Chapter 37: Psychological Warfare! Night of Conquest
"Shwick!"
A pitch-black handgun swung up, its muzzle leveled straight at Makoto's head.
"Whether I'm Hondou Hidemi of the CIA, or Kir of the organization, neither of us likes being threatened!"
Rena gritted her teeth, forcing herself to sound colder than she felt.
This was a matter of life and death.
Not just her own life, but her brother Hondou Eisuke's as well.
"Colt M1911A1 semi-automatic pistol."
"Caliber, 11.43mm. Muzzle velocity, 253 m/s. Effective range, 50m. Muzzle energy, 502 J."
"The distance between us is roughly one meter."
"Which means I'd have, at most, 0.004 seconds to react."
Makoto rattled off the gun's specifications, his expression perfectly calm.
"What are you trying to say?"
Rena asked, baffled.
She couldn't understand it—how could this man stay so composed staring down a gun, staring down a bullet that could kill him outright?
Makoto grinned and said four words—"I want to try it."
Try it?
Try what?
Did he mean... trying the gun itself?
For a moment, Rena's expression flickered wildly, shifting through a whole storm of emotions.
He was just an eighteen-year-old high schooler, a full nine years younger than her.
And yet she felt a kind of fear toward him that rivaled what she felt facing Gin himself.
A shudder that came from somewhere deep in her bones.
A terror as bottomless and unknowable as the abyss.
"Try..."
"Try what?"
Rena asked, trembling.
"Try whether you can actually kill me."
"Or maybe—whether I can dodge the bullet."
"Or maybe—whether I can wrestle the gun away from you."
"Either way, if I lose, I die. If you lose, you die."
Makoto smiled and added, calm as ever, "And of course, you'd also lose a little brother in the bargain."
"Hondou Eisuke."
"Clatter!"
Her pale, delicate hand trembled.
The Colt slipped from her grip and hit the floor.
It struck the solid wooden boards hard enough to leave a small dent.
"You!"
"Who exactly are you?"
"How do you even know about Eisuke?"
Rena felt like she was about to break down completely.
The man in front of her seemed almost godlike—there was nothing he didn't know.
In front of him, she felt like a woman made of glass, every part of her seen straight through.
"I told you already—my name's Higashino Makoto, just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill high schooler!"
Makoto leaned in and took a breath of the bouquet nearby.
Red roses, white roses, pink roses, mixed in with baby's breath, gardenia leaves, and pompon chrysanthemums.
Even without knowing the language of flowers, he could tell.
This was a bouquet meant for a lover.
"An ordinary high schooler?"
"You?"
"You're just an ordinary high schooler?"
Rena sank weakly to the floor, her legs folding to one side in that duck-footed sit so many Japanese girls do.
Her lovely, delicate face was etched with deep, bitter helplessness.
Even Gin, even Vermouth—she'd always found some way to handle them.
But in front of this man, she felt so completely hopeless that she had no idea what to do anymore.
"What, don't believe me?"
"Want to see my student ID?"
Makoto asked with a smile.
"Just tell me!"
"What exactly do you want?"
Rena asked.
Right now, she felt like she'd been dragged, completely unprepared, into some trial that would decide her fate.
Good or bad, win or lose, she just wanted to know the outcome, and fast.
Even if it meant dying—she wanted it to happen quickly.
"A guest is always welcome!"
"You still haven't told me why you came here."
Makoto asked.
'An interview?'
'As if!'
'A news anchor, showing up all alone to interview me—no cameraman, not even camera equipment?'
'Not to mention, this particular anchor carried two special identities at once—a CIA agent, and a member of the Black Organization.'
"Whew—"
Rena let out a long breath, trying to settle the feelings she couldn't put into words.
"The CIA found out that Gin's trying to recruit you. They want you to become their mole inside the organization, just like me."
It took her a full ten-odd seconds before she finally spoke.
"And then die in front of you, just like your father did?"
Makoto asked with a cold smile.
In an instant!
The composure Rena had only just regained shattered all over again.
Her father!
Ethan Hondou!
Also a CIA mole planted inside the Black Organization, just like her.
But he'd chosen, without hesitation, to sacrifice himself to protect her—dying right in front of her.
"You..."
She stared at this "ordinary high schooler" with a face handsome enough to be a movie star, unable to find words for the longest time.
"You're wondering—how did I find out?"
"Heh. That's not important."
"I already told you—whatever you know, I know. Whatever you don't know, I know that too!"
Makoto smiled, keeping up his air of mystery.
The more mysterious he seemed, the more this woman in front of him would fear him—and the more obedient she'd become.
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Higashino Makoto — Protagonist. Transmigrated.
Hondou Hidemi — Undercover girl. Series: Detective Conan.
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Translated by CheapBiscuit.
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Throw those power stones here, lemme catch them!
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