"Hey, are you all right?!"
The group was initially stunned, their expressions a mix of confusion and irritation.
They had assumed Ogami Shukuzen, the gourmet detective, was simply attempting another dramatic "poisoned victim" performance to counter Mogi's earlier prank.
It wasn't until a sickening thud echoed through the room—the sound of the man falling stiffly to the floor—that the master detectives realized something was horribly wrong.
Even for an act, that was a bit too much commitment to the fall.
"Playing the same joke twice isn't funny," Mogi Harufumi remarked, halting his exit and scowling at the figure on the floor.
Hakuba Saguru stood up and knelt beside Ogami. He placed two fingers against the man's carotid artery, then pulled out an antique pocket watch. "22:34:51. Cardiorespiratory arrest confirmed."
"Given his condition, resuscitation is impossible."
The Reaper had finally begun his harvest.
"His lips don't show any signs of cyanosis—no blue or purple tint. However... there is a distinct scent of bitter almonds," Ikumi Kyosuke noted. As a former forensic examiner, her professional instincts were razor-sharp. She moved in seamlessly to conduct a preliminary examination.
"Could it be the black tea he just drank? Was it laced with potassium cyanide?" Mogi Harufumi hadn't expected things to turn deadly so quickly.
Senma Furuyo produced a ten-yen copper coin and dipped it into the tea sitting in front of Ogami. There was no oxidation-reduction reaction; the coin remained its original dull orange.
From the look of it, the tea was clean.
"If that's the case, how did he die?" Kogoro Mouri scratched his head, looking baffled.
Suddenly, the cause of death had become an impenetrable enigma.
"And so, the game has officially commenced," the Master's voice rang out through the speakers at the perfect moment. "Even if you care nothing for the treasure, you should use your wits for the sake of your own lives. Only then do you have a hope of salvation."
"Are you kidding me?!" Mogi Harufumi snarled. He lunged forward and grabbed the mannequin by its collar, jerking it upward.
The mannequin's head snapped off, rolling onto the table. Tucked inside the torso, connected to the loudspeaker, was a small tape recorder. The reels were still spinning steadily.
"A tape recorder and a timer..."
The realization hit them like a physical blow. From the very beginning, every word from the "host" had been pre-recorded. The mastermind had even calculated the exact second Ogami Shukuzen would drop dead.
This game was playing for keeps.
"Ms. Ishihara," Hakuba Saguru said, turning immediately to the maid. "Was the timing for serving the meals dictated by the Master of the annex?"
"Yes," the maid nodded, looking shaken. "The timing for the appetizers, the soup, and the main course... everything was strictly regulated in the instructions."
"This means the culprit isn't watching us from a monitor and responding in real-time..." Kogoro's expression grew increasingly grim.
"They are simply letting the pre-recorded audio play out," Ikumi Kyosuke added, picking up the timing device from the floor.
One had to admit, the culprit possessed a deductive mind that rivaled any detective in the room.
"This clarifies two things," Conan piped up.
"First, the culprit planned to murder Mr. Ogami from the very start. As for the second point..." Conan trailed off, turning his gaze toward Tsuneo, who was sitting calmly in his seat with a faint, unreadable smile.
"The second point is that the killer is one of us," the handyman finished for him.
"You're saying the killer is among us?"
Kogoro Mouri scanned the room, his eyes full of suspicion. If the killer is standing right here, they've hidden their tracks perfectly.
"The fact that they used a tape recorder instead of a two-way radio is a massive giveaway," Tsuneo nodded.
In a mansion this heavily wired with surveillance, using a live remote feed to control the situation would have been much more efficient than relying on a cold, inflexible reel of tape—unless the person talking needed to be in the room with everyone else.
"That makes sense," Kogoro muttered after a moment of thought.
"So, the killer waited for a moment when our guard was down, administered the cyanide they had prepared, and poisoned him," Hakuba Saguru added.
Record the tape, sit down for a pleasant dinner as if nothing is wrong, and then strike when no one is looking?
A bold and ruthless maneuver.
"Doing something like that right under the noses of a group of detectives," Mogi Harufumi said, a dark grin spreading across his face. "That's incredibly ballsy."
"Furthermore, judging by the content of that tape, Ogami's time of death was entirely within the culprit's control," Senma Furuyo noted, pushing up her glasses as she glanced at the late gourmet detective.
"The problem is," Ikumi Kyosuke said, now wearing white gloves as she carefully inspected the teacup, "there was no reaction for cyanide in the tea he drank just before he collapsed."
"Then perhaps he didn't ingest it through the tea, but rather when the cup touched his lips?" Kogoro suggested. "The rim could have been coated."
"Unlikely. He took several sips of tea before the final one," Ikumi replied, setting the cup back down and shaking her head.
"Everyone... they're amazing," Ran whispered, watching the scene.
In just a few sentences, they had already narrowed down the methodology. And Ms. Ikumi—even in a formal gown, she hadn't forgotten to bring professional forensic gloves.
This is what a real professional looks like.
"Tsuneo-niisan, do you think the killer is Kaito Kid?" Ran asked. She remembered that everyone had previously deduced the host was the legendary phantom thief.
But wasn't Kid famous for never taking a life?
What was going on?
"There's a first time for everything," Tsuneo said with a small smile.
Conan caught the comment and stole a glance at "Uncle Mouri."
You're sweating back there, aren't you, Phantom Thief?
"To be honest, as far as I know, this would be a first for him," Hakuba Saguru said, his face a mask of gravity as he crossed his arms.
"Talking about it isn't going to get us anywhere. We might as well go outside and take a look," Mogi Harufumi suggested, sighing inwardly.
Blowing up the bridge was bad enough, but to take out his car too...
The group stepped out of the annex's main entrance. Several vehicles were currently engulfed in roaring flames, lighting up the dark forest.
"My rental car!!!" Kogoro Mouri wailed in genuine agony.
"I can't fix it this time. You're going to have to pay for that," Tsuneo remarked from the side.
The handyman's words were, of course, directed at the Phantom Thief. Though I haven't looked closely, I'm betting those blown tires earlier were your handiwork too, wasn't it?
"You don't have to tell me that! My car!" The "Mouri" detective looked utterly heartbroken.
Conan shot the two of them a side-eye.
Honestly, these two are such incredible actors.
"It seems my Ferrari didn't escape the carnage either," Ikumi Kyosuke remarked, standing off to the side with her arms crossed. She seemed remarkably composed given the circumstances.
"Is she really that loaded?" Tsuneo asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"If it were you, what would you do?" Conan asked with a dry chuckle.
"Then he'd be a dead man. Even Inspector Megure couldn't save him—I'd make sure of it!"
Tsuneo helped steady Uncle Mouri.
Forget about a four-wheeled motor vehicle; if it were my bicycle, just try touching it and see what happens!
(End of Chapter)
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