THE KNIGHT'S JUSTICE:
DIVINE PUNISHMENT PART 3
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.
They transitioned to the next piece: a singular, translucent wine glass. It was a marvel of optical illusion, rendered with such breathtaking clarity that, were it not for the gilded frame, one would have undoubtedly perceived it as a phantom object suspended in mid-air.
"Exquisite..." Kogoro breathed, leaning in until his nose nearly brushed the pigment.
"Occhan... you're salivating," Conan remarked drily, tugging at the detective's sleeve.
The following exhibit was an abstract departure—a canine form deconstructed through a kaleidoscope of geometric concepts and jagged shapes. To the uninitiated, it was a chaotic jumble, but Leon, whose perception operated on a different frequency, stood rooted to the spot. Behind the dark mesh of his veil, his expression remained a mystery, yet his stillness suggested he was reading a language the others could not hear.
Beside the abstract work hung a more narrative piece. It depicted a couple from behind, huddled beneath a single umbrella as they strolled toward a solitary, gnarled tree. Tucked behind the trunk, a man stood concealed, his eyes fixed on the laughing pair. The atmosphere was paradoxically vibrant, bathed in luminous, cheerful pigments—even the voyeur was painted in radiant hues. However, the "loving" couple at the center was rendered in jarring, somber tones.
"What do you make of this one?" Ran asked, her brow furrowed in contemplation.
"Likely just some resentful, jealous third wheel," Kogoro surmised with a dismissive wave.
"No, Occhan," Conan interjected, his eyes narrowing. "This study is about betrayal. The woman is the unfaithful one, and the man behind the tree is her true paramour, come to spy on the charade."
"And what exactly does a brat like you know of the complexities of art?" Kogoro barked, though he looked slightly rattled by the boy's precision.
Sonoko turned to the silent figure at her side. "And you, Little Leon? What is your verdict?"
"…Un-fated one," Leon's voice emerged, a rasping, hollow whisper.
"Un-fated?" Sonoko repeated, the word chilling her slightly.
"Oho! You possess a remarkably keen eye, young one," a resonant, elderly voice projected from behind them.
The group pivoted to find a man draped in a classic black suit. He was gaunt, his frame appearing almost skeletal. A cascade of long, snowy hair flowed from his head, matched by thick white brows and a mustache so prodigious it reached his midsection. His eyes were perpetually squinted, rendered as thin, inscrutable slits.
Leon's posture stiffened. Behind the veil, his eyes widened—a subtle shift only Conan seemed to catch.
"Pardon the intrusion," Ran said, blinking. "Who might you be?"
"Ah, where are my manners?" the old man replied with a courtly bow. "My name is Ochiai. I am the curator and manager of this gallery."
"The manager," Ran and Sonoko echoed. Sonoko added with a smirk, "Well, you certainly look the part."
Manager Ochiai let out a soft, dry chuckle. He turned his attention to the pair in black, his gaze lingering on the child whose face was entirely obscured. Switching to English, recognizing the boy's previous utterance, he repeated, "You have a discerning eye."
Leon did not offer a conventional greeting. Instead, he asked a hauntingly direct question: "…Was it worth it?"
Ochiai's smile faltered. His squinted lids twitched, a momentary fracture in his composed facade. He offered a slow, solemn nod before gesturing to the surrounding walls. "I cherish every piece in this hall as if they were my own progeny." Whether he truly understood the existential weight of Leon's query remained unsaid, but he answered with the gravity of a confession.
Leon nodded in return and slowly redirected his attention to the art. The silence held for a moment longer until Ochiai broke it.
"Please, continue to enjoy your tour," he said, turning to depart.
As he walked away, his eyes landed on a slim man in a formal suit who was carelessly adjusting a frame with his naked fingers. Ochiai's features contorted with sudden, volcanic fury.
"KUBOTA! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!"
The man, Kubota—a fellow with a sharp, triangular jaw and bulging, panicked eyes—nearly leaped out of his skin.
"HOW MANY TIMES MUST I INSTRUCT YOU TO DON GLOVES WHEN HANDLING THE EXHIBITS?!" Ochiai roared, his voice echoing through the vaulted hall.
"I-I'm sorry!" Kubota stammered, staring guiltily at his bare hands.
Ochiai marched toward him, his presence suddenly looming. "Be gone. Leave this to those who respect the work. Iijima-kun, please take over."
Iijima, a man with a soft, squared face in a blue suit, stepped forward instantly. "Yes, sir."
Kubota spat a silent curse, glaring venomously at Ochiai's back before storming off. As Iijima began the delicate process of resetting the painting, another figure approached the curator.
A rotund man with a flat mustache and a light brown suit sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips. "As desolate and silent as ever, I see."
Ochiai turned, his voice cold. "Owner Manaka."
Manaka surveyed the hall with palpable disdain. "Ten days remain until this mausoleum is shuttered for good." He looked around at the masterworks as if viewing trash. "Take care of this moldy old junk for me until then." His voice turned sharp, declaring the masterpieces were merely "old junk."
He smirked at the curator once more. "OK, Architect, bring the blueprints," he commanded the man behind him.
"Yes, sir," the architect replied, following Manaka as he marched away.
Ochiai remained motionless, staring at their retreating forms with a look of profound, localized grief.
Deeply unsettled by the exchange, Ran approached the old manager, followed closely by Sonoko and Conan. "Is it true? Is this gallery truly destined for permanent closure?"
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤