-----
-----
Beika District. The Mouri Detective Agency.
Mouri Kogoro was acting strangely tonight. No alcohol, no chasing after Yoko Okino on TV. He sat in his chair, expression heavy.
Just moments earlier, he'd received a call from Inspector Megure.
"Dad, is Inspector Megure okay?"
Mouri Ran brought over a cup of hot tea and asked casually.
"He's lucky. The falling steel beam hit his ass. Gonna take some time for that precious backside to recover, but at least his life isn't in danger."
The fallout from the detention center incident three months ago hadn't even settled yet, and now the Metropolitan Police Department building had been blown up in broad daylight. Enough to make the whole department lose face.
Still, the people of Beika were used to chaos. Life went on.
Megure's call was a request. He wanted Kogoro to help track down the bombing suspect.
Steven.
After committing crimes in the U.S. and slipping out of the FBI's grasp, now they wanted help from a small-time private detective. The pressure was unreal.
This involved police secrets, so Kogoro had no intention of telling Ran.
"Uncle, Dr. Agasa found some info on the bomber—"
"Shut it! This is all your fault!"
Kogoro glared and cut Conan off sharply.
"If you hadn't stuck your nose into that rape-murder case and randomly accused Steven, would we be in this mess now?"
"In my opinion, she snapped because she was framed. First she blows up the MPD building. Who knows, maybe next she'll come after you."
Little brat. Always showing off in cases. Ran into someone truly dangerous this time, huh?
If it weren't for that ten-million-yen "child support," Kogoro would've packed Conan's bags already and dumped the walking disaster back at Dr. Agasa's place.
Conan felt guilty and wisely shut up.
Truth was, he hadn't wanted to frame Steven either. But back then, there'd been no trace of any other suspect at the crime scene.
"Dad, don't yell at Conan," Ran said gently. "The police accepted his deduction and evidence at the time too."
She didn't think Conan was to blame. If anything, it was the police's poor judgment.
Believing a kid so easily, it wasn't surprising they ended up with a wrongful case.
"Ran, I got a job from Miss Yoko Okino. Tomorrow we're going to Okinawa. During the Film and Opera Festival Week, I'll be in charge of her personal security. You're coming with me."
"And you," he added, glaring at Conan, "are a massive headache."
A job was a job.Kogoro had his principles. If he took the money, he did the work, and that included keeping an eye on Conan.
"Do we really have to go?" Ran hesitated. She didn't seem eager.
"Is that even a question? There's a lunatic bomber on the loose. Who knows where she'll strike next. I'm not leaving you two here alone."
"But Dad, I heard the bomber only targets the police and the FBI. She's never hurt civilians. Conan and I should be fine, right?"
"No negotiations. Get some rest. We leave early for Okinawa tomorrow."
With that, Kogoro stood up and went into the bedroom.
The mention of the Film and Opera Festival Week stirred memories for both Ran and Conan.
A year ago, when Conan was still Kudo Shinichi, they'd been invited by Yukiko to New York for the same festival. They'd planned to see the Broadway musical Golden Apple together.
But a serial killer had appeared, forcing all events to be canceled. Their New York trip ended before it even began.
And that serial killer was Steven.
…
The night was deep, the air slightly chilly.
Clack.
Steven stepped out of a Chinese restaurant and casually tossed Jodie's phone into a trash can.
Just as he'd expected, the MPD hadn't issued a wanted notice. Publicly, they claimed the explosion was a suicide bombing by terrorists and that the perpetrator had died in the blast.
Full and satisfied, Steven only wanted one thing now. Sleep.
After three months of hiding like a rat, he missed soft beds more than anything. Now that the wanted order was gone and money wasn't an issue, it was time to live properly again.
At least on the surface, he was free. As for how many people the MPD had secretly deployed or what plans they were cooking up, he couldn't be bothered to worry.
If they came, he'd deal with it.
If the Japanese police or the FBI showed up, he'd fight. Simple as that.
Before long—
Steven walked into a five-star hotel and booked a luxury suite.
His card held U.S. dollars. Regular hotels wouldn't even take it.
Given the circumstances, luxury was the only option.
"Sir, your key card."
"Oh, thanks."
The moment he took it, a chill ran down the back of his neck. It felt like someone's gaze was locked onto him.
He turned around.
Nothing. No suspicious figures.
Once inside the room, Steven couldn't wait. He stripped and headed straight into the bathroom, washing away days of grime.
"Sisters of Alishan are lovely as water, boys of Alishan strong as mountains…"
The long-missed hot shower left him loose and relaxed.
Creak—
Towel in hand, Steven stepped out of the bathroom, completely naked.
The next second, he clamped a hand over his family jewels, half-convinced he'd transmigrated again mid-shower.
There was a blonde beauty sitting on the sofa in the suite's living room.
When did she get there?
The way she held her cigarette between her lips was dangerously charming.
Could it be…
"So what if I've got full-revive skills? A cheap honey trap doesn't scare me. Even if it's reinforced, I'll still take it down."
With all his weapons in the system inventory and multiple skills backing him up, Steven calmed down instantly.
Even if this was a trap set by the Japanese police or the FBI, he wasn't afraid. Strength was the foundation of confidence.
"Hey, stop covering up. It's not like I haven't seen it before."
The woman turned her head at the sound, calmly crushing out her cigarette.
"Vermouth."
The moment he saw her seductive face, the image of "Big Sis Vermouth" from Detective Conan flashed through Steven's mind.
Not just similar. Identical.
"Oh? If I remember correctly, we've never met. So how do you know my name?"
Damn. It really was her.
In person, she was even more captivating than in the anime.
"I know more than just your name. Your real name is Sharon Vineyard. For some reason, you regained your youth or stopped aging altogether. You faked your death, then changed your name to Chris Vineyard and posed as your own daughter."
"You're a master of disguise and voice mimicry. Highly capable in every aspect. Your codename in the Black Organization is Vermouth. You specialize in intelligence gathering and are one of the Boss's favorite subordinates."
Memories from before his transmigration surged forward. Steven dropped his hands, straightened up, and walked confidently to the table. He poured two glasses of whiskey and set one in front of her.
"Since you're here on behalf of the Black Organization, let's hear it. What do you want with me?"
"....."