(Double Chap)
At present, Haibara Ai hadn't been able to develop a permanent antidote—but she had created several temporary versions, each with different durations and side effects.
The one she chose this time had the shortest duration and the mildest effects.
She picked it precisely because she needed to quickly return to child form after climbing up through the chimney. If Pisco was caught in time, the other members of the Black Organization wouldn't know anything about "adults shrinking," so once she escaped, no one would give a passing child a second look. Even if she didn't go back to live with Professor Agasa, she could find another safe place to lay low.
Of course, in Haibara Ai's mind, Jiangxia wasn't included in "the other Organization members."
Somehow, she always mentally separated "Jiangxia" from the rest. Even though he gave off the same ominous vibes, Jiangxia had something the others didn't. Something that made it hard for her to lump him in with the likes of Gin.
…
After mustering up her courage and swallowing the medicine, Haibara instinctively glanced at the laptop on the wooden table.
Most likely left behind by Pisco, it probably contained a trove of valuable information.
But based on her experience in the Organization, Haibara suspected the laptop had a tracking function. Taking it would only bring trouble. Besides, she had no storage device with her to copy the data.
With a reluctant sigh, she averted her gaze. Time to move.
She headed for the cardboard box on the janitor's cart near the door. Draped over the side was a set of cleaner's clothing—perfect for once she grew back to her adult size, since her current outfit obviously wouldn't fit.
Earlier, while moving around the wine cellar, Haibara had already noticed this box. Maybe it was survival instinct—or just subconscious planning—but the moment she decided to escape through the chimney, her mind had snapped right back to those clothes.
She reached into the box.
But just as she started pulling the uniform free, she felt a weight drag down on the fabric.
Thunk.
Something heavy slid from under the clothes and landed in the bottom of the box.
Curious, Haibara leaned over and peered inside.
And froze.
…A bulletproof vest.
But what really stunned her wasn't the vest—it was the piece of paper lying neatly on top.
A sheet marked with a printed "Z" design. Ornate. Ancient-looking. Familiar.
Haibara hesitantly picked up the clothes and lifted the paper beneath them.
That "Z"... she'd seen that exact shape tattooed on Xiao Bai's neck. Ms. Anonymous had one under her eye, too.
Why was it here?
Had she been wrong all along? Was it not Pisco from the Black Organization who had drugged and brought her here—but someone from Anonymous?
…No. That didn't quite make sense.
If Anonymous had wanted to capture her, they would've done it long ago.
Plus, she remembered clearly: the hand that had grabbed her was old. Wrinkled. Almost withered. Not something you'd expect from a member of Anonymous, which Conan suspected was composed of people affected by APTX4869—none of whom would appear that aged.
Fresh off taking the antidote and rattled by the paper in her hand, Haibara felt her temperature spike. Her thoughts scattered. Her balance faltered. Her breaths came short and ragged. Steam-like vapor started rising off her body.
Then, with a violent pulse from her heart, she felt her limbs—and every cell—swell and stretch as if her entire being was about to rupture.
Clutching the paper, she gasped, collapsed against the wall, and let out a strangled cry of pain.
…
One minute later.
Haibara stood up like nothing had happened and began changing into the cleaner's outfit.
…Well. Despite no human trials, her medicine seemed pretty effective. She was alive. A bit traumatized, sure, but intact.
Still, the transformation had been intense. For a moment there, she'd really thought she was going to explode.
Once dressed, she looked down at the bulletproof vest and the paper with conflicted eyes.
After a long pause, she put the vest on and carefully tucked the "Z" paper close to her body.
Then, instead of climbing the chimney right away, she darted to the laptop and casually tapped a key.
The screen flickered to life.
It was the Black Organization's system interface.
So… it really was them.
Considering the age of the hand that had grabbed her, it couldn't have been Jiangxia, Gin, or Gin's large tool-like sidekick. Based on her limited knowledge, she could only label her captor as "Pisco."
That was good enough for now.
Haibara didn't bother trying to crack the password. She stashed her child-sized clothes, then turned and bolted toward the chimney.
Now that the side effects of the antidote had faded, her thoughts were much clearer.
Time was short. Whether the one who brought her here was Pisco from the Organization, or an Anonymous agent posing as one, or an actual mole from Anonymous within the Organization—only one thing was certain:
Anonymous had placed the vest and the paper in that box.
The vest was adult-sized.
If they knew she could return to adult form, they must have been quietly observing her progress.
And considering the chimney's location in the wine cellar…
It almost felt like Anonymous was nudging her toward escape.
Helping her in such a subtle way instead of simply pulling her out—maybe because it was inconvenient… or maybe it was a test.
If I pass, they'll accept me?
That idea sparked something in Haibara's mind—something wild and bright.
Pisco might not be caught by the police. Even if he was, he might still leak information back to the Organization.
And the Organization had plenty of childhood photos of Sherry.
Once they knew she'd shrunk, they'd never stop hunting her. Even if she escaped now, maybe one day those crows would show up at Professor Agasa's house and wipe everyone out.
But Anonymous…
Anonymous wasn't afraid of the Organization. Their intel was so sharp it gave you a headache. They even knew about APTX4869.
They operated differently. Still a secretive group, sure—but gentler. Kinder.
Even when they had chances to hurt her, they never did.
They always sent Xiao Bai—someone close to her, someone she could trust—to make contact.
The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go to them.
—
Haibara Ai instinctively began evaluating herself.
If Anonymous really had left behind that bulletproof vest… did that mean they were testing her? Considering recruiting her?
She was a scientist. She knew APTX4869 inside and out. That had to count for something. As for other, more mysterious "requirements"…
She thought about her own face—the one she'd seen in the mirror not long ago—and hesitated.
…She was probably qualified in that department, too.
Her cheeks flushed. For someone who'd prided herself her whole life on relying purely on intellect, it was a bit humiliating to realize she might also be relying on her looks.
Still… it wasn't just that. It probably also depended on her will to survive. Maybe that's why Anonymous hadn't shown up in person—just left her the vest instead. A trial?
If I prove myself useful… will they come find me?
She placed her hands and feet against the rough inner walls of the chimney, took a deep breath, and began the difficult climb.
The chimney was narrow, and her footing was uncertain. But she adapted quickly, inching upward, gritting her teeth with determination.
Then—
From somewhere beyond the wine cellar door, she heard footsteps. Heavy ones. Leather soles echoing in the quiet hallway.
One step. Then another.
It wasn't just one person.
Haibara's blood froze. Her fingers tightened on the brick.
She remembered the computer on the table—almost certainly equipped with some kind of transmitter—and held her breath. Cold sweat broke out on her back. Her limbs chilled.
Who was outside?
A few minutes earlier.
After Haibara Ai had regained consciousness from the tranquilizer, and the police finished questioning the seven suspects with purple handkerchiefs—
A black Porsche pulled up quietly near the Beika Hotel, tires crunching in the snow.
Gin and Vodka stepped out.
They didn't speak. They moved in sync, one to the left, one to the right, doors slamming shut at the same time. Together, they walked toward the hotel, dialing a number as they went.
No one picked up.
Gin clicked his tongue, lowered his hand, and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He walked through the patches of shadow between the streetlights, his face remaining in darkness.
Soon, the two men in black passed another group dressed similarly in formal black attire. They made their way to a quiet stairwell at the side of the lobby.
Vodka glanced at his phone, checking the blinking GPS marker.
"Boss," he said, "the signal's here."
The map was two-dimensional, but the building was three-dimensional.
Gin frowned, mentally referencing the hotel's floor plan. After a moment's thought, he gestured toward the stairs and headed down.
He remembered: there was an old, unused wine cellar beneath the building.
This wasn't part of the Organization's original plan.
But if Pisco had created a backup plan—or needed a place to stash a body or regroup—the wine cellar would be a solid choice.
On the way down, Vodka checked his inbox again.
"No reply yet," he reported.
Then, after a beat, he offered a theory—clearly biased:
"Could Ouzo have killed Pisco? You know how Pisco always refuses to follow orders… Even though you warned him not to touch Ouzo, what if he couldn't help himself?"
Vodka thought back to Pisco—an old, foggy-brained cadre—and compared him to Ouzo.
He still didn't really understand how Ouzo killed people. That alone made the guy feel eerie. Mysterious. Dangerous.
If those two actually fought… honestly, Pisco probably didn't stand a chance.
And if Ouzo did kill him—well, it wouldn't end well.
Not with the boss.
Even Gin wouldn't take kindly to someone who killed a teammate during a mission. It was unprofessional. Reckless. The kind of mess Big Brother hated.
So…
Go for it, Ouzo!
Vodka quietly cheered him on in his heart.
Gin, cigarette in his mouth, glanced sideways but didn't answer.
This mission was important. He'd repeatedly forbidden any "side activities." Ouzo should know better.
And besides—unlike the others, Ouzo never killed quickly. He had a style. He needed time. He liked artistry.
If he was going to take out someone like Pisco, it'd be flashy.
Over-the-top.
And if something that dramatic had happened, the hotel lobby wouldn't still be this calm. The scene would've exploded.
Which meant…
Pisco was probably still alive.
More likely: Pisco made a mistake, drew attention, got tangled up with the police. Ouzo, also under pressure, was now in Detective Mode—solving the case like a tool person and delaying things just enough to avoid throwing Pisco under the bus.
Gin snorted in contempt.
Old, useless man.
The stairs ended in front of an old wooden door, its paint faded to natural tones with age.
Vodka checked his phone again, compared the map. "Should be in here."
Gin gave a slight nod and reached for the knob.
Click.
It turned—but the door didn't budge.
Locked from the inside.
Not surprising.
Without missing a beat, Gin stepped aside and jerked his chin toward Vodka.
Vodka got the message, tucked away his phone, and calmly shot the lock.
A smooth push—and the door swung open.
The wine cellar wasn't large. The two men stepped in and took only a few paces before they had the full view.
A small cart near the entrance held a few cardboard boxes.
Gin's eyes swept over it.
There, on the floor beside the cart, lay a single strand of long, light-brown hair.
Sherry's.
He'd seen enough of her hair today to recognize it instantly.
He didn't bother picking it up. Instead, he looked farther ahead—to the wooden table in the middle of the room. Pisco's computer still sat on top.
—
*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.
Progress: 58/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS
Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.
Progress:3/10*