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Chapter 136 - Chapter 136: Conan’s Notes of an Undercover Traitor in the Distillery

Chapter 136: Conan's Notes of an Undercover Traitor in the Distillery

My name is Shinichi Kudo. I was originally a nationally famous high school detective, aspiring to be the Sherlock Holmes of the modern era!

Steins;Gate was opened by the roll of a magical die, responding to my dreams and desires with a leap across world lines. However, it turned out to be a lethal, terrible, mocking, and absurd joke. During the world-line shifts, I went insane and birthed a second personality named "Moriarty"!

As the shifts intensified again and again, destiny accelerated. I can no longer recall or know what the original world line was like before the gate opened. But I do know that with every leap forward, the world gets worse.

All the evil in this world was born because of me!

To end all darkness and sin, I stepped into the domain of crime, wagering my life to orchestrate the "Tropical Land Jet Coaster Murder Case." But regrettably, and ironically, I failed—defeated by love and sacrifice!

Because of that, I threw the magical die once more.

With another leap of the world line, I turned into a child. I gave myself the name Edogawa Conan, signaling a farewell to the identity of Shinichi Kudo.

Though my body has shrunk, my mind remains that of the Great Detective. My conviction and resolve endure. No matter what danger I encounter, I swear to end all the evil and darkness born from me. To do that, my first step is to join the Distillery, follow in the footsteps of Big Brother Gin, become the Yankee Star of Beika Town, and offer my heart to the Organization's grand cause!

My catchphrase is: There is only one truth, and the culprit of this case is ME!!!

This is what Edogawa Conan—former high school detective, now a rookie peripheral member personally recruited by the Organization's pillar, Gin; a rising star expected by the senior executive Vodka; and a future cadre of the international crime syndicate—said in his heart while Gin was pointing a gun at his forehead!

"Big brother, I've already agreed to join, so can you put the gun down now?"

Conan's voice trembled slightly. It wasn't just fear; the Mandate of Slaughter entwined around Gin's gun wasn't some vague "aura" you could only sense—it was a physical force. Having a cocked and loaded gun of destiny pressed against your skull causes a natural physiological reaction.

Of course, Conan was also acting. A "child" who wasn't scared at a time like this would be too suspicious.

"Next time you fake being scared, do a better job. Specifically the micro-muscles at the corners of your eyes; someone on the verge of tears from terror doesn't look like that..."

Gin retracted the gun and spoke flatly. Conan shuddered, not knowing what to say.

Vodka, having returned to the team, took his natural place as the driver. He focused on steering the Porsche through the streets, glancing occasionally at the interaction between Gin and Conan. He was intrigued. Having been Gin's partner for years, he knew his reactions well. When training peripheral members, Gin was usually a cold instructor who threw lethal missions at recruits: succeed and you pass, fail and you die.

For Gin to actually give Conan pointers—even considering the boy's age—was a sign of extreme "favor."

In truth, Gin was very interested in Conan.

Although the details of that "Legendary Murder Case" had become fragmented bubbles due to the world-line jump, the experience of carrying the fortune and Stands of everyone in the Distillery as "Bonds" had made Gin's mastery over his own Stand far more profound in this new world line.

While the Porsche had been parked, Gin had leaned against it smoking in his conspicuous black trench coat and waist-length silver hair, yet not a single pedestrian had looked at him. He was effectively invisible. This "psychological invisibility" was a simple Stand operation to obscure his presence. Gin had spent days walking Beika using this method, god-like and undetected.

Yet, his presence had been called out instantly by Conan.

This wasn't without reason. Gin's "invisibility" wasn't just a trick; it was a power formed by leveraging world laws—a "setting" Gin possessed, manifested through Stand power. In the original series, Gin could drive his iconic Porsche with the same license plate everywhere, yet no agency like the FBI, CIA, or Public Security could ever find him unless it was time for a major plot point.

Conan, as the Eternal Protagonist, was the man destined to pull Gin into the main plot and make him visible!

Gin didn't know the mechanics behind it, but the fact that Conan could see through his Stand ability was enough for him to see the boy in a new light.

Of course, "seeing him in a new light" wasn't enough to make Gin recruit him. The moment his position was exposed, Gin's first instinct was to kill. But as a pillar of the Organization, his observation skills were top-tier. He noticed that even while being chased by a monster, Conan showed very little real terror, and his voice lacked panic. That fearless courage in a crisis was, to Gin, an extraordinary talent.

He had just tested that talent. Being held at gunpoint yet maintaining the logic to attempt a disguise—even a clumsy one—was a feat most of the idiots in the Organization couldn't manage.

Furthermore, Conan, having only spent one day in the new world line, hadn't adapted from "High Schooler" to "Elementary Student." His innate habit of constant observation and deduction gave him a "少年老成" (young but mature) aura that was impossible to hide. Gin interpreted this as "psychological precocity" caused by being a runaway orphan—a rare and gifted trait.

Intelligent, mature, firm of mind, and courageous. After evaluating Conan in his own way, Gin was satisfied. These qualities were only a hair's breadth away from words like "sinister," "decisive," and "savage."

Naturally, as the Organization's "Cleaner," "Trust" did not exist in Gin's vocabulary. Vodka was right: Gin didn't express himself with words. He only provided tests and cold scrutiny, letting success or failure decide everything.

For the rest of the ride, Gin said nothing more.

When the Porsche stopped at an apartment building, Gin stepped out and said without looking back:

"Follow me."

Conan followed silently, his eyes scanning his surroundings. The building was decent—good visibility, multiple escape routes, and few residents. It was a perfect hideout that allowed for an easy escape if compromised.

Conan had agreed to join the Distillery not just because of the gun to his head. He wanted to end the evil he had created. The Distillery, which he had failed to bury in the Fifth World Line, was his primary target. Since he had been caught by Gin—and assuming Gin hadn't realized he was Shinichi Kudo—this was both a crisis and an opportunity. He would infiltrate, learn their secrets, and find a way to tear them out by the roots.

He knew it was idealistic, perhaps even naive. If it were that easy for one or two moles to topple a global syndicate, his father wouldn't have looked so worried when sharing intel. But Conan had always been one to risk it all for the truth. After the "Legendary Murder," he didn't lack the resolve to gamble his life.

Entering an apartment, Gin turned and said coldly:

"Clothes and food will be delivered. Starting today, you live here. Your first task as a peripheral member is to finish these books."

The apartment was small and furnished with old but functional pieces. Conspicuous additions included a high-end luxury leather sofa and a small liquor cabinet filled with quality western spirits. Next to the sofa was a large bookshelf.

Conan could easily visualize someone relaxing on that expensive sofa, sipping spirits while reading. But his attention was drawn elsewhere: the bloodstains on the ceiling, walls, and floor. From the sheer volume of blood, Conan began to deduce what had happened here.

"A case occurred here recently..." Gin noted flatly.

"So much blood... was it murder?" Conan asked, his curiosity peaking.

Gin misunderstood his expression. "Just a crime of passion over a trivial argument. If you're scared, there are other rooms in this building. But let me tell you: the case in this room was the 'lightest' one."

Vodka chimed in, sounding annoyed. "Those guys never clean up properly. They left the room a mess. I found a severed hand under the bed last time I swept."

Conan was stunned. He now understood why the building had so few residents—half the rooms were "accident properties" (haunted/crime scenes). He asked: "Does the Organization not have 'normal' houses for members?"

Gin replied coldly: "Elsewhere? Yes. In Beika Town? No."

Vodka added: "God knows what's wrong with Beika lately. Criminals are popping up in clusters, societies are forming everywhere, and cases are endless. The Organization used to have a lot of real estate here as assets. Now they're all crime scenes and the value has tanked. Big Brother and I have to work overtime just to cover the losses."

Gin didn't want to discuss it further. He stood by the window, staring into the distance, a cold whisper escaping his lips: "Ah... Shinichi Kudo..."

Clearly, Gin had already identified a culprit for his recent overtime. Conan's expression was odd. He had the resolve to solve all evil born from him, but he wasn't sure if he should include "The Collapse of the Beika Real Estate Market" on his to-do list.

Gin and Vodka left Conan alone, Gin giving him one last chilling stare before the door closed. Conan walked to the bookshelf and picked up a volume.

It had no cover—just printed pages bound together. It detailed firearm construction and shooting techniques with meticulous illustrations. He picked up another: explosives.

Conan wasn't a stranger to these topics; Yusaku had taught him in Hawaii. But he read seriously, his mind also processing Gin's parting look. It was a look of scrutiny and testing.

Gin didn't care if Conan was really an orphan. That wasn't the priority. To become a true member, Conan would have to pass a series of trials. If he relaxed now that they were gone, or tried to run, it would be over. Conan had already spotted a small tracking bug/microphone attached to his collar via the mirror.

Gin had been "generous" enough to place it carelessly, likely due to Conan's age. But that was just the obvious one. Conan didn't know what other surveillance was in the "Safe House." So, he simply sat and read.

Hours later, the pair returned with food and clothes. Seeing Conan reading, Gin didn't offer praise, but he showed no malice either. They left again, and Gin only returned alone after nightfall.

"What were you reading?" Gin asked.

Conan pointed to the book on firearms. "Can't read the words well, but I understand the pictures!"

At his "age," this was normal. Gin said nothing. He pulled out a handgun, emptied the magazine, and tossed it to Conan. "Follow the diagrams. Disassemble and reassemble it yourself."

Gin then showered, put on a robe, poured a drink from the cabinet, and sat on the leather sofa with a book of his own. As a high-level executive, he had no "home." Safe houses were his residence. Between the killings, he had a life, and he needed to study to sharpen his skills.

As Gin read, his brow furrowed. Conan caught a glimpse: it was a book on Disguise and Acting.

Conan made a mental note:

Undercover Note #1: Gin is bad at acting and disguise, and he isn't interested in the theory.

In this blood-splattered crime scene of a room, Conan spent his first night with "Big Brother" Gin. More notes followed:

Undercover Note #2: Gin is professionally trained. He is extremely alert while sleeping; he sleeps lightly and wakes instantly. Undercover Note #3: Despite his training, Gin has a period of deep sleep lasting a few minutes. During this time, he tends to dream. He wakes up violently, staring out the window with a hideous expression and murmuring, "Ah... Shinichi Kudo." (Honestly, I don't want to know what he dreams about!)

Time flew. The next day, the date jumped inexplicably to March 3rd. Conan didn't care; he had to keep "learning." Gin left early and didn't return.

On the third day at noon, Vodka returned with a task.

"Here is the identity the Organization made for you. Your name is still Edogawa Conan. I'll read you your parents' info and background; memorize it quickly. Big Brother wants you to enroll in Teitan Elementary. Your mission: use any means to find all information and leads regarding Shinichi Kudo."

Vodka scrutinized Conan, then added: "Don't be nervous. Don't rush the mission. Act normal. Big Brother will teach you the specifics. It's not hard—he already searched the place once. He just wants a 'nail' inside for future re-investigation..."

Conan's heart sank. Even with Shinichi Kudo "dead," he couldn't escape Gin's obsession.

Teitan Elementary, Junior High, and High School were all in the same area. Ran Mouri was still attending the High School.

End of Chapter

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