Chapter 83
The rice, with its distinct grains, was molded into a shape suitable for a single bite. A slice of plump, tender salmon was placed on top, and they were arranged neatly on the plate.
“Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Wakita. I’ll take these to the buffet area,” a waiter in a black and white uniform said, diligently working, and carried the tray from the back kitchen to the banquet hall.
The chef with an eyepatch over his left eye, as if he had an eye disease, answered in the affirmative and adjusted his chef’s hat.
Everything was going smoothly.
Wakita Kanenori of Iroha Sushi in Beika was an identity that Rum had been cultivating for some time. He was on good terms with Mouri Kogoro, and his identity as a chef and a great detective’s disciple allowed him to move freely between the banquet hall and the back kitchen.
He didn’t seem out of place anywhere, and it wasn’t inappropriate for him to talk to anyone. He was like everyone’s shadow, without a presence, yet impossible to get rid of.
After making another plate of sushi, this time Rum didn’t let the waiter take it away. Instead, he picked up the plate himself, lifted the curtain of the back kitchen, and stepped into the glamorous banquet hall.
Rum’s exposed right eye scanned the hall.
The celebration party was crowded, but it was easy to tell who the focus of the crowd was.
A glamorous blond woman was leaning lazily against the bar, surrounded by eager people. But the famous actress’s gaze was fixed far away.
On the garden balcony, the shadows of the flowers under the moonlight covered the two people who were close together. The star of the celebration party was slacking off here, her fingertip scooping up the cream on a cake and smearing it on her boyfriend’s face.
Bourbon helplessly leaned down, letting her draw cat whiskers, and then dotted a dollop of sweet cream on the tip of his nose.
To the left of the balcony, a head waiter holding a box of cream puffs was hesitating.
To the right of the balcony, the banquet hall manager was holding a phone with a conflicted expression.
Rum remembered these two faces. In fact, it was his deliberate arrangement.
The second-in-command of the organization never showed his true face to others. Sometimes he was a man, sometimes a woman, sometimes a young man, sometimes an old man. True and false, false and true.
He always had to have a distraction ready, especially when a detective was present.
Mouri Kogoro’s face was flushed from drinking. Edogawa Conan, small, pitiful, and helpless, was holding a baby milkshake that a kind waiter had given him, sipping it dryly.
No one noticed Rum’s scrutinizing gaze. Wakita Kanenori placed the sushi in the buffet area and quietly returned to the back kitchen.
…
At the bar, Vermouth put down her swaying champagne glass and took out her phone to check a message.
Her fingertips, resting on the edge of the table, suddenly tightened.
Rum…
The instructions in the message made Vermouth silent for a moment. She pushed her wine glass away and stood up.
“Sharon?” the famous actress’s agent quickly asked. “Are you leaving already?”
With Sharon Vineyard’s status, just showing her face at the celebration party was already giving Director Ochi face. It was normal for her to leave early.
“No,” Vermouth said, her eyes only on An’an. The blond woman walked towards the garden balcony.
Vermouth had just taken a step when the girl, who had been engrossed in tormenting her boyfriend with cream, seemed to have had enough fun. She wiped her hands and, with a flourish, left the temporarily unpresentable Bourbon and walked alone to the center of the dance floor.
Vermouth raised an eyebrow in surprise.
She changed her mind and did not follow An’an, still heading towards the garden balcony.
Bourbon, who had been helpless against An’an, glanced at Vermouth, who had come to watch the show. As he took out a napkin to wipe the cream from his face, he asked flatly, “What’s up?”
…
The dark-haired girl came to the center of the dance floor, fully exposed to the live stream’s camera.
The fans in the stream room were hit with a sudden beauty attack, and all of them were screaming.
“You scoundrel, you finally remembered us!”
“So close, I’m getting shy, sob.”
However, the scoundrel’s public appearance was always infuriatingly short. An’an only stayed in front of the camera for a few seconds before the viewers’ vision suddenly spun.
The camera shook, switching from a fixed position to a mobile one. The dark-haired girl’s voice came from behind. “Dear viewers, welcome to my ‘A Day at the Celebration Party’ VLOG.”
“No, what kind of person shoots a VLOG without showing their face?”
“Sister, can you turn on the front-facing camera? I’ll recognize you even with eighteen layers of filters!”
“She’s making a public appearance, but it’s like she’s not. Our lives as fans are so hard.”
“But she called me ‘dear’ (ascends).”
Director Ochi, who was reminiscing with the screenwriter about the difficulties of filming the movie, found that his phone had been taken. He glanced at the brazen robber, then sat back down in his chair and urged the screenwriter to take out her phone and watch the live stream.
The screenwriter was speechless. “Aren’t we at the scene?”
What scene was there that could only be seen through Fan An’s live stream camera?
There was, my friend. There was.
Some people didn’t think that much and were just there for the show. For example, Vermouth. While entering the stream room with a smurf account, she exchanged information with Bourbon in a low voice under the cover of the crowd’s noise.
“Rum is here,” Vermouth said. “After the celebration party, find an excuse to have An’an meet him.”
This was a clear recruitment.
There was no option to refuse. As Bourbon’s lover, yet unwilling to serve the organization, did that mean Bourbon’s loyalty was also questionable?
Bourbon: “Since he’s here, why not meet at the celebration party?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Vermouth sneered. “Rum would never expose himself.”
The meeting place was a bar under the Black Organization’s name. After the party, Rum would change his disguise again.
The blond young man was silent for a moment, then gave a reluctant nod.
“Rum probably won’t have her participate in any dangerous missions. He just wants to use An’an’s popularity and fame to expand the organization’s network, just like my cover identity,” Vermouth promised. “And I’m here. I’ll help her.”
Bourbon politely refused and once again emphasized that An’an was his lover, and that she should stop thinking about stealing his girl all day.
Rum’s instructions were done. Vermouth’s attention shifted to the live stream.
An’an was taking the audience on a cloud tour of the celebration party. She was streaming like a pro, introducing everyone she met to the audience and telling funny stories about filming.
“The hotel haunting incident?” the girl said, holding up her phone to film a wide-angle shot and chatting with the chat. “Mhm, it was a mechanism left from the filming of that classic old movie. I really like this movie. I recommend everyone to drag the progress bar to the forty-fourth minute and forty-fourth second. There’s a surprise.”
In the chat, a newbie naively said, “Really, sister? I believe you,” while others screamed, “Don’t believe her! Don’t be tricked into being killed!”
The number of viewers in the stream room was still rising.
“Although the hotel is haunted, there’s a very beautiful cherry blossom forest outside the window,” An’an continued to share funny stories about filming with her fans.
“By the way, there’s also a very beautiful garden outside the banquet hall. I’ll pull open the curtains and let everyone see.”
It was more like a thick, heavy, deep red curtain than a curtain, but it was no match for An’an. With a great miracle of strength, she pulled open the tassel-fringed curtain.
Behind the curtain, a corpse with bulging eyes fell to the ground with a thud.
The chat: “…”
The chat: “!!!”
At a critical moment, the residents of Beika Town showed the high-quality caliber of the citizens of the crime city.
An’an grabbed a passing guest and made him look behind the curtain.
The other party let out a sharp shriek. “Ahhh! Someone’s dead!”
A mournful cry. Edogawa Conan’s DNA was triggered.
“Please don’t panic,” the dark-haired girl said, turning the camera to herself and promising seriously, “There are three detectives at the scene, and only one body. The workload is saturated. The detective will definitely be able to solve the case quickly.”
The chat was not comforted at all, because—
“Gah!”
In the buffet area, a guest clutched his throat and fell to the ground in pain, trying to vomit the food in his throat, but could only foam at the mouth.
The guest fell to the ground, his body convulsing. A moment later, he lay still, stiff.
Mouri Kogoro rushed over. “Everyone, get out of the way—is he still breathing?”
“Please don’t panic,” the dark-haired girl said again. “There are three detectives and two bodies at the scene. The workload is still saturated.”
Creak—creak—
In the center of the dance floor, the swaying crystal chandelier made a grating sound. The music had just stopped because of the sudden appearance of the bodies, so the creaking sound was particularly obvious. The people left on the dance floor were terrified and scattered in all directions.
Only one drunk guest not only didn’t run, but also dazedly danced under the crystal chandelier. In the horrified expressions of the people at the scene and the viewers in the live stream, the broken crystal chandelier fell straight down.
The dust that was kicked up covered the body. Amuro rushed over a second later, his fingertips touching the body’s neck.
The stream room was silent.
Three detectives, three bodies. The workload was finally evenly distributed.
“Sister, I’m sorry, but are you really not doing this on purpose?”
“The law of attraction! The law of attraction!”
“Is there a ‘pick one of three’ of suspects for you? If not, it’s a rigged game.”
Three people had died in a row under the watchful eyes of everyone. The internet exploded. Director Ochi had just finished calling the police when the entire First Division of the Metropolitan Police Department was dispatched.
“Old friend Mouri, Conan, Mr. Amuro, you’re all here?” Inspector Megure breathed a sigh of relief.
Great. The external brains were all online. The lineup was very luxurious.
“The deceased on my side died from the falling crystal chandelier,” Amuro said. “According to the cleaning staff, they had reported the problem of the aging crystal chandelier a long time ago. The manager had promised she would deal with it as soon as possible.”
The banquet hall manager was immediately brought before the police. She stammered, “I did have someone come and repair it! Really!”
“But there are obvious signs of tampering on the lamp’s chain,” the police officer in charge of the inspection said in a stiff tone. “It was man-made.”
“Sorry, you’ll have to come with us,” Inspector Megure said, signaling Officer Sato to take the manager away.
Next was Edogawa Conan. He said in a cute elementary school student’s voice, “I found an eyewitness!”
It was none other than the viewers in the live stream.
Director Ochi had set it to record the live stream. Edogawa Conan pulled up the recording. The screen showed a sneaky figure lurking by the curtain for some time.
The head waiter: “Wait- wait a minute! That’s not me! I didn’t do that! There must be a mistake!”
Inspector Megure was impartial. “You can say the rest at the station. Take him away.”
Officer Takagi took the order and took the head waiter away.
Finally, it was the great detective Mouri Kogoro’s turn.
“Obviously, the deceased on my side died of food poisoning,” a conscious Kogoro said seriously. “According to the back kitchen, the sushi the deceased ate before he died was only handled by one person.”
“I never thought that person would be you. I’m so disappointed,” Mouri Kogoro said sorrowfully. “Wakita Kanenori—you are my disciple! How could you do such a shameful thing?!”
Inspector Megure sympathetically patted his old friend Mouri’s shoulder. He personally went forward and, with a click, handcuffed Rum.
“Take him away. Interrogate him back at the station.”