"Shinichi, are you okay? You're sweating so much." Ran supported him by the arm. She was so worried that a fine sheen of sweat had appeared on her own skin too.
This was a sign that he was about to revert. The effect had already lasted much longer than Ai expected, though after the play ended he had reverted once and taken another dose of the antidote.
Ai rolled her eyes and did her best imitation of Conan acting cute. "Shinichi-nii-chan, I think I heard something happen over there just now."
Ai's hearing was not nearly as good as Yimi's, so she had not actually heard the details. But from that scream and Yimi's behavior, it was not difficult to guess what had happened.
Of everyone present, Ai was definitely the most anxious. Yimi was far too unusual. Ai could not let the Black Organization notice that child, yet she still had to deal with Kudo Shinichi right in front of her.
"What are you talking about, Conan? Shinichi is already like this..."
"It's fine, Ran. I just caught a bit of this brat's cold." Shinichi put a hand on Ai's head. He wanted to ruffle her hair, but was afraid he might knock her wig loose.
"What are you talking about now?" Ran looked at him in confusion.
Shinichi forced himself to stand as straight as possible. "There's still a lot I want to tell you, but at least I already got the most important thing across."
Even if half of it had been said for him by that little brat Yimi.
He turned his head and left Ran one final line with a brilliant smile. "It's a shame we didn't get to properly eat at this restaurant that means so much. To make up for it, you can decide everything about our next date, okay?"
I said it...
Shinichi whipped his head away before Ran could see how red his ears had become, but Ai saw everything perfectly clearly.
"Shinichi!"
He still left. It looked remarkably similar to what had happened before, and there was no telling how long it would be until they met again.
"A date..."
...
Kudo Shinichi naturally had no chance to make another appearance. He needed to find somewhere to turn back into Conan, then find some clothes that actually fit.
Ai was wearing his clothes right now, but he could hardly ask a girl to take them off so he could wear them.
Outside the restaurant.
"You've got to be kidding me! How could I be the one who murdered the president?!" Ooba was naturally furious. He turned toward Inspector Megure. "How can you let some random stranger spout nonsense in a place that isn't even the crime scene?"
"That's right! Ooba-san was with me the entire time!" The victim's daughter was devastated, but still stood firmly on his side.
"Now, now, everyone calm down." Inspector Megure soothed them, then looked down at the solemn Gin. "You there, long-haired young man. What evidence do you have?"
"Evidence? Of course I have evidence." The subject made Yimi angry all over again, so when she spoke in Gin's voice, her tone actually carried a little of the real man's flavor. "That gun. You threw it away, through the hatch in the wall."
Ooba's face went deathly pale.
There had been a second witness back then? An adult, even?
He had deliberately arranged for the lighting to be dim so the woman beside him would not notice he had a gun, so he himself had not been certain whether anyone else was nearby.
Gin's voice continued. "And not only that. You even hit a smart, cute little girl."
He even hit a smart, cute little girl?
Bourbon, secretly watching from nearby, could not comprehend how such righteous words could possibly belong in Gin's mouth.
He focused intently on Gin, trying to spot signs of a Vermouth disguise. In Bourbon's eyes, that was the only explanation for Gin's bizarre behavior. But a master of disguise like Vermouth should not have made a mistake this obvious either.
The kitty's voice contained obvious anger, but after several rounds of practice, Yimi had learned to suppress her tone a little. Combined with Gin's voice, it instead sounded to Bourbon like Gin's usual way of packing killing intent between every word. The broken, halting rhythm of the speech went completely unnoticed.
The sudden situation threw Ooba into a panic, and even his breathing went uneven for an instant.
If there was an eyewitness, all the police had to do was check that chute and he would be completely exposed. But it still was not absolute, was it? Anyone could throw garbage into that chute. Why couldn't this man dressed entirely in black be the murderer instead? He looked like the most suspicious person here!
There was far too little evidence. With Ooba's personality, as long as there was even the slightest chance to argue back, he would never let it go.
He did exactly what he was thinking and gave Gin a mocking look. "As far as I know, the president offended plenty of people. Who knows? Maybe some rival company hired you as a killer."
"Hired killer?"
Snakelike killing intent wound around Ooba's chest from beneath his collar, as though something had even bitten him.
Because that last phrase had come from the now-conscious Gin himself.
If I don't confess, he's going to kill me! For one instant, Ooba genuinely felt that way.
Gin was Gin, after all. Even an anesthetic needle capable of putting an entire Kogoro to sleep for quite a while only had a brief effect on him.
But Gin could not understand the scene at all. Someone had attacked him. He woke up surrounded by police, and now some man was accusing him of being a killer? What kind of person was arrogant enough to think they could capture him alive?
Gin fought off the lingering anesthetic while calculating the best moment to force his way out. Throughout the process, his gaze remained fixed on Ooba, because this was the man who had just accused him of being a killer.
Ooba had never seen eyes like those before. They seemed to be looking at a corpse, as though it would not matter how many people died. Having just committed murder himself, Ooba felt as though he had plunged into an ice cellar, as if the president's ghost had come to claim his life.
Gin's stare was quite effective on ordinary people. He was too lazy even to look at traffic when crossing the street. If a driver yielded and then cursed at him in road rage, one look from Gin was enough to make the person shut their filthy mouth instantly.
Ooba took a step back. Under the inexplicable psychological pressure, he involuntarily tried to ease it by saying something that was practically a confession. "Because I swore to my father that I would avenge him."
He let out a long breath and looked coldly at the president's daughter, who had just defended him. All the affection he had once shown her was gone.
Before Gin could wonder whose son this Ooba might be among all the people he had killed, Ooba began explaining his motive on his own.
His father had once owned a fairly large game company. Then one day, the victim approached him with a proposal to merge, asking whether he wanted to build a castle of their own in Beika Central Building.
But the victim's true goal was not a merger. It was a takeover. Every business strategy Ooba's father had built was seized, all of his original employees were fired, and in the end he was left with nothing but an empty title as vice president.
Crushed by the failure, his father committed suicide. He had even tried to stage his death as a murder so the president would be dragged down with him, but a man named Kudo Yusaku saw through it afterward.
Perhaps out of guilt, the president kept promoting Ooba. Ooba then used that opportunity to win over the president's daughter.
The reason the two claimed they had been together the whole time was because the woman really had been present when he murdered the president. The two of them had been kissing inside the elevator.
When they reached the designated floor, Ooba held the woman's head against himself and wrapped one arm around it to cover her ears. With his other hand, he raised the gun and aimed at the president, whom he had arranged to meet in advance on a floor where no bystanders would appear.
Because the lighting was so dim, the woman never noticed the gun in his hand. He killed her father less than two meters away from her.
Besides fitting the gun with a suppressor, he had even considered gunshot-residue testing. He put on gloves first, then enclosed both his hand and the handgun inside a transparent plastic bag. The gloves and bag were disposed of separately from the gun.
"It was all just like a game, including the process of winning you over. A story where 'the protagonist borrows the demon's power and ultimately defeats the Demon King.'"
Sweat ran down Ooba's face as he gave a faint laugh. He had avenged his father. He had not failed the way his father had.
Hearing all of this, the president's daughter covered her mouth and could not say a word.
Gin did not care in the slightest about Ooba babbling through his grudges and romances. He only cared about who had attacked him.
Inspector Megure had his men handcuff Ooba, then warmly took Gin's hand. "Thanks for the help, long-haired young man. You look awfully familiar. What should I call you? If you can, come back to the station with me and give a statement."
Gin did not answer. He coldly shook Megure's hand off.
Of course he looked familiar. They had met before during the roller-coaster incident at the amusement park. Back then, a high-school detective had even tried to follow Gin and his companion, so Gin had taught the ignorant brat a lesson with a blow to the back of the head.
Gin swept his gaze across everyone present.
Someone had knocked him unconscious, then done something while he was out. But with so many people here, he had no idea who it was.
He could not even be certain whether something was wrong with his own mind. His body had kept developing strange problems lately, and every one of those partners of his had been absurdly fragile and sensitive.
Gin pressed down the brim of his hat and swept another look over the police officers. The only thing he could do was leave the scene without saying a word.
And thus he left without claiming any credit.
"So cold..." Inspector Megure did not stop him. Kudo Shinichi was the type who disliked giving statements too, so Megure was used to it.
Bourbon, having witnessed everything, left as quickly as possible as well, pretending he had seen absolutely nothing.