The bold killer, right in the middle of the party, stabbed the president of the planning company behind this cruise event with a kitchen knife—right there among the crowd.
Now everyone on the ship was a suspect. Detective Mouri Kogoro faced the tough problem of narrowing it down. He knew the killer was aboard, but with over 400 passengers, finding the suspect was near impossible.
Everyone had entered the ballroom at some point, coming and going, yet nobody noticed the victim was already dead.
At Conan's urging, the Detective Boys began their own investigation. But the chefs told them no knives had gone missing. That meant the weapon had been brought from outside the ship, which meant anyone could be the killer.
Vermouth suspected the real suspects were from the same company, but a detective couldn't jump to conclusions without proof. As it stood, the four people from the planning company showed no obvious signs of suspicion. Conan hadn't found anything either. That left the killer hidden in the crowd.
Conan kept turning over the victim, the killer, and the environment in his mind.
But this case was like driving in fog. He could see headlights, but had no idea what kind of car was coming toward him. Everything was hazy and confusing. He needed one critical clue to piece it all together.
The killer had struck the victim with precision in the middle of the crowd, then slipped away, using the partygoers as cover. And luck was on the killer's side. At a masquerade ball, with everyone happy and dressed in strange outfits, nobody noticed the man with a knife in his chest was actually dead. They all assumed it was part of his costume.
It was a clever trick to delay the discovery of the body, without relying on traps or elaborate tricks—just a subtle use of the environment.
And the killer's luck ran even deeper. If someone hadn't slipped in the victim's blood, his death might have gone unnoticed even longer. It was almost as if the heavens themselves were helping the murderer.
But even if he had to fight heaven itself, Conan swore he would catch the killer.
Mouri pushed forward with the investigation. "Mrs. Watanabe, my condolences. But since the crime has already happened, can you tell us who organized this party?"
Vermouth perked up. Who exactly was this 'Erguotou'?
Mrs. Watanabe dabbed at her tears and stammered, "I don't know. That person was dressed in a spotless white suit and wore sunglasses. I couldn't see his face. He only called himself Erguotou. But he was very generous. He directly gave our company 1 million dollars as funding, wired straight into the company account."
"1 million dollars?!" Even Sonoko blanched. That was a fortune—just for a party? Renting a cruise ship, decorations, everything included—at most it should cost 200,000 or 300,000 dollars.
Mouri was even more stunned. He usually risked his life solving cases for the rich, and at best he got a few million yen. "Didn't think the planning business could be this profitable…" He nearly considered changing careers on the spot.
But the tall young man, Taichi, explained, "It's not always like this. We were surprised too. This is the first time we've ever had such a generous client. Normally people haggle over every detail. Mouri-san, are you suggesting the host is the killer?"
It was a suspicion, but why would someone spend 1 million dollars to host a party, only to kill? And kill a stranger at that?
Vermouth thought differently. Erguotou couldn't be from the Organization. Their members always wore black. A white suit didn't fit their style. And besides, the Organization didn't have such a huge budget. This was way too extravagant.
Look at Gin and Vodka, driving that antique junk car around Japan every day, wearing the same clothes for a thousand years, picking trade spots like amusement parks or game expos—you could tell they were short on funds. The money they handled was the Organization's, not their own. To skim even a little would mean betrayal, and betrayal meant death.
So even Organization members lived like paupers. But there was no helping it. Research burned through money, and if you looked at Batman's setup, it was clear—you couldn't play without cash. Since the Organization wanted to play, money had to be spent, and that money came from trades Gin and his crew pulled off, handed over to the higher-ups. Gin never saw a cut.
Gin was a good worker. He wasn't greedy. But if you wanted to blow 1 million dollars on an event, you'd still need the boss's approval.
That was why Vermouth found it reasonable to believe Erguotou wasn't from the Organization.
A mysterious host. Conan kept thinking, his eyes scanning the scene. The first crime scene was always where the most clues gathered.
Clues—he needed clues. How did the knife get onto the ship? Who brought it? If he could answer that, everything would be clear. But with the masquerade guests carrying every kind of prop under the sun, spotting a real knife was almost impossible.
Sonoko and Ran carried brooms. The zombie horde had baseball bats, fake fire axes, all kinds of props. A real knife could slip by without notice.
There was a smear in the blood on the floor—the spot where the woman had slipped and discovered the body.
Wait. What was that in the blood? Conan's eyes sharpened. He'd spotted something unusual. Not blood, but a fiber—synthetic, black.
But what item had it come from? Conan frowned, puzzled.
No clue.
"Conan, what's wrong with him?" Genta muttered in confusion.
Haibara knew Conan had hit a wall. This case was indeed tough. The killer hadn't followed any pattern and left behind almost nothing, giving the detective no trail to follow.
Everyone had been through the ballroom. But some people recalled seeing the victim already sitting there about 20 minutes after the party started. Nobody paid attention at the time, assuming he was just drunk.
So far, not a single suspect. They didn't even know who had smuggled the weapon aboard. Mouri Kogoro was more frustrated than Conan. "So many people, and nobody saw the killer?! Damn it, the killer's luck is way too good."
As the detectives sank deeper into the maze, a figure in white stepped softly across the deck, bathed in moonlight, moving silently toward the bridge.
Kaitou Kid had arrived. But plans couldn't keep up with reality. He'd wanted to give Haibara a live masterclass in thieving, but instead a murderer had appeared, and a case so tricky even Conan was struggling with it. Kid knew Conan would eventually catch the culprit, but by then it would be too late. The captain had already called the patrol, and soon the coast guard would arrive. If that happened, Kid wouldn't get his chance to make an appearance.
So tonight, Kaitou Kid decided he would steal the detective's unsolved mystery. He would reveal the killer, then vanish. Either way, it still counted as stealing something.