THE KNIGHTS JUSTICE:
DIVINE PUNISHMENT PART 2
"Ne... Ran-neechan? Where are Sonoko-neesan and Leon-kun? I don't see them anywhere," Conan remarked, scanning the expansive foyer, but the familiar faces were nowhere to be found.
"They are likely already exploring the interior," Ran replied, her eyes fixed on the shadows beyond the entrance.
Upon crossing the threshold, they were ushered into a cavernous expanse. The floor was a deep, oceanic blue, providing a stark, cool contrast to the towering walls, which were swathed in a pale, muted orange.
Ran and Conan immediately pivoted their heads, scanning the vast hall for Sonoko and Leon. Kogoro followed in their wake, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, though his focus remained squarely on the two children.
In a corner furnished with plush seating for weary patrons, they found their quarry. Sonoko caught sight of them and waved with her usual theatrical flair. Ran reciprocated the gesture and hurried toward her friend, with Conan and Kogoro trailing behind. Kogoro's gaze, however, was anchored to the small figure perched beside Sonoko. He had never encountered Leon in the flesh, and the boy's attire—as well as Sonoko's—struck him as profoundly eccentric.
"Wow, you two look breathtaking! A matching ensemble... suteki!" Ran exclaimed, clasping her hands together as she scrutinized the pair.
"Hey, hey... what's with the mourning attire? Are we attending a viewing or an art exhibition?" Conan remarked, his eyes roaming over Sonoko's obsidian silhouette.
Sonoko was draped in a black dress that tapered at the knees, the fabric clinging precisely to her lithe frame. A matching black cape was fastened at her shoulders, and she wore a wide-brimmed floppy hat adorned with a blood-red ribbon. Her hands were encased in ebony gloves, and she wore delicate black sandals.
Beside her, Leon was a mirror image of funereal elegance. He was swathed in a heavy black Ulster Coat over a charcoal vest and a crisp black polo, accented by a shimmering golden necktie. He wore tailored black trousers and polished oxfords. Like his sister, he wore a floppy hat, but his featured a translucent black veil that cascaded over his face, obscuring his features in a mesh of shadow. A golden chain peeked from his vest pocket, tethered to a pocket watch hidden within.
The siblings projected an aura of mysterious, Gothic sophistication, particularly Leon, whose veiled countenance added a layer of spectral intrigue.
"Seriously... what is with the black-on-black? We came here to wander, not to audition for a fashion editorial," Kogoro grumbled as he approached the group.
Leon tilted his head upward as Kogoro neared, his shrouded eyes seemingly tracking the detective's movement.
"Oh, I haven't properly introduced my father to you, Leon-kun," Ran interjected, gesturing toward the man. "This is my father, Mouri Kogoro. He's a detective."
"Detective..." Leon's hoarse, hollow voice vibrated from behind the veil.
"Precisely. I am the Great Detective, Mouri Kogoro!" Kogoro announced, puffing out his chest and flashing a confident, toothy grin as he loomed over the veiled child.
"And this is Sonoko's younger brother, Leon-kun," Ran added.
Leon inclined his head in a courtly, diminutive bow. "My pleasure to meet you... Me-tantei..."
Kogoro's eyes twitched. The child was speaking a tongue he couldn't quite grasp. "M-mah pleh—?" He attempted to mimic the English greeting, but his tongue tied itself in knots.
Conan stepped in to bridge the linguistic gap. "Leon-kun said it was a pleasure to meet you, Oji-san."
Kogoro cleared his throat, adjusting his suit jacket to mask his embarrassment. "Ahem... well, the pleasure is all mine," he said, attempting to reclaim his dignity while privately wondering, What is wrong with children these days?
Conan continued to study Leon, whose face remained a silhouette behind the mesh. Leon seemed to sense the scrutiny and offered a slow, deliberate nod. Conan reciprocated the gesture. The detective noted the unique weave of the boy's coat—another layer of high-tech defense, no doubt. He also spotted a black flask gripped in Leon's gloved left hand.
"Leon-kun," Conan whispered, leaning in. "Do you suspect... that something momentous will occur today?"
Leon gave a singular, resolute nod. For reasons he couldn't quite articulate, Conan felt a sharp spark of anticipation ignite in his chest.
While the boys shared their silent understanding, Ran continued to laud Sonoko's fashion sense, a compliment Sonoko absorbed with her trademark vanity. Eventually, the group coalesced and decided to commence their tour.
Ran and Sonoko took the lead, clutching the blue guidebook. They set their sights on the nearest destination: The Hall of Paintings.
The Hall of Paintings served as the museum's nexus, situated near the entrance. From this central hub, four distinct corridors branched out like the spokes of a wheel, leading to the various thematic wings of the rectangular complex: the Earth Gallery, the Sky Gallery, the Sea Gallery, and the Hell Gallery.
As they entered the hall, they found themselves in a spacious gallery where the walls, painted in that same pale orange, were populated by various medieval-style works. They drifted from frame to frame, absorbing the artistry.
They halted before a large canvas depicting a family of four. The mother, robed in vibrant green, gazed at her husband with an expression of serene devotion. The father, in a light red robe, returned her look with equal fervor. They were seated amidst a lush, verdant meadow, flanked by two small children who bore shimmering halos atop their heads, reminiscent of cherubs. It was a tableau of domestic bliss, yet the background told a darker story. The sky was bruised and turbulent, and the trees bowed under the force of a violent wind. Despite the storm, a singular, divine beam of light descended from the heavens, illuminating only the family.
The group stared at the work, each forming their own internal narrative.
"A blessed one..." Leon murmured to himself, his voice a faint rasp beneath the veil as he contemplated the juxtaposition of divine light and the gathering storm.
The troupe drifted toward the adjacent canvas, a still life showcasing a diverse collection of vases. The artistry was staggering; the painter's virtuosity was evident in the porcelain's hyper-realistic sheen and the meticulous, atmospheric shading of the shadows. While the deeper allegorical weight of the vessels remained elusive to the laymen, Conan and Leon lingered, their gazes dissecting the composition with a shared, silent comprehension.
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤