Chapter 44: Blood Boiling
The Corridor Outside the Restrooms - Beika Hotel
Conan looked around, completely unaware of the tall man in black approaching from behind.
Soon, the footsteps drew near, and before Conan could even register what was happening, it was too late—he'd already bumped face-first into something solid.
"Ouch!"
He was knocked to the ground, his rear end burning with pain, his glasses knocked askew, making him look quite disheveled.
Conan irritably adjusted his glasses. Although they were purely decorative, after wearing them for a while, he always felt oddly blind without them, as if he genuinely needed them to see.
"Are you alright?" Nakajima slipped the coat check ticket into his pocket, suppressing his elation, and forced a worried expression as he looked down at Conan.
The transaction was complete. Just moments ago, he and Tequila had exchanged claim tickets with perfect understanding. Now, the ticket in his hand was worth one hundred million yen—solid cash.
Conan grimaced for a long moment before finally managing to lift his head and glare at the culprit who had bumped into him.
He slowly raised his gaze, taking in black suit trousers, then a black suit and tie, and finally, the face of the tall man.
He appeared to be around forty years old, with a square face, a prominent chin, a bushy mustache, and a cold, intimidating gaze. He was also wearing a black fedora.
At first glance, Conan's heart skipped a beat—not with excitement, but with a jolt of recognition.
This man reminded him of the Black Organization.
Those two—the tall, thin one and the stocky one.
What really got under his skin was that guy named Gin. That bastard was the one who'd shrunk him.
"Kid, watch where you're going."
The man in black spoke curtly before walking away, completely unconcerned about having knocked down a child, even seeming slightly annoyed.
The sharp clatter of his shoes faded into the distance, and Conan finally snapped out of his daze.
"Are you okay?" Nakajima helped Conan to his feet.
Conan shook his head, turning to look in the direction the man had gone, lost in thought. "Uncle Nakajima, is that man in black also from Mantendo?"
Nakajima shook his head, calmly feigning ignorance. "No, I've never seen him before. He's probably from a competitor company."
Because of the press conference, not only game enthusiasts were present, but also reporters and representatives from other game development companies, so this explanation was perfectly reasonable.
Meanwhile
Natsukawa headed straight to the coat check after obtaining the claim ticket.
He'd deliberately tripped Conan because he was still annoyed by the boy's earlier suspicions—it was petty revenge for Conan's distrust.
While disguised as Tequila, Natsukawa couldn't do much to Conan, but that didn't mean he couldn't get back at him in small ways.
The press conference was in full swing, with everyone gathered at the main venue, leaving the lobby relatively quiet.
"How did it go?"
Natsukawa approached the coat check and handed the claim ticket to Franky, who was disguised as the attendant.
"I got rid of the real attendant temporarily. Oh, and the bombs are planted, and I found the list too."
Franky looked like he'd seen something disturbing. "That guy Takeshita seemed kind of timid, but I never expected him to have a bomb in his briefcase."
He breathed a sigh of relief and patted his chest. "Good thing you warned me to be careful."
Natsukawa nodded and continued, "Where's the list?"
"Here." Franky handed Natsukawa a small slip of paper. "All the bombs are planted. As soon as they open their briefcases when they get home—boom."
Franky clenched his fist, then opened it with a flourish, a smug smile on his face, as if he could already see the explosions.
"Oh, right, there's one bomb left over."
Because Takeshita's briefcase already contained a bomb, Franky hadn't opened it. The circumstances hadn't allowed him time to defuse it—even temporarily incapacitating the real attendant had taken considerable effort.
"Take this back for next time. I need to make a phone call."
He also needed to contact Vodka to maintain the cover.
Although they couldn't extract Vodka's phone number from Tequila's interrogation, Natsukawa had still managed to retrieve it from Tequila's communication equipment using technical means.
"Okay, be careful. Do you need backup?"
Natsukawa shook his head. "No need. The Organization is extremely cautious. I'm afraid you'll be spotted. You should head home and contact the IRS. Tequila's body needs to be disposed of as soon as possible."
Natsukawa turned and walked away.
This scene was witnessed by Conan, who had just emerged from the restroom.
Why is this man carrying a Mantendo briefcase when he's not an employee of Mantendo?
How suspicious!
Seeing the briefcase in the black-clad man's hand, Conan fell into deep thought, his eyes slowly narrowing.
Watching the man walk away, Conan deliberated for a long moment before deciding to follow him. This man was definitely suspicious—even if he wasn't a member of the Black Organization, he might be some kind of corporate spy.
The Hotel Lobby
In the lobby lounge of the Beika Hotel, Natsukawa walked to a public payphone, inserted coins, and dialed Vodka's number.
While waiting for the call to connect, he caught a glimpse of Conan sneaking up behind him in the reflection of the phone's metal surface.
However, he didn't react. This was how the original plot was supposed to unfold—he didn't need to avoid Conan. Letting events proceed naturally would be beneficial for uncovering more of the Organization's secrets.
He didn't want to disrupt the timeline too much. If the plot really spiraled out of control, his mission might fall through, and he didn't want to take that risk.
Therefore, after the call connected, Natsukawa deliberately raised his voice.
"Hello, it's me. Tequila."
His voice was an exact match for Tequila's, achieved without any props—he simply mimicked Tequila's voice through pure skill.
Compared to a certain detective who needed a voice-changing bow tie, this was undoubtedly much more elegant. At least he didn't need to wear what sometimes looked like a ridiculous accessory around his neck.
Natsukawa even replicated Tequila's distinctive Kansai accent.
"How did the mission go?"
Vodka's voice was somewhat muffled, sounding gruff and unintelligent. This was the first time Natsukawa had heard Vodka's actual voice.
"Vodka, tell Gin the mission is complete. I'll come find you next."
Just as he finished speaking, Natsukawa heard a sound behind him. Turning slightly, he saw that Conan's wallet had fallen to the ground.
Still too inexperienced.
The kid was so easily startled that his hands trembled. He had no proper detective composure at all.
He claimed to be a fan of Sherlock Holmes, yet Holmes would never make such an amateur mistake.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just some brat who dropped his wallet. See you tonight."
Click—the phone was hung up.
"Uncle, can you lift your foot? I think my coin rolled under there." Conan's innocent voice came from below.
"It's you again, you little pest. Sorry, but I have athlete's foot. Here, take this instead. Don't worry about the coin."
Saying this, Natsukawa pulled a ten-thousand-yen note from his wallet, tossed it on the ground like throwing scraps to a beggar, and even deliberately stepped on the bill before walking away.
Trying to plant a bug under my shoe? Dream on, kid!
Conan was completely bewildered. This wasn't how things were supposed to go!
Looking at Fukuzawa Yukichi's face on the ten-thousand-yen note, he reluctantly picked it up. Why not take it? But this man in black's thought process was utterly abnormal.
Even a normal person wouldn't just leave behind a ten-thousand-yen bill without even lifting their foot to let someone retrieve a coin.
And those codenames mentioned in the phone call—Gin and Vodka—weren't those the two who drugged me? It has to be them!
Conan's feelings were incredibly complex, a mixture of triumph and deep anxiety.
Triumph at finally finding a concrete clue to the Black Organization's activities. Anxiety because the memory of the pain he'd felt when shrinking resurfaced, making his chest tighten.
No, I have to pull myself together!
The next moment, Conan's eyes filled with unwavering determination, his blood pumping with renewed purpose. The lingering effects of his cold completely vanished, and he felt instantly revitalized.
However, Natsukawa wasn't going to wait for him to finish his internal monologue.
While Conan was mentally preparing himself, Natsukawa had already reached the exit, gotten into a taxi, and driven away.
Damn it!
Conan stood at the entrance of the Beika Hotel, filled with regret. He ran to the door just in time to inhale a mouthful of exhaust fumes, watching the taxi disappear around the corner.
He'd spent too much time thinking, letting this guy named Tequila get away.
Wait a minute!
He should go to the coat check and ask questions—maybe the attendant knew something.
Just now, when Tequila left, he seemed to have exchanged a few words with the attendant.
Although he hadn't heard the conversation, he'd seen their lips move. They must have discussed something that might give him a clue.
Conan quickly ran back to the coat check counter.
"Excuse me, was that guy in black an employee of Mantendo?"
Franky was about to leave when he heard the voice and glanced down at Conan, who wasn't much shorter than himself despite being a child.
This little detective really did show up, just like Natsukawa predicted.
That guy really is some kind of prophet.
(End of Chapter 44)