Chapter 3
Fan An looked down at the boning knife lying in a pool of blood, then looked up at the corpse slumped in the chair.
“I can explain,” she said earnestly. “Please, give me a chance to explain.”
The girl gestured frantically, trying to prove her innocence. Her attitude was so sincere that both the public security officer and the detective couldn’t help but feel she deserved a chance to defend herself.
After all, the one who had just identified the killer was the conscious Kogoro. Sleeping Kogoro had yet to speak. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Detective Mouri contradicted himself on a daily basis; the whole of Beika Town knew he was a fickle man.
Edogawa Conan found a good angle, raised his watch, and took aim at Mouri Kogoro. The tranquilizer dart is ready to fire whenever. Miss Suspect, please, feel free to make your case!
Fan An sensed his goodwill. The feeling of having someone on her side gave her a massive surge of courage.
“You can tell from the wound that I’m not the one who killed him,” the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl declared, her voice ringing with conviction. “As heaven is my witness! I always start by slitting the throat. I never cut directly into the abdomen.”
The victim’s fatal wound was in his chest, not his neck. How could Fan An possibly make such an unprofessional mistake?!
Edogawa Conan: “…”
The crosshairs of the tranquilizer dart shifted from Mouri Kogoro and swiftly locked onto Suspect An.
Before the situation could descend into further chaos, Amuro Tooru stepped forward.
“Although Miss Fan An was carrying a dangerous, controlled item, and the boning knife happened to fall from her person, and the blade is covered in the victim’s blood, and she was physically closest to the deceased, and the fatal wound was a stab wound—that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s the killer.”
Mouri Kogoro: “?”
Do you hear yourself? Do you actually believe the words coming out of your own mouth?
Amuro coughed. He had his reasons for being willing to speak up for Suspect An.
Amuro gestured for the detectives to look at him.
The girl who had crashed into the blond young man was clutching her suitcase with one hand. To maintain her balance, her other hand was gripping Amuro’s clothes tightly, crumpling his white shirt into a wrinkled mess.
“My apologies,” An’an said, quickly letting go. She patted his shirt in a futile attempt to violently smooth out the wrinkles.
“I see,” Edogawa Conan realized.
The moment the power went out, both of Suspect An’s hands were occupied. Unless she had three heads and six arms, she simply didn’t have the means to commit the crime.
Conscious Kogoro had, once again, successfully eliminated an incorrect answer. It was time for him to go offline—Sleep, Kogoro!
An’an watched in astonishment as Detective Mouri suddenly shuddered, closed his eyes, and began to sway and stumble. His body automatically found the King’s Throne, plopped down, and his head drooped heavily.
Is this the legendary “Chara Change”? Kogoro’s heart, unlock!
(T/N: A reference to the magical girl anime “Shugo Chara,” where characters “unlock” their hearts to transform.)
“You don’t have to worry now. Conan—I mean, Mr. Mouri will deduce the real killer,” the blond young man whispered in An’an’s ear.
He seemed so experienced. Is this what a permanent resident of Beika Town is like?
In the future, I too shall become a dignified local, unshakable and unperturbed by honor or disgrace! Fan An swore to herself.
“By the way, Miss An’an, did you come to the cafe to eat?” Amuro Tooru asked, resuming his duties as a Café Poirot waiter.
“No, I’m here for an audition,” An’an said truthfully. “A director recommended his friend’s script to me, saying it was a perfect fit.”
Director? Script? Amuro realized something and turned to look at the victim’s table.
“…In conclusion, the real killer is you, Mr. Muranaka! You and the victim, Mr. Kanda, were competing for the same role. The director didn’t approve of your acting, so you grew jealous and cruelly murdered Mr. Kanda!”
Sleeping Kogoro pointed sharply at the true culprit. His mouth didn’t move, but his voice was as powerful as a tidal wave. Detective Mouri was truly as skilled at ventriloquism as the rumors said.
He never shows off his ventriloquism talent in public. What a humble man.
With the evidence laid bare and the cafe’s speakers automatically playing a classic saxophone tune, the killer, Mr. Muranaka, felt his knees go weak, and he collapsed to the ground.
“It was all Kanda’s fault!” Mr. Muranaka wailed, tears streaming down his face. “He kept showing off in front of me, saying he was the one most suited for the role, when my acting is clearly superior!”
“I had to prove it to him!” the killer roared at the corpse. “Do you see, Kanda?! I’m a better fit for that role than you are!”
Edogawa Conan, crouching behind Mouri Kogoro and speaking through his voice-changing bowtie, heard the killer’s confession and asked in confusion, “What do you mean?”
Director Matsuzaka answered the detective’s question.
“I’m preparing a new web drama, a suspense-thriller,” Director Matsuzaka explained. “There’s a character in it who doesn’t have much screen time, but the role is very significant. Both Muranaka and Kanda wanted it.”
The script was about a group of thrill-seeking youths who venture into an abandoned distillery and are unfortunately attacked by an evil spirit.
“The trespassers disturb the evil spirit. In the darkness, someone gets lost and wanders alone through the labyrinthine distillery. A figure silently presses against their back… The grip on their throat suddenly tightens, until the prey’s feet go from twitching to dangling limp. The evil spirit slowly peels off the corpse’s skin, following the grain of the flesh. It wears the human skin and casually returns to the group. Then, one by one, the accidents begin, and people start to die…”
The actor who played the person who got lost would continue to play the evil spirit after it put on the skin. The actor playing the evil spirit’s true form would only have a very short scene.
“Lurking, attacking, strangling, skinning—it’s less than ten minutes of screen time in total, but it’s the most brilliant part of the entire script,” Director Matsuzaka said, troubled. “I just can’t find an actor who can embody the evil spirit’s cruel, bloody essence.”
He had chosen Kanda over Muranaka simply because Kanda had a more sinister appearance and a more suitable temperament.
As it turned out, the director’s judgment was flawed. Regardless of the prior situation, now that one was a killer and the other a corpse, it was self-evident who was more suited for the villain role.
Seeing the look of regret on Director Matsuzaka’s face, the killer, Mr. Muranaka, couldn’t help but reveal a triumphant smirk, even as his hands were being cuffed by the police.
If he’d just picked me from the start, none of this would have happened, Muranaka thought viciously. Now, with my masterpiece as the precedent, no matter who plays the role, the director will always be reminded of his “white moonlight” in prison, and he’ll find fault with every little thing the new actor does.
“Sigh.” Just as Muranaka predicted, Director Matsuzaka let out a deep sigh. “Actually, my friend recommended an actor to audition today. He said on the phone that she was the absolute villain of my dreams, that she’d be unbeatable just by being herself. I was really looking forward to it.”
It was all too late. In the face of a real killer, what actor could possibly surpass that?
A fair hand picked up the boning knife from the pool of blood.
Crimson droplets clung to the girl’s curved knuckles, flowed down the back of her fingers to her palm, and were flicked away with a light shake.
She held a napkin with her fingertips and patiently, meticulously wiped the blade. The snow-white edge slid gently across her skin, making onlookers tremble in fear.
It was a practiced maintenance, as if repeated a thousand times. The blade, stained with blood time and again, was wiped clean time and again, until finally, though pristine as new, it was shrouded in an indelible scent of gore.
When the killer Muranaka had brandished his knife at the victim, the darkness couldn’t hide his ferocious expression.
If it were the girl before them holding the knife, her expression would only be one of routine placidness.
A slaughter repeated too many times no longer held any novelty.
After wiping the blade clean, the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl gave it a casual twirl and naturally slid the boning knife into her pocket.
“Detective Mouri!” Director Matsuzaka suddenly turned to the sleeping Kogoro. “How about you try re-deducing the case one more time?”
One man, exposed by a detective, was on his knees weeping. The other, cleared of suspicion, was nonchalantly wiping her blade. Put Suspect Muranaka and Suspect An side by side, and who wouldn’t say the real killer was someone else?!
High EQ: You can’t judge a book by its cover.
Low EQ: SHE LITERALLY HAS “CRIMINAL” IN HER NAME! ARE YOU GUYS REALLY NOT GOING TO INVESTIGATE FURTHER?!
Sleeping Kogoro rejected Director Matsuzaka’s request and let out a loud snore.
Edogawa Conan: Are you kidding me? The killer has already confessed, and you still want the detective to work overtime?
Amidst the snores of the great Detective Mouri, which rang out like a death knell, Director Matsuzaka achieved enlightenment.
He knew! He understood! He comprehended everything!
There is only one truth—this must be the legendary perfect crime!
The true killer, Miss Fan An, used a method unknown even to the great detective to brutally murder Mr. Kanda. Then, she used a method unknown even to the undercover public security officer to frame Mr. Muranaka, making him actively, willingly, and eagerly confess to the crime. Finally, Miss Fan An brushes her sleeves and walks away, her deeds hidden, displaying the true style of a master.
As for her motive for doing all this, did one even need to ask? It was, of course—
“To think you would go to such lengths just to interpret my script!” Director Matsuzaka gripped Fan An’s hands tightly, moved to tears. “Heavens, it’s too perfect! What a subarashii audition!”
(T/N: Subarashii means “wonderful” or “magnificent” in Japanese.)
Fan An: “?”
Has the audition started?
The audition was already over.
The director was extremely satisfied. Though she had no idea what he had imagined in his head, he was, for whatever reason, extremely satisfied.
“You are exactly the talent I need,” Director Matsuzaka said with deep emotion. “When can you join the crew?”
An’an could join anytime. After all, if the director wasn’t providing room and board, she’d be heading straight for the nearest bridge underpass with her suitcase.
Director Matsuzaka paid out of his own pocket to treat An’an to Café Poirot’s signature ham sandwiches. As they ate, he discussed the script with her, occasionally making comments like, “Your crimes are too numerous to count! I am deeply impressed!”
Director Matsuzaka’s behavior was starting to make Edogawa Conan doubt himself. He whispered to the undercover officer, “My deduction wasn’t wrong, was it?”
The killer, Mr. Muranaka, was filled with disbelief as he was led away by the police, shouting, “I’m the one who killed him! I’m the actor most suited for the role! Director, look at me! I don’t believe your eyes are empty! Don’t you dare turn your head away!”
The weapon was found, the evidence was conclusive, and the killer had confessed to the crime. Amuro Tooru couldn’t see any problem.
Edogawa Conan: “Then what’s the director so excited about?”
Director Matsuzaka looked ecstatic, constantly making “waku waku” noises at the girl, which gave the detective goosebumps.
(T/N: “Waku waku” is Japanese onomatopoeia for excitement, famously used by Anya in “Spy x Family.”)
Amuro thought about Director Matsuzaka’s desperate search for an actor for his upcoming suspense-thriller, the background file on Miss Fan An that Kazami had just sent him, and the particularly conspicuous line in that file: Has worked part-time for many years, employed as a professional pig butcher in a slaughterhouse…
“It’s nothing,” Amuro could only say in the end. “Director Matsuzaka has spent his life accumulating good karma. This is what he deserves.”