That bastard, Rei!
Amuro Tooru clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves stretched taut between his fingers.
He had anticipated that the Organization wouldn't place complete trust in Bourbon and might assign another team to monitor the situation from the shadows. That much was within expectations.
But for that team to be led by Rye, and for them to use violence on Karasawa—that was something he hadn't foreseen at all.
A surge of anger twisted in his chest, mingled with rising concern for Karasawa's well-being.
To go after a high school student with not one, but two codenamed operatives… the file Karasawa had must hold extraordinary value.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Amuro scolded him, wearing a stern expression. "Do you think I'm not capable of handling this kind of trouble? Hm?"
Obviously because you stalker-types are way too good at your jobs—I didn't even notice you trailing me.
Karasawa knew better than to argue. He lowered his head obediently, his face a picture of contrition. "Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. It won't happen again."
Amuro sighed and shifted gears, trying another line of reasoning. "The case you're handling isn't minor. If things spiral out of control, everyone involved will be implicated. You need to be more careful."
"I know. I'm sorry. It was my decision alone," Karasawa replied, still looking dutiful and remorseful.
Amuro found himself unable to stay angry at that expression. He shook his head and turned toward the kitchen counter. "I hope you really do understand. What do you want for lunch? I'll make you a sandwich."
"Sounds great—" Karasawa jumped at the opportunity to change the subject.
Two band-aids flew across the counter and landed in front of him.
"Stick them on those cuts. Even small wounds can leave scars."
Then maybe you shouldn't have yanked so hard earlier, if you were so worried about scars. But Karasawa knew he didn't have the moral high ground here, so he kept his mouth shut.
The café quieted down, save for the soft sizzling of oil in Amuro's frying pan.
The television buzzed softly in the background with the midday news.
Karasawa turned toward the screen, curious whether any new homicide cases had surfaced.
Now that "Sleeping Kogorou Mouri" had made his public debut, he needed to keep an eye out for developments—he couldn't afford to miss a chance to get closer to the main cast.
Traffic accident… Celebrity death… Assault case… Another assault… Murder… Murder again…
Seven or eight headlines in, Karasawa was starting to feel numb. What the hell was going on with Tokyo's crime rate? It was starting to feel like Gotham.
Just as he was making that comparison in his head, the next news item cut in.
"Breaking news: Just thirty minutes ago, Maru Denjirou, CEO of the Maru Group, held an emergency press conference to issue a public confession. He admitted to 'years of wrongdoing' and presented evidence of the conglomerate's involvement in illegal loan schemes, stating that he had used collateral manipulation and violent debt collection to illegally obtain dozens of cultural artifacts—"
Karasawa sat up straighter, eyes locked on the screen.
You had to hand it to him—Maru Denjirou might be scum, but he sure was efficient. Got knocked down this morning, repented by noon. Not a second wasted.
"We now go live to our field correspondent at the press conference…"
The smiling, polished anchorwoman on screen vanished, replaced by the weathered face of Maru Denjirou, bald crown gleaming under the press lights, a thick beard framing his tear-streaked cheeks.
"My greed has led me to commit grave crimes," he choked out as camera flashes crackled, "I've hurt so many people… Some were even driven to suicide by my actions. I know there's no way to atone for what I've done, but I want to return the things I stole to their rightful owners."
"Even if the items have already been sold off, I'll do whatever it takes to recover them. Please believe me when I say—I'm truly, deeply sorry." Maru bowed low to the camera, solemn and sincere.
Karasawa touched the band-aid on his face, eyes narrowing with a faint smile.
"What are you smiling about?" Amuro placed a plate in front of him, then glanced at the TV and shook his head. "What's the point of repenting now? The harm's already been done."
"I just feel like… maybe the world's becoming a little better," Karasawa replied, still smiling. "And that's enough."
A shame for Mouri-san upstairs though—looks like one lucrative job just slipped through his fingers.
Karasawa's sympathy lasted only until dinner.
Mouri Kogorou, accompanied by Ran and Conan, had taken up a spot at the café's bar, red-faced and exuberant as he bragged to Amuro.
"—I don't know what came over Maru Denjirou! Just a few days ago, he hired me to investigate whether his wife was cheating. We even scheduled a follow-up meeting for yesterday! Then, right out of the blue, he calls a press conference and turns himself in. Didn't even pay the final installment of my fee. What a pain in the ass."
"So the case got canceled?" Amuro asked, adjusting the bubbling coffee siphon.
"Yeah, but things took a surprising turn," Mouri puffed out his chest proudly. "I figured I'd at least try to collect some payment—maybe a cancellation fee or something. But wouldn't you know it? Mrs. Maru bought all the photos and evidence off me!"
"Dad…" Ran rubbed her temples. "That's not something you should be bragging about…"
Mouri waved dismissively. "Come on, I only got that stuff because of my top-tier skills. If I hadn't, the money would've been a total loss."
"Anyway, Maru Denjirou's definitely going to prison now. The evidence is overwhelming. Once he's out of the picture, the Maru Group will end up in Mrs. Maru's hands. If the board got hold of the materials I collected, she'd be in trouble—so she paid triple to secure everything."
Mouri let out his signature smug laugh. Ran and Conan both shot him a classic half-lidded stare. Karasawa gave him a sideways glance of his own.
"Uncle Mouri, isn't it kind of… bad taste to blab about your client's private matters in public?" Conan sighed.
"She asked me to," Mouri said matter-of-factly. "With the evidence in her hands, spreading a few rumors helps lower the stock price. She's just waiting to scoop up more shares."
Ran stared blankly into space, her tone indescribable. "So… this is what adult relationships are like?"
"That's rich folks for you. Let it go. Amuro, three seafood pastas over here!" Mouri waved grandly, ready to enjoy the spoils of victory.
Karasawa took a sip of his hot cocoa, his expression distant.
So the warning letter really was that punctual, huh?
If it had arrived a day later, Maru Denjirou might've been dead instead of just disgraced…
You really can't afford to let your guard down around these harbingers of death.
On the other side of the bar, Conan narrowed his eyes and tapped his chin.
Maru Denjirou's sudden confession didn't add up. He'd been committing crimes for decades—why the sudden pang of conscience now, at his age?
Could it be related to that letter?
In the warning, a group calling themselves the "Phantom Thieves of Hearts" had declared that Maru Denjirou would face judgment today. And today, he really had stood before the public, confessed his sins, and apologized.
Coercion? Vigilante justice?
How had they done it?
On the other end of the bar, Karasawa choked on his cocoa and sneezed.