Double Chapter
By the time Gin's table got its food, Jiangxia had already finished his meal.
The chat with Ran Mouri was winding down too.
"Speaking of which, it's been a while since we traveled together," Ran scooped up her last bite of pudding, suddenly remembering something. She smiled. "Do you remember the Suzuki Museum Sonoko mentioned at school? It opens on the 23rd. They'll be showing off a bunch of treasures from her family's collection. If you're free that day, want to come with us?"
"Suzuki Museum?"
Hearing that, an image popped up in Jiangxia's mind—no, not an image, a whole green energy core… or rather, a green art egg. And then Kid's face.
In his memory, the museum's opening would display the 51st Emperor Easter Egg ever found—the "Egg of Memories."
Kid, for obvious reasons, would have his eyes on it.
As long as Kid stole the egg, an energy core would be born—perfect for leveling up Jiangxia's ghosts.
Plus, wherever Kid went, there was usually a pot of murder or two brewing, so he could probably pick up a ghost or some fresh murderous aura too.
He wanted in.
Anyway, it was still months away, so it wouldn't clash with his current "work."
Jiangxia nodded, quite looking forward to it already. A nice day out—plus an egg, plus a possible murder scene. What more could an innocent spiritual medium ask for?
—
At the next table, Gin's knife paused mid-cut as he listened in, catching what he thought were the crucial words:
Suzuki Museum. Family treasure vault. Suzuki Zaibatsu? (TL NOTE: Zaibatsu means conglomerate)
Ouzo's classmate was actually from the Suzuki family—and they got along well, too.
Heh. Ouzo really understood the Organization's hopes for him: to worm his way into high society.
A few years from now, when they needed to take out some big-name target, they wouldn't have to waste weeks planning a risky hit and scrambling to hide the body.
Nope. Just send Ouzo in to chat. The problem would solve itself, nice and quiet.
This bright future made Gin's knife work extra crisp. A cold spark of anticipation flickered in his eyes.
Across the table, Conan caught the tiny smirk tugging at Gin's mouth and felt every hair on his head stand up.
The last time Gin showed up on a train, he'd left behind a bomb that almost blew up a Shinkansen, with who knows how many casualties.
And now—smiling like that—what was he scheming this time?!
Conan's eyes narrowed. The air around him seemed to chill.
—
Gin, sharp as ever, sensed that subtle, prickly stare.
He turned his head, scanning the dining car. Nothing suspicious.
Well—except Jiangxia, whose eyes had unconsciously drifted towards the sleeper compartments again before flicking away.
Gin made a note of it. He lifted his coffee cup and adjusted it casually. The black glaze caught a faint reflection: a tall, skinny middle-aged man with a high hairline and a center part, standing awkwardly behind Izumo Keitaro.
Interesting.
It wasn't the first time Ouzo's eyes had wandered that way, either. And not in any deliberate way—it was more like a habit, his mind drifting back to something that intrigued him.
Gin knew that look. Ouzo used to glance at him like that—back when Gin was his main supplier of entertaining assassination missions.
But this random man wasn't handing out missions.
So what was he? A key piece in tonight's murder play? A tool person?
Gin's mouth twitched faintly at the thought.
While Gin tracked the "tool person" behind Izumo Keitaro, a separate gaze, sharp and wary, snapped back to Gin.
—
Conan peeked over the rim of his teacup, trying to hide most of his face.
From his angle, he could see Gin's gaze drifting towards Jiangxia again and again. What did this terrifying cadre of the Black Organization want with Jiangxia?
Conan remembered the time Gin knocked him out near the amusement park—his scalp itched at the memory, like it could split open all over again.
If Gin recognized Jiangxia as another promising high school detective, maybe he was worried Jiangxia would ruin the Organization's plots—like Shinichi Kudo once had.
Back then, Shinichi had snapped photos of Vodka's deal. If Gin hadn't caught him in time, he'd have lost Vodka—a terrifying thought.
So, Conan decided, it made sense that Gin would be suspicious of another young detective. He nodded to himself. Solid deduction, if he did say so.
He glanced over at Jiangxia—who was just chatting away with Ran, clueless about the danger sitting at the next table.
Conan's expression darkened. Better he stayed clueless. The last thing they needed was for Jiangxia, who only recently developed any real interest in life, to spiral back into his buddhist hole over the Black Organization's existence.
But maybe his worry leaked out a bit too strongly.
At the next table, Gin's eyes suddenly snapped back—directly meeting Conan's.
—
For a second, Conan froze. His heart stuttered; it felt like staring into the eyes of a cold-blooded snake. The air around him turned heavy and damp. His brain went blank.
But it lasted only a heartbeat.
Gin's eyes skimmed over the stiff little kid, cup in hand, then flicked away, bored.
Dead weight.
After all, once Gin finished a job, he rarely bothered remembering the dead. Shinichi Kudo? That so-called genius high school detective? Already dead in Gin's mind.
No need to waste storage space on a ghost.
Moreover, it was generally hard to imagine an adult suddenly turning into a child, and Conan had added a pair of glasses to throw people off.
In short, Gin didn't recognize him as Shinichi Kudo—the kid he'd once clobbered and force-fed APTX4869. To Gin, Conan was just an ordinary bear child.
Speaking of children…
Gin's appearance was pretty different from your average Japanese salaryman. Some rude kids would stare at him in public and then burst into tears the second he glared back.
There were even a few bold ones who'd once tried to pull his hair in passing. Compared to those brats, Conan's presence was nearly invisible.
Still, this did remind Gin of something.
He knew his aura was naturally oppressive. It could spook kids—and probably unsettle adults too.
When he'd first entered the dining car, that tall, thin middle-aged man Ouzo kept watching had stared at him a bit too long, the look in his eyes showing the unease of someone facing a powerful cadre.
Gin figured sticking around would only mess with Ouzo's subtle guidance.
He'd finished eating anyway. So he set down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth, and stood up without another word.
Vodka jolted back to reality and scrambled to follow, secretly sighing in relief.
Sitting next to Ouzo all this time had been pure torture. If he wasn't careful, he'd meet Ouzo's eyes right over the head of that innocent high school girl.
So Vodka had been staring hard at his plate the whole time, pretending to be deep in thought, terrified of "disrupting Ouzo's grand plan" by blinking wrong.
Thankfully, they could finally leave—Vodka quickened his steps, savouring the thought of a compartment with no Ouzo in it.
But just as they reached the exit, an angry roar erupted behind them.
"I told you to book the Royal Suite—look what you booked! Is that tiny, shaky cubicle fit for humans?! Even pigs would find it too cramped!"
Gin's hand paused on the sliding door. He glanced back, icy eyes flicking over the disturbance.
Vodka turned too, glaring before he even knew why—only to realize he was being yelled at.
The source of the yelling: Izumo Keitaro, their illustrious target.
And the object of Boss Izumo's fury? His own jewelry store manager, Toshinori Kaetsu.
The tall, thin Toshinori Kaetsu pushed up his glasses, voice carefully calm:
"The Royal Suites are very limited. When you decided to take this train a few days ago, they'd already been booked. Only the standard compartments were left. Actually, if you'd chosen a flight, you could've gotten first class—"
"Shut up!" Izumo slammed the table so hard that the cutlery rattled.
The mention of "plane or Hokutosei" clearly poked a sore spot, making him even angrier. "I want to take this train!"
At their table, Jiangxia calmly sipped his juice and watched the drama unfold.
In the Detective Conan universe, people who yelled like this were usually wrapped up in the God of Death's halo already.
He'd definitely be able to pick up a ghost or two from this pot—plus he no longer had to worry about Gin's bombs snatching his shikigami early.
Feeling content, Jiangxia topped up Conan's cup with the rest of the juice. Conan's eyes lit up at this rare display of generosity.
Jiangxia could understand why Izumo hated discussing travel plans.
From what he'd pieced together, Izumo Keitaro hadn't exactly chosen this train out of whimsy—he'd been blackmailed with evidence of drug trafficking. Someone had ordered him onto this train for a "deal," threatening to expose him if he refused.
And that anonymous puppet master? His own "submissive" manager, Toshinori Kaetsu.
Toshinori Kaetsu wasn't your average salaryman.
Back in the day, he'd been part of a small-time robbery gang. A classic two-men-one-woman setup. The woman had been his girlfriend. The other man? The gang's ringleader, Yasuji Asama—also the only one who'd landed on the wanted list.
Years ago, this ragtag trio had targeted Boss Izumo's jewelry store.
Kaetsu had wormed his way in as an undercover employee, ready to coordinate the robbery from the inside.
But before they could even lift a single diamond, Kaetsu's girlfriend overdosed on drugs.
Kaetsu always suspected she'd fallen into addiction because of Yasuji Asama's "temptations." In a rage, he'd severed ties with the gang leader.
With nowhere else to go—and no motivation to keep playing thief—Kaetsu just stayed at the jewelry store. The pay was decent. He played the diligent worker.
Year after year, he rose through the ranks until he was the manager.
By then, Kaetsu discovered that Boss Izumo was neck-deep in drug trafficking too.
The irony didn't escape him.
Worse, Kaetsu realized that his life was now eerily mirroring an unpublished manuscript he'd once stolen.
Back when he robbed a bank ten years ago, he'd stumbled upon an unfinished novel in the editor's bag—a draft by the famous mystery writer Yusaku Kudo. He'd snatched it on impulse.
After that, Yusaku never continued the story, and hardly anyone ever read it. Kaetsu, however, had devoured every page.
In that draft, the protagonist also lurked in a jewelry store, quietly planning revenge for a lover's overdose.
Inspired, Kaetsu decided to follow the "plot" to the letter: lure both Yasuji Asama and Boss Izumo onto the train, disguise himself as Yasuji Asama, publicly kill Izumo, then fake the robber's "suicide to avoid arrest." Feeding two birds with one scone.
When Jiangxia pieced all this together, he couldn't help but glance at Kaetsu with a hint of appreciation.
A man like this really knew how to set a stage.
Most passengers just focused on the loud, cursing Izumo.
Only Gin, standing at a distance with his cold stare, and Vodka—who was still stuck watching Jiangxia like a bear child afraid of detention—noticed Jiangxia's subtle glint of approval.
*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.
Progress: 21/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS
Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.
Progress:4/10*