Ch. 241..250

Chapter 241 - 241: Cointreau Says No to Killing? What a Joke!

Hayashi Yoshiki spent nearly five days recovering before he was finally discharged and returned to Beika Town.

He took the train back alone.

Ran and the others had originally come to Osaka just for the weekend. But because of Yoshiki's condition, Ran took two additional days off, only returning to Beika once she confirmed he was well enough to travel.

After all, Conan had school.

"Don't do anything dangerous like that again. Do you know how worried I was when I heard you'd been hurt?"

It was Eri Kisaki who came to pick him up from the station.

As she scolded him during the ride, Hayashi Yoshiki could only nod obediently.

Only when he smiled and promised never to scare her like that again did Eri calm down a little.

"Did you tell Ran you were coming back?"

"Yes, I messaged her when I bought the ticket last night."

"Good. That girl was so worried about you."

As she turned right at the next intersection, she kept her eyes on the road.

Yoshiki smiled.

While he was hospitalized, Ran messaged him frequently. She was overjoyed when she heard he'd be discharged soon and returning to Mihua.

And it wasn't just her.

When Hakuba learned that Hayashi Yoshiki had been targeted by the killer, he felt incredibly guilty. He kept sending texts to check on him and had grown increasingly focused on tracking the murderer.

During those days, a certain dark-skinned young man also dropped by often—claiming to be helping care for the injured, but always pressing subtly for info about the case.

But Yoshiki remained tight-lipped.

"If I'd known this would happen, I should've ignored you and just dropped everything to come take care of you myself..."

"That really wasn't necessary. I could move around just fine, and the nurses were quite kind."

"You think I mean just for you?"

"...That's not what I meant."

Yoshiki fell silent, a bit flustered.

Eri Kisaki smiled at his slightly awkward expression.

Only then did she feel truly relieved. He really was okay.

"Let's have dinner with Ran and the others tonight. I'll make a reservation—it's time to celebrate your discharge!"

"Sounds great. But I should probably stick to lighter food for now," Yoshiki said, glancing at his immobilized right hand with a wry smile.

"Of course."

"...Though honestly, when I got off the train, I was secretly hoping Aunt Eri would bring me a nutritious McDonald's breakfast."

"Want me to book a reservation at McDonald's tomorrow morning?"

"Deal."

"Seriously—what's so good about that? It's just—"

Just Yoshiki being Yoshiki.

He laughed cheerfully.

As the car turned another corner and the road grew more complex, Eri focused on driving. Meanwhile, Yoshiki checked his phone.

He had received a message from Gin just after arriving at the station but hadn't had time to reply.

Gin: "The mission objective has been sent to your email."

Gin's messages lately were short and blunt.

Normally, Yoshiki would respond with something like "Okay" or "Got it."

But this time, he typed a different reply.

Cointreau: "Not this time."

Gin: "?"

Across town, Gin narrowed his eyes.

Cointreau refusing a kill?

Was this a joke?

Cointreau: "I'm injured. Doctor says I need rest."

Gin: "What happened?"

Cointreau: "I was hit by a car. There was also an explosion."

The chill in Gin's expression deepened.

He began typing with a cold glare.

Gin: "Who did it?"

Cointreau: "Myself."

"..."

The tension in Gin's shoulders vanished momentarily—replaced by confusion.

What the hell did Cointreau mean by that?

Before he could ask, another message arrived: a location, date, and time.

Without a word, Gin forwarded it to Vodka.

"Check it out."

"Got it, big brother."

Vodka quickly set to work. He used the organization's software to pull up surveillance footage from that time and location. Within ten minutes, he had all the necessary videos.

Gin opened them.

As he watched in silence, Vodka read along. After a long pause, he muttered:

"...Cointreau... is he sick or something?"

The accident and explosion in the video were clearly Cointreau's doing.

But why?

Was he just bored and looking for thrills?

Gin shot Vodka a glare and sighed.

There was no hope for his little brother's logic.

He pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it.

Gin figured Hayashi Yoshiki had orchestrated the whole thing for some purpose—possibly to embed himself deeper in the case.

But did he really have to go that far?

One mistake could've killed him.

Not that Gin cared much. With a flick of ash, he muttered:

"I'll assign the job to Cohen and the others."

And just like that, he dropped the matter.

Meanwhile, Hayashi Yoshiki deleted the entire message thread.

He might've turned down Gin's assignment—but he hadn't stopped using the Death Note.

After all, if people were dying while he was bedridden, that only helped him stay off the suspect list.

"Are you really okay moving around like that?" Eri glanced at his right hand.

"It's fine. Nothing serious."

"Ran told me you're always trying to accommodate everyone and never want to be a burden..."

As the traffic light turned red, Eri looked over with a warm gaze.

"But sometimes, people need to rely on others. There's no shame in it."

"...Okay."

She might seem stern, but Eri Kisaki was soft-hearted—just like Ran.

She simply didn't show it often.

"I cleaned up your place. Go rest for now. Dinner's later tonight."

"Thanks. I'm looking forward to it."

Then he added with a grin, "Could I trouble Aunt Eri for McDonald's breakfast tomorrow?"

"...You can ask Ran for things like that."

Eri laughed.

She'd made her meaning pretty clear: she wanted him to spend more time with Ran.

And Yoshiki understood that very well.

"But Ran has school tomorrow, doesn't she?"

"That girl won't mind."

"...I see."

Yoshiki looked out the window, thoughtful.

Speaking of Ran...

He was much more interested in what Conan knew about the serial killer who used "accidents" as a weapon. Hattori had been dropping hints nonstop during his hospital stay—so Conan must know something too.

 

 

Chapter 242 - 242: Victims and Internet Information

The inability to move his right hand freely had some impact—

but it was manageable.

Hayashi Yoshiki was at his computer, researching the Schindler Inc.

Schindler Inc. was a leader in the U.S. tech industry. Two years ago, it had effectively monopolized the American IT sector with its overwhelming strength. A photo of its chairman, Thomas Schindler, was easy to find online.

On-screen was the image of a middle-aged man in a crisp suit, hawk-like nose, and a stern, commanding expression. Yoshiki studied it quietly, his impression growing sharper as he dove deeper into related information.

[The "DNA Tracking System" developed by Schindler Inc. is nearing maturity.]

[Reports claim the system can trace an individual's ancestry using skin and blood samples, with an accuracy rate of up to 99.8%.]

[Thomas Schindler stated the technology would be one of the greatest inventions of the 20th century, with broad applications. If implemented globally, it could help solve longstanding missing persons cases and cold cases that have stumped authorities for decades.]

[Human understanding of DNA remains limited. This system could revolutionize that progress.]

It's still a bit early.

Sindorra Corporation had not yet revealed anything about their artificial intelligence projects, and the information surrounding researcher Hiroki Sawada remained tightly guarded.

If Hayashi Yoshiki wanted to use "Noah's Ark", simply controlling Thomas Schindler would not be enough. The only one who could truly operate and command Noah's Ark was its creator—Hiroki Sawada.

But as Yoshiki remembered clearly, Sawada had jumped from a rooftop mere moments after completing the system.

A true genius.

He had been only ten years old—and yet, in just two years, he developed complex systems like artificial intelligence and the DNA tracker.

If he had survived, the global tech landscape might have changed entirely.

But Hayashi Yoshiki had no regrets.

The world doesn't stop turning for the loss of one genius.

And if it came down to it, Hayashi would simply write Hiroki Sawada's name in the Death Note, and manipulate him into using Noah's Ark to extract the information he needed.

Karasuma Renya's hideout.

The true identity of the "Zoo Boss."

Rum's real name.

These were the answers Yoshiki wanted.

Noah's Ark could also be used to expose the names and faces of leaders in organizations like the FBI and CIA, but those benefits were less valuable. Unlike Karasuma Renya and the Zoo Boss, who ruled with absolute authority, the FBI and CIA were fractured with internal factions. Their agents had minds of their own.

(If Karasuma Renya were de-aged by APTX4869... could the Death Note still control him?)

It was a chilling question.

But few were qualified to answer it—very few people even lived to be 120.

There had been a priestess on Mermaid Island who claimed to be 130, but that turned out to be a hoax. She had long since turned to ashes.

As Yoshiki considered all this, a notification appeared on the bottom-right of his screen.

The task force was calling.

He clicked to accept.

A video window popped up showing the inside of the task force's office. Nearly twenty police officers filled the space, with Toshiro Odagiri seated prominently.

"What did you find, everyone?"

Yoshiki's voice came through the mic.

Immediately, a cyber unit officer raised his hand.

"Yes, Consultant! It's about what you asked us last time—we've been investigating whether any victim information had surfaced online. We found something!"

"Go ahead."

"Based on the names of the victims collected so far, we conducted a nationwide search across Japanese websites. It turns out that several victims were mentioned online shortly before their deaths."

The officer's tone carried excitement.

After all, they'd finally found something—anything—that could be linked to the killer.

[Four days before the death of Takuya Takamoto—who was run over on the night of July 28—an anonymous post from a local IP said:

"Takuya Takamoto is a bastard! I gave him money yesterday and he's still bullying me!"

"The girl next door said she almost couldn't go home because of him."

"I swear, I wanna kill him."]

[A similar situation occurred with Keisuke Uetsuji, who died on May 3 after a billboard fell on him. A local chatroom user had written a week prior that Uetsuji was known for bullying and harassing women.]

[And more…]

Several of the victims had been publicly exposed as scumbags online just before their deaths.

But it was all fake.

The truth was that Vodka had created those posts under Hayashi Yoshiki's orders—using his hacking skills to break into forums and chatrooms, manipulating the server data to backdate the posts.

For someone like Vodka, fabricating a digital paper trail was child's play.

"Can we identify who made the posts?"

"Yes. We've traced the IPs and identified the users. We can bring them in for questioning anytime."

"...Then I'll leave that to the investigation team. Thank you for your hard work."

Of course, those "users" had been pre-arranged as part of the ruse.

"Consultant, do you believe the killer might be selecting targets through the internet?"

Toshiro Odagiri leaned toward the screen, his expression grim.

"...I can't say for sure," Yoshiki replied, his face calm behind the screen, but his voice laced with quiet intensity.

"But I believe it's highly probable."

Behind the screen, Hayashi Yoshiki smiled.

"Judging from the incident in Osaka, it's possible the murderer has accomplices... but it's still strange to think someone would shoot wildly into a crowded street just to execute a few social 'scum'."

"Compared to investigating victims in person, using online data would be far easier—and less risky."

"That said, we don't have conclusive proof yet."

"All reasonable suspicions should be investigated—but suspicion is not the same as truth."

"Can we continue monitoring this kind of information online?"

"If the killer is using the internet to choose victims, we might be able to catch him in the act."

 

Chapter 243 - 243: I Know You Are Worried About Me, Ai-chan, and That Makes Me Happy

"Ai-chan, are we going home now?"

"No... I have something to do."

"What is it?"

"Yeah, come play with us again!"

"...Sorry, I'm not in a good mood today. See you tomorrow."

Without answering the children's questions, Ai Haibara, schoolbag slung over her shoulder, turned and walked away.

It was afternoon—school had just ended at Teitan Elementary.

She headed alone to Mihua's Second Apartment and took the elevator to the floor mentioned in the text message.

Ai Haibara pressed the doorbell to Hayashi Yoshiki's apartment.

Click—

The door opened shortly after.

Hayashi Yoshiki stood in casual clothes, his right arm bandaged and fixed in a sling.

Haibara's expression tensed.

"Come in," Yoshiki said softly with a smile.

She stepped inside, and he moved toward the living room, pouring her a glass of water.

"What's up? You suddenly said you wanted to see me."

"That's exactly what I want to ask you."

Haibara didn't sit down. She walked straight over and stared at his right arm, her face unusually serious—almost grim.

"If Edogawa hadn't mentioned it in passing, I wouldn't have even known you were hospitalized due to an explosion."

"I told you at the cinema, remember? I said I don't want you hiding anything from me."

"...Liar."

Her small voice carried a sharp chill.

"...But I don't recall agreeing to that."

"You didn't deny it either, so I'm counting that as consent."

"That's... a bit unfair."

Yoshiki gave a soft smile and reflexively lifted his hand to pat her head—

—but winced and lowered it again. His right arm couldn't take the strain.

Haibara noticed.

He didn't try with his left hand either.

After a moment of silence, she muttered in a restrained tone:

"...Why do you always do such dangerous things?"

"Yeah... why indeed?"

Yoshiki didn't seem to have an answer himself.

Looking at his calm face, that familiar gentle smile, Ai felt a quiet frustration swell in her chest.

That idiot... that idiot Cointreau.

She'd gotten the full story from Conan Edogawa.

He'd mentioned it casually at first, but when Haibara heard that Hayashi Yoshiki had been hospitalized for several days, she couldn't sit still. She came straight to his place to find out what had happened.

Conan told her everything:

After being hit by a car, Yoshiki—despite his injuries—had tried to rescue the driver. He reached into the wreck, with a fractured arm no less... and was thrown by the explosion.

Why would someone from "that organization" do something like that?

She clenched her small fists in frustration.

Why does he still act like a decent person when he clearly doesn't care about some of the victims anymore?

Seeing her so upset, Yoshiki couldn't help but smile. He raised his left hand and placed it gently on her head.

A steady, warm hand.

He softly ruffled her hair and said quietly, "I just didn't want you to worry."

"...Then don't do it again."

"I'll try."

It was a vague, evasive promise.

But it was still gentle enough to quiet her.

She knew she couldn't change him.

But he'd saved her—and her sister.

She couldn't just ignore that. Even so, the helplessness was suffocating.

She held his hand on her head and looked up at him.

"Close-range exposure to an explosion usually causes internal injuries—especially to the chest or abdomen. It's often invisible but rapidly worsening. What did your medical report say?"

"Extremely serious. All my organs are in danger."

"...Liar."

"You saw through that, huh?"

"..."

"Thank you. I know you're worried about me, Ai-chan. And that makes me very happy."

He said this with a small, genuine smile and rubbed her head a bit more affectionately.

Haibara, still frowning moments before, softened slightly.

Now that her worry was eased, she finally looked around.

The apartment was exactly as expected from someone like Hayashi Yoshiki—clean, minimal, and orderly.

"Did you clean this place yourself?"

"Normally, yes. But with my hand injured, sometimes Ran or Aunt Eri drop by to help."

He chuckled.

"So, were you here just to check on me?"

"...I guess so. Oh, right—I've developed an antidote for APTX4869."

Her expression brightened as she moved into her element.

"To be precise, it's a temporary antidote. It can briefly restore someone who's been shrunk by the drug to their original size."

Even if Pisco hadn't forced her to drink alcohol during a cold to regain her body size, she would've still developed it eventually.

Yoshiki raised an eyebrow.

"...Impressive. Is it only effective for those who took APTX4869?"

"Of course. It only works on shrunken individuals. I haven't tested it thoroughly yet."

"I see."

Now that was interesting. Very interesting.

What would happen if someone took APTX4869 and the antidote simultaneously?

Would the effects cancel out? Would it destabilize the body—or even accelerate death?

Yoshiki couldn't help but want to find out.

"In that case, I've got good news."

"What?"

"I have a small amount of APTX4869."

"!"

Haibara froze in shock.

Her mind connected the dots instantly.

"Wait... the theft at the research institute—!"

"Shhh."

Yoshiki smiled and raised a finger to his lips.

Haibara went silent.

"Will that help with your research?"

"...Somewhat. But even if I had the finished drug, reverse-engineering it would be incredibly difficult."

"Still, if it helps you, that's what matters."

She said nothing.

After a moment of thought, she decided her priority would be on refining the temporary antidote. As for the APTX4869 itself, leaving it with Cointreau didn't seem like a bad idea.

"By the way, Edogawa's been really concerned. He even asked Professor Agasa to investigate the accident."

"Is that so?"

Yoshiki continued to smile.

He wasn't sure whether Kudo Yusaku would catch wind of that investigation through Professor Agasa. That guy had one of the lowest IQs in the original story anyway.

But it didn't matter—even if he did.

After all, Hayashi Yoshiki had already made plenty of preparations.

 

 

Chapter 244 - 244: I Have Done Something Wrong and I Want to Turn Myself In

Distal radius fractures typically take months to heal.

But Hayashi Yoshiki had the bandages and support removed in just under three weeks.

"Still... it's not ready for weight training."

Yoshiki tried clenching his fist. There was slight weakness, but nothing that would interfere with writing.

"At this rate, you'll be fully recovered soon," said Seiran Hoshi, standing nearby with a towel.

"I'm not rushing anything."

Yoshiki's voice was calm.

He finished the last set of exercises, put down the dumbbell in his left hand, and pushed back his damp bangs with bony fingers.

Even such a small movement changed the mood—his soft features gained sharpness, and his gentle demeanor shifted into something more intense.

Seiran quickly stepped forward and wiped his face.

Yoshiki had resumed physical training the moment his doctor allowed it.

There's something clarifying about a good sweat, he thought.

As he reviewed his recent plans mentally and confirmed nothing had been overlooked, he quietly thanked Seiran Hoshi and stepped into the bathroom.

Steam quickly filled the space as the hot water ran over him.

Yesterday, Vodka had sent confirmation: everything had been handled.

Their team had traced the anonymous posters using the fake IPs—but predictably, found nothing of value.

Yoshiki had long ago hypnotized people close to the deceased into believing they were the ones who posted those messages—ensuring layers of plausible deniability before Vodka had even acted.

Usurping the spider's ability was the smartest move I ever made.

He had no regrets about stealing that power—if it served his goals, he took it without hesitation.

Drip, drip...

The sound of water hitting tile echoed softly.

Then—

the faint sound of the front door opening.

Yoshiki didn't look back.

Pu Siqinglan's voice came from behind him:

"Please, let me help you."

Her tone was calm—deliberately so.

Yoshiki glanced over.

She was wearing a nearly transparent bathrobe. Through the fabric, her skin and figure were barely obscured. If the robe got wet, there'd be nothing left to the imagination.

Yoshiki smiled gently.

"Thank you, Miss Seiran."

"I... I'm sorry..."

She stepped closer.

As she neared him, her breathing grew shallow. She parted her lips slightly, gaze fixed on his face.

His body had mostly recovered.

A dark scar remained across his right shoulder and chest—from Izu. But it didn't detract from his appearance. If anything, it gave him a rough edge.

"Miss Seiran."

"...Yes?"

"You look adorable right now."

The steam had reddened her face even more.

She was beautiful, vulnerable, mature in all the right ways.

But just as their skin nearly touched, Yoshiki spoke again:

"Sorry. I have something important to do later."

Silence.

"...I see."

Disappointment laced her voice.

Yoshiki said nothing further.

He let her assist him, got dressed, and left the private gym.

His next stop: Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.

Toshiro Odagiri greeted him at the entrance.

"Are you certain it was an accident?"

"...Yes."

Odagiri's voice was low, his expression sharp.

"I'm sure it was him. No doubt about it."

"Then we may be one step closer to the murderer."

They didn't speak much on the way in.

The investigation office was, as always, dull.

About twenty officers filled the room. Some sat in front of computers gathering intel. Others pored over reports or discussed leads over coffee.

"Minister."

"Minister."

As soon as Odagiri entered, the officers saluted him.

"Kaneyuki, is the report ready?" he asked.

"Yes, Minister."

The officer stood and began reading:

"The deceased, Demachi Daisora, left his home at 1:17 a.m. and rode his motorcycle to the bar district to sell drugs. In route, the front wheel swerved unexpectedly, causing him to fall and hit several cooking oil containers that had fallen from a passing truck. The oil ignited from a lighter in his jacket pocket. Although nearby officers tried to extinguish the flames and brought him to the hospital, he died from severe burn-related infections."

"The motorcycle and road conditions were inspected. No abnormalities were found. The truck driver was questioned and released—nothing suspicious there either."

"Of note: two days before Demachi's death, an anonymous online post alleged he had been selling drugs to college students in his neighborhood. We assigned officers to track him immediately, but during that time, no suspicious contact or behavior was observed."

"End of report."

Silence.

Yoshiki stared at the files in front of him, deeply focused.

"No suspicious contact... yet he died so precisely..."

He thought about it for a long time.

Eventually, even the other officers grew restless in the stifling quiet.

Yoshiki finally gave a soft, resigned smile.

"I can't think of any method unless the killer exposes himself. At this point... it's like dealing with superpowers."

"...Superpowers?" Odagiri frowned.

"Yes. And this makes the third case like this."

"Another scumbag exposed online, dead a few days later in a supposed 'accident.'"

"Including earlier cases, even with conservative estimates, I'd say there's a 75% chance the killer uses online information to choose victims."

"We should assign more people to the cyber division."

"Also, if similar posts appear online, I suggest deleting them as soon as possible."

The officers fell silent, taking his words seriously.

Odagiri folded his arms.

"Can we trace the IPs of the readers of those posts?"

"We can, but it may result in too many data points."

"Try cross-referencing readers across multiple posts. It's unlikely the killer would be that sloppy, but it's still a lead worth checking."

"Understood."

A young officer raised his hand.

"If the killer really is using the internet, won't deleting posts enrage him? Could we provoke him?"

Yoshiki paused.

Then:

"It's possible... but unlikely."

"From what little I've sensed—especially from the crossroads incident—this killer is extremely arrogant. He enjoys toying with us."

"If he gets angry just because we block his posts... he's not the elite predator he wants us to think he is."

"Besides, he can still use old posts. There are plenty of records of bullying and scumbags in Japan."

"Still... his targets have all had fresh exposure before they died."

No one contradicted him.

Odagiri nodded in agreement.

"All the victims so far were criminals or lowlifes. Even the celebrity and Consultant Hayashi were clearly test cases—he never intended to kill them."

"If he really believes in punishing evil... then let him prove it."

Yoshiki looked at Odagiri.

He's bolder than I thought.

Odagiri was taking a risk—if the killer lashed out, he would be blamed.

But the plan was set.

And Yoshiki had nothing more to add.

After the meeting, Yoshiki walked alone toward the building's rear entrance.

"Hey, Brother Hayashi?"

Megure Juzo, from Division 1, spotted him.

"Good afternoon, Officer Megure."

"What brings you here?"

"I've done something wrong... and I want to turn myself in."

"What!?"

Megure's outburst drew stares from nearby officers.

Embarrassed, he leaned in and whispered:

"What did you do?"

"Played a joke on the police."

"..."

Megure stared blankly as Yoshiki flashed him a bright smile.

"I'm serious!"

"Counselor, I brought your coffee."

Another familiar voice cut in.

Megure turned to see Odagiri Toshiro, face as unreadable as ever.

"Sir!"

"Everything going smoothly with the recent cases?"

"Yes, sir. No issues."

Sensing the minister had business with Yoshiki, Megure stepped aside.

Wait... did he just call him 'consultant'?

He'd heard about the special task force, but hadn't been involved.

All he knew was that it dealt with a string of "accidental deaths."

"Thank you for assisting the task force. Just... be more careful next time."

"Understood, Minister."

"...About the killer—"

Odagiri began to speak, then hesitated.

"No, never mind."

Yoshiki was surprised but said nothing.

What was he about to say? Maybe... that he planned to use criminals as bait?

From what Yoshiki had seen, Odagiri was ruthless. He probably wanted Demachi dead. But Japan rarely handed out death sentences.

In the end, though, Odagiri held back.

 

Chapter 245 - 245: The Rules Say You Can’t Call the Police, But They Don’t Say You Can’t Look for Terrorists

A white van full of passengers cruised slowly along the highway.

The vehicle was old, underpowered, and lagging behind every other car—so much so that even freight trucks were overtaking it with ease.

"Damn it, we got passed again!"

Kogoro Mouri, gripping the steering wheel, grumbled irritably.

From the back seat, Conan cracked open one eye and muttered,

"If you're going to rent a car, rent a decent one."

"Tch. That's what I thought."

"We should've taken the train."

More voices chimed in from the back, complaints echoing about the van's sluggish pace and cramped seating.

Finally, Kogoro snapped:

"Don't blame me! The client insisted I bring everyone, so I had to rent a van that could fit this many people!"

"Just bear with it. We'll be fine once we arrive," said Hayashi Yoshiki, smiling calmly.

He sat in the middle of the back row, flanked by Conan on one side and Haibara Ai on the other.

A few days earlier, both Yoshiki and Mouri had received a letter of authorization with a generous check enclosed. The letter stated the date and location of the job.

A wealthy client. Very wealthy.

"By the way," Yoshiki said, "Didn't you win a sports car recently, Uncle Mouri?"

He was referring to the car Kogoro had won at the Twin Tower Skyscraper.

"Yeah, it's parked near the office. But it guzzles gas like crazy, and I can't really use a sports car for my work. I'm thinking of selling it."

Ran, sitting in the front passenger seat, turned around with a smile.

"A wise decision," Yoshiki nodded, still smiling as he gently rotated his right wrist.

Ran noticed and frowned slightly.

"Is your hand healing properly, Yoshiki?"

"It's mostly fine. But I was up typing late last night for the new book… it's a little sore today."

"Don't push yourself too hard."

"I know."

"So you're starting a new book?"

Conan perked up with interest.

Yoshiki nodded—but just as he let go of his wrist, a pair of small hands gently took it.

Haibara Ai was checking it, pressing softly around the joint.

"After a distal radius fracture, functional rehab must be gradual. Overworking it can lead to aseptic inflammation. You'll feel pain every time it rains."

"Got it. I'll be careful."

Yoshiki chuckled and patted her head lightly.

Haibara Ai said nothing, her expression unreadable.

Just behind them, Ayumi Yoshida peeked over the seat with a pout, enviously watching Haibara and thinking how nice it would be to trade seats with Conan.

After over an hour of driving, they finally arrived at their destination:

A luxurious hotel at the entrance to Fantasy Land, a theme park in Yokohama.

The kids looked up and gasped.

"Woooah!!!"

"It looks just like a castle!"

"Does a king live here?"

Their excitement was genuine and infectious.

A bespectacled man appeared at the entrance with the hotel doorman.

"Are you Detective Mouri and Detective Hayashi? I'm the client's secretary, Takada. Please follow me."

They were led to a massive suite—lavishly furnished, more like a private banquet hall with panoramic views of the theme park.

The centerpiece was a long table, curiously out of place.

Hotel staff soon rolled in a cart carrying several watch-like devices.

"These are ID watches," Takada explained. "They'll allow the children to enjoy the entire park for free while Mr. Hayashi and Mr. Mouri work on the case. Food and drinks are also covered."

The kids immediately strapped them on in excitement.

"Is the client the hotel owner?" Kogoro asked.

"No, just a long-term tenant of this suite."

"Must be loaded..."

"Please be careful. If the ID is lost, it cannot be reissued."

Yoshiki took off his own watch and slipped on the ID. It displayed the time: 9:12 AM.

As the kids prepared to head out, Conan moved to join them, but Takada stopped him.

"I'm sorry. You'll need to stay."

Everyone looked confused.

"He's the 100,000th guest," Takada explained with a smile.

While the others accepted the explanation, Conan narrowed his eyes.

He glanced at Yoshiki, who raised an eyebrow knowingly.

Once Ran left with the others, Takada locked the suite door and drew the curtains.

"Per the client's instructions, no interruptions."

He gestured to the fireplace, which flickered to life.

A screen activated, revealing a man in a burgundy bathrobe, seated in a dimly lit room filled with monitors. His face remained obscured.

"Thank you for coming. I'm the client.

Please forgive the secrecy. I can't appear in person.

I have a case for you—but first, some ground rules."

He explained that he'd already hired four other detectives.

"One is still investigating. Two were fired. One failed completely... and was punished."

He played footage of that fourth detective—Aaron—in a cell.

They watched, horrified, as the man's ID exploded, killing him instantly. The flames engulfed the room and destroyed the camera.

"An incompetent detective has no right to live."

The screen shifted back to the client.

"That was C4.

The IDs you're wearing contain the same explosive.

So do the children's."

"What!?"

"Sensors are also embedded. If a child leaves the park, their ID detonates."

Conan and Mouri glared murderously at the screen.

Takada, meanwhile, stood nearby—nervously silent.

"Mr. Takada seems awfully comfortable with all this," Yoshiki said, coldly.

"...What? No, I—"

"Whether or not you know the client's identity, you're complicit in kidnapping and attempted murder."

Takada's smile faltered.

"You bastard!"

Kogoro lunged forward, grabbing Takada by the collar.

"Take us to the client right now!"

"I can't! I really don't know where he is!"

"I'm watching you," the client said calmly. "The ID is GPS-enabled. You can't call the police."

"But solve the case by 10 PM, and I'll defuse all the IDs and give you any reward you want."

"Listen carefully. You get one clue:

TAKA... '3 minus 8' is -5. Combine all digits and you get 385. Let's check Takashima 3-chome 8 first."

Conan and Yoshiki instantly jotted it down.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Mouri barked.

"Any questions?"

"I do," Yoshiki said, rising.

He flexed his wrist and looked toward the screen.

"If we solve the case, we report back here?"

"Correct."

"Mr. Takada will escort us again?"

"Correct."

Yoshiki smiled brightly and walked over to Takada.

"Then if I fail to solve the case... I'll come back under the guise of reporting and bring you with me into the explosion."

Sweat poured from Takada's forehead.

The client ended the call.

Takada handed over two mobile phones.

"You can't call the client. He'll call you when needed. Call me when you have the answer."

Mouri handed one phone to Yoshiki.

"Let's go."

"I thought you were going to throw him over your shoulder."

"I'll get my chance!"

They rushed outside and got in the van.

It was now 10:30 AM. They had less than 12 hours left.

"Conan, contact Ran. Tell her they must not leave the park, no matter what.

Uncle Mouri—do we have a map?"

"Here."

Conan called Haibara. Mouri handed over a map.

One glance, and Yoshiki pointed.

"Takashima Town. That's our first stop."

"Already cracked the code?"

"Most likely. The hint's too vague unless it refers to a location.

TAKA... '3 minus 8' is -5. Combine all digits and you get 385. Let's check Takashima 3-chome 8 first."

Yoshiki opened his black phone and glanced at Conan in the rearview mirror.

Then, he scrolled through his contacts.

He selected: Vermouth.

"The rules say we can't call the police... but they didn't say anything about asking terrorists for help."

And if her precious angel—Conan Edogawa—was in danger, Vermouth would surely take action.

That's the true value of the client, Ito Suehiko.

If not for this one-use utility, Yoshiki would've had Shimizu Reiko eliminate him long ago.

Elsewhere, in a high-rise Tokyo apartment...

Sunlight filtered through expensive curtains.

A stunning woman stretched as she woke—Vermouth.

Her phone buzzed.

She read the message. Her eyes widened.

Cointreau: "Can you come to Yokohama? I need to speak with you—urgently."

"Huh...?"

He hates me. Why is he texting so early in the morning...?

She frowned and replied with her perfectly manicured fingers:

"I'm free. What's this about?"

Cointreau: "I'll explain in person. ASAP."

She paused.

Then smirked, eyes gleaming.

Interesting.

She grabbed her clothes and headed for the bathroom.

 

 

Chapter 246 - 246: It’s a Bit Strange, Kudo-san

Following the client's cryptic clue, the three arrived at a small, abandoned hotel tucked away at the edge of Takashima Town.

Kogoro Mouri parked the van in the dusty courtyard.

"Are you sure this rundown place has anything to do with the case?" he asked, squinting at the peeling facade.

"Well, the client's hint led us here," Hayashi Yoshiki replied, adjusting the ID wristband uncomfortably.

After years of wearing watches, switching to a device strapped awkwardly to his arm felt unnatural.

Conan, watching from the side, reminded him:

"Careful. The client said tampering with it could set off the bomb."

"I know," Yoshiki said with a small smile.

He had just received a text from Vermouth—she was on her way to Yokohama. Yoshiki glanced at the time and estimated they could meet around noon.

As the three approached the front door, Kogoro Mouri grumbled,

"You know, Yoshiki and I are more than enough to handle this. Why would the client ask for a little kid like you to come along?"

"Maybe he thinks I'm awesome?" Conan replied in a mock-cheerful voice—but inwardly, he felt uneasy.

A normal client wouldn't involve a child in a case like this… unless he knows who I really am.

Conan's gaze flicked toward Hayashi Yoshiki.

Unlike the bumbling Mouri, Yoshiki couldn't be fooled so easily.

If Hattori's hunch is right, maybe… Hayashi has known all along.

They began searching the dilapidated building.

Suddenly, a middle-aged homeless man appeared from one of the rooms and approached them.

"Excuse me, has anything strange happened around here recently?" Yoshiki asked politely.

"Strange?" the man blinked. "Well, a big white bird flew in once—right across the sun. That was on my birthday, April 4th."

He pointed to the yard. "Also, early that morning, a brand-new car was parked out there. Some real estate guy came and locked the basement. By evening, the car was gone—replaced by a busted-up wreck that got stripped overnight. Now there's nothing left but a rusted frame."

"Thank you," Yoshiki said, bowing.

After the man wandered off, Yoshiki turned to Conan.

"I'll check the basement."

"I'll come with you, Yoshiki-nii!"

"All right."

They left Mouri to inspect the upper floors while they descended into the basement—pitch black and heavy with dust and mildew.

Yoshiki led the way, flashlight in hand, footsteps echoing on the cracked floor.

Once they were far enough from Mouri, Conan spoke:

"Brother Yoshiki..."

"Hm?"

"...Don't you think this is strange?"

"Strange?"

"The client specifically asked me to stay behind."

Yoshiki stopped walking.

He turned, flashlight illuminating Conan's face—his usual childlike composure nowhere to be seen.

In that moment, Yoshiki understood.

Conan wasn't just suspicious—he was testing the waters.

It would've been insulting to play dumb.

Yoshiki exhaled slowly.

"It is a bit strange… Kudo-san."

Conan's eyes widened—then, to his own surprise, he felt relief.

He had held the secret inside for so long—afraid, cautious, always pretending. To know Yoshiki had already known, and had kept that secret safe, gave him an unexpected comfort.

"When did you find out?"

"I forgot," Yoshiki said honestly. "It was a long time ago… and I'm not great with dates."

That's right... he has time disorientation, Conan recalled.

"But you left too many clues. Not just your behavior—but the timing of your arrival, those 'jokes' by Yusaku and Yukiko, and photos of you as a kid at Ran's place—same face, same everything."

He smiled faintly.

"If you hadn't wanted to be found out, I wouldn't have said anything."

"...That many, huh..."

Conan scratched his cheek, sweating a little.

"So," Yoshiki added casually, "why not explain how you ended up like this? I've always been curious."

Conan didn't hesitate. He gave him the full story—the drug APTX4869, the Black Organization, and the circumstances of his transformation.

Yoshiki listened carefully. But when Conan finished, he fell silent.

Conan felt nervous again.

"...Did I say something wrong?"

Yoshiki stared at him in the dim light, expression unreadable.

Then he said, quietly:

"Honestly... I want to punish you right now, Kudo-san."

Conan stiffened.

"You've been staying at Mouri's house.

Have you ever thought about the danger you've brought to Uncle Mouri and Ran?"

"I..."

Conan opened his mouth—but couldn't defend himself.

He lowered his head.

"...I know."

"You think staying hidden is enough? If the Organization finds you, they'll shoot Ran or Kogoro before they even ask questions."

"...I know."

The image haunted him.

The barrel of a gun.

Ran collapsing.

Mouri lying still on the floor.

Yoshiki was right.

"Now isn't the time to argue. Right now, everyone's lives are at risk."

Yoshiki turned away, focusing the flashlight on the locked door ahead.

Conan followed silently.

But the unease in his heart lingered.

"That client... he might know my identity."

"Most likely," Yoshiki said. "Though there is one alternative."

"What is it?"

"He's blind. Can't see you—but still knows you're Kudo Shinichi."

"...That's... far-fetched."

Conan sighed. "I can't count on luck."

Yoshiki didn't argue.

Instead, he said:

"Either way… I won't let anything happen to Ran and the others."

His voice was low—but resolute.

In that dark, rotting hotel basement, surrounded by danger and secrecy, Conan Edogawa knew one thing for certain:

Hayashi Yoshiki was not just a detective. He was a protector.

 

 

Chapter 247 - 247: Address

Using his small frame, Conan climbed through the ventilation duct into the locked basement and discovered a package inside.

Inside were:

A hood and gloves,

A handgun,

And a receipt from a car rental agency, dated April 4th.

The date immediately recalled what the homeless man had said earlier—about seeing a large white bird and a mysterious vehicle swap.

"So the new car was swapped out here... I get it!" Kogoro Mouri exclaimed.

"The suspect changed cars and made their escape!"

"But what exactly did the person wearing this gear—and carrying a pistol—do?" he continued.

"If we can figure out what happened here on April 4th, we'll crack the case!"

Kogoro slung the package over his shoulder and stepped outside.

But just as he approached the entrance, he spotted four or five suspicious men surrounding the rental car—and one of them was holding a gun.

His expression changed instantly.

"In this case, Conan—you've gotta run out to draw their attention. Yoshiki and I will dash to the car and rescue you!"

"Huh?! They're armed!"

"Don't worry. Even if they're criminals, they won't shoot a kid!"

"...!"

Conan wanted to sock the old man—hard—but knowing there was no time to argue, he gritted his teeth and made a break for it.

As expected, the men chased him. Kogoro seized the moment and dashed toward the car.

Seeing Hayashi Yoshiki walking unhurriedly, he shouted:

"Yoshiki, hurry up! Why are you so slow?!"

But Yoshiki calmly raised his right hand, pulled out his phone with the left, and said:

"Wait a moment, officers."

One of the men growled,

"You're under arrest! Whatever you've got to say, say it at the station!"

Two of the men stepped forward with handcuffs—but before they could reach him, a familiar voice came through the phone:

"What's going on, Consultant?"

"Sorry to trouble you, Chief Odagiri," Yoshiki said. "There's a small misunderstanding with some of your officers."

He quickly explained the situation.

The armed men were actually plainclothes officers, stationed there since early morning in anticipation of a rumored Kaito Kid heist. Seeing a suspicious vehicle approach, they moved in to investigate.

Thanks to Toshiro Odagiri's swift intervention, the misunderstanding was cleared before things escalated.

Kogoro, rubbing his twisted shoulder, restarted the car. As they drove off, he glanced sideways at Yoshiki in disbelief.

"When did you get Chief Odagiri to answer your calls that fast?"

He knew Odagiri's reputation well—strict, even with family.

To see Yoshiki casually call him and get help like this was stunning.

"It's complicated," Yoshiki said, brushing it off.

Conan, listening quietly, already knew the answer.

He had overheard the hospital conversation between Yoshiki and Odagiri via a bug.

He's a special advisor to a task force… and probably knows more than anyone else.

They barely exited the neighborhood when the client's phone call came in.

"So," the distorted voice said, "what did you find?"

After they reported the contents of the package, the client gave his next cryptic clue:

"An open-air café at night."

"You should know where to go."

Then, the call ended.

"What a pain," Yoshiki muttered, pulling out his phone and opening his contacts.

Conan looked over.

"Who are you calling?"

"Ms. Soda and Mr. Mogi," Yoshiki replied.

"Didn't the client say he hired them too?"

He was referring to Soda Ikumi and Mogi Harufumi, two famous detectives they had worked with during the Sunset Mannor case.

"But didn't they already—" Kogoro began.

"It won't be that easy to take those two out…" Yoshiki replied, just as his call connected.

A sharp, professional female voice answered:

"You called me first? That's a surprise, Mr. Hayashi."

"So you and Mogi-san are still alive."

"...You've been contacted by that lunatic client too?"

"That's right. What's your situation?"

"We disarmed the bomb watches and went into hiding. Mogi and I are currently trying to trace his location and catch him off guard."

Then she added, half-jokingly:

"So, you're still wearing the explosive watch? Want us to help you out?"

Yoshiki's expression darkened.

"We're not the only ones. He's taken hostages—children."

There was a pause.

"…I see," Ikumi Soda said, her tone now serious.

"In that case, I'd like to share what we've found. Compensation isn't important—what matters is stopping him."

"Appreciated," Yoshiki replied. "Let's meet in person."

"Send me a time and place."

Yoshiki ended the call.

Both Conan and Kogoro were visibly relieved. Any extra info could save lives.

"Here's the plan," Yoshiki said. "We'll split up. I'll meet with Soda-san and see what she's found. Uncle Mouri, Conan—you two head for the carriage road."

"Carriage road?"

Conan immediately explained:

"'Café Terrace at Night' is a Van Gogh painting from 1888. It depicts a gaslit café with a horse-drawn carriage passing by at dusk."

"So, the clue must point to Japan's first gaslit carriage road," Yoshiki concluded.

"Wow, the client's even more pretentious than I thought."

"Drop me off at the next intersection," he added.

"Got it."

Mouri parked near the curb.

Yoshiki stepped out and checked his watch—still thirty minutes until noon.

Just then, Soda Ikumi sent the meeting location.

 

 

Chapter 248 - 248: A Favor for Vermouth

The meeting place was a not-so-conspicuous Western restaurant, and there were even fewer customers at lunchtime.

Hayashi Yoshiki walked directly to the corner.

"Long time no see, Mr. Hayashi."

Haneda Yumi sat casually at the table, smiling at the man as he took his seat.

"Impressive," she said. "Your disguise rivals Kaito Kid's."

"But I hear you often see through Kaito Kid's disguises," she added with a smirk, reaching up and removing the face mask to reveal long, golden hair.

Hayashi Yoshiki didn't answer directly. He glanced at the waiter nearby and asked calmly:

"You're taking off your disguise here? Aren't you worried about attracting attention?"

"If we're going to talk about something important, I wouldn't risk just meeting anywhere."

Vermouth lit a cigarette slowly.

From her tone, Hayashi Yoshiki knew immediately: this place was also under the Organization's surveillance.

"So what you texted me earlier… it's true?"

Vermouth's eyes moved to the Fantasy Paradise ID strapped to Hayashi Yoshiki's wrist.

"This thing is packed with C4?"

"Yes. If it goes off, it'll level half the restaurant."

"Geez. Dangerous man to share a meal with."

Vermouth joked lightly, but her tone remained relaxed.

"So, what do you want me to do? Find someone to get this thing off you?"

"Not just me."

Hayashi Yoshiki looked at her seriously.

"The people around me have all been taken hostage in Fantasy Paradise. If their watches aren't disarmed by 10 p.m.—or if they try to leave the park—those bombs will go off."

Vermouth's heart sank.

He had explained part of the situation to her a couple of hours earlier, setting up this act so she could leave discreetly. She already knew that both Hayashi Yoshiki and Kogoro Mouri were wearing the explosive-laced IDs.

But now, Ran was clearly among those in danger.

Just thinking about that girl carrying a bomb on her wrist made Vermouth uneasy. But she couldn't show it.

"Why not ask Gin or the others for help?"

Yoshiki didn't answer.

That silence was telling.

She immediately realized she had asked something foolish. Cointreau had once warned her personally not to use the people around him to test him. And he had clearly never told Gin about his "weakness."

That's why he came to me instead...

Cointreau really does care about the people around him...

This was the second—no, third time Vermouth had been able to confirm this.

Maybe, just like her, he had been drawn in by the warm light of that girl.

If so... they were natural allies within the Organization.

"I can help," she said, leaning forward slightly. "But what do you want in return?"

"Whatever."

His calm tone made Vermouth blink. She raised her eyebrows.

"You could've asked for anything... so long as I help you protect Ran and the others?"

"Exactly."

Seeing the seriousness in his face, Vermouth felt a strange warmth stir inside her. She smiled slowly.

"Of course, I'll also keep this between us."

"Thought about your price? Want me to let you into the Intelligence Division?"

"No." Vermouth shook her head. "I'm not Rum's subordinate, so I don't have to care what he thinks. Just consider this... a favor you owe me."

Then, quite deliberately, she added with a smirk:

"By the way, when I brought up the people close to you that time... that wasn't really my idea."

Sorry, Rum. Please take the fall for me.

She laughed inside.

After all, it's not like Cointreau was going to ask Rum directly to verify it.

Too bad Hayashi Yoshiki wasn't buying it.

He knew that statement from Vermouth back then had been a test. Rum wouldn't waste time with something so indirect.

Still, the fact that she was trying to pin the blame on someone else... it told him a lot.

She was giving way.

She wanted to get closer.

"I see."

Hayashi Yoshiki held back a smile.

Just as expected.

From the lesson he gave her in the beginning... to the Twin Towers incident when he saved Ran... and now showing weakness like this—he had carefully constructed an image Vermouth would inevitably respond to.

And though he now owed her a favor, offering that debt willingly was the first step toward building a stronger alliance.

Vermouth could become a powerful tool... when the time came.

"I'll have someone in the Organization hack your client's network. Once we access their system, we'll remove the explosive trigger from your ID bands."

"Good. But be careful. The guy's a tech expert. Don't let him spot you."

It wasn't going to be easy.

Even though he was blind, Ito Suehiko had proven incredibly sharp. He'd monitored their movements through street surveillance cameras and had somehow deduced Conan's identity via a fingerprint left on a car seat.

Clearly, he had access to public cameras and possibly even police databases—all without being caught.

"Relax."

If Ran's life was on the line, Vermouth wasn't taking any risks.

In fact, this kind of job would be easy for the Organization's tech team. They had previously embedded viruses into floppy disks, and even top-tier hackers like Hiroki Sawada or Hara Yuuji hadn't known they'd been compromised.

Ito Suehiko may be clever, but he's just one man.

"That's all for now. I have to go."

Hayashi Yoshiki stood up. He clearly had no intention of staying for lunch.

Seeing that, Vermouth also stood. She reached into her bag and pulled out the Haneda Yumi mask she'd worn earlier. Within seconds, she was back in disguise.

"See you next time, Mr. Hayashi."

She extended her hand and smiled with Yumi's bright voice.

Hayashi Yoshiki shook it, his eyes sharp and calculating.

They had reached an understanding.

After watching him leave the restaurant, Vermouth exited more slowly and slipped into her car.

Once seated, she opened her contact list and dialed one of her secure numbers.

She had no intention of wasting time.

She would make sure Ran's bomb was disarmed as soon as possible.

 

 

Chapter 249 - 249: That Loser—Why Is He So Useless?

"What?! You told the little guy your identity?"

Walking through the campus of Yokohama Marine University, Hattori Heiji sounded genuinely shocked.

He couldn't help but glance at Conan, who walked beside him with his hands behind his head, looking a bit sheepish.

"I couldn't help it," Conan muttered. "If I didn't bring it up at that moment, it would've felt like I was treating Hayashi Yoshiki like an idiot… I really couldn't stand that feeling, so I ended up testing him a little."

"And?"

"Then he just straight-up called me Kudo-san. According to him, he figured it out a long time ago."

"…I told you so," Hattori said with a smirk. "If even I could see through it, there's no way someone as sharp as him wouldn't."

"I think you calling me 'Kudo' in front of him didn't help. I probably gave myself away because of that."

"Hey! That's your own fault for pretending to be a kid but not acting like one!"

The two bickered as they walked.

After a while, their conversation turned to the incident involving Hayashi Yoshiki.

"You mentioned that shootout in Osaka. One of the gunmen escaped thanks to some incredible 'accident,' right?"

"Yeah," Hattori nodded. "We think one of the groups involved might be linked to the Organization—the same one that shrank you. That's what we both figured at the time."

"Then this isn't just someone else's problem," Conan said, eyes sharpening. "Once this is over, I'm going to talk to Hayashi Yoshiki. I want to know what he knows."

"Be sure to tell me what you find out."

"Don't worry, I will."

Following the clues, they arrived at the school bulletin board. As they examined the postings, they unexpectedly ran into Hakuba Saguru.

As the three of them chatted and began discussing the university's Criminology Research Club, Conan was clearly preoccupied.

"By the way, Hakuba," Conan said suddenly, "what do you know about that case with the serial 'accidental' killer?"

"Huh?" Hakuba blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"You know something, don't you?" Hattori asked, crossing his arms with confidence.

—Hayashi Yoshiki had mentioned Hakuba Saguru while in the hospital, saying he might also be in danger. That alone suggested Hakuba was in the loop. Even Conan remembered that during the Sunset Manor case, Hakuba had a private conversation with Hayashi Yoshiki—possibly about the killer who manipulated "accidents."

But the "Hakuba" in front of them wasn't Hakuba Saguru at all.

It was Kuroba Kaito.

He had disguised himself as Hakuba to infiltrate the circle around Hayashi Yoshiki and learn the truth. But now he was cornered by these two sharp-eyed detectives.

"…A killer who uses accidents?" Kaito repeated, stalling. His mind worked rapidly.

So that guy, Hayashi Yoshiki… got tangled up in something like that too? he thought, eyebrows knitting with concern.

He'd have to question him later. Alone.

14:38 PM

Hayashi Yoshiki received a text from Vermouth.

She had successfully severed the connection between the explosive-laden ID bracelets and Ito Suehiko.

Cointreau: "OK."

Vermouth: "Should I disguise myself as a park staffer to collect the IDs? Even if they're deactivated, they're still bombs, after all."

Cointreau: "No need. I've already arranged it."

Vermouth: "Whatever you say."

Hayashi Yoshiki put away his phone.

There was no need for Vermouth to appear again, especially not when Haibara Ai might be watching. He already had plans to send a message to Megure Juzo, requesting the bomb disposal team quietly collect the IDs under the guise of a staff procedure.

Then he muttered to himself:

"Well then, Ito Suehiko's no longer of use. Time to clean him up."

"Ehhhhhhhh~?"

A lazy, flirtatious voice came from the woman nearby.

With her hands braced against the hotel room wardrobe, Shimizu Reiko pouted as she wriggled her hips in playful protest.

"Come on, can't you give it a bit more time, Mr. Hayashi?"

"If we delay any further, those desperate detectives might start getting suspicious," Yoshiki replied calmly. "Even if we erased all traces, they can't be underestimated."

He walked over and gently cupped Reiko's face. His fingertips brushed her cheek, lifting her chin. Her cat-like gaze was half-lidded with intoxicated adoration.

"I don't want anything to happen to someone as important to me as you. Do you understand?"

"…You actually called me important, Mr. Hayashi~?"

"It's true. You're a good woman, Reiko."

"I see~"

Her voice softened into a sultry murmur as she melted under his touch—but inwardly, she was furious at Ito Suehiko.

That pathetic loser… couldn't even hold out for two more hours?!

If he hadn't been so obvious about his interest in her at school, she wouldn't have had to clean up his mess… again.

After Yoshiki went to freshen up, he exited the hotel room first and made a call.

"Mr. Takada," he said, "I'm heading back now. Please inform the client."

"…You're ready to report your findings?" Takada sounded surprised.

"Yes. Please let him know."

Hayashi Yoshiki hung up and glanced at the time on his ID bracelet. It matched precisely with the conditions written in the Death Note.

I don't step into danger lightly. Not without preparation.

Shortly afterward, his phone rang again.

Ito Suehiko.

"I hear you're coming to report the results, Mr. Hayashi?"

"That's right."

"…Your ID shows you've been at a nearby hotel all day. Can that really be called an investigation?" Suehiko paused. "Still, I've placed my hopes in you. If you're confident in the answer you've found, then come. But remember—you only get one chance to report it."

"That's all I'll need."

 

 

Chapter 250 - 250: There Are No Rules or Morals, Only Power and Ability

Escorted by his secretary Takada, Hayashi Yoshiki returned to the top-floor suite of the hotel at the entrance of Fantasy Park.

"Thank you for your hard work, Detective Hayashi. The client has been waiting for you for a long time."

"OK, thanks."

Takada was a little surprised to hear Hayashi Yoshiki being so polite.

Hayashi Yoshiki was just too lazy to express emotion to the dead.

He walked straight into the living room. Behind him, Takada pulled a remote from his pocket and pressed the power button. The screen above the fireplace lit up.

Ito Suehiko appeared once more, still seated, facing forward in a stiff and eerie posture.

"Mr. Hayashi has returned."

Takada's voice echoed quietly.

"The deadline I set was 10 p.m. It's just past 3 p.m. Are you confident you've uncovered the truth I wanted?"

"You asked us to investigate the armored car robbery on Bashamichi on April 4th and the linked shooting of Masaharu Nishio. But that was only the surface—"

Hayashi paused.

"What you really wanted was information about Shimizu Reiko, wasn't it?"

That name caused the tiniest flicker of reaction from the man on the screen.

"...As expected of a famous detective known for his terrifying efficiency. My expectations were not in vain."

"If it's not too much trouble, Mr. Ito... let's speak face to face."

Ito said nothing.

But the screen in front of Hayashi Yoshiki went dark. Moments later, a bookshelf slid open with a heavy, mechanical rumble, revealing a hidden passage.

Takada, adjusting his glasses, didn't react at all. He'd clearly known from the beginning.

Hayashi Yoshiki stepped toward the passageway—

And at that exact moment, the suite door behind him slammed open.

Takada turned in shock just in time to see Reiko Shimizu, beautiful and lethal, raise a pistol at him.

Before she could pull the trigger, Takada suddenly clutched his chest, staggered, and collapsed.

"...?"

Reiko froze.

But after a quick check, she realized: he was dead. Truly dead.

Mr. Hayashi... you took care of it already?

The timing—perfect. The method—invisible. Just one second before she had pulled the trigger.

Unquestioning of Hayashi Yoshiki's godlike capabilities, Reiko stepped past the body and followed him into the hidden room.

Inside, Ito Suehiko sat with his back to them, staring into a blinding screen.

"Sorry. I can't turn around."

"I won't live much longer. I hired so many detectives hoping one of them would give me clarity... Tell me what you found."

"What you should really care about is Shimizu Reiko."

"...You're right."

Ito Suehiko didn't care about the truth.

He already knew it. He was the perpetrator.

"Reiko vanished a month ago. I tried everything but couldn't find her. If it's you, Mr. Hayashi, I'm sure you—"

"I'm touched, Ito. You still care about me in this state."

Ito's head whipped slightly toward the familiar voice.

"Reiko?"

He was stunned. His voice trembled with hope.

But Reiko Shimizu walked past him without a glance, resting herself against Hayashi Yoshiki's arm.

"You handled it yourself, Mr. Hayashi? Afraid I wouldn't do it cleanly enough?"

"If you'd fired in the living room, the cleanup would've been a pain."

"Wha... What?"

Ito's voice broke. The conversation was bizarre. He couldn't grasp it.

"Reiko, you and Detective Hayashi...?"

Reiko smiled, twirled her gun flirtatiously, and cooed:

"That's right~ I'm Mr. Hayashi's adorable little puppy now~ Woof woof~"

But Ito, blind and facing the wrong direction, could not see the expression behind her voice.

His mouth opened—but no words came out.

This can't be happening. Reiko, so docile? Reiko, obeying another man?

Then what was I, who committed murder and robbery for her? A clown? A fool?

His mind raced, confused and panicked.

"It's almost time to wrap things up, Reiko."

"Okay~"

With the sweetest smile, Reiko raised the pistol and approached.

"If you're angry, Ito, be angry at your own incompetence. You're so boring. So useless. Even Nishio was the same—just a brute."

"Compared to Mr. Hayashi? You were uncivilized monkeys trying to play chess with a god."

Click.

She loaded the gun.

Ito, perhaps sensing the barrel aimed at his head, let out a furious scream:

"You bastard! YOU BASTARD!!!"

"HAYASHI YOSHIKI!!!"

"You're a fraud! A monster pretending to be a detective—!"

"...And what does that have to do with me being a detective?"

Hayashi Yoshiki's tone was ice.

And in that moment, Ito Suehiko fell silent.

"From the very beginning, the world has had no rules or morals—only power and ability."

"It's just that you couldn't see the truth."

"I live among the masses. I am labeled a detective. So what? Just because of that label, I must be righteous?"

"Don't make me laugh."

"Habitual thinking is the greatest accomplice to my success."

"...I've said this before."

"Life is a game. The winner takes everything. The loser becomes part of the rubble."

"Your crime... is utterly worthless."

Without a glance, Hayashi Yoshiki removed his bomb-laced ID watch and tossed it into the center of the room.

Ito shuddered.

This man... this being... was not human.

He was a monster in a detective's skin.

And finally—

Bang.

Reiko Shimizu pulled the trigger.

Ito Suehiko collapsed.

Hayashi Yoshiki picked up the discarded ID and calmly put it back on.

"We still have thirty minutes before detonation. Reiko, move Takada's body into the room."

"Okay~"

Using the bombs—not just the one in the ID, but all the explosives under Ito Suehiko's control now bound by the Death Note—the room would be annihilated.

"Wipe my gun. Leave it with Ito."

"Understood."

Hayashi Yoshiki dialed Megure.

"Officer Megure, there will be an explosion on the Red Castle Hotel's top floor in twenty minutes!"

"What!?"

"I'm heading to evacuate the guests now! Also, the IDs on Ran and the others are safe to remove."

"Got it! I'll dispatch officers immediately!"

Hayashi Yoshiki hung up before Megure could reply.

Shimizu Reiko slipped away in the chaos.

And then—

BOOM!

The suite erupted in flames. The dark room was vaporized.

Megure Juzo arrived at the scene, astonished.

"Brother Hayashi, what happened?!"

"The client shot himself after revealing the truth, but started a bomb countdown before that."

"Was it Ito Suehiko?"

"Yes. And Takada, his secretary, was assigned by Soichiro Miyama from Miyama Trading Co."

"...You suspect Fukayama's behind this?"

"Highly likely."

Police investigations yielded no surprises. Hayashi Yoshiki had covered everything.

Even Ito Suehiko had followed the Death Note instructions to the letter.

In the police station, Conan and Hattori arrived.

"Is it over!?"

"The bombs are defused. Everyone's safe."

Kogoro Mori collapsed in relief.

Conan and Heiji looked at Hayashi Yoshiki—calm, cold, and unshakably in control.

"What was he trying to make us investigate, really?"

"...To be honest, I still don't fully know."

"Huh?"

"His death felt more like a burial... for the secrets of Soichiro Miyama."

Hayashi Yoshiki had written Miyama's death into the Death Note as well.

And now, all that remained was to wait.

Back at Fantasy Park, the group reunited.

"Brother Yoshiki!"

"You're back!"

"We played all day!"

"But it was weird... a staff member came and swapped our ID bands."

Hayashi Yoshiki smiled warmly.

But his attention shifted—

Haibara Ai stood still, head low, face pale with unease.

Something was wrong.