Chapter 72: An Unexpected Man
Heavy rain lashed against the windshield, the wipers fighting a losing battle against the downpour. Deep in the remote mountains, a rented car jolted violently over the muddy, rutted path, its headlights cutting through the dense, suffocating darkness of the forest.
"Honestly, what kind of shortcut is this? Damn it! If that gas station owner dared to lie to me, I definitely won't let him off." Kogoro Mouri gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep the sliding tires steady on the treacherous road.
Sitting in the back seat, Natsume leaned against the worn leather and listened to the detective's endless complaining. She had to hand it to him—his acting was absolutely flawless, leagues better than Conan's usual forced innocence. If she hadn't subtly activated her Elemental Sight, tracing the distinct golden flow of energy beneath his skin, she never would have guessed the truth. The man currently cursing out the gas station attendant and the attendant himself were the exact same person.
Kaitou Kid was truly a master of his craft. Watching the disguised phantom thief pilot the car, Natsume wondered idly if beneath all those layers of latex and makeup, he really did share Kudo Shinichi's exact face.
Her reason for enduring this miserable car ride to the Twilight Mansion was simple: she knew Kogoro and the others had received the same cryptic invitation, and she had zero intention of wandering into a trap alone. Originally, she had tried to rally her own people to accompany her.
But they were busy. Everyone in the Teyvat organization was incredibly busy.
It was a good thing, of course. It meant her hard work was paying off. If she hadn't carefully pulled these formidable figures into this world, how could her underground network have expanded so rapidly? Yet, their relentless work ethic left her, the Traveler, feeling strangely idle.
When she had flashed the invitation at them, hoping for a companion to investigate the legendary Twilight Mansion, they had all dismissed her with ruthless pragmatism. 'Even if the walls are solid gold,'they had argued,'we can't exactly chip it off and carry it to the bank. It is a waste of time.'
Left with no other options, Natsume casually mentioned the invitation to Ran, smoothly securing a seat in the Mouri family's rental car.
The vehicle lurched again, the suspension groaning loudly. Natsume pressed a hand to her stomach. Even with her enhanced physical constitution, the relentless bouncing was beginning to make her nauseous.
Fortunately, the trees finally began to thin out. The tires caught the solid grip of a paved main road, and a collective sigh of relief echoed through the cabin. Through the rain-streaked glass, the looming, gothic silhouette of the Twilight Mansion finally pierced the darkness.
Screech—!
The car braked violently. Natsume threw her hands out, barely catching herself against the back of the passenger seat before her face could smash into the headrest.
Through the windshield, illuminated by the harsh glare of the headlights, stood an old woman. She was planted dead in the center of the road, waving them down. Her own vehicle sat off to the side, completely dead.
Natsume let out a slow breath, adjusting her posture. She had to admit, 'Kogoro' had a remarkably good temper for a phantom thief. If she had been behind the wheel and encountered someone standing in the middle of a slick, unlit mountain road with zero warning flares, she would have rolled the window down and started swearing. Was this elderly woman completely devoid of survival instincts?
Playing the part of the good-natured detective, the disguised Kid unlocked the doors and agreed to give her a lift. The old woman climbed into the back, forcing Natsume and Conan to slide over. Thankfully, Conan took up very little space, keeping the three of them from being completely crushed together.
As the car accelerated again, the old woman introduced herself as Senma Furuyo. Her sharp eyes darted around the cabin before she casually reached forward, claiming she despised the smell of smoke, and confiscated the ashtray right next to Kogoro for 'safekeeping.'
Minutes later, the tires crunched over the gravel driveway of the Twilight Mansion. Natsume stepped out, popping her umbrella open against the freezing rain. The journey had been exhausting, but they had finally arrived.
The heavy oak doors of the mansion creaked open, revealing an interior thick with dust and old secrets. They were greeted by the resident maid, Aki Ishihara, who ushered them inside. One by one, the other invited guests materialized from the shadows of the grand foyer: the rugged Harufumi Mogi, the imposing Shukuzen Ogami, the sharp-eyed Ikumi Soda, and the young, British-trained Saguru Hakuba.
The atmosphere turned chilling almost immediately. Pulling a bottle of luminol reagent from her coat, Ikumi Soda sprayed the chemical across the heavy wooden doors and floorboards. The lights were cut. Instantly, the foyer lit up with an eerie, glowing blue splatter—a silent, obvious record of a massive bloodbath that had stained the mansion's history.
With the grim introduction complete, the group prepared to follow the maid to the entertainment room to pass the time while Ogami headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Knock, knock, knock...
The heavy, rhythmic sound echoed from the front entrance, freezing everyone in their tracks.
The detectives exchanged puzzled glances. The maid had just confirmed that the eccentric host had only invited seven detectives. Everyone on the list was already standing in the foyer. Who could possibly be outside in this storm?
Hands hovering near their pockets, the group moved toward the entrance and pulled the heavy doors open.
A gust of damp wind swept in, bringing with it a young man who looked to be in his early twenties. His slightly long hair was gathered and tied neatly at the nape of his neck. His eyes were striking—clear, gentle, and crinkling at the corners as a warm, disarmingly reliable smile touched his lips.
"Shiro Morikawa," he introduced himself, his voice smooth and polite. He explained that he was passing through the area on business when his car suddenly broke down. Seeing the lights of the mansion through the trees, he had hiked up the mountain to ask for shelter for the night, promising to call a tow truck at first light.
It was a polite, logical request. It was also a complete lie.
Natsume's eyes narrowed, her mind instantly cataloging the glaring holes in his story. First, the Twilight Mansion was isolated deep in the mountains; there was absolutely no 'business' route that passed through here. Second, he claimed to have hiked up a steep, muddy incline, yet his breathing was perfectly even, his chest rising and falling in a slow, relaxed rhythm. Despite the torrential downpour outside, his coat was barely damp.
And most glaringly—at least to her trained eyes—the subtle, unnatural tension around his jawline gave it away. Just like the man currently pretending to be Kogoro Mouri, this stranger was wearing a disguise.
She knew the brilliant minds surrounding her had already picked apart his alibi based on the first two points alone. Yet, none of the detectives voiced their suspicions. They simply stepped aside and allowed him in.
Natsume easily guessed their reasoning. They likely suspected this newcomer was the eccentric mastermind who had orchestrated the gathering, choosing to let him inside so they could observe him under the guise of hospitality.
But Natsume knew the truth. The masterminds behind this deadly game were Shukuzen Ogami and Senma Furuyo. She had only accepted this invitation to see Renya Karasuma's legendary golden mansion with her own eyes, hoping to unearth some lingering traces of the Black Organization.
This man was a complete anomaly. A variable entirely outside the established plot.
Logically, she should have been on high alert. He was highly suspicious and potentially tied to the Black Organization. Yet, as she stared at him, a strange, deep resonance tugged at her chest. A deep sense of familiarity washed over her, dulling her usual razor-sharp paranoia. It felt safe. It felt like she had known him in another life. She simply couldn't bring herself to view him as a threat.
After a brief round of introductions, the group finally moved down the dimly lit hallway toward the entertainment room.
Walking near the back, Natsume watched the detectives throw covert, calculating glances at the newcomer. Shiro Morikawa seemed entirely unbothered by the heavy scrutiny. He strolled through the blood-stained halls with a relaxed, elegant gait, admiring the antique decor with genuine curiosity.
Then, as if sensing her heavy stare, he turned his head. His clear eyes locked directly onto Natsume's. The corners of his mouth deepened into a soft, knowing smile.
Heat rushed to Natsume's cheeks. She quickly averted her gaze, her heart giving an uncharacteristic stutter. Why was he looking at her like that?
Beside her, Conan was already deep in thought, dissecting the man's identity. Catching the sudden movement, the little detective's head snapped toward Natsume. His glasses slipped down his nose. His jaw practically unhinged.
This was Natsume. The same Natsume who could shatter a kidnapper's ribs with a single, brutal roundhouse kick. And she was actually blushing because some random pretty boy smiled at her? Was the guy really that handsome? If Ran saw him, would she—
Natsume caught Conan's horrified, incredulous stare. Her embarrassment vanished in an instant, replaced by a chilling, murderous glare. She narrowed her eyes, silently promising him a world of pain if he uttered a single word.
Conan swallowed hard. He offered a stiff, sheepish grin, quickly adjusting his glasses and staring straight ahead as if he hadn't seen a thing.
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