Swish, swish, swish—
The sound of running water echoed in the washroom.
Haibara sat on a low stool, rinsing her small feet under the showerhead.
After rinsing, she squeezed some shower gel into her hands, rubbed it onto her feet, rinsed again with warm water, dried them with a towel, then stepped out of the washroom in small slippers.
Back in the bedroom, Toru was leaning against the headboard playing on his phone. When he saw Haibara return, cheeks puffed with anger, he smiled and asked, "All clean?"
Haibara snorted, climbed onto the bed, slipped under the thin blanket, turned her back to him, and muttered, "...Sleep."
"Are you mad?"
"Alright then, I guess you don't like me."
Toru's tone turned gloomy.
"It's not that. It's just..."
Haibara's voice was low and soft.
She had a good impression of Toru—no, even her tsundere self had to admit that she simply liked him.
They had been living together for the past few months. At his side, the threat of the Organization seemed so far away. That sense of safety... she had never felt anything like it before.
Being intimate with Toru didn't bother her. In fact, it made her happy.
It was just... doing those things with her current body, she couldn't accept it.
"Even this version of Haibara is very cute."
"I'm trying to be serious here... Forget it. Do as you please."
Haibara pouted in frustration. But seeing Toru's amused expression, she felt like she was wasting her breath. Nothing she said would get through to him.
She scooted closer, leaned against his chest, and closed her eyes.
Her cheeks flushed red. Eyes shut, she bit him hard without warning, then ignored him and genuinely fell asleep.
Toru chuckled softly and set his phone aside.
Tomorrow night, they were going to attend the Suzuki Zaibatsu's banquet at Beika Hotel. Vermouth would be there too.
That made Toru hesitate for a moment. Should he really bring Haibara?
But thinking it through, Vermouth would find her eventually anyway. Rather than keep hiding, it was better to face it head-on. There was no hiding forever.
With that in mind, Toru held Haibara close and fell asleep as well.
...
Tokyo, a detached villa.
"Young Master, are you really going to the Suzuki Zaibatsu's banquet to steal that pearl?"
The Kuroba family's butler asked with concern. "This time, it's their anniversary. A lot of important figures from politics, business, and the entertainment world will be there."
"The security is bound to be intense. Isn't it dangerous for you to go?"
Kaito Kuroba replied confidently, "The police don't stand a chance of catching me."
He paused, then lowered his voice, "Besides, I'm searching for the truth behind my father's death. I can't afford to ignore any important gem."
"Even if it's dangerous, I have to inspect that pearl myself."
Seeing Kaito's determined expression, the butler sighed and didn't try to stop him again.
"But this time's a bit more interesting. I sent a notice box to a TV station just to see who'd crack the code."
"I didn't expect... the one who solved it would be an elementary school student."
Kaito smirked, coughed, and imitated Conan's voice and tone, "...My name is Conan Edogawa. I'm a detective!"
Then he burst into laughter. "Detectives are just boring folks chasing after phantom thieves. No sense of flair. But that kid's interesting. I hope we meet again."
...
"Kid, why are you at my place again?"
Kogoro looked at Conan and gritted his teeth.
"Dad, Conan's just a kid. Why are you being so harsh? Besides, didn't his parents pay us to take care of him?"
Ran glared at her father disapprovingly.
Kogoro recalled the several hundred thousand yen per month Conan's "parents" had handed over. His expression immediately changed to cheerful.
The kid didn't even live with them full-time—he just came for meals or to hang out. And yet, that kind of money? Jackpot.
Only downside? The little brat always insisted on tagging along on cases, making Kogoro's "detective work" way more annoying.
"Conan, you haven't eaten yet, right? I'll go make dinner. Just wait a bit."
"Okay, Ran-nee."
Once Ran was in the kitchen, Conan sidled up to Kogoro and spoke with the eager tone of an elementary schooler.
"Uncle Mouri, I heard you were invited to the Suzuki Zaibatsu's anniversary at Beika Hotel?"
Kogoro immediately perked up. Full of pride, he said, "Kid, now you're asking the right questions. Your Uncle Mouri is a big shot now."
"Do you know who's attending that event? Politicians, big-name businesspeople, top celebrities—everyone who's anyone."
"And me, the famous detective, will be there too! Hahaha!"
Kogoro burst out laughing. Conan's mouth twitched.
Sure you're a famous detective... If it weren't for me solving your cases, you'd still be chasing around cheating spouses.
Though to be fair, that kind of work pays decently. Despite Kogoro's fame, most of his income still came from that line of business.
"Uncle Mouri, can I come too?"
Conan's eyes sparkled.
Not long ago, after analyzing Kaitou Kid's notice, he'd encountered the thief in person.
But thanks to a flash bomb, Kid vanished right off the rooftop.
Conan had since figured out how he escaped.
He hadn't been interested in phantom thieves before, but that encounter really sparked something in him. He wanted to go to that banquet and catch Kaitou Kid.
Unfortunately, Kogoro refused flatly.
"No can do. That banquet's for VIPs. You need an invitation. Just stay home and be good, hahaha!"
"I'll take pictures for you though. You'll see them when I get back."
Conan frowned.
It wasn't that Kogoro didn't want to bring him. He genuinely couldn't. Even a kid needed an invitation to get in.
What a hassle.
"Conan, I really can't take you. Sonoko said Chris Vineyard, the Hollywood star, will be there to promote her new movie."
"Chris Vineyard? That blonde bombshell from America?"
Kogoro's eyes sparkled.
He might not know politicians or CEOs, but when it came to beautiful women, he never missed.
"Old man, don't embarrass yourself. And don't think you've got a shot with Ms. Chris."
"Ran! Don't say your father's old! I'm just looking. Not like I'm chasing her."
At least he was self-aware.
Conan suddenly had an idea—his mom.
Yukiko was a famous Japanese actress. Even if she had retired, her status in the industry was still top-tier.
And she happened to know Chris Vineyard personally.
Maybe he could ask her for help and tag along with her to the event.
With a plan in mind, Conan relaxed. He happily ate dinner and said goodbye to the Mouri family.
...
Elsewhere in Tokyo, the Wakaba household was getting ready.
"Mutsumi, dress properly. I don't expect you to mingle with everyone, just don't cause trouble when we're there."
Mr. Wakaba spoke with a stern tone, his expression serious.
The doll-like girl responded with a soft hum as her mother helped her choose her outfit.
"Mutsumi is so well-behaved. She won't cause any trouble."
Mrs. Wakaba smiled as she adjusted her daughter's clothes.
Wakaba shook his head. "I know she won't, but with that personality of hers, I don't think she's cut out for the entertainment industry... Forget it. She's my daughter. As long as she's happy, I won't push her to achieve anything."
Wakaba was a well-known comedian in Japan.
Comedians might seem like clowns on TV, but in reality, the successful ones held high status in the entertainment industry, especially those who had built a name for themselves.
They had stable income and long careers, making them very popular among female celebrities.
Many actresses eventually married comedians.
Mrs. Wakaba was one of them. A popular actress herself, she might not have reached Yukiko's level, but she was still considered first-tier.
And most comedians, though playful on stage, tended to be much more serious in real life. Perhaps because they feared being treated like jokes offstage too.
This time, Wakaba had received an invitation to the Suzuki Zaibatsu's anniversary celebration—not only to attend but also as one of the event's performers.
In the entertainment world, his reputation was solid. But in the political and financial world, he was just a small fry.
He took this banquet seriously, hoping to network with more influential people and raise his own standing.
(To be continued.)
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