Click.
Conan, lying in bed, snapped awake at the sound of his door opening. He did not immediately open his eyes, but instead listened intently, every sense sharpened.
"The transition of a two-dimensional world into reality feels utterly seamless… fascinating."
Footsteps followed, soft yet inexorable, drawing closer to his bedside. A suffocating pressure pressed down upon him, forcing him to steady his breathing, feigning slumber.
"So this is Conan… rather adorable, I must admit."
The moment the word adorable reached his ears, icy dread coursed down Conan's spine. His mind spun with grotesque labels—pervert, lolicon, boy-hunter, cleric.
Damn it—who is this man? If that wasn't an illusion earlier, then how is any of this possible?My power shoes are at the entrance… the tranquilizer watch on the desk…
Frantically, he calculated possible escapes. Yet he was, after all, no more than a child at present—without his gadgets, defeating a grown man was nothing more than a fantasy.
"Eleven hit points… remarkable for a child."
Yang Tao stood at his bedside, gazing at the health bar above Conan's head. For comparison, Eric—a full-grown man and even a special recruit—possessed only thirteen.
"Then Ran must have at least fifty… astonishing."
He mused over the absurd combat power of certain characters in Detective Conan, powers utterly unsuited to a mere detective narrative.
The room itself was small and Western in style: a bed, a desk, and a modest wardrobe. His eyes drifted to the bookshelf crammed with volumes, before resting upon the watch on the desk.
[Conan's Tranquilizer Watch][Value: 20 Energy]
"A tranquilizer watch… perhaps it even has a bonus effect against Kogoro Mouri."
Considering how many times Mouri had been shot, Yang Tao half-suspected that were the man ever to undergo surgery, no ordinary anesthetic would suffice.
Pocketing the watch—not for its meager energy value, but to prevent Conan from using it—he finally spoke.
"Conan, since you're awake, you might as well rise."
His voice was not loud, yet to Conan it struck like thunder. Exposed, Conan's heart raced, though he forced himself to yawn and blink as though just roused.
"Eh? Who are you? Why are you in my room?"
Feigning surprise, Yang Tao chuckled. "So you really were awake. I only guessed."
Conan's inner thoughts seethed—You bastard. "Uncle, how did you get in?"
"An eighteen-year-old high schooler pretending to be a child is rather nauseating… Kudo Shinichi."
At once a bead of cold sweat trickled down Conan's forehead. His innocent mask vanished, replaced by a gravity far beyond his supposed age.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
Yang Tao's eyes gleamed with mischief. "So you truly are Kudo Shinichi? I was only teasing."
Conan's temples throbbed. From this man's words alone, it was plain he regarded him as little more than a curiosity.
"Enough games. Allow me to introduce myself—Yang Tao. A pleasure I'd rather not have."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Continue your charade as a schoolboy. I have matters to attend to. Farewell."
But as he turned to leave, Conan couldn't let him go—not with Ran sleeping in the next room.
"Tell me… what I saw before, was it an illusion?"
"You mean when you opened the door and saw me?"
"Yes."
"Call it an illusion, if you like. Think of it as a pleasant dream."
With a casual wave, Yang Tao opened the bedroom door and stepped out. Conan sprang from bed to shadow him, relieved when he did not enter Ran's room.
This mysterious man radiated a pressure unlike anything he had felt before—certainly beyond the likes of Kaitō Kid.
Yang Tao soon noticed his shadow. "Conan, you follow me without fear I might be a villain?"
Conan: "…"
Who even says that? You're admitting it outright!
"I just want to make sure you won't harm my friends."
"Friends? You mean Ran Mouri? Heh… slipping into the home of the girl you fancy under the guise of a child—classic Shinichi. Tell me, have you ever peeked at her changing… or bathing?"
Conan's face flamed crimson. Since Ran treated him as a child, she had never been cautious around him—in fact, she had even bathed him when he first shrank. Now, with Yang Tao's words, those memories surged before his eyes in a mortifying reel.
"Oi, Shinichi—you've got a nosebleed."
Instinctively Conan raised his hand to wipe it, only to realize too late he had been tricked. "You—!"
"Truly, you put perverts to shame."
Yang Tao shook his head and descended the stairs. Conan hastily slipped on his shoes, snatched up a nearby soccer ball, and followed close behind.
This man must know something of the Black Organization…
The detective agency receded behind them. Midnight cloaked the city; no moon shone above, only the wan glow of scattered streetlamps.
"Let's see if real-world trees can yield planks…"
Finding none suitable nearby—this was an unfamiliar city after all—Yang Tao turned to Conan.
"Conan, do you have a car?"
The boy glanced at his small frame. "Do I look like someone who can drive?"
"Then in Hawaii, did you learn how to borrow one?"
"…Borrow?"
Yang Tao pointed at a gray sedan parked by the road. "Yes. The art of moving a car when the owner isn't around."
"That's called stealing!!!"
"You may phrase it that way."
For reasons he couldn't explain, Conan felt a crushing sense of defeat. His sharp intellect was powerless against this man's sheer absurdity.
"Where do you intend to go?"
"Countryside, mountains, a park—anywhere with trees."
"There's a park nearby. I'll take you there."
Yang Tao nodded lightly. They set off together, silence thick between them until Conan, desperate to glean some scrap of information, broke it.
"Could you… return my watch?"
"No."
"…"
The silence deepened once more.