Double Chapter
Jiangxia didn't mention the commission letter to Gin right away.
The letter had arrived a bit late, and although the chance was slim, he didn't want Gin to piece together the exact timeline and start suspecting that Ouzo's "murder schemes" were sometimes slapdash.
Jiangxia still needed his "Ouzo" identity to keep pulling in missions—gathering killing intent and ghosts from the Organization while looking like a dedicated, useful tool person.
Revealing the letter now made it easier to redirect Gin's focus: There's actually a commission letter? That way the details blurred into "Oh, he probably got it earlier" rather than the exact day it turned up.
Gin took the letter, eyes sweeping over the polite but cryptic wording. His brow twitched. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"
Jiangxia thought for a second, then dropped a line he knew Gin would hate: "I wanted to surprise you."
Gin didn't speak—just exhaled slowly, a vein pulsing on the back of his hand as the letter crumpled slightly between his fingers.
Yesterday's murder on the train had been one of Ouzo's spur-of-the-moment acts.
But Izumo Kitaro was the final target anyway, and since he was so close to Tokyo, there were plenty of direct personnel available—no need for elaborate planning beyond "shoot him dead."
So when they'd bumped into Izumo on the platform and Gin set up the bomb, only to see Ouzo come up with a more "quiet" solution, Gin had actually felt a touch of grudging admiration.
But this time was different.
The Takeda family's client list and drug stash needed careful handling. Gin had spent all night arranging people, tweaking plans, and cross-checking details.
If he'd known Ouzo had an actual invitation to the Spider Mansion, he could've used that to fine-tune the whole op.
And Shinichi Takeda inviting a detective out of nowhere? That was prime intelligence—something to be dissected for hidden motives.
Ouzo had kept his mouth shut until now, forcing Gin to tweak plans on the fly.
Gin glanced at his rookie subordinate, this Buddhist pot of ghosts and secrets, and his voice dropped to its default, deadly calm: "This is a mission. Not your personal game."
Before Jiangxia could even nod, the Mermaid and Xiaobai ghosts clinging to him trembled in delight. They darted over to Gin, pouncing on the fresh burst of killing intent that radiated from him like free samples at a supermarket.
The Parent Ghosts were too slow—they just watched with gentle eyes, like proud grandparents at a buffet.
The Tengu and Akemi Miyano ghost hesitated, then politely drifted forward, but by then the eager ones had already sucked up most of the good stuff.
Gin, of course, was oblivious to any spiritual scavenging happening under his nose.
Once he'd finished scolding Ouzo for messing with team coordination, he saw the kid nodding earnestly, like he was really reflecting. That thawed Gin's anger by a notch.
…Honestly, Ouzo's antics were annoying, but at least he always put in the work. In some ways, he was more reliable than Vodka.
And the fact that he had an invitation meant he probably had a plan. Tottori's local branch wasn't as smooth as Tokyo's, but for a small case like this, they'd manage.
After mulling it over, Gin found there wasn't much real damage done. His irritation faded.
…Next time he'll think twice, Gin told himself, watching Ouzo's serious little face. He's not a bad person once you knock some sense into him.
He turned to Jiangxia. "When does Takeda die?"
Jiangxia had been lost in the happy buzz of harvesting Gin's killing intent. He pulled himself back, counting on his fingers. "If all goes well? After dinner."
Whether it'd really go smoothly depended on how well Hattori did his job…
Gin nodded. It was only midday now. Puppet Peak was a good drive from the station, so if Ouzo left immediately, he'd arrive in the afternoon and wrap things up by evening.
By then, Gin and Vodka would've finished dealing with the rats in the Tottori branch and could swing by to handle cleanup.
He skimmed the letter again. Takeda's wording was vague, offering no clue why he'd suddenly invite a detective. Suspicious enough to make Gin's lips curl into a thin sneer.
Trying to squirm free, huh? Afraid the Organization's about to close in, so he calls in a "famous detective" for protection…
Out of all possible detectives, he'd picked Ouzo. He really knew how to choose.
Gin imagined a future where other desperate fools crawled to Ouzo for help, oblivious that they'd basically booked themselves a one-way ticket.
If only the Organization had cultivated more "detective tools" like him earlier, they could've saved a lot of bullets.
But he knew it wasn't that simple. Even Bourbon, with his skill and connections, had run a detective agency for years without becoming famous enough to attract targets like moths to a flame.
That kind of luck—and talent for stirring up murders—wasn't so easy to copy.
Ouzo's success was pure European Emperor luck.
Gin finally stopped dwelling on it. He flicked the letter back to Jiangxia and gave him a parting reminder: "When people get desperate, they'll do anything. Be careful—the Organization's rehab center isn't exactly five stars. I don't want to see you in there."
Jiangxia nodded, only half-listening. The Organization actually has a rehab center?
…On second thought, considering the poor cadre who ended up in the ICU after smoking a spiked cigarette, it made sense. With so many weirdos around, they probably needed a place to detox from their own bad luck.
The chat ended there. At Jiangxia's request, Vodka found a random intersection, dumped him out, and sped away in a cloud of exhaust.
Jiangxia stood there, glaring at the fading car, waving away the smog.
One day, he thought darkly, I'll scare that big guy so bad he leaks a new batch of murderous aura.
With Vodka's luck, even ordinary killing intent probably tasted like stale beer. But hey—he'd test it anyway.
…
Soon after, Jiangxia flagged down a taxi and headed for the town at the foot of Puppet Peak.
When he got off at the little bus terminal, he immediately spotted an open-top truck.
Next to it leaned a middle-aged man, stocky and square-jawed, with a cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes swept the station exit, looking for someone.
After spotting Jiangxia, the middle-aged man paused, took out a photo from his pocket, and compared it carefully. Then he tucked it away and waved him over.
Jiangxia walked up.
The man wasn't the assassination target, Shinichi Takeda, but his third younger brother, Yuzo Takeda. The name alone made his birth order obvious.
Puppet Peak was remote, with no direct public transport. To show how serious he was about hiring a detective — and to keep the detective from getting fed up and refusing — Shinichi Takeda had specially sent his brother to pick him up.
Jiangxia pulled open the door and slid into the passenger seat. They exchanged a few polite lines before Yuzo stomped the gas, taking them toward Puppet Peak.
The road wound through rising mountains, each curve steeper than the last.
Jiangxia leaned his elbow on the window frame, eyes drifting to the endless green forest outside. The higher they climbed, the more his mind drifted too.
Spider Mountain… It was said to have its own legends.
And going by past experience — the Buddhist Temple produced the Tengu, Mermaid Island produced a mermaid ghost — would a giant spider ghost pop up here too?
…Spiders are pretty ugly, though, Jiangxia thought.
And if I remember right, that soon-to-be-dead Uncle Shinichi Takeda isn't much to look at either…
Still, a ghost fetus was a ghost fetus. If one dropped, and he managed to neutralize it while making a puppet, maybe he could tweak its looks a bit. But if it really turned out to be some hairy spider-person, it probably wouldn't blend in well day-to-day…
Tsk, he scolded himself, why dwell on it?
It was like stressing over whether to go to Tokyo University or Osaka University when he wouldn't get into either. As long as Conan existed, his chances of "graduating" were exactly zero.
Better to just see if a ghost appeared at all. If Shinichi Takeda only coughed up a shikigami, then all this brain-work was a waste.
Settling that, Jiangxia relaxed again and watched the forest roll by.
Soon, though, the forest lost his attention. Up ahead, three people stood by the roadside: two men and a woman.
One of them — a dark-skinned high schooler pushing a motorcycle — was none other than Heiji Hattori. Jiangxia's eyes brightened.
Beside Hattori stood his childhood friend, Kazuha Toyama. The third was an unfamiliar blonde foreigner.
They looked troubled, muttering by the road.
Jiangxia sat up and turned to Yuzo. "Pull over for a sec."
—
Heiji Hattori had dragged himself to this backwater because he'd gotten an anonymous commission letter — the usual shady envelope with cash stuffed inside. So he'd come to return it.
Kazuha had insisted on tagging along. She'd sworn she knew Tottori's mountain roads like the back of her hand and would guide him easily.
Heiji Hattori had foolishly believed her.
Now they'd been lost in these woods since morning. As they debated whether they'd have to camp under the trees, a helpful-looking foreigner — Rob Taylor — had popped up.
Rob was a photographer. Three years ago, he'd come to these mountains to shoot landscapes but had gotten smacked by a rockslide. Shinichi Takeda's daughter, Misa Takeda, had found him, patched him up, and sent him back on his way.
Today, Rob claimed he was here to repay that kindness. Hattori, ever hopeful, figured they could follow him to the Takeda place.
But before he could ask, Rob had smiled brightly and said, "If you're heading to the Takeda house, I'll come too! I'm terrible with directions."
…
One awkward pause later, Hattori gave up on that plan, his smile freezing as he turned to Kazuha.
Maybe they really would have to camp in the creepy woods after all.
Kazuha's face turned red, then pale at the thought of bugs — or worse, snakes — crawling over her while she slept. Before she could protest more, a truck rumbled up and stopped beside them.
Instant hope.
Hattori stepped forward, ready to negotiate. "Excuse me, we're trying to get to the Takeda family on Puppet Peak — could you…"
He was about to ask for directions — or a lift — when he suddenly felt a pair of eyes on him.
He looked up past the gruff driver and saw Jiangxia lounging in the passenger seat.
…
Hattori froze mid-sentence, stunned.
Jiangxia ignored the Osaka detective's tangle of emotions, gave him a calm smile, and glanced at Kazuha too. "What a coincidence. You two heading to the Takeda place too?"
Hattori's mouth twitched. He gave up the act almost immediately. "Nope. Just here for the scenery."
And he actually turned, trying to leave.
Kazuha caught him by the arm.
"Yes, we've been looking for the Takeda house forever!" she blurted, beaming at Jiangxia like he'd just offered her a hotel reservation. No camping with bugs and snakes tonight!
Before Hattori could even glare at her, she went on brightly, "Actually, Heiji got a commission. The client sent money upfront but didn't include a return address, so we had to come deliver it back ourselves."
Jiangxia gave Hattori a slow, meaningful look. This money-lure method really works. Maybe I should try it next time. I'd never have to worry about baiting incident-magnets again…
Seeing that Hattori looked ready to bolt, Jiangxia turned to Yuzo before the detective could wriggle away. "Mind giving them a lift?"
Yuzo, who looked fierce by default, was actually pretty easygoing. He leaned out the window, spotted Hattori's big motorcycle, then rummaged for some rope.
Together, he and Hattori hoisted the bike onto the truck bed, tying it down with impressive knots.
Jiangxia watched, lips quirking. Good. Everything's falling into place. This pot of 'innocent detective trouble' is coming with me…
*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.
Progress: 50/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS
Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.
Progress:4/10*