A long, lustrous black vehicle stood before them—an artifact that appeared as though it had been plucked from a cinematic set.
"It's a limousine!" Mitsuhiko exclaimed, his eyes bulging in astonishment.
"Incredible!" Genta and Ayumi added, equally electrified.
"Well, what do you expect from the Suzuki dynasty?" Conan remarked with dry pragmatism.
The limousine glided to a halt directly before them.
A gentleman garbed in an obsidian suit emerged from the driver's compartment and approached the assembly.
"Lady Sonoko, Leon-sama—I have arrived to escort you both," he said with profound deference.
"Lady Sonoko? Leon-sama?" Genta, Ayumi, and Mitsuhiko muttered, bewildered by the titles.
Sonoko waved a hand dismissively. "There is no requirement for such formalities."
The chauffeur nodded and moved toward the passenger door, opening it with seamless precision.
Sonoko turned back to the group. "Enter. We shall provide you with transport."
"Truly? You are permitting us to ride in this vehicle?!" Genta, Mitsuhiko, and Ayumi exclaimed, their jubilation reaching a fever pitch.
"Huhuhu… there is no need for gratitude," Sonoko said, visibly basking in the prestige of the moment.
Despite her remark, the trio offered their thanks regardless.
Ran appeared slightly hesitant. "Is it truly appropriate?"
Sonoko merely patted Ran's back with a light touch. "Dispose of your worries. It is a simple commute."
Ran offered a gentle smile. "Then I shall accompany you as well." She turned to Conan. "Come, let us board."
Conan nodded in agreement.
The three younger children were the first to penetrate the limousine, followed by Ran and Conan.
Sonoko then approached Leon, gently relieving him of the umbrella and clasping his hand as she guided him into the luxurious interior.
Once he was seated, she followed him inside.
The driver reclaimed the parasol, collapsed it tidily, and secured the door behind them.
Inside the limousine, they were greeted by an opulent and extravagant interior. From the supple, refined grain of the leather seats alone, they could discern that this was a vehicle of unparalleled pedigree.
The cabin was expansive and lustrous, exuding an aura of sophistication and high-tier comfort. The children gazed about in reverence, absorbing the meticulous details of the environment.
Shortly thereafter, the chauffeur returned to the pilot's seat. He settled into his position, adjusted his posture, and ignited the engine.
With a muffled, rhythmic thrum, the limousine commenced its journey, gliding effortlessly through the veins of Beika as it surged forward.
Within the opulent confines of the limousine, the chauffeur queried with practiced deference, "Miss Sonoko, whither shall we navigate first?"
Sonoko pivoted toward the assembly. "Very well, children—who among you resides in the closest proximity to this locale?"
Mitsuhiko, Genta, and Ayumi thrust their hands skyward in a synchronized motion. "We are situated quite near this thoroughfare!" they harmonized.
"Splendid, then we shall initiate our transit there," Sonoko decreed.
The driver inclined his head in silent assent, attending meticulously to the directions dispensed by the trio as they facilitated his navigation.
Sonoko then redirected her scrutiny toward her sibling. "Leon… are you not stifled by the heat? You may divest yourself of your headgear and mask should you desire a reprieve of fresh air."
She was cognizant of the fact that, within the sanctuary of the vehicle, he was immune to the solar threat. However, her proposition was not merely an act of sisterly benevolence; it harbored a clandestine motive. She yearned to subtly, yet triumphantly, unveil her brother's extraordinary visage. Her eyes scintillated with a proprietary pride as she spoke.
The others, capturing the cadence of Sonoko's voice, felt a surge of intrigue. They were consumed by a voracious curiosity to behold Leon's true countenance, having previously glimpsed only the lower hemisphere of his face. Sonoko deliberately elevated her pitch to ensnare their focus, crossing her arms as she regarded Leon with transparent expectation.
Leon felt no particular malaise regarding his funereal wrappings; he had long since acclimatized to the sensation of being shrouded. He harbored no grievances over such trivialities, yet he acquiesced to his sister's whim nonetheless.
First, he dislodged the surgical mask. His right hand ascended, meticulously uncoupling the elastic from his ears. As the veil fell, he finally exhaled, inhaling a profound, revitalizing draught of oxygen.
As his features were liberated, the onlookers beheld his dermis—ashen, almost as if the light itself recoiled from making contact with him. It would be no hyperbole to liken it to translucent porcelain or the pristine expanse of untrodden snow.
Next, he elevated his right hand and seized the brim of his cap. With a fluid, rhythmic motion, he lifted it away.
Once the obsidian headwear was removed, his full aesthetic was finally surrendered to the light.
His tresses were gathered into two elegant buns, and their pigment was a phenomenon they had never before witnessed—pure, blinding white. It was an absolute ivory, reminiscent of delicate frost formations, as though every strand had been meticulously chiseled into intricate, glacial patterns. Coupled with his cadaverous complexion, his features projected an almost celestial, ethereal aura. Had they not been privy to his gravelly phonation earlier, they might have easily misidentified him as a maiden.
His nasal bridge was aristocratic—prominent yet possessing a soft, delicate contour. Even his brows were bleached of color, merging seamlessly with his hair. Long, sweeping lashes framed his orbits with elegance, and his mandibular line was sculpted with a sharp yet harmonious balance.
But the most arresting attribute of all was his gaze.
Each eye possessed a distinct, clashing hue.
His right iris was the color of a tempestuous ocean—profound, vivid, and vast like sapphire depths. His left iris was the color of an ancient forest—opulent, deep, and vibrant like emerald foliage.
A sapphire eye. An emerald eye.
The troupe gazed in a state of absolute, paralyzed awe, momentarily rendered mute by the remarkable and almost hallucinatory appearance of Leon. He resembled an angelic changeling, with a pallid whiteness dominating nearly every facet of his being. Not merely his skin, but his very crown was pure snow, and his eyes shimmered like faceted gemstones.
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤