Chapter 327: Venti
"Speaking of which..." Natsume tapped her chin, a sudden memory surfacing amidst the casual chatter. She shifted her gaze toward Ran and Conan, her eyes gleaming with innocent curiosity. "Ran, you mentioned before that when Sonoko was getting her fortune told, you and Conan joined in. Mona said back then that Conan would meet someone related to 'alcohol'."
Natsume leaned forward slightly, looking down at the bespectacled boy to seek confirmation. "So, Conan, you must have run into someone connected to alcohol afterward, right? Mona's divinations are always incredibly accurate."
Alcohol.
The word struck a harsh, discordant chord in Toru Amuro's mind. Beneath his sunny, polite barista facade, the gears of a seasoned intelligence officer began to grind. The Black Organization. Every official executive bore a liquor codename. He instantly focused his sharp gaze on the small boy, whom he had previously brushed off as just another precocious kid hanging around the agency.
Meeting someone related to 'alcohol'? Amuro's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. Could it be that this child has actually crossed paths with members of the Organization?
Hearing Natsume casually drop a hint so closely tied to the Black Organization, Conan's spine locked up. A cold bead of sweat slid down his temple, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"Ah... yeah, it was actually pretty accurate..." he stammered, his mind racing at lightspeed to fabricate a believable excuse that would brush the dangerous topic aside.
Then, a memory flashed—Heiji Hattori shoving a bottle of strong Baijiu down his throat to cure a cold, which had inadvertently triggered his first temporary reversion to Shinichi Kudo. Conan exhaled a quiet, shaky breath, seizing the lifeline. "Not long after that, I ran into Brother Hattori! I had a really bad cold, and he brought over some Baijiu for me to drink as a remedy. After I drank it, my cold completely vanished the very next day!"
Even if the hangover felt like my head was splitting open, he added bitterly in his own thoughts.
"Oh, so that's how the divination came true!" Ran Mouri clapped her hands together in realization. Her expression quickly shifted to a stern frown as she placed her hands on her hips. "But children absolutely shouldn't be drinking liquor." She shot a pointed, dissatisfied glare at Kogoro Mouri, who was lounging nearby. "It's all Dad's fault for setting such a terrible example for Conan."
Amidst Kogoro Mouri's disgruntled, defensive rebuttals, Toru Amuro continued to watch Conan from the corner of his eye, his expression thoughtful.
Was it really just as the boy claimed? Was the 'alcohol' connection merely Heiji Hattori and a bottle of Baijiu?
Later that evening, after finishing his shift at Café Poirot, the cheerful atmosphere faded into the sterile, heavy silence of Toru Amuro's safe house. He dropped his keys on the counter and pulled out his encrypted terminal. A new email sat in his inbox. The sender: Cointreau.
His jaw tightened. He tapped the glowing screen, his eyes scanning the brief, chilling line of text: Congratulations on your successful apprenticeship. —From Cointreau
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. The bright, easygoing smile of the Café Poirot waiter vanished entirely, replaced by the cold, hardened visage of Bourbon.
Cointreau's intelligence network was truly terrifying. Barely a day had passed since he maneuvered his way into becoming Kogoro Mouri's apprentice. He hadn't reported the development to anyone in the Organization yet, but Cointreau already knew. It was a silent warning. He would have to tread with extreme caution from now on.
He shut the terminal off, tossing it onto the table. Out of sight, out of mind. When he had a spare moment, he would contact Yuya Kazami and have the Public Security Bureau run a deep background check on this Conan Edogawa.
Across town, having thoroughly enjoyed a front-row seat to the famous scene of Toru Amuro officially taking Kogoro as his master, Natsume finally returned to the quiet comfort of her own home. She stretched her arms above her head, popping her stiff shoulders. It was time to catch up on the administrative duties of the Teyvat Organization—responsibilities she had been happily neglecting like a true absentee boss.
Settling onto her sofa, Natsume initiated a secure line to Neuvillette, who was currently stationed far away in France. His calm, authoritative voice filtered through the connection, assuring her that the Organization's European expansion was progressing flawlessly.
Originally, her brother had spent years operating in Europe, building a formidable foundation of power and influence in the shadows. Since his recent return to Japan, he hadn't needed to exert much effort to reconnect with key Black Organization members across the continent, smoothly convincing them to defect to Cointreau's faction.
For the stubborn minority who refused to bow to Cointreau—or worse, attempted to leak their movements back to the main Organization—Neuvillette simply dispatched Tartaglia. The Fatui Harbinger ensured those loose ends disappeared without a trace, masked by perfectly plausible accidents.
Now, the vast majority of the Black Organization's European branches rested firmly in Cointreau's grip. It was just that, with him currently operating in Japan, managing them directly was a logistical nightmare.
Fortunately, they had previously manipulated the Black Organization into shifting its primary research focus to France. With Neuvillette overseeing the operations there, stability was guaranteed. However, to keep the Organization's paranoid Boss placated, they still needed to periodically feed the old man fabricated research data.
Hmm, it seems I'll have to ask Alhaitham to draft up some convincing reports soon, Natsume mused.
That reminded her—Alhaitham had previously drawn a vial of Conan's blood, and they had also secured a sample of the APTX4869 from the Organization. Lisa had transported all the materials to the Teyvat Organization's private island base. Natsume made a mental note to check in with the librarian later to see how the development of a permanent antidote was coming along.
With the heavy, strategic work out of the way, Natsume let out a long exhale. It was time for her favorite form of entertainment: pulling cards.
She hadn't indulged in the gacha system for a while. After diligently hoarding her resources, she had finally amassed enough for a full ten-pull. She marched straight to the bathroom, thoroughly scrubbing her hands with soap, praying to whatever gods were listening for better luck today. She desperately needed a new character, not another pile of duplicate weapons.
Returning to the living room, Natsume took a deep, steadying breath. "Paimon, prepare the interface! We're going in!"
"You got it! Good luck, Traveler!" Paimon's cheerful voice chimed in her mind.
Under Natsume's expectant gaze, the virtual screen materialized. A shooting star streaked across the dark backdrop, suddenly bursting into a brilliant, blinding gold. The silhouette formed, and Natsume's heart skipped a beat.
It was Venti.
A massive grin spread across her face. Perfect! I finally pulled the Anemo Archon. Her luck was genuinely turning around; she was incredibly close to gathering all of The Seven.
She couldn't wait another second. She immediately activated the character card. A sudden, gentle breeze swept through the closed living room, carrying the faint, sweet scent of apples and Cecilia flowers. In the blink of an eye, a young man materialized before her. He had short black hair with gradient green braids framing his face, dressed in elegant, Baroque-style bard attire complete with a flowing green cape.
With practiced ease, Natsume split a sliver of her consciousness, transferring it into the newly summoned vessel. The moment the connection settled, she looked up, meeting the bright, emerald-green eyes of the youth standing in front of her.
A playful, familiar smile tugged at his lips. "Long time no see, Traveler..."
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