Then, with a flourish of practiced efficiency, the maid deposited a pristine white box, cinched with a crimson silk ribbon, upon the polished table.
"What is that?" Ran inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"Oh, it is my Valentine's offering," Sonoko announced, swiftly claiming the vessel. She placed it centrally and tugged the ribbon free. The four vertical walls of the box collapsed outward in a rhythmic bloom, unveiling the treasure within—a feline figure sculpted in chocolate, sitting upright and delicately grooming its right paw. The fur possessed a shimmering, tawny-gold luster that mirrored the specific hue of Sonoko's own tresses.
"Wow…" Ran and Conan breathed in unison. "Is this truly made of chocolate?"
"Fufufu… naturally. This is the masterpiece I alluded to earlier—Little Leon crafted this only yesterday."
"Incredible… Leon-kun, your artistry is boundless—not merely confined to the canvas, but extending into the realm of sculpture," Ran praised, while Conan shifted his scrutiny toward Leon, who was currently preoccupied with a measured sip from his obsidian mug.
"Huhuhu… exactly as one would expect from my brother," Sonoko declared, basking in the reflected glory of the acclaim.
Hey, hey… the credit belongs to the boy, not you, Conan grumbled internally.
"Well then, are you prepared to sample this creation?" Sonoko offered.
"Eh?! Is that permissible? Was it not a personal gift from Leon-kun to you?" Ran asked, hesitant.
Sonoko glanced at Leon. "It is acceptable to share, is it not, Little Leon?"
The table turned their collective focus toward him. They witnessed him elevate his right hand, extending a silent thumbs-up, while his left hand remained anchored to his mug as he continued his slow consumption of the brew.
His complexion remained hauntingly pallid—bordering on the spectral—but that singular, economical gesture was an absolute affirmation.
Sonoko beamed and retrieved the serrated bread knife the maid had stationed on a nearby porcelain plate.
"Very well… let us experience the Valentine's chocolate birthed by Little Leon."
The steel edge began its slow, deliberate descent through the feline sculpture. Sonoko wore a concentrated grin, meticulously guiding the blade to ensure a bifurcated, symmetrical cut.
As the chocolate cat was cleaved in twain, she gently pried the halves apart, revealing a reservoir of molten caramel secreted within. They watched with bated breath as the rich, amber liquid cascaded outward in a glossy, viscous stream. As the sculpture parted, the internal architecture became visible—a series of distinct, surgical layers. It boasted a tripartite structure: a crisp chocolate exterior, followed by a layer of moist, aerated sponge cake, and finally, a heart of frigid, pristine ice cream at the very center.
They collectively swallowed, their pupils dilated with the visceral urge to taste. Without further delay, Sonoko quartered the feline into four vertical segments. Using a polished tablespoon, she transferred each portion onto separate plates, distributing them with a graceful flourish.
"Itadakimasu…" Sonoko, Ran, and Conan intoned, plunging their spoons into the delicacies before them.
Leon followed suit, though his Japanese was fractured by a heavy, phonetically awkward accent: "Eh-tad-duck-key-mass…" He then utilized his spoon to gather the errant caramel, drenching his own portion in the golden syrup.
He harvested a spoonful and brought it to his lips. He did not chew; instead, he allowed the amalgamation of tempered chocolate, soft cake, and freezing cream to dissolve against the roof of his mouth. He remained motionless, a silhouette of concentration as the flavors harmonized and melted into a singular, decadent experience.
In contrast, the others chewed with gusto, the sweetness igniting their palates. From the opulent caramel to the structural integrity of the layers, the dessert was a symphony of culinary perfection.
Ran spoke as soon as she found her voice. "Leon-kun, your mastery extends even to the patisserie… the balance is exquisite. The bitterness of the chocolate doesn't eclipse the delicate crumb of the cake or the chill of the ice cream, and that caramel provides such a vibrant, finishing chord. Truly… a magnificent confection."
Conan offered a resolute nod as he continued his assault on the chocolate, his enjoyment palpable.
"Utterly divine…" Sonoko added, deconstructing her portion with terrifying velocity.
Once their premature dessert had been cleared, Chef Ramzy presented the midday feast Sonoko had requested. A parade of gourmet platters was arrayed across the table—a bountiful cornucopia they were expected to diminish. However, Ran and Conan noted that Leon's plate remained conspicuously vacant. Before the question could form, a maid stepped forward, placing a solitary, specific dish before the boy.
Leon had been anticipating this—a simple, elegantly prepared serving of seared pink salmon. It was, evidently, his preferred sustenance. Ran and Conan observed as he wasted no time, his fork seeking out a flake of the fish with a precision that suggested he had been waiting for this exact moment.
They lingered over the meal, luxuriating in the high-caliber culinary spread.
When the feast concluded, they remained stationary; the maids descended like silent ghosts to vanish the remnants and clean the expanse of the table. They remained in the dining hall, reposing after the substantial meal, as a second round of refreshments was served.
Presently, Sonoko and Ran drifted into a discussion regarding their itinerary for the following day, while Conan and Leon sat as silent sentinels, absorbing the dialogue.
Conan cast clandestine glances at the boy, attempting to analyze his enigma. Leon's expression remained an impenetrable mask—utterly deadpan—as he took intermittent draws from his black mug. Despite his apparent apathy, his focus was clearly tethered to the conversation between the girls.
A medieval suit of armor navigating under its own power? Conan mused skeptically.
"So the rumors have reached you as well, Ran?" Sonoko asked.
"Indeed. It is the talk of the town," Ran replied. "I heard that a pair of night watchmen witnessed it during their rounds. A silver panoply of armor marching with a mind of its own… isn't that a fascinating mystery?"
Sonoko's eyes ignited with a sudden fervor. "That is it! Why don't we visit the art gallery tomorrow? What do you say, Ran? You are at leisure, and I am certainly free."
"Oh… that is a marvelous suggestion. Yes, let us do precisely that," Ran agreed.
Conan, eavesdropping on the supernatural gossip, fought the urge to scoff. To his analytical mind, it was a transparent fabrication—a gimmick engineered to bolster museum attendance. He suppressed a chuckle at the sheer absurdity of a sentient suit of mail.
However, as his gaze drifted back to Leon, he saw the boy set his mug down and shutter his eyes, descending once more into a profound, hollow silence. It was a repetition of the fugue state he had witnessed the previous day.
Conan's eyes sharpened, his detective's instinct flaring as he scrutinized the motionless child.
Sonoko turned, intent on inviting Leon to join their excursion, but the words died in her throat as she noted his closed lids and stilled breath. Ran followed her gaze, finding the boy in that same inexplicable trance.
A heavy silence fell over the table as they waited for his consciousness to return.
The seconds stretched, thick and quiet. Then, slowly, Leon's eyelids fluttered open. His hand remained wrapped around the mug as he raised it to his lips for another draught.
Leon blinked twice… then fixed a piercing, unblinking stare directly upon Conan, who sat directly across from him.
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤