Kazawa had been devoid of artistic genes for two lifetimes now—he was basically immune to art museums.
He let Suzuki Sonoko drag him along, following behind Mouri Ran, who was completely absorbed in the exhibits. Kazawa silently activated his "Ohh, I get it now" smile.exe and started idling.
Mouri Ran led the way, constantly marveling at the paintings and artworks with bright, sparkling eyes. It was obvious she genuinely liked them.
Kazawa thought, maybe he should give her that folding fan he stole from Maruden Jiro later.
Once treasures from the Hall of Legends return to reality, they don't affect the real-world versions of the items, though their form will change. The inscriptions and artwork on that folding fan had disappeared, and now it was just a finely crafted and expensive blank golden fan.
It wasn't something you could hang up casually—too easy to attract suspicion. Kazawa wasn't interested in reselling it either. If he didn't use it as a gift, it would just sit in his inventory gathering dust.
The three high schoolers had clear roles: Mouri Ran looked at the exhibits, Kazawa was on standby slacking off, and Suzuki Sonoko watched Kazawa. That left the bored Conan trailing behind them with his hands behind his back, yawning.
He simply picked up the visitor guide that came with the ticket and started reading. The art exhibition was divided into four themed halls: Sky, Ocean, Earth, and Hell. The printed brochure had photos of representative exhibits under each category.
"Sonoko-neesan," Conan raised the pamphlet and pointed to a thumbnail image under the Hell Hall section. "Is this the suit of armor you were talking about?"
When he lifted the paper, his eyes drifted down to the bottom margin and caught a block of text: "…We regret to inform everyone that the Beika Art Museum will officially close next month. Thank you all for your support over the years…"
"Oh, it's in the Hell Hall? Sounds like a really atmospheric place." Suzuki Sonoko bent down for a closer look. Her eyes lit up, and she immediately tugged on Mouri Ran, who was standing in front of a display case. "Ran, let's go to that hall first, okay? We'll keep looking at the rest later!"
Her real goal for coming to the art museum was to create a setting where Kazawa would walk through a spooky place with her—just like watching a horror movie with a guy, where it's easy to get physically closer. She had to strike while the iron was hot!
Mouri Ran glanced at Sonoko's hopeful expression, then at the slightly confused Kazawa. She understood right away that Sonoko probably had another one of her "flirting techniques" in mind.
Knowing Sonoko all too well, Mouri Ran could only go along with it. The four of them followed the signs and passed through a central corridor to the other side of the exhibition.
Kazawa, who had still held out hope of intercepting the case in progress, started to feel uneasy watching everyone head toward the Hell Hall.
His plan had been to wait until the relevant manga characters made their appearances, then tag along with either the victim or the culprit. If he couldn't block it psychologically, he could block it physically.
But perhaps because Mouri Kogoro had been replaced by him and Suzuki Sonoko, the timeline had shifted a bit. The people who were supposed to appear in succession hadn't shown up at all.
That probably meant it was already too late. The art-hating capitalist must have already been strung up—ah, no, hung on the wall...
The hallway leading to the hall was unlit. Beyond the entrance marked "Hell Hall," it was pitch black. Thinking of the rumors about the walking suit of armor, Mouri Ran started getting spooked and instinctively reached out to hold Conan's hand.
As soon as Ran's small hand grabbed his, the just-alert Conan's cheeks turned red. He couldn't say a word.
"The lights are off. Is it a malfunction, or is it just part of the hell theme?" Suzuki Sonoko was actually doing fine, but she still played it up and hugged Kazawa's entire arm. "So dark!"
I knew it. She's throwing flirting cues like marbles to the face.
Kazawa shook his head in silence as Sonoko clung to him. But remembering what scene they were about to walk into, he mercifully didn't pull his arm away.
Fine, let her act for a while. The real scare is coming next.
"Whoa, that's a huge piece of work." Light from the corridor revealed part of the hall's layout. Mouri Ran turned her head and immediately noticed a massive oil painting on the wall. She bent down to read the plaque under it. "This painting is called Divine Retribution."
"Divine Retribution, huh," Kazawa stood directly in front of the frame and looked up. The painting depicted a demon impaled on a longsword, pinned against a rock, while the demon-slaying knight hung his head low, trudging through a swamp-like pool of blood. "It's a really oppressive painting. Totally looks like a scene from hell…"
Just as he finished, Kazawa took a breath—his ears picked up the steady drip-drip sound of water. He mentally prepared himself and turned around.
A man with his mouth wide open in a grotesque expression had been pierced through the throat by a longsword held with both hands. Suspended in midair, pinned to the wall, blood had splattered all over his light-colored suit. The blood flowed down his body, pooling at his feet and soaking into the red carpet in the walkway, like a river flowing into a sea of blood.
It was an incredibly shocking corpse. Even Kazawa, who was mentally braced for it, was stunned for a moment. Then he reflexively moved both girls behind him and pushed Conan behind his leg. "Back up! Watch out!"
The puzzled high school girls turned their heads.
"AAAAHHHHHHH—" Two high-pitched screams, left and right, exploded beside Kazawa's ears.
The screams were delayed, but they still came. A tactical failure.
Kazawa's head buzzed from their shrieks. He couldn't even cover his ears—had to maintain a shocked and grave expression. Utter suffering.
"What happened?! What's going on?!"
The piercing double scream echoed in the not-so-crowded museum, quickly drawing in guards, staff, and other visitors.
Before Conan's detective instincts could kick in to take over the situation, Kazawa beat him to the punch and blocked the doorway. "Don't come close! Turn on the lights! Call the police—there's a corpse here!"
The guards and staff froze for a moment, then immediately sprang into action. The guests murmured, alarmed, and the scene began to stir.
Kazawa, his face grave, scanned the crowd. He was expecting the murderer to reveal themselves—but instead, his eyes caught sight of a visitor wearing a mask.
That person stood on the outer edge of the crowd, wearing a knit cap and with long black hair cascading down their back, staring steadily into the unlit hall.
Noticing Kazawa's gaze, the person subtly stepped behind another group of guests and quickly disappeared around a corner.
Although he couldn't see the face or the eye color, the knit cap and long hair were as distinctive as blonde hair and dark skin.
Was that… Akai Shuichi?
No—he should be called "Rye." After his cover as an undercover agent was blown, Akai Shuichi had cut off his conspicuous long hair.
Could it be… he hasn't been exposed yet?
Kazawa's mind was a bit scrambled. Just how many butterfly effects had rippled through this stitched-together world?
Even the sound of sirens approaching from the distance couldn't bring Kazawa back to the moment. He recalled how Akai Shuichi had just dodged his glance… and then remembered how gloomy Amuro Tooru looked yesterday while doing dishes.
…No wonder he looked like he was about to scrub the plate into flames. So his other stalker… was Rye?
Kazawa's mouth twitched.
Two top-tier undercover agents tailing me?
Is this kind of fortune even considered small anymore?