THE KNIGHT'S JUSTICE
DIVINE PUNISHMENT PART 4
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?"
"Yes... the previous owner's conglomerate collapsed into bankruptcy. He was forced to surrender this sanctuary to that man, Manaka," Manager Ochiai explained, his head bowing as his voice grew heavy with the leaden weight of regret.
"He liquidated the property under a strict covenant that Manaka would maintain its operation. Yet, the very instant the ink dried on the deed, he declared his intent to raze it for a hotel," Iijima added, his tone simmering with shared bitterness.
Iijima, Ochiai, and the visiting trio turned their collective gaze toward the architect and Manaka. The pair were huddled together, dissecting blueprints and discussing demolition logistics as if they were already standing amidst rubble rather than a hall of masterpieces.
"So the deal is already finalized?!" Sonoko remarked, her brow furrowing. She glanced toward Leon, who remained a motionless sentinel, his attention still anchored to the canvases while Kogoro stood awkwardly by his side.
CLANG!!
A violent, metallic resonance erupted through the vaulted hall, shattering the somber atmosphere. Every head swiveled toward the source. It was Kubota again. A heavy knight's helmet had slipped from his grasp, tumbling out of a protective cloth and striking the floor with a jarring ring.
That man again... he's handling the exhibits like common scrap—wait... a knight's helmet, Conan mused, a sharp, predatory smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The cryptic prophecy Leon had uttered yesterday—the "divine punishment of a knight"—suddenly felt remarkably tangible.
The hall was thick with the echoes of the impact. Kubota scrambled to a crouch, his movements frantic and clumsy as he snatched the helmet back up.
"If I recall, you're that fellow, Kubota, aren't you?" Manaka sneered as he strutted past. Kubota, clutching the cold steel of the helmet, looked up with wide, defensive eyes. "I've heard the rumors about you. You'd best hurry and scrape together whatever pittance you can find before I turn this place into a gold mine! HAHAHAHA!"
Manaka's abrasive laughter boomed as he disappeared down an adjacent corridor. Kubota's features contorted, his knuckles whitening against the helmet. "Damn it..." he hissed, before unceremoniously hurlng the piece of armor into a burlap sack.
Again with the negligence, Conan noted, his eyes darting to Manager Ochiai. Curiously, the old curator did not explode in fury this time. Instead, he remained eerily stoic, offering Ran, Sonoko, and Conan a polite, hollow smile.
"Please, continue to appreciate the works," Ochiai murmured, casting a fleeting, inscrutable glance toward the veiled child before trailing after Iijima, who was carefully transporting a separate painting.
"Come now, let us conclude this tour. My stomach is sounding a protest," Kogoro grumbled, trailing after them. Ran and Conan offered him nothing but a collective, dismissive silence.
Sonoko glided toward Leon. "Little Leon... it appears the gallery's fate is already sealed," she said softly. He offered a slow, somber nod of comprehension. Sonoko reached out, gently patting the top of his floppy hat.
Having exhausted the Hall of Paintings, they progressed into the Earth Gallery. True to its designation, the wing was a tribute to the terrestrial. The walls were a warm, loamy brown, and the art depicted jagged mountain ranges, prehistoric rock formations, and sweeping landscapes. Vases of fired clay stood alongside intricate sculptures carved from ancient timber, and fossilized remnants of a forgotten world lay encased in glass.
Next, they transitioned into the Sky Gallery. The transition was jarring; the earthly browns were replaced by a serene, ethereal blue and blinding whites. The ceiling was a masterpiece of architectural glass, shaped into the silhouette of a massive, soaring bird. There were no paintings here; instead, the room was populated by marble angels with wings outspread, their gazes fixed toward the heavens, surrounded by a swirling flock of sculpted birds in mid-flight. It felt less like a museum and more like a cathedral of light.
They moved on to the Sea Gallery, where the atmosphere grew deep and oceanic. The walls and floors were bathed in abyssal blues. Canvases captured the churning sea and its leviathans, while sculptures depicted humanity locked in a perpetual struggle with the tides, each figure wielding a ceremonial spear. Miniatures of legendary galleons and nautical artifacts completed the aquatic immersion.
Finally, they approached the threshold of the last wing. However, their progress was halted by a stark, barricaded sign: NO ENTRY.
"That's peculiar. The guidebook indicates another chamber lies just beyond this point," Ran noted, flipping through the blue pamphlet.
"Indeed," Sonoko agreed, checking her own notes. "It should be open."
"Just disregard it. Let's make our exit; this place is starting to give me the creeps," Kogoro demanded, his patience finally depleted.
The stage is set... Conan whispered to himself. He had been meticulously surveying every corner, looking for the physical manifestation of Leon's words. The "clues" were aligning, yet the climax remained elusive.
"It is here..." Leon breathed, the words so faint they were nearly swallowed by the ventilation.
Frustrated by the closure, the group decided to take a brief respite.
"Nee-san, I must utilize the restroom," Leon said to Sonoko.
"Very well. Ensure you wash your hands thoroughly," Sonoko reminded him. Leon nodded, sliding off his chair with ghost-like silence. Ran, Conan, and Kogoro watched as the black-clad figure drifted away.
"Ne, Sonoko-neesan," Conan asked, his eyes following the boy. "Does Leon-kun actually know the layout?"
"Of course. A staff member provided him with a guided orientation earlier while we were waiting," Sonoko replied confidently.
"I see..." Conan murmured.
"But why the veil?" Kogoro inquired, leaning in. "It seems a bit much for an art show."
As Ran and Sonoko began the delicate task of explaining Leon's condition to the detective, Conan checked his wristwatch. It was 4:35 PM. The silence was grating. He began to wonder if yesterday's events were merely a series of impossible coincidences rather than true clairvoyance.
Unbeknownst to the group, Leon did not seek the restroom. Instead, he navigated the shadows with clinical precision, bypassing the barrier and slipping into the forbidden corridor: The Gallery of Hell.
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤