Bang! Bang! Bang!
Sharp gunshots echoed through the underground shooting range.
"Reload and continue."
Haruki followed the instruction, ejecting the magazine from his M9 pistol and quickly pressing new rounds into it with practiced precision.
"Hurry up!"
The coach's stern voice cracked through the space like a whip.
The moment Haruki reloaded and chambered a round, he didn't wait for further command. He raised the gun, aimed at the paper target, and squeezed the trigger.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Muzzle flashes lit the air, shell casings danced, and brass-colored bullets punched through the target one after another, each hit precise, deliberate.
"Your accuracy is good," the coach remarked, "but your arm movement is still stiff. This is fine for a stationary target — but if it were a moving one, or worse, a person reacting to you, you'd be too rigid."
"…You're right. It's still difficult," Haruki admitted with a faint, self-conscious smile.
The coach scoffed. He didn't care much for this kid's gentle demeanor or calm eyes.
Frankly, he didn't understand why Gin-sama valued him so highly.
Still… his skill was undeniable. Strength a bit lacking, yes — but reaction speed and precision far beyond normal.
After a few more rounds of practice, the coach barked, "That's enough for today. You can leave."
"Alright. But before I go, could I trouble you to sign here, coach?"
Haruki suddenly produced a piece of paper and a pen, smiling brightly.
"What?" The man frowned. "Why?"
"I have a habit of collecting people's names," Haruki said casually. "When I meet someone interesting, I can't help myself."
The coach blinked, caught off guard. "Nonsense."
Despite his words, he eventually signed — Gin's instructions were clear: indulge the boy's odd requests whenever possible.
Haruki's smile remained unchanged… or perhaps, it changed just slightly.
"This isn't nonsense," he murmured softly. "A name carries weight. It holds a person's life — their entire being. You could even say it's equivalent to their soul."
"What foolish talk," the coach muttered, sneering before walking off. He had no patience for such strange ideas.
Haruki didn't stay long either. After ensuring the smell of gunpowder was gone from his clothes, he left the underground range.
Nearly a week had passed since that autograph session — and nothing unusual had occurred.
Gin had been quiet.
That in itself was a relief.
Haruki's latest novel, thanks to Futaba Publishing's aggressive promotion, was performing extremely well. His popularity had climbed sharply — especially since the autograph event. His calm charm and sharp intellect had attracted an unexpected crowd of female fans, and the publishing house had eagerly used that to their advantage.
They were even considering printing his photo on the next book cover — turning a mystery novelist into a reluctant celebrity.
Adding to that, Yoko Okino's appearance at the signing event had drawn media attention, boosting his name even further. Entertainment columns speculated about him, calling him "the mysterious writer with a detective's eyes."
Some fans even wished Haruki would debut as an idol.
Yoko's manager, Yamagishi Sakae, had called several times, asking if he'd consider entering the entertainment industry.
Ring-a-ling-ling! Ring-a-ling-ling!
Haruki picked up the phone.
"Hello, it's me."
"Ah, Haruki-sensei? This is Asamiya Nanae."
"Good afternoon, Ms. Asamiya."
"Good afternoon, sensei. The reason I'm calling is that our publishing house has been invited to have you appear on a Detective program on Nichimai TV. Would you be interested?"
"A detective program?" Haruki raised a brow. "Could you tell me more?"
"Of course. It's called All Japan Detective Agency Unit, broadcast every weekend evening. The host presents difficult real-life cases submitted by viewers — and occasionally, celebrities are invited to join the panel."
"That sounds… interesting."
"We thought so too. Given that you're a mystery novelist, it's a perfect fit. It's also a major show — great for publicity."
"I see… Could I get back to you after I've watched a few episodes?"
"Of course, sensei. I'll wait for your decision."
The call ended.
Haruki pocketed his phone and flagged down a taxi back to Mihua Second Apartment.
After arriving, he went upstairs — but instead of entering his own unit, he crossed the hallway and rang the doorbell opposite.
Click—
The door opened.
Eri Kisaki stood there, graceful as ever, her sharp eyes softening when she saw him.
"Come in, Haruki," she said.
"Okay."
"Did you go out training again? You look exhausted."
"A little," Haruki admitted, switching to indoor slippers. "But I've been too idle lately — I figured some exercise wouldn't hurt."
Eri chuckled, folding her arms. "I've always thought boys who like to exercise are quite… appealing."
Eri Kisaki turned her head, a graceful smile softening her mature features.
Though she possessed the refined allure unique to an accomplished woman, she hardly looked like someone with a high school–aged daughter. Her complexion was luminous, her figure elegant and balanced — not an ounce of excess anywhere. She carried herself with a calm, confident femininity that seemed to command the room.
"Auntie Eri, were you watching TV just now?" Haruki asked lightly.
"Actually, I was on the phone with Ran."
Eri poured a glass of water and placed it in front of him with practiced ease. "Speaking of which — she asked me just the other day if she still had a cousin like you. She said she happened to see your autograph session while she was at the bookstore with a friend."
"That was quite the coincidence," Haruki replied, smiling faintly. "Although we only met once, I could tell Ran is an exceptional girl."
Eri chuckled softly. "Why do you sound so old-fashioned? You're only a few years older than her."
Then, as if remembering something, she added with a motherly tone, "Oh, by the way, Haruki — if you don't mind, you could spend more time with Ran and her friends. You stay home far too often. And with you around, I'd feel much more at ease."
"If there's a chance," Haruki said mildly.
"I heard she's going to Tropical Land this Sunday. Interested?"
Seeing Haruki's lack of refusal, Eri's smile deepened, a hint of warmth in her eyes.
She knew, of course, that her daughter's world seemed to orbit around Yukiko's son…
After all, Ran and Shinichi Kudo had been close since childhood. Eri understood the bond — she had watched that boy grow up herself. His intelligence and character were admirable, though his obsession with mysteries often drew him into danger.
And perhaps, because of certain painful memories tied to a "detective," Eri now held a quiet disdain for that profession.
Compared to that, Haruki was a much more reassuring presence — calm, respectful, perceptive.
And, truth be told, too handsome for his own good. There was a quiet confidence about him that was difficult to fault.
"I'm a little interested," Haruki admitted after a pause, "but this Sunday, I'll be recording a program."
"A program?" Eri raised an eyebrow.
"Yes — All Japan Detective Agency Unit on Mihua TV. Ms. Asamiya called about it earlier."
"That show?"
Her expression brightened. "Then I'll be sure to watch, Haruki."
"Perhaps they'll even open the audience seats," he said with a smile. "I'll do my best to make it worth watching."
Eri chuckled softly. "I'll hold you to that."
Haruki's eyes flickered — calm on the surface, but thoughtful underneath.
Because "Tropical Land" wasn't just a theme park.
If his predictions were correct… the storyline was about to begin.
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