The morning sun over Beika Town was deceptive. It promised a day of normalcy—Officemen rushing to the subway and crows scavenging near restaurant bins—but for Ai Hoshino, the world had lost its promise of safety.
To the public, she was the "Rising Idol," a girl whose smile could light up a venue. To herself, she was a girl running from a doomed story written in a leather-bound diary.
Following the directions scribbled on a paper, Ai looked up at the weathered sign of the **Mouri Detective Agency**. It was located above a humble café named Poirot.
"Go to Beika Town. Find Kogoro Mouri... but make sure the brat, Conan Edogawa, is in the room."
Nanashi's words from last night's Diary still echoed in her mind. Ai adjusted her oversized sunglasses and pulled her bucket hat lower. She had cancelled a crucial choreography session, claiming a "sudden fever."
In reality, her blood was cold with a different kind of heat. She needed to know if the boy she thought was a soulmate, Hikaru Kamiki, was truly the architect of her demise.
Ai climbed the narrow staircase, her heart thumping in time with her footsteps. When she pushed open the door, the bell chimed, announcing the arrival.
If Ryuuji was here, he would find this setting very fimiliar. The office was exactly as the manga: cluttered with folders, a television playing horse racing in the corner, and the smell of stale tobacco. At the desk sat **Kogoro Mouri**, looking somewhat disheveled. Nearby, a teenage girl with a kind face—**Ran Mouri**—was tidying up the papers. And there, sitting on the sofa with a book of detective riddles, was the boy. **Conan Edogawa**.
The moment Ai stepped inside and removed her glasses, the room went still.
"I-I don't believe it," Kogoro stuttered, his jaw nearly hitting the table. "Ai Hoshino? The center of B-Komachi? In my humble office?"
"Please, Detective," Ai said, her voice smooth but carrying a tremble she couldn't hide. "I need your discretion. This isn't a public appearance."
Ran gasped, her eyes wide with a mixture of admiration and something else—something that looked like recognition. "Of course, Hoshino-san. Please, sit. I'll get you some tea."
Ai sat, her eyes immediately darting to Conan. The boy wasn't looking at her like a fan. His blue eyes, magnified by his glasses, were sharp. He was observing her posture, her gripped hands, and the way she avoided looking at the window.
"I've heard of your reputation, Detective Mouri," Ai began, leaning forward. "The 'Sleeping Kogoro' who sees through every deception. I've come because I need the truth about someone in my circle. A fellow actor named **Hikaru Kamiki**."
She pulled out a printed photograph and slid it across the desk. Hikaru's eyes stared back—beautiful, empty, and haunting.
Kogoro straightened his tie, suddenly professional. "Kamiki? He's just a boy, isn't he? Fourteen? Why would an idol of your stature be worried about a middle-school actor? Is this a matter of the heart?"
"In a way," Ai lied, her specialty. "But not the kind you think. I've heard rumors... dark ones. They say he was involved with a woman named Airi Himekawa when he was only eleven. They say it broke him. I'm afraid that beneath that lonely face, there's something... psychopathic."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Conan's ears perked up instantly. He hopped off the sofa and trotted over to the desk, peering at the photo. "Airi Himekawa? The famous actress who died in that 'accident' with her husband? That's a very specific rumor for a teenager to carry, Ai onee-san (Big Sister)."
Ai looked at the boy. "I have a source I trust. He told me that if I want to live a long life, I should stay away from this boy. But I need proof. I need to know if the history Nan—if the history I was told is real. So he recommend me to your agency."
Kogoro leaned back, crossing his arms. "It's a tall order. Digging into the private trauma of a minor and a deceased actress... but if you feel your safety is at risk, I can't refuse. However, miss Ai, keep in mind that the entertainment industry is a nest of jealousy. Someone might be feeding you lies to keep you apart from a rising talent."
"That's impossible, Mouri-ojisan," Conan interrupted, his voice high but his tone authoritative. "Think about it. If someone wanted to trick Ai onee-san, they would tell her to go to the police or a tabloid. But they sent her 'here'. They sent her to the one man who can find the truth without letting it leak to the press. Whoever told her this knows exactly how you work."
Kogoro barked a laugh, rubbing his head. "Well, when you put it that way, the kid has a point! Don't worry, Miss Hoshino. I'll dig into the Lalalai Troupe's records. If there's a monster behind those eyes, I'll find him."
As the meeting concluded, Ai felt a momentary weight lift from her shoulders. She sent the digital files to Kogoro's email and stood to leave. "Thank you. I'll await your call."
As she reached the door, Ran Mouri followed her out onto the landing.
"Ai-chan! Wait!" Ran called out.
Ai stopped, turning to face the detective's daughter. Ran looked conflicted, her hands fidgeting with her skirt. "Please... be careful. Even if my dad finds nothing, trust your instincts. If you feel like you're in danger, don't wait for a report. Just stay away."
Ai looked at Ran deeply. There was a strange intensity in Ran's gaze. It wasn't the look of a fan; it was the look of someone who knew the ending and want to prevent it.
"You sound like you know something, Ran-san," Ai whispered.
Ai took a gamble. She remembered what Nanashi's diary said: "Holders can talk to each other." If she was wrong, she would just sound like she was speaking nonsense. If she was right...
"Nanashi's Spoiler Diary," Ai said clearly.
The air between them frozen. Ran's eyes widened, and suddenly, a leather-bound book—identical to the one on Ai's vanity—materialized in her hand. Ai did the same, her own diary appearing as if pulled from thin air.
"You too?" Ran breathed, her face pale. "I got mine last night. I thought I was going crazy. It told me about... about things that shouldn't be possible. About my father, about Conan, and about a girl with star-eyes who was supposed to die in a doorway, which is you."
"Then it's true," Ai felt a chill. "The 'plot' really was set. I was supposed to be a sacrifice."
"Not anymore," Ran said firmly, reaching out to take Ai's hand. "I don't care if the world is a 'story.' You're a real person, and you're standing in front of me. We're going to change it. My dad might be the 'Sleeping Kogoro,' but with the diary, we have the answers before the questions are even asked."
They quickly exchanged phone numbers—not as idol and fan, but as two people standing outside the flow of time.
Inside the office, Conan stood by the window, watching the two girls talk on the street below. He saw the way their expressions shifted from fear to a grim, shared determination.
'Something is wrong,' Shinichi Kudo, aka Conan thought, his mind racing. 'Ai Hoshino didn't come here because of 'rumors.' She came here with a specific roadmap of a crime that has happened but buried in time, her intuition is sharp.'
"What are you looking at, brat?" Kogoro grumbled, already pulling out a file on the Lalalai Theatrical Troupe.
"Nothing, Ojisan," Conan chirped, though his eyes remained narrowed. "I just thought it was nice that Ran-neechan made a new friend. Though I didn't know she was such a big fan of B-Komachi."
Ran walked back into the room a moment later, her face set in a mask of calm.
"Ran-neechan," Conan said, testing the waters. "What were you and Ai-neesan are talking about? You looked really serious."
"Oh, you know," Ran said, ruffling his hair a bit too forcefully. "I just felt an unexplainable connection with her. I want to make sure she stays safe. That's all, Conan-kun."
"What!?" Conan cried out while his heart hammered in his chest. "Don't tell me Ran-neechan's preference has turned to girls because Shinichi-niichan isn't around! Is this a yuri plot twist!?"
A vein popped on Ran's forehead. She delivered a swift, practiced karate-chop to the top of Conan's head.
"MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, YOU PERVERTED BRAT!" She shouted, her face turning a bright, embarrassed crimson.
As Conan rubbed the growing bump on his head, he looked back at the door where Ai Hoshino had disappeared. There was a boy named 'Hikaru Kamiki' who was apparently a monster, an idol named 'Ai Hoshino' with keen intuition.