Chapter 45: Strange Gazes
Conan stood by the police tape, watching Inspector Megure's burly figure disappear down the corridor. A sudden memory surfaced in his mind—Lisa's casual mention of her workplace. A spark of inspiration lit up his oversized glasses. He pivoted on his heel and jogged over to a nearby staff member sorting through a cart of returned books.
"Excuse me, miss," he asked, pitching his voice into a sweet, childish register. "Is there a librarian working here named Lisa?"
The woman paused, offering him a gentle smile. "Ah, yes, there is. But she took a leave of absence for the past two days. If you are looking for her, little boy, you might have to come back tomorrow."
Conan's expression shifted slightly as he thanked her and walked away. Sure enough, Lisa worked here. Was she the one who made the anonymous tip to the police?
His thoughts drifted to Natsume. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen her taking on any odd jobs or commissions around Beika for the past two days either. They usually bumped into each other on the streets quite frequently. Both of them disappearing at the exact same time... did they go somewhere together?
Miles away, the salty ocean breeze of Tsukikage Island swept through the open window. Natsume stood by the sill, her golden eyes scanning the translucent blue screen hovering in her line of sight.
[World Mission: The Library Murder Case — Complete.]
A satisfied smile curved her lips. The mission had dragged on for quite some time, entirely dependent on the library director making his move. She had been forced to wait patiently for the evidence to surface. Now that the imported drugs were physically inside the library, Lisa's perfectly timed anonymous tip to the police had caught the man red-handed. Because Lisa had reported him the exact moment he brought the narcotics into the building, the director never even had the chance to silence anyone. A tragedy averted.
With Beika's matters settled, her focus shifted entirely to the current situation on Tsukikage Island. She truly hadn't expected the aftermath of the Moonlight Sonata Murder Case to leave such a massive power vacuum. The island's corrupt village chief and its wealthiest capitalist had both perished. With the leadership position entirely vacant, the role of village chief had miraculously fallen into the lap of Sangonomiya Kokomi.
Or rather, the system identity Natsume had just pulled for Kokomi was the newly appointed village chief of Tsukikage Island.
Despite the fortunate placement, Natsume chewed on her lower lip, a flicker of worry in her chest. Back in Teyvat, Kokomi was the esteemed Divine Priestess of Watatsumi Island's Sangonomiya Shrine in Inazuma. She was a master of military tactics, a brilliant strategist, and perfectly capable of handling complex internal and diplomatic affairs without breaking a sweat. But here, in this world, she was a complete newcomer.
Tsukikage Island had spent years under the absolute control of a ruthless drug trafficking syndicate. Natsume refused to believe the corruption started and ended with just the former village chief and his immediate circle. There had to be more rats hiding in the woodwork.
That was exactly why she and Lisa had traveled here. With the library incident resolved, they came to check on Kokomi, offer their support, and hand over the remaining criminal evidence Natsume had previously gathered.
By the next morning, Natsume had already returned to the familiar streets of Beika City. While wandering through a residential neighborhood on a routine lost cat commission, she crossed paths with the Detective Boys quartet once again.
This time, however, the group dynamic was noticeably off. Conan looked absolutely terrible. His face was pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and he wobbled on his feet with every step, looking entirely drained of life.
Fearing the boy had caught a severe fever, Natsume stepped into their path and stopped them to ask about his condition.
The moment she leaned in close, the sharp, unmistakable stench of alcohol hit her nose. Conan wasn't sick at all. He was completely, hopelessly hungover.
Natsume stared at him, utterly speechless. Were elementary school students in this world developing drinking problems now? But a second later, the memory of the original plot clicked into place. This had to be the timeline where Conan discovered that high-proof alcohol could temporarily revert his body back to his teenage self. In his desperation, the tiny detective must have chugged an entire bottle of baijiu.
She could only marvel at the sheer power of his protagonist plot armor. Any normal seven-year-old body would have suffered fatal alcohol poisoning from downing that much hard liquor at once!
Since he was technically fine, Natsume waved the children off, allowing them to continue their trek to Teitan Elementary School.
Of course, she wasn't just going to let this slide.
A wicked glint flashed in Natsume's eyes. She pulled out her smartphone, dialed Mouri Ran's number, and happily snitched. She detailed Conan's reeking breath and severe hangover, expressing deep, sisterly concern that the boy might be picking up Kogoro Mouri's terrible drinking habits.
Through the receiver, Natsume could hear Ran's voice drop an octave, promising tenderly that she would take very, very close care of Conan from now on. Ran thanked her profusely for the warning.
Natsume ended the call, slipping the phone back into her pocket with immense satisfaction.
A sudden prickle of awareness crawled up the back of her neck. Natsume whipped her head around, her golden eyes narrowing as she scanned the bustling street. Commuters hurried past, carrying briefcases and groceries. Nothing looked out of place.
Yet, she trusted her instincts implicitly. Someone had definitely been watching her just now. In fact, over the past few days, she had caught fleeting sensations of being observed. The strange part was the complete lack of malice or killing intent in the gaze. It felt almost curious. Was it an acquaintance?
She dismissed the thought immediately. That was impossible. She had only recently arrived in this world. The only people who truly knew her were the companions she had pulled from the system, and none of them had any reason to skulk in the shadows and hide from her.
Despite the lingering strangeness of the situation, Natsume sensed no immediate danger. She relaxed her tense shoulders and decided to let it go. If the watcher's ultimate target was her, they would have to step into the light eventually.
Less than fifty yards away, concealed perfectly in the blind spot of a concrete pillar, a tall figure leaned casually against the cold stone. He lowered his smartphone, his thumb swiping across the screen to review the photograph he had just taken.
The image perfectly captured the moment Natsume had squatted down to inspect the hungover Conan. The camera focus was entirely locked onto her, rendering her features with crystal clarity. In stark contrast, Conan and the rest of the Detective Boys were blurred into the background, reduced to insignificant props in her presence.
The man stared at the golden-haired girl on the screen, his lips parting in a quiet, breathy murmur.
"Should I call you Natsume... or Lumine?"
Further down the street, Conan suddenly shuddered violently. A freezing chill swept down his spine, raising the hairs on his arms. He rubbed his temples, his groggy, throbbing brain unable to process the sudden spike of dread. Blaming it on the morning wind and his raging hangover, he shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.
He had absolutely no idea that when he returned to the Mouri Detective Agency later that afternoon, a very patient, very angry Ran would be waiting for him. Only then would he truly understand the source of that terrifying chill.
Meanwhile, deep within the subterranean shadows of a Black Organization base.
The harsh, fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows against the concrete walls. Gin stood in the corridor, the glowing cherry of his cigarette cutting through the dimness. He stepped forward, blocking the path of the man approaching him.
"Cointreau," Gin said, his voice a low, dangerous gravel. A frown creased his pale features. "I recall you returned to Japan quite some time ago. Why are you only showing your face at the base now?"
The man known as Cointreau halted his steps. He didn't flinch under the executive's piercing glare. Instead, he offered a casual, entirely unbothered shrug. "It is nothing serious. It has simply been a very long time since I last set foot in Japan. I found myself unfamiliar with the changing scenery, so I took some time to wander the streets and reacquaint myself."
Gin's eyes narrowed slightly, searching the man's face for a lie. "You had better be telling the truth."
He didn't dwell on the issue. Having received an answer to his routine inquiry, Gin dropped the subject.
There was a specific reason for his leniency. Cointreau was an absolute veteran within the syndicate. He had been a fully established member long before Gin had even earned his own codename. Gin was well aware that Cointreau maintained a direct, highly secretive relationship with That Person, answering to the Boss and the Boss alone. In the strict hierarchy of the underworld, Cointreau could technically be considered his superior.
More unsettling was the fact that Cointreau's physical appearance hadn't aged a single day since the moment Gin first met him. He operated like a ghost, rarely showing himself to the lower-ranking members. Currently, aside from Gin himself, only a handful of the oldest veterans even knew of his existence.
Because of his deep-rooted history, the possibility of Cointreau being a rat was practically zero. Gin trusted him—or at least, trusted his loyalty to the Boss—more than most. The questioning had merely been a standard security check., Cointreau was one of the few operatives possessing flawless, well-rounded skills in espionage, combat, and intelligence. With the recent spike in domestic operations, having him back in Japan was a massive tactical advantage.
Gin took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of gray smoke. "It is good that I ran into you. We have an upcoming operation. Tequila is scheduled to make a transaction to acquire a master list of elite software engineers. Since your schedule is currently empty, I am assigning this to you. You will act as the primary contact and overseer for his operation."
"Tequila?" Cointreau tilted his head, searching his memory. "I haven't heard much about him. Is he one of Rum's subordinates?"
He vaguely recalled the codename belonging to the second-in-command's intelligence division.
"Yes," Gin confirmed coldly.
"Sure," Cointreau replied, his tone remaining perfectly level. He slipped his hands into his pockets. "Send the relevant files to my secure line. I will take a look."
He didn't bother refusing. After all, overseeing a simple transaction was hardly any trouble at all.
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