The exhibition hall named Hell seemed to transform into a real hell at that moment.
A man's agonized screams echoed through the dark hall, while the thick scent of blood filled the air. Even though Jiang Hang had prepared himself mentally, witnessing the scene with his own eyes still made him uncomfortable.
In his line of sight stood the killer—clad in full armor, holding a sword stained with blood, looking like a medieval knight.
In front of him lay another man, collapsed on the ground. A horrific wound ran across his back, clearly caused by a heavy slash from the blade.
If the attacker had struck slightly harder earlier, the man would likely have died instantly rather than still having the strength to scream for help. But as blood continued pouring from the wound, his cries grew weaker and weaker.
Surrounded by the dim, oppressive atmosphere of the hall, the scene strangely did not feel out of place.
When the injured man noticed Jiang Hang suddenly rushing in, his eyes lit up as if he had seen a savior.
"Save me! Please save me! I'll give you as much money as you want!"
Jiang Hang stopped two or three meters away from the armored killer.
He carried no weapons.
He wasn't some legendary weapon master, nor a martial arts expert. With only basic combat skills, he could probably evade attacks using his speed—but defeating a heavily armored killer wielding a sword would be extremely difficult.
The killer clearly hadn't expected a visitor to burst in at this moment.
He stared at Jiang Hang in surprise, his gaze unfocused behind the helmet.
"Stop," Jiang Hang said calmly.
"It's not too late yet. Things haven't reached the point of no return."
Jiang Hang didn't know the history between the two men.
Still, hearing the wounded man try to buy his life with money in such a desperate moment made Jiang Hang frown slightly.
But no matter what—
It was still a human life.
The man lying on the floor immediately seized the opportunity.
Tears streaming down his face, he begged the armored figure.
"Director Ochiai! I know what you want! I agree to everything! I won't demolish the museum! I won't sell the artwork! Please spare me! I won't tell anyone about today!"
Hearing his name spoken aloud, the man inside the armor hesitated.
His sword trembled slightly as he looked at Jiang Hang.
But in the end, he slowly shook his head.
For the first time, his voice came from inside the armor.
It was the voice of an old man—tired, hollow, as if all his strength had already been drained and only his final will kept him standing.
"You think you can deceive me again?"
"This isn't the first time…"
"Do you know what kind of resolve it took for me to do this?"
"To destroy a demon… one must become a demon."
"And that… is my resolve."
His gaze shifted to Jiang Hang.
"I'm sorry, young man… that you had to witness this."
Jiang Hang had already sensed something was wrong when the old man spoke.
When he saw the bloodstained sword rise again toward the wounded man, Jiang Hang tried to move—
But it was too late.
The blade fell.
Blood splattered across the cold armor.
The man on the ground lost his life.
After delivering that final strike, the armored figure seemed to lose all strength.
The sword slipped from his hand. He staggered backward, then collapsed onto the floor as if the energy had drained from his body.
Jiang Hang watched the entire scene unfold.
His throat tightened, but no words came out.
It was the first time someone had died in front of him like this.
Yet strangely, he didn't feel nauseous.
Perhaps it was because of the overwhelming determination the killer had shown at the very end.
After a long silence, Jiang Hang slowly walked toward the corpse.
Perhaps earlier the man might have been saved.
Now there was no breath left in him.
Jiang Hang turned to the killer sitting nearby.
Maybe the old man originally had a plan to escape punishment.
But because Jiang Hang had appeared—and because the victim had called out his name—it seemed he had abandoned any thought of fleeing.
He simply sat there quietly, staring at the body.
"Was there really no other path?" Jiang Hang asked.
The armored man responded by slowly removing his helmet.
An elderly face was revealed.
It was hard to imagine that someone of such advanced age could still wear such heavy armor and wield a sword with deadly force.
"I have been the director of the Beika Art Museum since the days of the economic bubble," the old man said calmly.
"In fact, I joined this museum when it was first established. Altogether… it's been nearly fifty years."
"This museum may not contain priceless treasures, but most of the beautiful memories of my life exist within these halls… and within these artworks."
Director Ochiai spoke quietly, with no attempt to justify himself.
That final strike seemed to have burned away everything he had left.
"I know the museum's situation. The original owner faced financial difficulties, and selling the museum was unavoidable."
"When someone offered to take it over, I was actually happy."
"But this man deceived us."
"Before purchasing the museum, he promised he would continue operating it and even restore it to its former glory."
"But not long after buying it, he revealed his true intentions."
"He planned to demolish the museum and turn the land into a hotel."
"He even intended to package and sell every piece of artwork inside."
"I could never accept that."
A trace of relief appeared in the old man's eyes.
"I've already seen through his nature. His greed cannot be changed."
"Once I struck that first blow, the outcome was already decided."
"His promises just now were only to save his own life."
"If he survived, he would not only take revenge on me… he would also destroy this museum and the artworks because of me."
"I couldn't stop anymore."
He sighed deeply and looked at Jiang Hang.
"This will appear in the news, won't it?"
Jiang Hang nodded.
"Visitors who once came to see this museum will probably feel sad when they hear about it."
But what was even sadder was this—
If today's incident had never happened, most of those visitors might never have known the museum was going to be demolished.
And once the hotel replaced it in a few years…
Only nearby residents might remember that a museum once stood here.
Jiang Hang didn't say those words.
They would have been too cruel.
"This is my fault…" Director Ochiai said quietly.
"But I have already made my decision."
"Even if I become a demon, I will not regret it."
"Young man… may I know your name?"
Jiang Hang remained silent for a moment.
Then he answered solemnly.
"Jiang Hang. Just an ordinary detective."
"You already know the consequences of what you've done."
"There's nothing more I need to say."
Deep down, Jiang Hang understood the old man.
When the killer raised his sword earlier, Jiang Hang might have had a small chance to intervene—even if he risked injury.
But he didn't.
Director Ochiai had placed everything into that final strike.
Even if Jiang Hang had stopped him, the old man might have immediately killed both Jiang Hang and the victim…
Or taken his own life right there.
If Conan Edogawa had been in this situation, he would probably have tried to save everyone with everything he had.
But Jiang Hang couldn't do that.
At least—not when facing someone like Director Ochiai.
He would not help the old man escape his crime.
All he could do now was sit with him at the crime scene and wait for the police to arrive.
What happened afterward…
That would be the law's responsibility.
"Jiang Hang… a detective?" Director Ochiai suddenly laughed loudly.
His laughter sounded strangely carefree.
"How interesting."
"A detective and a criminal… standing together like this."
"It's the perfect piece of art."
"I will remember you, Mr. Jiang Hang."
His gaze drifted toward a painting hanging nearby.
Jiang Hang followed his line of sight.
The painting depicted a hero drenched in blood, walking away after defeating a demon.
"If demons appear in the world," Director Ochiai said slowly,
"then heroes will inevitably rise to destroy them."
"But in doing so… the hero who stains himself with the demon's blood eventually becomes a demon as well."
"That painting is called Divine Punishment."
"Quite ironic, isn't it?"
"My original plan was for him to die like the demon in that painting."
"But now… it seems that will never happen."
The word demon appeared repeatedly in his explanation.
Perhaps the painting had influenced his thinking.
Director Ochiai looked back at Jiang Hang and studied his face carefully, as if committing it to memory.
"If you ever become a great detective…"
"And someone wants to write your autobiography…"
"Even though I'm just an insignificant murderer… don't forget to include me."
Jiang Hang understood the hidden meaning behind those words.
The dragon slayer eventually becomes the dragon.
A detective who constantly walks along the edge of the law may someday fall into darkness himself.
And a detective like that…
Would never have anyone writing his autobiography.
Perhaps the old man had already sensed something about Jiang Hang.
Jiang Hang nodded.
"I promise."
If that day ever came, he would bring his autobiography to the old man—
Whether the old man was in prison…
Or no longer alive.
After all, Jiang Hang was nothing more than an assassin wearing the mask of a detective.
To dwell in darkness while serving the light sounded romantic.
But if possible—
Jiang Hang wanted to walk under the light…
While still being able to hide in the darkness when necessary.
And somehow—
That felt even more romantic.