"Come on, Haibara was just making stuff up."
After school, thoroughly schooled by the Detective Boys trio, Conan shook off the snow, exasperated.
She says anything, you believe her. I say something, it's useless…
Genta glanced at Haibara, walking calmly at the back of the group, then turned to Conan. "No matter what, you can't ditch us to hog the spotlight anymore!"
"Yeah, every time it gets intense, you send us home first."
Mitsuhiko and Ayumi nodded in agreement.
"Fine, fine, I got it." The great detective, clutching his soccer ball, agreed offhandedly.
It's for your safety, you know.
Next time, I'll let you face the bad guys head-on, happy?
"We're heading out then!"
Genta, Ayumi, and Mitsuhiko waved goodbye to the two and left together.
"No need to overthink. Your job now is to act like a kid and work on the antidote. Tsune and I will handle the rest."
Conan glanced at Haibara's grim expression, juggling his soccer ball with his head, trying to reassure her.
Her mood swings are wild—up and down, who knows what she's thinking.
"You?" Haibara tilted her head, unsure what he meant by "handle."
The repairman's got some fight in him, but compared to the Organization, he's way out of his league.
As for you…
Sure, your brain and gadgets are handy, but how many can you take on at once?
"What's wrong with me?" Conan bristled at her skeptical tone.
Haibara fell silent, fists clenched, eyes locked on a car parked by the road.
Panic and fear flashed across her face, her body frozen in place.
"Hey?"
"What's wrong?"
Conan caught the falling soccer ball, following her gaze, puzzled.
That car?
A Porsche 356A?
Porsche?!
The great detective suddenly remembered Tsune giving him and Haibara each a Porsche emblem before.
Could it be…
"GIN?"
Conan turned to Haibara, seeking confirmation.
"Run!"
Haibara took a deep breath, spun around, and started to bolt in the opposite direction.
This scene was straight out of last night's nightmare.
Snowy day.
A Porsche 356A parked by the road.
Then that guy steps out, sees through her identity…
She had to get out of here, now!
After a few quick steps, she glanced back and saw Conan still standing there, facing away.
"What are you doing? Get out of there!"
Conan stared at the car, pulled out his earring phone, thought for a second, and dialed.
The engine wasn't running. Snow had been falling for a while, and there were no tire tracks or footprints nearby. The car must've been parked for some time.
Acting like a curious kid, the detective peered inside.
"As expected, no one's in there."
Haibara watched him dance on the edge of danger, her heart pounding so hard she nearly had a heart attack.
…
Driving along, Tsune pulled over to answer the incessantly ringing phone.
"Hey!"
"I found that guy's car!" Conan's voice came through.
"Who?" Tsune munched on a client's gifted snack, asking casually.
"Gin." Conan's tone grew serious.
"Oh, I saw that car this morning too. Was busy heading to a job, didn't bother with it." Tsune nodded.
Just an old car, what's the big deal?
The repairman added, "If you wanna steal it, I can guide you remotely."
"Huh?"
Conan paused, then caught on. "I've got a tracker and bug. Maybe we can get some useful intel."
Come on, what's the point of stealing it?
Sell it or something?
Tsune chuckled. "That killer's real touchy about his car lately. I'd advise against any funny business."
"Besides, speaking of intel, I've got some big news. Probably tied to what they're up to next."
Rummaging through the glovebox, Tsune pulled out a newspaper from a few days ago.
The front-page headline announced a memorial for a famous film director, set for today at Beika Hotel.
Beyond the director's life story, it listed big names attending.
Chris Vineyard, a golden-haired, ultra-popular foreign actress…
"Got it. I'll head to the Doc's place and wait for you." Conan hung up.
The detective by the car spotted two pitch-black figures across the street. No hesitation—he turned and bolted with Haibara, who was waiting farther off.
The black-clad duo strutted with their usual "we own the world" vibe, hands in pockets, ignoring everything as they crossed the street.
Reaching the car, Gin was about to get in when he noticed footprints in the snow. Someone had been near his car!
He turned, giving his lackey a cold order.
"Vodka, check it."
"Yes, Big Bro!"
Vodka didn't dare argue, immediately starting a thorough inspection.
Lately, his boss had been paranoid about the car. Anytime there was a hint someone had come close—whether parked here or there—Vodka had to check every inch before they drove off.
But this car was so rare, it drew too much attention…
Last time, some car collector wouldn't shut up about it until Big Bro slapped him to the ground.
Vodka's workload had skyrocketed!
All because of that guy who kept messing with his boss!
"All clear, Big Bro." Vodka meticulously checked inside and out, even scanning with a signal detector to ensure no tampering.
"Let's go. We've got another stop."
Gin opened the door, slid into the passenger seat, and lit a cigarette.
That rat who only prowled at night was getting bolder.
Daring to blackmail the Organization.
"Useless trash."
Smoke swirled in the car. Thinking of it, Gin's gaze grew colder.
Vodka, gripping the wheel, glanced over, confirmed his boss wasn't talking about him, and quietly sighed in relief.
"Since your identity's exposed."
"Tonight, you're going down."
Gin flicked his cigarette butt out the window, smirking coldly.
(End of Chapter)
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