There were not many white-haired people here. Other than the little girl who had just been running around and attracting plenty of attention, the only one was an old man. Obviously, nobody present would connect the word "culprit" with a child.
Pisco's first thought was that Vermouth, a woman who loved playing strange tricks, was joking with him.
But then Yimi, still hidden under a tablecloth, added in rapid succession, "White beard, black clothes, standing in front of that fat man. You're trying to move back now? I can see you!"
"..."
Being identified by a fellow Black Organization member sent countless thoughts flashing through Pisco's mind. Had the Organization decided to discard him?
No. He had worked faithfully for the Organization for so many years. Rather than believe he had been turned into a disposable pawn, he would sooner believe Vermouth had betrayed them. If the goal was simply to eliminate him, accusing him here brought Vermouth, his accomplice, no benefit whatsoever.
"What nonsense are you talking about? I have no grudge against him. Why would I be the killer?!"
Pisco knew Vermouth had clearly decided to come after him, and further denial was meaningless. He really had fallen into a trap today.
As an out-of-towner, he lacked a Beika resident's readiness to drop to his knees and confess the moment he was accused.
At this point, there was no reason to keep hiding anything. He picked up the concealed gun again and fired several shots at the hall lights, plunging the room back into the same darkness as during the slideshow.
Since he had planned from the start to disguise the death as an accident, he naturally had not put the gun very far away.
Anyone near him would run the instant they saw a gun. Even the security guards would not dare approach. Who could possibly stop him?
Now that he was the target of everyone in the hall, there was no way he could kill every witness with a single gun. Pisco understood the Organization's methods well. After an incident like this, an old man like him would probably be cleaned up too. There was no escaping it.
He glared hatefully toward Vermouth's direction. In the pitch-black hall, he could not see what condition she was in.
Pisco took out a lighter and used it for illumination as he walked that way, only to be bowled over by some fat man fleeing in panic. Focused on keeping hold of his gun, Pisco accidentally lost the lighter from his other hand. It landed on alcohol that someone else had knocked over.
The hall grew much brighter at last, but that only caused greater panic.
Pisco lifted his head to look for Vermouth. She was no longer where she had been. Instead, he spotted a coffee-haired little girl who had been separated from her companions, shoved back and forth by the fleeing crowd. Her tiny body awakened no sympathy at all in the adults trying to escape.
Pisco paused. The old man's eyesight was excellent. At a glance, he realized the little girl looked extremely similar to Miyano Shiho, whom the Organization had recently placed at the top of its wanted list. He had truly seen Shiho when she was young.
He had not watched her grow up every day, so the image in his memory had never been gradually overwritten as she aged.
That drug research was critically important to the Organization, wasn't it? If he captured her, maybe he would still have a chance...
Pisco rushed over, covered Ai's mouth, and retreated along a route he had scouted in advance. At this point, nobody was likely to pay attention to the actual murderer anymore. The hotel hall was completely covered in red carpet, making the fire spread terrifyingly fast.
"Haibara! Yimi!" Conan anxiously shouted his companions' names, but all he could see were adult legs rushing past one after another in the firelight.
...
Ignoring where Vermouth might have escaped amid the chaos, the fiercely loyal Pisco dumped the drugged Ai into a storage room.
This was obviously a terrible idea. The hotel storage room was practically a wine cellar. Once the fire reached this place, anyone inside would be doomed. But Pisco had hidden some of his equipment here.
He turned on a computer and searched his files for a childhood photo of Miyano Shiho. There was no doubt at all. She looked exactly like the brat he had brought here.
There could be no mistake...
If he used this brat to make up for his failure, combined with all the years of loyalty he had given the Organization, perhaps that would be enough to spare his life and let him retire behind the scenes?
Pisco was not certain, but he seemed to have no other option.
It was time to leave. He could feel the temperature around him rising.
He found a case of suitable size and dumped out all the bottles inside. A seven- or eight-year-old child was very small—in this world, at least. Even a suitcase could barely fit one.
Although Ai had received another dose of anesthetic, she had not completely lost consciousness. Already somewhat on guard when Pisco covered her mouth, she had held her breath and inhaled only a small amount.
But she had no intention of resisting.
She had already been exposed. This was fine... If she died here, those children should be safe.
Sis...
"What are you doing?" A third person's voice sounded in the room.
Pisco had never expected that anyone would be able to follow him at a time like this.
He turned and saw another little girl of about seven standing there with her hands in her pockets, staring straight at him. Through the open door behind her, the glow of the fire was faintly visible.
"This is no place for you, kid." Pisco kept his back to her as he dropped the empty magazine from the gun he had used to shoot out the lights and replaced it with a full one.
"You could have been safe just by running with the adults, yet you chose this route instead." Pisco turned and aimed at her, only to feel Ai, who had somehow awakened, grab his ankle with a still-weak hand.
That did nothing to stop him from firing at the unlucky brat standing in the doorway. The spinning bullet struck the girl squarely between the eyebrows. On another snowy night, it seemed to bring Ai's nightmare to life.
No!
The anesthetic had not worn off. Ai did not even have the strength to scream.
She could not lift her head straight up, so she probably missed the way Pisco's pupils contracted and his face showed almost the same shock he had pretended to display when the earlier victim died.
Pisco's aim and eyesight had not declined at all with age. A man capable of hitting a chain dusted with fluorescent powder in total darkness could not possibly miss a little girl who had not moved a single step.
Something seemed to flash in that instant, but because his concentration was stretched to the limit, he actually failed to notice anything more.
Unlike some amateur who could not even move a finger in time, Pisco had handled guns for decades and could fire a second shot almost by reflex. Unfortunately for him, that professional instinct was where the tragedy began.
"You..."
During the few seconds of life remaining to him, he had to consider what sort of situation could make a bullet stop in midair after leaving the muzzle and remain there, still spinning.
Yimi pointed her index finger at him, almost perfectly aligned with the barrel aimed at her. She did not use her usual method of crushing his heart.
Pisco seemed to realize something and threw himself sideways.
The bullet reversed course, curved through the air, and pierced Pisco straight through the forehead.
The kitty was not in the habit of talking to herself, and there wasn't a single line of dialogue here. She walked over, picked up Ai—who had closed her eyes and gone limp as though unconscious—and carried her on her back toward the fire outside.
"..."
Ai opened her eyes a sliver. As Yimi carried her past Pisco, she stared at the corpse on the floor for a long while.
Then she closed her eyes again and tightened her arms around Yimi's neck.
She kept pretending to be unconscious.
...
Outside Haido City Hotel, Gin stared at the bright flames reflected in the windows, thinking about something.
The brand-new car he had just bought had been towed away by the traffic police. Of course, that was not the important part.
"Big Bro." The new underling beside him seemed to remember something.
"What is it, Vodka?" Compared with usual, Gin's tone even sounded slightly gentler.
"Big Bro, I'm not Vodka."
"..."
Before Gin could respond, the underling beside him suddenly fell flat on his back. There was a bloody hole between his eyebrows.
"!"
Gin immediately ducked behind cover and tried to judge the bullet's trajectory.
He had sensed absolutely nothing. Was it Akai Shuichi? When did he get here?