"What were you two sneakily doing in there?"
Yukiko looked at the two men as they emerged from the laboratory, one after the other.
"Nothing much—just some unspeakable business," Yusaku said with a light chuckle. He sat down on the sofa and placed the water glass containing the soaked bug onto the coffee table.
"Hmm..." Since coming out, Tsuneo hadn't stopped staring at Conan.
The "Dog-Headed Detective's" family history was certainly... tumultuous, to say the least.
"Professor!"
Conan assumed Tsuneo was glaring at him because of the bugging incident. However, he didn't pay it much mind; he simply fished the waterlogged device out of the glass and went to find Professor Agasa. He definitely needed to add a waterproofing function next time.
"What's wrong?"
Ai Haibara looked up from her magazine and glanced at Tsuneo. "Is the data that AI gave you really that terrifying?"
It was rare to see such an expression on his face—as if he had just learned a secret of monumental proportions.
"It was more or less within expectations," Yusaku noted, appearing perfectly calm. He hadn't been idle during his time abroad; he knew exactly how vast and dangerous this international criminal organization truly was.
Tsuneo thought for a moment, then shifted his gaze toward Professor Agasa.
The old man had built so much equipment for Kaitou Kid; surely he knew something. Thinking more deeply, the Professor and his old friend, Konosuke Jii, might have even met years ago through these very twin brothers.
"What is it?" Professor Agasa held the broken bug, scratching his head. I know I invented this thing, but Shinichi is the one who put it on you! Why are you staring at me?
"It's nothing. I just need to eat something and get a good night's sleep," Tsuneo said, shaking his head.
After being immersed in the game world for so long, his mental fatigue was catching up to him.
Nighttime, Tokyo, on a certain road.
A driver with a square jaw and sunglasses—which he wore regardless of the time of day—was gripping the steering wheel and slamming his horn repeatedly.
Stupid jerk! If you can't drive, find someone who can! It was clear he was extremely dissatisfied with the skill of the driver in front of him.
"Alright, Vodka. Calm down."
Gin spoke coldly. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and pulled out his phone. Missions had decreased significantly lately; the Organization was looking for new recruits, and it wasn't a good time for high-profile actions.
"Big Brother, that car in front is just too arrogant!" Vodka said, sounding slightly indignant.
Gin frowned. Lately, his driver seemed prone to bursts of irritation. He wondered if the man had suffered some brain damage from being beaten up recently.
"What's going on?"
The silver-haired killer realized something was wrong with his phone; it showed absolutely no signal.
"Big Brother, use mine." Seeing Gin checking his SIM card, Vodka habitually handed over his own mobile phone.
Gin dialed a string of numbers, and this time, the call successfully connected.
But just as he thought it was simply his own phone acting up, a few dial tones sounded, and the signal indicator on Vodka's phone vanished as well.
"Maybe there's just something wrong with the signal on this street?" Vodka suggested, not thinking much of it.
"No." Gin's eyes swept across the sidewalk outside the window. People were clearly walking by while talking on their phones without issue.
"Uh..." Vodka was at a total loss.
"Stop the car. Go to a public phone booth first." Gin was starting to suspect that both of the phones in the car had been tampered with.
But he had never let them out of his sight. How was it possible? Was there a signal jammer installed somewhere in the car?
Vodka watched as his boss got out to use the public phone. He muttered to himself and began checking the vehicle for any foreign devices.
Big Brother is just being paranoid, he thought. Is it really that impossible for two phones to break at once?
After the Pisco incident, which involved several assassinations, they had only managed to lure out a few low-level members of uncertain identity. Since then, Gin had been suspecting there were more moles within the Organization.
And then there was that Dark Knight. Because of him, Vodka had to check the car every time there was even a slight disturbance. He really wanted to take a sledgehammer to that guy's head.
"Wait, there's a signal now?"
"Maybe there's just an issue with the card slot."
Vodka finished his inspection, sat back in the car, and stared at the two phones in confusion. He even tried calling one with the other. The call quality was perfect—no abnormalities at all.
"What are you doing?" Gin opened the car door to find his driver holding a phone in each hand, muttering to himself.
"Big Brother, the phones are fine now." Vodka had reinserted the SIM cards and tested them, smiling as he delivered the news.
"Is that so?" Gin took his phone back, and then his brow furrowed once again.
Still no signal.
"Vodka, what the hell are you playing at?!"
"Big Brother...?" Noticing the ice-cold glare in Gin's eyes, Vodka scrambled to check again.
After several trials, the two of them discovered a bizarre pattern: no matter which phone it was, as long as it was away from Gin, it had a full signal. The moment it touched Gin's hand, it turned into an expensive brick.
"Big Brother, could it be your body...?" Vodka looked at Gin's ashen face and swallowed hard.
It couldn't be... some kind of curse, could it?
"Someone is playing tricks on us!" Gin reached into his coat, his hand gripping his pistol. He stepped out of the car, his frigid gaze scanning the surroundings like a predator.
Someone must be nearby. They're watching us. Every time I pick up the phone, they use some method to cut the signal.
Vodka followed him out, looking left and right. Neither of them noticed that a security camera mounted on a nearby storefront was tracking their every move.
Gin thought for a moment and then immediately ordered the driver to leave. When facing an invisible enemy, it was best to put distance between them.
The car sped away from the bustling streets, moving further and further out. Gin never took his eyes off the phone in his hand.
Still no signal.
Why?!
Unless something changed, this "status effect" was set to last for the next seventy-two hours.
Vodka's internal monologue: Big Brother is definitely cursed...
Ignoring the silver-haired killer who would spend the night in a sleepless, bloodshot-eyed state of paranoia, the culprit, Tsuneo, had a wonderful night's rest.
The next morning, a Suzuki Group delivery truck arrived at his door early.
"Honestly, Tsuneo-san, this thing won't even run without Schindler Inc.'s control system, right?" Sonoko personally supervised the delivery of the game capsule to Tsuneo's workshop.
The chaos caused by the launch event was beyond imagination. Dozens of children of high-profile figures had been trapped in a virtual world; that alone was enough to make Thomas Schindler's life a living hell.
Furthermore, the rumor that the chairman was a descendant of Jack the Ripper—along with corroborating evidence—was spreading like wildfire. Many people were already sharpening their knives for his downfall.
"The hardware inside is all intact, right?" Tsuneo asked, lifting the hatch to inspect the interior.
As long as there was an internet connection, Noah's Ark had plenty of ways to bypass the system and take control of the machine.
"Of course. This machine was ordered a long time ago. You told me you wanted one as soon as the event ended, so I just had them bring it over directly," Sonoko nodded.
"Good, good, good!" Tsuneo's smile grew increasingly brilliant. He reached into his pocket and handed the Schindler check to Sonoko.
"Here. Fill in whatever amount you want!"
(End of Chapter)
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