(Double Chap)
BONUS CHAPTER 5-6
Will post 7-10 tomorrow!
As the police and hotel staff scrambled to evacuate the crowd after discovering the fire in the wine cellar, three black-clad figures quietly slipped away through the long-unused side door of the old building.
On the way, Vodka kept sneaking glances—first at Jiangxia, then at Gin. A big, bold question mark practically floated above his head.
Big Brother actually believed that explanation?
…There's no evidence right now, sure, but he felt it in his bones: Pisco's death was definitely linked to Ouzo.
And Sherry wasn't caught either…
Vodka thought about the clever plan he'd come up with earlier and lowered his voice reluctantly, "Boss, about that hostage idea…"
Gin paused, then remembered the plan—use Ouzo as bait to lure Sherry out.
Now, just hearing her name made the killing intent in Gin's chest surge uncontrollably. Even Vodka, for bringing it up, became irritating.
He cut him off coldly: "Idiot. She's probably long gone by now. What are you going to do, broadcast it live on TV?"
Vodka stiffened at the word "broadcast."
…If this whole hostage-taking mess had been recorded somehow—like that photo of Pisco—then whoever showed up on camera would probably be added to the organization's hit list.
And with Ouzo as the hostage, the only "culprits" in the video would've been him and Gin.
Hiss…
Vodka wisely shut his mouth, pretending he hadn't spoken.
Jiangxia, meanwhile, had been quietly harvesting Gin's stormy killing aura. He grabbed a few wisps of it like snatching cotton candy in a haunted house.
Then he glanced over at Vodka—the very man who had stirred up this spike in danger levels.
Their eyes met.
Vodka stiffened instantly. He took a few mechanical steps forward, then did a weird hop to smooth out his stride, gaze flicking anywhere but Jiangxia's face.
Jiangxia squinted suspiciously at him.
…I don't know what this "hostage plan" was, but I have a strong sense Gin's junior is up to no good.
Fortunately, now that the plan had been rejected, there was no need to worry about it anymore.
He stopped glaring and tossed a few ghosts toward Gin's general direction, muttering a motivational "Work hard."
—
The disused side door opened without incident.
Vodka used his old trick to pop the chain lock, and the three of them stepped out into the street.
Jiangxia listened to the distant police sirens and the roar of fire trucks drawing closer. He turned to check Gin's expression—his superior didn't seem to have anything else to say.
So Jiangxia waved politely, split off from the two suspicious men in black, and slowly wandered toward the train station.
Gin and Vodka, meanwhile, found the familiar black Porsche quietly parked down the road.
Gin sat in the car, gazing in the direction of Haido City Hotel. From this angle, the fire had already burst up from the underground wine cellar and onto the surface. Flames blazed, thick smoke billowed, and the whole scene oozed panic and despair.
But if you looked up, just a bit past the chaos, the sky glowed with a neon orange-red haze—like a distant, dreamlike inferno.
Gin lit a cigarette, his voice casual. "A mundane yet magnificent death. In a way, quite fitting for him…"
As he spoke, his tone lowered, words slowing.
…A magnificent death—orchestrated.
…Yes. Quite fitting.
"…"
Gin fell silent.
There was no concrete evidence. But the key words, the general pattern—it all felt oddly familiar.
Come to think of it, didn't he end up describing every single Ouzo-related case with this kind of phrasing?
That realization made Gin's gaze drift from the burning hotel… toward another street entirely.
There, a solitary figure was walking away, back turned to the fire—unhurried, unaffected.
After a long pause, Gin exhaled slowly and tapped his cigarette in that direction.
Vodka heard his brother's unusually thoughtful command: "Follow him."
—
Jiangxia strolled along casually.
He still had a few ghosts trailing behind Gin, harvesting leftover killing aura. Normally, with the number of ghost fetuses he'd assigned, it wouldn't take long to drain off this kind of ambient bloodlust.
But tonight had been unusually eventful.
Gin's mood had spiked, dipped, and finally surged again—especially after Vodka's well-timed provocation. Even now, with Gin long gone, there was still lingering killing aura left to collect.
Jiangxia had planned to let the ghosts finish up and return when the Porsche left the street.
Unexpectedly, as he walked, he felt their aura creeping closer.
He sped up slightly, turned a corner, and stopped under a tree lit by a street lamp.
After a few seconds, the long-hooded, blocky silhouette of Gin's Porsche also rounded the corner and pulled up beside him.
…A new mission? Or maybe another assassination?
Jiangxia scanned both sides of the street cautiously.
After confirming the coast was clear, he didn't wait for the car to stop. He opened the back door and climbed in, like a very polite but deeply ominous carpooler.
Once seated, Jiangxia looked up—and realized Gin had already rolled down the window.
It wasn't an invitation to get in. It was just so Gin could speak to him without leaving the car.
"…"
The car fell silent.
Vodka's eye twitched. He really wanted to bang the glove compartment and yell, "Who told you to get in?! Get out!"
…But he didn't dare.
If—if—Pisco's death had been caused by Ouzo, then that meant even Gin had fallen neatly into his script.
As the assistant who spent most of his life shadowing Gin, that possibility was terrifying. A true ghost story.
Gin didn't notice Vodka's internal collapse.
He looked at Jiangxia through the rearview mirror, paused for a few seconds, then silently let it go.
He couldn't think of any real reason to kick the kid out.
And anyway, the car was quieter. More secure. Better for sensitive conversations.
Ouzo had a strong sense of secrecy—sometimes a bit too strong. But that wasn't a bad thing.
Without comment, Gin slowly rolled the window back up.
Jiangxia also realized he'd misunderstood the situation. But since no one said anything, he simply stayed put and pretended not to notice.
—Besides, it wasn't just about harvesting killing aura.
At this time of night, on this street, standing outside Gin's car and chatting like old friends would definitely attract the wrong kind of attention.
Plenty of reporters were still loitering near the Haido City Hotel. Their cameras were pointed mostly at the fire, the police, and the scattered celebrities. But what if some bored reporter wandered over here, snapped a lazy photo of him, and later, Conan—who was definitely monitoring everything happening at the hotel—saw it…
Too dangerous.
Better to sit in the car like a proper buddhist, let the ghosts do their job, and keep a low profile.
—
This kind of situation could become big or small trouble, depending on how things played out.
Conan might suddenly get struck by a bolt of realization—"Wait, Jiangxia is in the Black Organization??"—or he might just assume Gin was asking Jiangxia for directions. Maybe even that Gin had his eye on this promising young detective...
Either way, it was best to avoid unnecessary risks. And the simplest, most effective solution: don't stand around where you could get photographed.
The car window, streaked with condensation and ice, slowly rolled up with a hiss, sealing out the world.
Gin waved a hand. Vodka started the engine.
Then, Gin suddenly brought up a seemingly unrelated topic.
"Vermouth is skilled in disguise and manipulation. She's a psychological master—ideal for infiltration and information gathering. She's valuable. Irreplaceable… But that's not why her teammates keep dying without consequences."
Jiangxia had been quietly digesting the cold air inside the car. At this, his gaze sharpened.
Sure enough, Gin continued: "Many members have died because of her mistakes—or other reasons. But as long as she doesn't screw up big, she's never held accountable… because she's someone that person (ano kata) values.
"So—just because she can get away with things doesn't mean you can."
And just like that, the warning landed.
Gin glanced at Jiangxia in the rearview mirror. His tone turned cold and final:
"Don't pull a stunt like today again. This is the last time."
…There was no evidence tying Ouzo directly to Pisco's death. But Gin wasn't stupid.
A talent like Ouzo—someone who could link together seemingly irrelevant fragments and turn them into murder weapons—couldn't possibly have missed the flash from that camera when the lights went out in the banquet hall.
Even if Ouzo hadn't killed Pisco, he had clearly chosen to observe rather than intervene. That much was certain.
Later, when Ouzo handed Pisco that purple commemorative handkerchief—rather than protecting a temporary teammate—it felt more like he was handing him straight to the organization. All so he could stand by and watch the fall of a long-serving cadre… just like the murder dramas he was so fond of directing.
Even if he hadn't written this particular script, Ouzo had still inserted himself into the performance for maximum dramatic effect.
And let's be honest—Pisco was a veteran member of both the organization and high society. Compared to Jiangxia's usual cannon-fodder murder cases, this was practically a Broadway production. Of course he'd savor it.
Gin recalled the bold, unhesitating way Ouzo had acted this time.
He frowned.
If he let it slide just because Pisco was dead weight, Ouzo might grow even more audacious—maybe even develop into the kind of maniac who specialized in hunting down organization members just for the thrill of it.
Wrong paths were everywhere. If you didn't prune early, the seedling would grow crooked.
Gin stared at Ouzo's calm, slightly contemplative face in the mirror and nodded to himself.
Yes. Even a genius needed pruning.
It wasn't just the seedling that mattered—it was also about who wielded the shears and how.
Gin had brought up Vermouth because he suspected that Ouzo's boldness had something to do with her.
He'd heard that Vermouth had once tricked Ouzo. And while Ouzo had not only escaped but turned the tables on her, it might've planted the dangerous idea that "hurting other members is normal and won't be punished."
That attitude had to be stomped out before it took root.
At the same time, Gin hoped this would reinforce how dangerous Vermouth truly was. So next time Ouzo went on a mission with her… maybe he wouldn't come back.
With Ouzo now properly warned—and Gin's killing aura quietly siphoned off by unseen ghosts—his mood eased just a little.
When they passed through Beika Town, Gin let Jiangxia out of the car. He and Vodka continued toward Councilor Nomiguchi's estate to follow up on the other mission.
—
Jiangxia went home.
First, he signed off on Councilor Nomiguchi's new shikigami, then gently peeled the accumulated killing aura from the mermaid's arms and packed it away.
He turned off the lights and lay down—but couldn't sleep. He tossed, turned, stared at the ceiling. Eventually, he sat up, pulled out his ghosts, and counted them one by one.
That soothed him. A little.
No Pisco ghost drop today, but at least the numbers were good.
His mood settled. He drifted off.
The latest mission had been completed. Gin hadn't assigned anything new. For now, Jiangxia's life returned to its peaceful, slightly ridiculous routine.
The next morning, in the crisp early air, Jiangxia stood outside for a moment, then made a decision: pick up the cats his underlings had left at Professor Agasa's place and return them to the cat-loving clients at the agency.
A rare, proper job.
—
At that moment, Conan was also at Professor Agasa's house.
He was on the phone.
The night before, after being hit with a tranquilizer, Conan had slept like the dead. Professor Agasa, worried that Ran might panic if Conan just vanished, had called the Mouri Detective Agency to explain the situation.
"I made a new toy. Conan got excited and didn't want to leave."
Luckily, Ran was used to these kinds of excuses.
Crisis averted.
Conan had stayed the night.
In the early hours, the tranquilizer finally wore off. Conan jolted awake, immediately shook Professor Agasa and Ai Haibara out of bed, and demanded a full debrief.
Once he had the whole picture, he pulled out his phone and used his Shinichi Kudo voice to call Inspector Megure.
That's when he heard what happened after the blackout at the hotel.
A man named Kenzo Masuyama—the same guy who'd received a purple commemorative handkerchief—was found dead in the aftermath of the fire. The old wine cellar had collapsed. The police had recovered few clues.
As soon as he heard "purple commemorative handkerchief," and "wine cellar"—where Haibara had been held before—Conan connected the dots.
He didn't even need the morning news.
…The victim must've been the Black Organization member codenamed "Pisco."
And now the question was: did Anonymous do it?
Conan's pacing around the living room accelerated, then slowed, then stopped altogether.
He thought of the strange woman in black who always seemed to save him at just the right moment.
He thought of Xiaobai, who always poked people with his needles. It had poked him countless times.
His scalp tingled.
Ms. Anonymous's outfit, her tattooed face, and her bizarre habits all gave off major cadre energy—but for some reason, Conan had never felt like she was a killer.
And yet… now?
This didn't feel like a case she'd accidentally gotten caught up in.
This felt deliberate.
His brow furrowed further.
From the outside, she seemed to just follow him around and act on instinct. But everything she did—from rescuing Ai Haibara, to controlling ghost-like things, to getting involved in one shady case after another—hinted at something much deeper.
What was she?
A vigilante?
A lunatic?
An organization operative? But if so, why save him?
As Conan stared at the wall in a daze, he suddenly heard the doorbell ring.
Professor Agasa went to answer it. A moment later, he called into the living room, "Conan! It's Jiangxia!"
"…"
Conan's pupils shrank.
He felt like he had just been struck by lightning.
So soon!?
He whirled toward the door, then froze again.
...Why would he be here?
Just to pick up the cats?
Or had he seen through something?
Conan couldn't tell.
He only knew that his peaceful morning had just been burned to the ground—along with the wine cellar.
—
*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.
Progress: 8/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS
Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.
Progress:3/10*