Suddenly, Inspector Shiratori's car exploded, erupting into violent flames. It was the evening of November 7th. Sunset—that eerie "hour of meetings with demons"—bathed the city streets in an ominous, fading glow.
The incident had finally begun: "Metropolitan Police Headquarters Shaken: 12 Million Hostages," the very tragedy that claimed the lives of two of Furuya's police academy classmates. To summarize Furuya's background: he had four classmates from his academy days: Kenji Hagiwara and Jinpei Matsuda, who joined the Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit; Wataru Date of the First Investigation Division; and Hiromitsu Morofushi, Furuya's childhood friend, who joined the Public Security Bureau. These four men meant the world to him—they were the essence of his youth and his most cherished memories.
What have I, the reincarnated soul, done since inhabiting Furuya's body? When I first woke up in this world, Kenji Hagiwara had already died in the line of duty while defusing a bomb. Jinpei Matsuda was still alive then, but my status as an undercover Public Security officer made it impossible to disobey deployment orders. Even the message I sent him at great personal risk wasn't enough to stop his quest for revenge. In short: I achieved nothing.
Now, the same bomber who killed them has returned to cause chaos. I happened to be at the scene for a field inspection with Conan and the others. I watched Inspector Shiratori stumble out of the burning car, gasping for breath. He held a printed sheet. Conan grabbed it and read it aloud. Detective Sato stood beside me, her eyes widening in shock as she scanned the paper. Furuya's expression mirrored her horror.
Ayumi, with a child's intuition, sensed the sudden change. She tugged on his sleeve. "Amuro-san, what's wrong?"
"...Nothing at all."
His voice was hollow, his hand trembling, his face a mask of rigid emotion. Conan immediately realized something was wrong. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on us.
The truth is simple: no one can remain composed when facing the murderer of their best friends. In our shared consciousness, I asked him anxiously: Are you alright? I'm afraid Conan noticed.
(That doesn't matter. We can come up with an excuse later.)
The subconscious makes it nearly impossible to hide emotions; a voice trembling with fury will always surface. My guilt must have been visible on our face. Furuya took a shaky breath to steady himself and faced me in our inner world. The transparent "waters of consciousness" deep within us began to turn a dark, murky red.
(You aren't responsible. I saw the message you sent Matsuda. I was the one sleeping like a fool; you did everything possible and more.)
(...Thank you, Zero.)
Despite his words, the outcome remains. I knew the plot, yet I failed to save him. The stained waters reflected a rage in Furuya that matched—perhaps even exceeded—that of Detective Sato. I climbed into the parked RX-7. Conan hopped into the passenger seat as if it were his duty, buckled his seatbelt, and watched me expectantly.
"Hey, does this have something to do with you?"
"...You are as nosy as ever."
"Bourbon—no, Zero-san. Answer me. What's going on?"
"I'm under no obligation to tell you—actually, this bomber killed an old friend of mine—wait, what are you doing?"
In the depths of our mind, Furuya shot me an angry glare. Realistically, we can't hide this from Conan now. It's better to control the narrative and reveal some information before he starts digging. Conan grinned with feigned innocence. That look always worries me.
"At this rate, the truth will come out eventually. Isn't it better to resolve this now without any loose ends?"
"Exactly. Come on, spill it."
"───Fine. (A frustrated sigh). Keep this to yourself."
Furuya sighed in resignation. The atmosphere lightened slightly as the conversation helped him regain his composure. The windows of the moving RX-7 reflected Shiratori's burning car as the ambulance arrived.
"Hagiwara was killed in this same type of incident seven years ago, and Matsuda died three years ago. They were friends of mine... that's all."
"Friends of yours...? They were both police officers. How could someone from the Organization have..."
"By that logic, it's also strange that Detective Sato knows me. Anyone in the Organization needs connections within the police force."
"...…But you seem far too emotional for a simple 'Organization' relationship. Especially right now."
Furuya met the question with silence—a heavy, awkward silence thick with anger, grief, and the embarrassment of being read by a child. Conan, with the relentless focus of a detective, pressed on.
"Compared to Bourbon, Zero-san, you seem deeply sentimental. You have a strong sense of justice and ethics. It was the same when the Mokuba-so building burned down."
"...…"
"You weren't angry because your life was in danger. You were furious because that arson nearly killed innocent people who knew nothing about you."
"...…Are you just imagining things?"
"The two of you are like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Good and evil living in a single body."
Furuya scoffed at Conan's assessment. "Absurd! A 'good soul'? Impossible. I am evil to the core. I acknowledge and support Bourbon's crimes." After saying this, Furuya looked down. An uncomfortable silence filled the car. (Regardless of that), being treated as "Mr. Hyde" is a bit much. I'm not some thrill-killer; I wish the two of them would keep that in mind.
"...'I am one of the knights of the Round Table. I hereby announce to you, the foolish and fraudulent police officers. Today at noon and 2:00 PM, I will launch spectacular fireworks to mourn my comrade. If you wish to stop me, come find me. I am waiting, having prepared the seventy-second seat.'"
Furuya recited the forgotten threat from three years ago in a low voice. The memory was burned into his mind, fueled by the heat of his grief. "This..."
"It's the same code used three years ago when Matsuda died. ───The answer is the Ferris wheel at Haido Shopping Mall."
"The wheel has seventy-two seats and is round. It's so simple!"
"Exactly. Which means the first bomb this time is likely in a simple location as well, meant to lure the police in."
The steering wheel creaked slightly as Furuya's grip tightened with the prospect of revenge. "You..."
"Let's go. There is a high probability the bomb is at Toto Tower."
"! 'At the blood-stained hill... I await your ascent, officers, in the steel hitter's box.' A red steel box! That's why you concluded it's the elevator at Toto Tower!"
"Right. We still don't know the first part of the code... but it's worth the risk."
He swung the RX-7 around, heading straight for Toto Tower. Conan glanced at Furuya's face before returning to his deep thoughts.
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