With the help of the Suzuki Group, the police quickly finished the cleanup work, and Inspector Megure, as expected, did not skimp on thanks and praise.
The moon rose over the tops of the willow trees, and the mansion was silent.
Kazuha and Ran sat with Sonoko in the living room, though, of course, not in the same villa as before.
Sonoko was still wearing her evening gown. Today should have been a happy day, but in the end, something like this happened. As the protagonist, her mood, naturally, was not very high.
"Kazuha, and Heiji?"
There was no trace of Heiji in the villa.
"I don't know, it seems he left with Inspector Megure."
A glint shone in Kazuha's eyes, but Sonoko, who still hadn't recovered, didn't notice.
"Oh, really?" Sonoko said no more.
Kazuha and Ran looked at each other, and a mischievous smile appeared on their lips.
[Hehe, something's strange here.]
Conan saw the expression on the two of them, and his mind activated. He instantly knew what Heiji had gone to do.
Suddenly, the villa went completely dark.
"Did the power go out?" Sonoko asked, confused.
A bright light came on, and Heiji slowly approached, pushing a cake.
"Sonoko, happy birthday!!!"
Kazuha and Ran suddenly shouted with joy.
Seeing this scene, Sonoko covered her mouth, tears of surprise flowing like a spring.
It was an improvised birthday party, without many people, just the Suzuki family and Heiji's group, but Sonoko seemed very happy, using a camera to take one warm and happy group photo after another.
A day had already passed since Sonoko's birthday.
In the Hattori household, Heiji was lying in bed. Kazuha, after washing up, came back to get dressed.
It was already normal for Kazuha to spend the night at Heiji's house. The parents of both had tacitly accepted the situation and let them be.
"Heiji, it's time for class, get up quickly."
Kazuha, in loose clothing, got on the bed to shake Heiji; her movement was intoxicating.
Heiji wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her lips: "Call in sick for me today, I have something to attend to."
Kazuha snuggled into Heiji's embrace and nodded gently. She rarely asked what Heiji was doing; if he asked her, she would do it.
Nagoya is a highly industrialized city in Japan. While it may not be as prosperous as Tokyo or Osaka, it's certainly not far behind.
On a bustling street, a young man in a cap sat quietly in a café, his gaze sharp as he looked out the window.
A black Mazda turned the corner and stopped at the light.
"Ten twenty-three. Not a minute's difference from yesterday."
The young man lowered his head and jotted something in his notebook, where two rows of numbers were already written.
This young man was Heiji. He had been staking out this spot for two days—and his goal, naturally, was assassination.
The first step for a 'Mechanic' assassin was like any other: surveillance. Learn the target's routines and movements before striking.
But Mechanics differed from other assassins: accidental deaths, sudden deaths, traffic accidents. They created the perfect illusion, and the best left not a single trace for modern forensics to find.
Heiji's vantage point was a four-way intersection, surrounded by tall buildings—two of them still under construction. Tower cranes on the rooftops hoisted materials overhead, creating a constant sense of danger.
This was a developing district; most people here were skilled workers, so the streets were nearly empty during work hours. On the road, most vehicles were either trucks or luxury cars.
The trucks carried building materials; the luxury cars belonged to the bosses. There was no conflict between them.
Heiji put away his notebook and left. He changed his appearance every day, never attracting attention.
Day three.
"Ten twenty-five. The Mazda appears at the intersection again."
Heiji closed his notebook, a cold light in his eyes. It was certain now: Kenzo Masuyama's car would appear at this time. Time for step two.
The system had given him only a week. Four days had already passed; it was time to start the preparations.
Nights in the development area were quiet. The workers, exhausted after a day's labor, slept soundly. Any night owls seldom paid attention to noises outside.
Besides, Heiji was silent as a shadow, slipping onto the rooftop of a building overlooking Pisco's route.
"At this intersection, each direction has its own light. When the green appears, Pisco's car will turn left, and the straight lane will be red. But what if, at that moment, the red suddenly turns green…?"
A cold gleam flashed in Heiji's eyes.
A traffic accident.
This was Heiji's plan all along.
But tonight, he had to finish the preparations…
"Tomorrow is the summer solstice. At noon, the sun's angle is ninety degrees; at ten twenty, it's about seventy. The mirror on the rooftop needs to be tilted twenty degrees, so the sunlight will reflect onto the traffic light through the blue film."
Heiji set a blue-tinted mirror on the rooftop railing, tilted just right. When sunlight hit it, it would project a blue light. When the yellow on the traffic signal blinked, and the sun hit seventy degrees, the mirror would reflect blue onto the intersection.
Blue light plus yellow light equals green. At that moment, Pisco would see green… and if a truck came from the side, survival would be unlikely.
Of course, the preparations didn't end there. After all, the truck driver wasn't blind, and upon seeing a blinking green light, he would surely stop.
After placing the mirror, Heiji jumped and glided from the rooftop of this building to that of the building across the street.
Heiji had observed over the last few days that, being a developing area, many of the windows of the buildings were reflective. What he needed to do was adjust one of those windows to a certain angle.
A new day arrived, sunny and bright.
Heiji sat silently in front of the coffee shop, still with his cap on.
The schedule of the trucks transporting construction materials was very fixed. Heiji wasn't worried about problems in that aspect. The only variable was the Pisco factor.
That's why Heiji had staked out the place for three days.
Three days were enough to tell if someone's behavior was a habit. And once something becomes a habit, it's hard to change—certainly not overnight.
Ten twenty-three, the familiar Mazda appeared in his field of vision.
At that moment, the traffic light was red.
On the straight road, a truck was approaching at high speed.
Saburo Ninkyo had been a truck driver for some time and knew this road by heart. That morning, he'd found ten thousand yen at his doorstep, which put him in a fine mood. He couldn't help but drink a bit of alcohol, which made him arrive a few minutes late.
That little bit of alcohol wasn't enough to get him drunk, only to excite him more.
"Is the green light blinking? I'm never late."
The truck slammed on the accelerator, intending to rush across.
At that moment, Pisco's car also started to move.