to this dramatic reversal, Hayashi Yoshiki's popularity soared even higher. Sales of his book exploded.

Especially that recording played on air just before his talk show appearance—the calm, composed tone, the subtle smile in his voice—left many viewers enamored. The line:

"Bluffing only shows your weakness, Ms. Beniko Suo."

...was clipped and shared endlessly. Girls across the country fell for the poised, intellectual charisma it exuded.

"The only downside is that I can't really go out anymore."

"Well, if you suddenly decided to become a celebrity, Yoshiki, you'd be topping charts instantly."

"...No thanks."

Hayashi Yoshiki, wearing a mask, let out an exasperated sigh.

Opposite him, Kisaki Eri and Mōri Ran smiled in sync.

He hadn't been to his detective agency in days—there were always fans and reporters lingering outside. He had started to consider hiring someone just to manage daily operations.

"Don't eat too many cold things, Ran," Eri reminded, glancing at her daughter spooning up ice cream.

"I don't eat it that often, Mom."

"Good. Otherwise, I'd be worried what might happen if that guy had to take care of you."

"I still owe Ran an ice cream," Hayashi Yoshiki added, laughing.

"You actually remembered that, Yoshiki-nii?"

"You didn't forget either, did you?"

"Well... this one's on Mom, so we'll settle it next time."

"Deal."

Seeing Ran's easy smile and natural nod, Eri couldn't help but smile warmly herself.

Watching the two get along gave her a sense of joy she couldn't quite explain.

News Update: Beniko Suo Released

At that moment, the cafe's corner television aired breaking news:

"According to reports, Beniko Suo, previously suspected in a hit-and-run and murder case, was released on bail at 3:00 p.m. today. She has returned to her residence. Investigations into Hongyan Advertising's fraudulent charity practices are still ongoing."

Hayashi Yoshiki paid the report no mind.

But elsewhere in Beika Town, several individuals reacted quite differently to the news.

Gin Watches From the Shadows

"Heh... she actually bailed herself out?"

"Are you going to kill her?"

"I don't need any of you."

Standing silently before the TV, Gin's dark green eyes stared at Beniko Suo's face on screen.

The Organization had finally raised a public figure—Cointreau—to mainstream prominence. And this insufferable old woman had nearly ruined it.

He couldn't let that stand.

Still... it wasn't a job for anyone else.

He would handle it personally.

But before he could act, someone else beat him to it.

The End of Beniko Suo

The once-elegant Beniko Suo was a shell of herself.

Within mere days, she had gone from polished socialite to haggard and hollow. Her hair, once neatly set, was now tangled and greasy. Her poise and pride had vanished.

"Madam Beniko."

Her long-time secretary, Inaba Kazuyo, entered the room.

"...What is it?"

Her tone was listless, detached. She barely registered the woman who had served her loyally for over a decade—and profited alongside her from years of corruption.

But as Kazuyo stepped closer, something glinted in her hand.

A knife.

"Wh-Why are you holding a knife? Kazuyo? What are you doing?!"

"Mr. Hayashi asked me to deliver his regards."

"What?!"

"He said he doesn't even remember minor characters like you. But since you sent him that invitation... and called him..."

Kazuyo's voice was calm. Hollow. Mechanical.

Beniko Suo felt pure terror surge up her spine.

But before she could scream—

Shlick.

The blade plunged into her chest.

"You—!"

"Though we've never met, I wish you a good night."

Kazuyo withdrew the knife, blood spraying across the room.

"Those were Mr. Hayashi's exact words."

Thud.

Beniko Suo's body hit the ground.

Kazuyo turned toward the door.

Outside, the sound of a lock turning echoed.

A middle-aged man with a gun stepped in, stunned by the scene.

But before he could lift the weapon—

Kazuyo drove the knife into her own chest.

Thunk.

She didn't stop there.

Over and over, she stabbed herself—blood flooding the room until her strength gave out and she crumpled next to her former boss.

As her vision dimmed, Kazuyo's eyes locked on the man standing frozen at the door.

Wide open. Unblinking.

The gunman stood trembling, unable to move.

Only after a long silence did he fumble for his phone and whisper:

"Gin-sama... the target is dead."

Gin narrowed his eyes.

The job was done. But the assassin's voice was shaky.

When the photos came through, Gin was silent for a long moment.

What kind of twisted game is Cointreau playing now...?

Controlling someone to murder, then self-destruct, and in such a horrifying manner?

Even the Organization's hardened operatives were rattled.

And besides...

Didn't I say we'd handle it? Can't you just stay still for once?

 

Chapter 140 - 140: Scorpion

The sleek black Lincoln sedan raced through the city streets.

At the invitation of Hattori Heiji, Hayashi Yoshiki found himself once again in Osaka—this time, at the behest of the Suzuki Group.

The journey had been smooth.

But as the car entered the gates of the Suzuki Museum of Modern Art, Yoshiki noticed the heightened security: SWAT officers in full gear were stationed at the entrance, while a swarm of Osaka police guarded the perimeter. Above, helicopters from the Osaka Prefectural Police circled in patrol.

"Here~! Yoshiki-nii!"

A cheerful voice called out as Yoshiki stepped from the vehicle.

He looked up to see Mōri Kogorō, Ran, and Sonoko Suzuki waving enthusiastically.

Yoshiki walked over.

Lowering their hands, Sonoko and Ran exchanged a laugh.

"Good morning, Uncle Mōri," Yoshiki greeted.

Mōri raised his hand in response, looking him over with approval.

"You're looking sharp today, Shu."

"Well, today calls for a more formal look."

Yoshiki chuckled, then turned to the two girls.

"So? Have you been enjoying yourselves these past few days?"

"Definitely! Osaka feels so different from Tokyo. The food here is amazing… It would've been even better if you'd had time to come with us, Yoshiki-nii!"

"Office work doesn't stop," Yoshiki replied with a helpless smile.

It was August—summer vacation. But unlike others, the trip for Mōri and his group, as well as Sonoko, had a specific purpose.

"Yoshiki-nii."

Conan greeted him politely.

Yoshiki nodded back. Meanwhile, Mōri glanced around the museum.

"With this kind of security, not even an ant could sneak through."

"Of course," Sonoko chimed in brightly. "After all, our opponent is Kaito Kid!"

Even though her family's treasure was the target, Sonoko wore a grin, seemingly thrilled by the situation.

"He's a phantom thief, a mysterious gentleman who can change his appearance at will. He's known for infiltrating the most secure vaults, no matter how tight the defense. He can even mimic his opponents' voices and gestures… This time, we've got a tough one."

A familiar young voice joined in.

Turning toward the sound, they saw a young man on a Kawasaki KLX250 with a girl riding pillion. As he removed his helmet, his dark complexion and sharp features immediately identified him.

"Hattori-kun?" Ran exclaimed in surprise.

"Hey! Good to see you all again!"Hattori Heiji smiled and approached.

"Hattori-san, would you come a little closer?"Yoshiki gestured to him.

"Huh? What for?"

As Heiji stepped up, Yoshiki grabbed his cheeks and gave them a hard pinch.

"Ow—what are you doing?!"

"Like you said, Kaito Kid's a master of disguise. But don't forget—he's also a narcissist."

Yoshiki smiled as he let go.

"You just gave him the perfect compliment with your dramatic speech."

"So… this proves I'm not him?"

"Maybe. But I'm starting to wonder if you're Kid in disguise."

"Come on!"

Heiji reached out to grab him in protest, but Yoshiki dodged it, grinning.

"Really?"

The Osakan detective scowled, clearly unsatisfied.

Yoshiki turned to Ran and Sonoko.

"Perhaps one of you would help confirm I'm not Kid?"

"Huh?"

"W-Would that really work…?"

While Ran hesitated, Sonoko's hand had already extended, her fingers lightly brushing against Yoshiki's cheek.

A flush of excitement bloomed across her face.

I'm touching Yoshiki Hayashi's actual face…!

It felt luxurious—no, sacred.

"Alright, Heiji, ease up,"Toyama Kazuha cut in with a smile, patting Heiji's shoulder.

She then turned to Sonoko and Ran, greeting them warmly—she had been their host during their visit to Osaka.

Into the Lion's Den

Together, the group entered the museum and took the elevator to the president's office.

Kaito Kid had set his sights on a treasure known as the "Egg of Memories", a prized heirloom of the Suzuki family. His warning letter had stirred the Osaka police into action, resulting in a full-scale special operation.

Shiro Suzuki, the family patriarch, had specifically invited Mōri Kogorō and Hayashi Yoshiki.

Amid tight security, they arrived at the top floor.

"Oh! Mr. Mōri, Mr. Yoshiki, thank you both for making the trip!"

Shiro Suzuki greeted them warmly, shaking hands with gusto.

He also welcomed Heiji and Kazuha, pleased to see additional talent on hand.

"Let me introduce the others in the room."

There were four more individuals seated inside.

Shiro began:

"This is Sergei Ovchinnikov, First Secretary of the Russian Embassy."

A burly man with light blond hair gave a courteous nod.

"Next, we have Mr. Qian Jiangyi, an art dealer."

A middle-aged Japanese man of mixed descent, sharp-eyed and hawk-nosed, stood silently.

"This is Mr. Ryu Sagawa, a freelance videographer who's requested to document the treasure exhibit."

A scruffy man with shoulder-length hair, camera in hand, leaned back casually.

"And finally, Scorpion, a Romanov dynasty historian."

She was the only one to rise from her seat.

"Hello,"she greeted in accented Chinese, offering a polite nod.

Yoshiki's smile didn't change, but his eyes sharpened with interest.

Behind the Smile

He wasn't captivated by her looks—but by who she truly was.

Scorpion was, in fact, a high-level contract killer wanted by Interpol, known by the codename: Scorpion.

Her trademark?

A precise shot to the right eye.

She had once sniped at Kaito Kid mid-glide in the night sky, and was skilled enough to aim directly at Conan's right eye with a pistol in dim conditions. In Yoshiki's mind, she was a high-tier third party—neither aligned with the Black Organization nor affiliated with law enforcement, but someone highly dangerous in her own right.

Her codename in English, "Scorpion", sparked another thought.

Could there be a connection between her... and the "Zoo" organization?