When Haruki arrived at the apartment building where idol Yoko Okino lived, the scene was already marked by the silent, spinning red lights of multiple police cars. A familiar tension hung in the night air.
He took the elevator directly to the twenty-fifth floor. Stepping into the hallway, he found a small crowd gathered outside the unit—the typical scene of a crime scene cordon. The body had been discovered in Okino's living room, and the forensic team was still inside, processing evidence.
"Ah, good evening, Uncle Mouri."
"And you are?"
"Haruki. I'm Eri Kisaki's cousin."
"Oh! The prosecutor's nephew!" Kogoro Mouri's confusion evaporated, replaced by a boisterous grin. He clapped a heavy hand on Haruki's shoulder. "No wonder you carry yourself with such purpose!"
"You're too kind," Haruki replied with a thin, polite smile.
Standing gracefully to the side, Ran offered a soft greeting. "Good evening, Haruki… cousin."
"Good evening, Ran," he said, his tone warming perceptibly. Noting her slight formality, he added, "Please, just 'Haruki' is fine."
"Ah, alright."
His gaze then drifted to the cluster of elementary school students nearby. One, in particular, with oversized glasses, watched him with an unchildlike intensity.
"And these are?"
"Pesky kids who followed us here," Kogoro grumbled, his large hand coming down to ruffle Conan Edogawa's hair, much to the boy's silent chagrin. "This one's Conan, staying with us for a while. The others are his little friends."
Genta, Mitsuhiko, and Ayumi murmured their protests about being called 'pesky,' but Ayumi's attention was quickly recaptured. She stared, wide-eyed. "Wow, what a cool, handsome big brother…"
Haruki offered them a brief, distracted nod before turning his focus to the matter at hand. He approached Yoko Okino and her manager, Yamagishi Sakae, who both looked pale and shaken.
"Haruki-san…" Okino began, her voice faint.
"What's the situation?" he asked, his tone level and professional.
"I-I don't know," she stammered. "I just got home and… and found him there. I called the police immediately, just as Mr. Mouri said to do…"
"I see. And did you know the deceased?"
"That man has no connection to Yoko whatsoever!"
Haruki had directed the question to Okino, but Yamagishi cut in urgently. He then turned to the idol, his expression insistent. "Right, Yoko? You don't know him."
The gesture was transparent—a manager trying to control the narrative. Yoko Okino, however, after a moment of genuine, fearful contemplation, shook her head. "I… I really don't recognize him."
"Are you certain about that?"
Inspector Megure stepped out of the apartment, his bulk filling the doorway. His stern, deep voice commanded the hallway. "According to your statement, the apartment was locked from the inside when you arrived. A key is required to enter. This points to a locked-room scenario, which heavily implicates the occupant of this apartment!"
"How could I?! I would never—!" Yoko Okino cried out, her face draining of color.
"Preposterous, Inspector Megure!"
Kogoro Mouri leaped forward, instantly defensive. "How could the culprit possibly be the lovely, innocent Yoko-san! It's unthinkable!"
Inspector Megure's eyebrow twitched in a familiar show of exasperation.
"The 'locked room' theory may be premature," Haruki interjected, his calm, clear voice cutting through the tension. Okino looked at him as if grasping a lifeline. "A door that opens with a key is, by definition, not an impossible seal."
"Ah! Haruki!" Inspector Megure's eyes lit with recognition; he remembered the sharp, analytical young man from previous cases.
"Does Miss Okino have a spare key?" Haruki asked.
"Yes, Mr. Yamagishi holds one for emergencies."
"I see! Then the culprit is clearly Yamagishi!"
Seizing on the new lead with characteristic gusto, Kogoro whirled and thrust an accusing finger at the hapless manager. As Yamagishi sputtered denials, Kogoro surged forward, grabbing his collar. "You snake! You were tired of just being her manager, weren't you? You confessed your feelings, she rejected you, and you decided to frame her out of spite! Isn't that right?!"
Haruki watched the theatrics unfold, his own expression unreadable. His mind, however, was already elsewhere—piecing together timelines, assessing alibis, and coldly evaluating the human chessboard before him. A locked room was a puzzle, and puzzles, in his experience, were merely doors waiting for the right key to turn.
"Please, stop this nonsense! While I did have a spare key, I lost it days ago! It went missing from the TV station's staff lounge."
"Proof? Your word alone isn't—"
"I can confirm that, Mr. Mouri! Yamagishi isn't lying!"
Unwilling to see her manager wrongly accused, Yoko Okino hastily intervened. Faced with her anxious, earnest expression, Kogoro Mouri could only cough into his fist and relent.
"Alright, well, if Yoko-san vouches for him..."
(You can't just take her word for it without verification.)
Witnessing the old man's blatant double standard, Conan's mouth twitched in silent exasperation.
His attention then shifted to Haruki. The young man was merely observing the exchange with a faint, detached smile, as if he found the entire chaotic spectacle mildly amusing.
Fine, let's see who's better.
A sharp, competitive fire ignited within Conan. He hadn't seen the live broadcast from Mihua TV Station, but he'd read the detailed news reports on the so-called "instant solve." While deducing a killer's method after a single circuit of the crime scene seemed improbable, Conan knew that breakthroughs sometimes came in a single, intuitive flash—a moment where disparate clues suddenly connected.
Perhaps that had been Haruki's moment.
But achieving such a feat still marked him as a formidable mind. Encountering a truly capable rival was rare, and it spurred Conan's instinct to engage, to test his own deductions against another's.
"How is the evidence collection proceeding, Inspector?" Haruki asked, turning the conversation back to the facts.
"Nearly complete. Would you care to take a look inside, Haruki?"
"Certainly."
Haruki hadn't expected Inspector Megure's direct invitation. It seemed the police in this world were not only accustomed to detectives assisting but had come to rely on it as a matter of course.
"Ahem! I'll lend my expert eye as well, Inspector Megure!"
Kogoro Mouri puffed out his chest, asserting his presence. Inspector Megure gave a weary wave, granting them both entry.
As Haruki crossed the threshold, his casual demeanor subtly solidified. His eyes, now sharp and analytical, began a silent, systematic scan of the room, missing no detail—from the position of the body to the faintest irregularity in the arrangement of ordinary objects. The game, for him, had now properly begun.
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