It was eight in the morning.
Conan and I were underway with our plan to visit Detective Matsuda's grave, while Kazami followed at a distance to secure our perimeter. The grave sat roughly three hours outside Beika City. Since an attack remained a possibility, I took the wheel of the RX-7 as a precaution.
To any onlooker, the sight of that pristine white sports car cutting through the wind on the straight highway likely resembled a luxury car commercial. In reality, I gripped the steering wheel with a look of pure misery. I have no talent for driving, and the thought of navigating high-speed expressways fills me with excessive gloom. It isn't that I lack the physical ability; rather, my heightened senses make me acutely aware that any movement outside the steel frame of this car means instant death. Fear precedes everything else.
The speed was too high; the outside world was terrifying.
In the passenger seat, Conan held a copy of the threat and a photo of the Ferris wheel from that famous case.
"We'll take a break soon. I'm pulling into the next rest area."
"Right. Thanks, Mr. Amuro."
I was the one who desperately needed the break, though I refused to show it. Once we arrived, I parked smoothly. We both unbuckled our seatbelts and moved to open the doors. At that exact moment, a sniper's bullet streaked from the distance, aimed directly at my chest.
I deflected it effortlessly with my metal baton. The bullet sparked against the asphalt and tumbled into the bushes.
"Gunfire!?"
Conan ducked instantly, hiding between the cars. He was far too accustomed to such environments; I wished someone would return the concept of "Peaceful Japan" to me.
"I'll go hunt him down quickly. Wait here. I need to hand him over to Kazami-san."
"Wait, will you be okay alone!? The opponent has a sniper rifle!"
"Since he hasn't fired a second shot, he's likely working alone. His skill is decent but nothing more. He's probably just a hired hand from a rival organization. I see no reason to lose."
"I... I see..."
"But I've learned that carelessness is a mistake. I'll proceed with caution."
While Conan replied in a stunned tone, I pinpointed the enemy's location. And then...
Ah.
"I take that back. Come with me."
"Huh?"
"There are other assassins. It seems they're targeting you, and if I leave you here, they might take you hostage."
"...You really are a popular target..."
I swept Conan under my arm and crouched low to move. A black car had just pulled into the parking lot. Meanwhile, three men inside the rest station building were feigning interest in souvenirs. They were undoubtedly moving to target me—or rather, Bourbon.
Inside me, Furuya watched the situation with confusion and concern due to my extreme caution.
─── (I'm watching from the inside, but I don't sense anything suspicious. Are you sure?)
─── (My senses are sharper than yours, Mr. Furuya. Let's just say it's part of my unique "makeup.")
─── (You have a lot of strange traits.)
Don't call them strange. Accept it as a result of my nature as a spiritual entity within your body.
Fifteen minutes later, I had dealt with the black car. I leaped over the hood, shattered the windshield with one hand, and dragged the driver out. The three assassins posing as tourists opened fire, but they were mere amateurs. Carrying Conan on my back, I drove them toward an empty wall and finished the fight with a single roundhouse kick, making sure to hold back my strength as much as possible.
"You really aren't human," Conan said, sounding like he could do nothing but laugh. I gave him a light, reprimanding poke.
"That's rude. I think I look more human than Lupin's gang."
"Don't compare yourself to people who deflect machine-gun fire with a single sword! Are you trying to start a war between non-humans!?"
"Actually, for the record, deflecting machine-gun fire is something I can do as well."
"What... what did you say..."
Conan stared at me in shock, as if he were in a combat manga. I only shouted internally: (I think we're in the wrong story!!). Furuya, resting inside me in his traditional clothes, asked with confusion: (Ma... manga?), but I ignored the question.
Because of those events, we didn't leave the rest area until thirty minutes later.
The grave lay in a secluded spot on the outskirts of a quiet rural town, hidden deep within the forest. Mountains surrounded the area, filled with the sounds of birds, the rustle of insects, and the strange cries of small animals. I saw a sign warning of bears on the mountainside. It was no joke.
I parked in a suspiciously large lot nearby and headed with Conan toward the cemetery adjacent to the temple. As we started to leave the parking lot...
"Oh, Wolfhound. Do you still remember me?"
A tall man in a black hat and matching long coat stepped out from behind a high stone wall. He tilted his head, causing his long silver hair to sway, and glared at us with sharp, wicked eyes. It was Gin, one of the leaders of the Black Organization. He had evidently been lying in wait.
Conan froze in shock. Gin's tone was low and dissatisfied. Realizing the situation was critical, I immediately played my first trump card.
"Right. My apologies for this time, Gin. It seems I made a shameful blunder."
"... What. I heard you lost your memory, but it seems those were false reports."
"No. At first, I had indeed lost it completely. But it seems it was only temporary; I recovered it quickly."
"Good. We need you to continue your work for the Organization."
A hint of delight touched his voice; his mood had suddenly improved.
(Backup Plan One: Claim the amnesia was real but the recovery was swift).
Faced with someone like Gin, who has eliminated many secret agents and possesses a high intuition for lies, a total fabrication would be foolish. It is always better to speak the truth whenever possible and, if forced to lie, mix it with glimpses of reality. To avoid further questioning, I intentionally shifted the topic.
"By the way, I heard some detectives hovering around the hospital say you were the one who killed Dr. Kazato. Is that right?"
"Yes. He dared to stain the reputation of a man who is essentially the face of the Organization. If the police hadn't been everywhere, I would have made him pray for death before it took him... but I didn't have much time."
A terrifying murderous aura radiated from Gin, filling the air. Conan hid completely behind my back.
"A nobody like that isn't worth one of your bullets. I'm sorry my carelessness inconvenienced you."
"It's fine. Even Vermouth was screaming and making a fuss about it. Killing him was a minor secondary measure."
Gin threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his boot. He still treated me with a great deal of respect and leniency. I never imagined that Gin, who hates unnecessary trouble, would come personally for such a trivial matter. It gave me a strange sense of "camaraderie" toward him. Gin gave me a smile that was "tender" by his standards and adjusted his hat.
"But since you're fine, it means I hurried a bit. I regret not leaving you the chance to tear him apart yourself."
"Don't worry about it. Thanks for the concern, Gin."
(In truth, I'm a secret agent, but thank you for getting rid of that annoying bomber without leaving a trace).
Having received the answers he wanted, he finally noticed the frozen Conan behind me. He directed his lethal gaze toward the boy.
"But... what's with this boy, Wolfhound?"
"This is Conan-kun. I'm forced to look after him because of my connection with the detectives—the mask I wear in public."
I gave a cryptic smile and gripped Conan's shoulders, leaning my face close to his. My movement suggested I was fondling a piece of prime meat that had just arrived, one I was dying to devour. Gin read my intent perfectly, and his fierce grin widened.
"Heh. How ironic that a beast would turn into a shepherd. Do you intend to raise him until he's fat, only to tear him apart with your own hands once he trusts you?"
"He's cute, isn't he? I'm protecting him so no one else can take him. So don't you touch him, Gin."
"No fool touches another beast's meal. This meat belongs to you alone."
(In other words, I made him believe I was feigning friendship to kill the boy later).
I didn't lie about anything. I am forced to look after him, I am indeed protecting him, and I don't want Gin to harm him. These were all facts, untainted by a single lie.
Finally, Conan regained his composure and clung to my clothes, perfectly acting the part of a small child looking at Gin.
"Mister, what are you talking about? Your face is really scary."
He spoke in a childish tone laced with a hint of intelligence. It was a brilliant performance worthy of the son of a legendary actress; he played the vulnerable child of a high-class family to perfection.
Gin answered with his villainous face: "Now then, I wonder what we were talking about?"
Why did this man sound like a murderer the moment he opened his mouth?
"Anyway, what brings you to this remote countryside?"
"A grave visit. I came to accompany Conan-kun."
"A grave visit?"
Gin knit his brows in surprise, as if finding the idea beneath me. And indeed, it didn't fit the persona of "The Wolfhound." Conan rushed to provide the necessary justification.
"You know, you know, I was in really big danger! But I survived, and the policeman told me it was thanks to a deceased officer watching over me from heaven!"
"This boy was involved in the recent bombing incident, so we decided to visit the grave of an officer who was a victim of a previous case."
When I explained, Gin burst into a loud laugh. His mood seemed to be getting strangely better.
"The Wolfhound visiting a policeman's grave! That officer will never be able to rest in peace!"
Having reached the peak of his good mood, he turned and raised a hand in farewell. I'll invite him for a drink later once Furuya's memory stabilizes; social niceties are necessary here.
"I've disturbed you, Wolfhound. Taste that fledgling's innards and enjoy them as much as you can."
With those words, he drove off in his Porsche 356a.
And so, we finally stood before the grave, waiting for the decisive moment. We cleaned the stone, placed flowers, poured water, and lit incense as we stood in prayer. I pulled Furuya from the depths of my heart and spoke to him while he seemed entirely unstable.
─── (Listen closely.)
On the back of the paper placed at the grave was a printed image of the Ferris wheel. Seat number 72 glowed clearly. Conan began to read the final, decisive words in a calm, slow voice:
"── Brave police officer. I will give you a reward for your courage. I will show you a hint about the location of another, much larger firework, three seconds before the explosion."
"!!!!"
Furuya's eyes widened in shock.
(I am a Knight of the Round Table.)
He must have deeply regretted the loss of his friend who departed while he was away. Conan himself, when he saw those words... he had experienced them firsthand. Therefore, he was able to recreate that tension and resolve with a power that surpassed anyone else.
"... I wish you luck."
"─── Ah."
The image of the Ferris wheel placed before the grave flew away with a gust of wind. It rose high into the sky, continuing to climb until it vanished from sight, as if bidding farewell to the departed.
Rei Furuya lowered his head quietly, whispering mournful words.
"... Don't you think your methods are a bit forced, Conan-kun? I feel like I might actually cry." (Furuya)
"Haha. I'm sorry, Mr. Zero. ... And welcome back."
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