Why did the Kazawa couple's logo appear in the Impression Space—on such a crucial gateway, no less?
Kazawa couldn't say a word. He dumbly reached out and touched the bottommost arrow.
The dark red arrow wasn't painted on the wall—it was more like part of the wall itself. Its texture felt exactly the same as the rest of the surface.
He touched it again, and again with more force, eventually placing both hands on it.
Watching Kazawa slap the wall like a gecko, Xingchuan Hui walked over speechlessly. "What are you doing?"
"You can see these triangles, right? I'm not hallucinating?" Kazawa pointed at the wall.
"Of course I can," Xingchuan Hui confirmed, even reaching out to touch the red triangle himself.
Kazawa was deeply shaken.
The Impression Space—it was the public sanctuary, the collective unconscious of all humanity…
What exactly had his parents been researching? Were they working on thought-branding or something? How else could they have left traces here?
No… maybe it was the other way around.
Maybe they had discovered the existence of the Impression Space, and this symbol was a result of their experiments...
That would be insane—two seemingly ordinary researchers managing to "hack" into the collective unconscious purely through theory and experimentation?
No, this needed further research. He'd have to dive deep into whatever his parents left behind...
On reflex, Kazawa activated his "third eye" and scanned the space using special vision.
A ribbon-like red thread appeared before his eyes. One end dangled nearby, gently swaying, while the other disappeared deep into the wall—its destination unknown.
What was this thing? Kazawa, curious, reached out and tried to grab the floating red thread.
Snap!
His red scarf—usually sitting snugly around his neck—suddenly tightened and yanked him forward. The thread instantly retracted into the scarf and disappeared.
Hearing the noise, Xingchuan Hui turned his head and pointed at the scarf in surprise. "Huh? Did it just get longer? I thought it only reached your back before..."
Kazawa lifted the end of the scarf and checked. Sure enough—it now dangled down to his knees. It had lengthened by more than 20 centimeters out of nowhere.
…What the heck? A greedy snake?
Kazawa examined the scarf carefully for a while but couldn't make sense of it. He could only let it go for now.
Honestly, even he didn't fully understand what the scarf was.
It seemed to respond to his will, but it wasn't like it could fly or anything. After all his experimenting, he'd guessed it was more like an upgraded grappling hook you'd find in a video game.
But now… it clearly had more to it.
After circling the wall three more times and knocking on its unknown material in vain, Kazawa returned to the car with Xingchuan Hui, dissatisfied.
He had investigated, but not fully investigated. That feeling of having the answer just out of reach—it was maddening.
And when Kazawa was frustrated, he liked making others uncomfortable too.
Tilting his head in thought, he soon smiled slyly.
"Let's go, Xingchuan. Let's take the shortcut from that side and head straight to the entrance." Kazawa pointed a direction, smiling kindly. "You go on home first—I'll catch up in a bit."
——
After so long loving, so long hating, and constantly wondering whether she truly despised him or was just being manipulated in some twisted PUA game… Terahara Mari had finally realized the truth:
She had fallen for a petty, socially inept manchild who didn't know how to communicate.
Exhausted. Just let the world burn already. Music genius? Romantic drama? Who even cared anymore.
She confessed her entire murder plot and slumped back on the couch, staring at the flashing neon ceiling of the private karaoke room. She was honestly just about ready to give up.
Kimura Tatsuya, for whatever reason suddenly emotional and teary, started crying again halfway through her confession.
"I pushed you that far?" he clutched his head, the once-spiky hedgehog hair now half-flattened from his own frustrated rubbing. "I'm such an asshole… a scumbag…"
Then, with a plop, he threw himself onto Mari's legs, bawling even harder into her now-ruined skirt.
While this soap-opera-level drama unfolded, Suzuki Sonoko and Mouri Ran sat to the side, wide-eyed and fully invested in the gossip. But Conan, after hearing Mari's confession, was frowning deeply.
Kimura Tatsuya's sudden personality shift was very suspicious.
That guy was genuinely nasty—Conan had seen it himself during this celebration party. Even as a first-time guest, he'd witnessed Tatsuya insult his teammates and manager repeatedly, calling them "useless" and "dead weight," not to mention the way he barked at Mari.
So when Mari said she'd thought about killing him, Conan's first reaction was basically, Yeah, fair enough.
But for someone like that to suddenly stand around dazed, then repent, apologize, even confess?
Normally Conan wouldn't think much of it—but if this case might escalate into a full-blown homicide, then that kind of abrupt personality change triggered a very specific memory.
The victims who had received Joker's warning letters.
Conan's sharp mind spun rapidly, and he realized—this could be his rare chance to witness Joker's tactics in action, live.
With growing excitement, he clenched his fist and discreetly pulled out his phone.
[Was it you who made the move? Kimura Tatsuya?]
The message sent. Conan's eyes sparkled with anticipation. A rare thrill of being one step ahead surged through him. He even struck his classic thinking pose, fingers on his chin, brain firing at full speed.
Suddenly, a hand reached in from the side and yanked his glasses clean off.
Startled, Conan looked up—and locked eyes with Mouri Ran's suspicious gaze.
"You really do look just like Shinichi when he was a kid," she said quietly. "Even the way you sing..."
Tons of people are tone-deaf, sure—but only one person she knew could mangle a simple children's song quite like that.
CRAP!
Conan instinctively covered his face and scooted into the corner of the couch. In a weird half-squeaky voice, he mumbled, "W-What's wrong, Ran-neechan? I can't see anything if you take those!"
Ran stared at him seriously.
A grade-schooler… and Shinichi…
It was a ridiculous thought, but then again—on the very night Shinichi disappeared, she had met Dr. Agasa and Conan at Shinichi's house. And since then… Shinichi never came back…
The uneasy suspicion that had haunted her all this time suddenly grew stronger. She almost blurted out the question: "You… are you really…"
RING RING RING——
Conan's phone rang at the perfect moment.
Desperate to shift Ran's attention, Conan snatched up the phone without even checking the caller ID. "Hello—?"
"Yo, Conan?" came a voice that made Conan's blood freeze.
It was Kudo Shinichi's voice.