At Dr. Agasa's house.
"So, those two in the car talking about killing to cover their tracks were just actors rehearsing for a school festival?" Dr. Agasa held a fried shrimp, chuckling twice.
"I told you, he's got persecution paranoia now," Lin Feng said, digging into a high-end bento.
"You two don't have to enjoy this so much…" Conan slumped, forcing a dry laugh, staring at them.
"No big deal, it's rare for us to have fun," Dr. Agasa waved it off, turning on the TV.
The news was on.
"The serial kidnapper and murderer of young women was apprehended this afternoon…"
"Ever since the Dark Knight appeared out of nowhere in Tokyo, hordes of youths have started imitating him…"
At the mention of the second story, tied to Lin Feng, all three paused their chopsticks.
Kids like Conan and Genta might play at being the Dark Knight, swinging sticks and staging rescues with a "princess," just childish games with no real harm.
But older "kids" were different. They weren't buying metal baseball bats to play nice.
Chaos was brewing.
Some punks, dressed in black and claiming the Dark Knight's name, were causing trouble everywhere.
"Splashing mud on my name for no reason," Lin Feng grumbled, noting entertainment venues hit by this nonsense.
"What're you planning now?" Conan asked warily, eyeing Lin Feng's aggressive eating.
"Nothing. I'm heading home to sleep," Lin Feng said with sincere eyes and a smile.
"You better mean that!" Conan decided he'd stay up all night to keep an eye on him.
The police could handle this. The more Lin Feng meddled, the worse it'd get.
Seeing them bicker, Dr. Agasa grabbed his bento and quietly moved aside.
From a civilian's view, no one could say the Dark Knight was wrong, but the negative ripples were undeniable. Everything has its pros and cons.
…
Lin Feng's apartment was just a hundred meters from Dr. Agasa's, so he left his car in the doctor's yard and walked home.
The moon shone bright, stars twinkling—a perfect night for action. Yet, trailing beside him…
"You're really coming to my place to sleep?" Lin Feng asked, exasperated, watching the kid with hands behind his head, strutting like he owned the place.
He was rethinking going home at all.
Bringing the God of Death back—would his apartment survive? The place wasn't exactly soundproof or waterproof, and the neighbors already had their share of gripes…
"Yeah, didn't we agree to play video games?" Conan nodded.
"It'll be loud. You won't sleep," Lin Feng said, calculating. The guy upstairs just got back from a business trip—tonight was bound to be a warzone.
"I don't need sleep," Conan shrugged, unfazed.
"I'm not finding some big sister to bathe you."
"!"
…
Back home, after washing up, the two—one big, one small—yawned in pajamas, sitting in front of the TV, boredly playing video games.
"Any new leads on that organization?" Conan started, bringing up his encounter with Gin and Vodka on the Shinkansen.
The deal was fake, but the bomb was real.
They'd planned to blow up the entire train just to silence someone—way too extreme.
"I told you to stay away from those guys," Lin Feng said, spotting a flaw in Conan's game character and hammering it, finishing him off.
"You can dance around Belmod, and she might let you off. But Gin? You're out of your league."
"I feel like you know more about them than I do," Conan tossed the controller aside, scrutinizing Lin Feng.
Lin Feng didn't flinch, just propped his chin and stared back.
Catching up to that ceiling-level threat wasn't so simple.
And you're still too green, Detective.
Ring ring ring.
The phone broke the silence.
Lin Feng patted Conan's head and stepped aside to answer.
"Hello."
"Hi, this is Miyano Akemi," came the voice, faint background noise suggesting a phone booth.
"Hello." Lin Feng glanced at Conan, then slipped into the bathroom with the phone.
"I wanted to ask—what exactly do you mean by 'fix'?" Miyano Akemi, looking like an ordinary bank clerk with glasses, asked slowly.
"You know who we're dealing with. Taking them out directly is impossible, but stirring up trouble? That's easy," Lin Feng said with a grin.
If Gin wasn't acting crazy and only carried a handgun, he could handle him.
"I understand," she replied.
"Do you know anything about my sister?" Akemi asked softly, prioritizing her concern.
"I do," Lin Feng nodded.
Miyano Shiho, or rather, Haibara Ai—everyone knew her.
"Then, maybe you could—"
"No," Lin Feng cut her off.
Please. Who knows which lab Shiho's in, guarded by how many guys with submachine guns? Even Kyogoku Makoto couldn't handle that—unless Saitama-sensei showed up.
Silence fell on the other end.
"I warned you, no discounts," Lin Feng added.
"Yes. So, the cost?" Akemi, realizing her sister couldn't be saved yet, knew she had to keep dealing with Gin.
"For Gin, a light fix would run about a million yen. Vodka's a freebie for a new client," Lin Feng said after a moment.
"A million yen?!" Akemi gasped. "You mean Japanese yen?"
No way, right?
"Yeah, that's it. Let me know if anything comes up." Lin Feng hung up as Conan, yelling about needing to pee, started banging on the door.
After the call, Akemi carefully wiped her fingerprints off the phone and hurried back to her apartment.
She couldn't wrap her head around it. In an organization where Gin killed without blinking, could fixing him really be that cheap?
(End of Chapter)
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