"Yes."
"But why would he open the window and look out?"
"I'm not entirely sure. Maybe the killer told him something over the phone—like an excuse about aliens or a UFO sighting outside," Eitan said with a small smile, causing Inspector Megure's mouth to twitch.
Matsuo, who had just been loudly defending himself, was now completely speechless.
Silence.
Matsuo stood frozen, unable to refute anything. Meanwhile, the photographers and reporters suddenly sprang to life.
The broadcast camera zoomed in on Eitan's composed, delicate face.
"Mr. Eitan! Is what you said just now the truth?!"
"You only walked around the crime scene. How did you deduce the killer's method so fast?"
"Do you have any evidence to support your claim?"
"Why are you targeting Mr. Matsuo specifically?"
"Are you prepared to take responsibility for that accusation?!"
Like sharks sensing blood, the reporters pounced—one question after another.
Eitan instinctively took a step back, but Eri immediately stepped in front of him, shielding him from the crowd.
The barrage didn't stop. The reporters kept shouting, urging him to respond.
After a brief pause, Eitan finally spoke.
"I believe there should be evidence."
"Let me explain why I suspect Mr. Matsuo. To accurately hit someone on the fourth floor from the seventh, you'd need excellent marksmanship."
"And as Ms. Nagai mentioned during the show, Mr. Matsuo is a shooting enthusiast—someone whose skill is said to rival professionals."
"Another strange point: Suwa wasn't backstage during the program. Instead, he was alone in the mixing room. Mr. Matsuo also claimed that they had agreed to meet there to discuss something."
"That's why, in the middle of the show, he specifically asked a staff member to confirm Suwa's location."
"And he happened to step away during the VCR segment."
"All of these signs point to Mr. Matsuo as a suspect."
"Of course, everything up to this point is just reasoning."
"Now, about the evidence… Assuming this deduction is correct, the method itself is actually riddled with flaws."
"Committing a murder in under four minutes would be hard enough. But removing all traces of gunpowder residue in less than two is… nearly impossible."
"Maybe he used a plastic barrier to contain the smoke or simply changed clothes. Either way, that's still not enough time to clean up everything."
"And while I don't know how Suwa was coaxed into looking out the window, the most likely method would've been a phone call. We can check his phone records to see who called him last."
"Oh, and another thing—the staircase on the seventh floor was blocked by a pile of storage boxes. It's possible that some physical evidence was hidden there."
Matsuo listened in a daze, his knees nearly buckling.
Inspector Megure glanced at him, then turned to his officers.
"Search the seventh-floor stairwell. Now."
A nearby officer gave a quick nod and rushed off.
But before the officer could even leave the room, Matsuo's legs gave out. He dropped to the floor, face pale as chalk.
"…No need. I confess."
Silence fell across the hallway.
"It was that damned Suwa… collaborating with Futaba Publishing to bring you on the show, Mr. Eitan. I only saw you as some novelist… I underestimated you. I thought the method I used would be foolproof."
"No matter how the crime is committed," Eitan said quietly, "it always leaves behind traces."
Matsuo didn't respond. He simply lowered his head, defeated.
Inspector Megure gestured to his officers. "Take him away."
Then, turning to Eitan, a smile spread across the inspector's round face.
"Haha! As expected of a mystery novelist! You solved the case in record time."
"I just happened to think of it," Eitan said, voice modest. "I'm glad it helped."
"Well, we'll still need a formal statement. I hope you'll accompany us—"
"Inspector Megure, can we handle the statement tomorrow?" Eri cut in smoothly. "We're planning to celebrate tonight."
Megure looked surprised for a moment, then chuckled.
"Of course. Let's set a time tomorrow. After all, it's the police disturbing your schedule."
He turned, looking genuinely relieved. When the case first came in—a gunshot death, no Kudo in sight—he thought it'd be a nightmare. Who would've guessed it'd wrap up so quickly? Might even set a new record.
As he stepped into the police car, satisfied, his phone suddenly rang.
"What?! A murder at Toro Tropical Land?!"
"Got it. We're heading over now!"
The sirens wailed again, and the patrol car sped off into the city.
Back at Nichimai TV Station, Eitan and Eri had finally escaped the crowd of reporters. They crossed the parking lot and slipped into Eri's Mini Cooper.
"Are you alright, Eitan?"
"Why are you suddenly asking that, Auntie Eri?"
"...I'm just worried you've been through a lot today."
Eri glanced at him, her voice soft. She opened her mouth to say more but suddenly changed her mind. Then she smiled gently.
"It's good that you're okay. Come on, let's go. What do you want to eat?"
"How about yakitori?"
"Seems like dinner earlier was too light. Let's go then."
She pulled the Mini Cooper out of the parking lot.
Because of the program taping, they had arrived at Nichimai TV Station early, and had deliberately eaten only something light—just a couple of healthy salads.
The night cityscape sparkled around them.
Tokyo's lights painted the streets in color, the hum of traffic blending with neon signs and glowing windows—a perfect backdrop for a slow evening drive.
"..."
Eri occasionally glanced over. Eitan was sitting quietly, his gaze out the window, face unreadable. That calmness, in truth, made her feel a little uneasy.
This child's parents had both died from gunshot wounds. One bullet each, both in the temple.
That image flashed in her mind earlier—when Suwa's body was found slumped in the mixing room with a similar wound.
"Eitan."
"Hm?"
"Let's ask Ran to come out with us in a few days. I've been thinking—you two really should get to know each other properly."
"Alright."
"Good. It's settled then."
—---
"Mihua TV Station Murder Case?!"
"An Excellent Mystery Novelist Is Also a Brilliant Detective!"
"Fastest Case Solved in Police History!"
"Mystery Novelist Deduces the Truth on Live Broadcast!"
"A Star Is Born—The Detective Novelist!"
The previous night's broadcast stirred major waves.
By the next morning, the story had exploded.
Local newspapers gave it front-page treatment, and even specialty mystery magazines covered it with dramatic flair.
Eitan noticed, of course.
He didn't pay them much attention—at least, not until he saw the repeated use of the term "mystery novelist."
That… had to be Futaba Publishing's doing.
But he didn't mind.
If that label brought more attention to his books, then it worked in his favor.
Whether as a Detective or a novelist, it was still his name being promoted. And in this world, where Detectives held a higher social status than even most government officials, there was no downside to a little fame.
"Let's continue the test today."
Eitan opened the black notebook.
He tore out a fresh page—its texture was unremarkable, like that of high-quality notebook paper. But it tore easily, cleanly, with no frayed edges.
He uncapped a pen and began writing.
March 28, 10:47 AM — Arrived at Beika Town, 3-chome, 16-banchi. Stood at the entrance of Kawano Sushi for 15 minutes, then left.
April 16, 10:08 PM — Died of a stab wound.
The Death Note allows the writer to describe the manner and details of a person's death before the name is written. As long as the name is written in time, the effect still takes hold.
Once finished, Eitan neatly folded the paper and tore it cleanly down the fold.
A page—or even just a fragment—torn from the Death Note still retains its effect.
Writing a person's name across two separate pages will not work. But if both names are written on the front and back of the same sheet, even with the surname on one side and the given name on the other, the death still occurs.
That rule was clearly written in the Note.
However, it said nothing about what happens if the surname and given name are written on different halves of a single torn sheet.
Eitan decided to test it.
On the left side of the torn paper, he wrote: To Misawa
On the right side, he wrote: Tomoya
Then he carefully aligned the two halves, forming a complete name: To Misawa Tomoya.
When it was done, he folded both pieces, pocketed them, and glanced at the time.
It was almost time.
Eitan stood, cleaned up the pen and pages, then left the apartment.
Though it was already spring, the March air was still crisp. The weather, however, was perfect—bright sun, a cool breeze, and just enough warmth to make a coat optional.
The streets of Beika were, as usual, calm.
Shops were open. Small cafés bustled quietly with regulars. Eitan passed one of his favorites.
A quaint café tucked on the corner.
He stepped inside.
"Good morning. One Cialo Latte, please."
"Coming right up."
The barista quickly went to work. Within minutes, Eitan had a steaming paper cup in hand. He stepped outside and took a seat on a wooden bench facing the road.
He opened the lid. The light-roast aroma, touched with a note of biscuit sweetness, curled upward with the steam. Cialo—Italian for light-colored—was a fitting name. It tasted smooth, comforting.
He took a sip and glanced at his watch.
10:51 AM.
To Misawa Tomoya…
Did not appear.
If you notice the new Fanfic are gone i'll give the new link
This is the new link for my new Fanfic because i repost it
Killing People is Kinda Scientific Right?
https://www.webnovel.com/book/killing-people-is-kinda-scientific-right_33392445700696205
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Check my Pâtreon for (40) advanced chapters
Pâtreon .com/Fanficlord03
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