The two of them reached the main entrance of that building.
Heiji suddenly stopped.
"Heiji, what is it?" Eri Kisaki stepped closer.
"Ms. Kisaki—how good is your phone's camera?"
"It's fine. What are you planning?"
Eri took out her phone and handed it over.
Heiji took it and—click—snapped a photo of the surveillance camera mounted above the doorway.
Eri frowned.
"Can photos like that really count as evidence?"
Heiji gave a faint smile.
"They can be useful in court."
They opened the front door and went inside. The stairwell was clear of clutter, but dust was everywhere—fine construction dust coating every surface.
"It looks like nobody lives here yet," Eri said, frowning.
Heiji's mouth curled slightly.
"Even better if no one lives here."
Click.
A flash went off as he took a wide, 360-degree photo of the stairwell.
Eri followed behind, slower now, her brows knitting tighter and tighter.
[This building was basically just finished. Even if it has surveillance cameras, they probably aren't operating yet. So why is Heiji taking pictures nonstop?]
The further they went, the more confused she became.
Soon, they reached the top floor.
Heiji stopped again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Why are we stopping?" Eri nearly bumped into him.
"Ms. Kisaki," Heiji said, "do you notice anything different here?"
Eri stepped up beside him, standing on the same landing, and stared at the final flight of steps.
It looked no different than the floors below—everything was buried under a thick layer of dusty residue.
Treads, rails, handholds—everywhere was coated in dust, the same as the rest of the building.
"…You mean those faint footprints?" she asked at last.
There were indeed shallow prints on the steps—easy to miss if you weren't looking carefully.
Heiji nodded.
"Yeah. This is what I came to find."
Eri frowned.
"Pictures like this won't hold up as evidence. Prosecutor Kujo can claim we staged it, or argue it isn't objective proof. No matter how you slice it, photos like these won't stand."
Click. Click.
The flash kept firing. Heiji ignored her completely.
Eri could only stand to the side, helpless, and let him continue.
"Ms. Kisaki," Heiji said, "you go first."
He gestured toward the stairs.
"And be careful—don't step on the footprints."
Eri glanced at him, then strode up, long legs moving quickly.
Behind her, the shutter kept snapping, flashes flickering in bursts.
Eri reached the rooftop door and raised her hand to open it—
Then Heiji called out from behind her.
"Ms. Kisaki—that's another important clue."
Eri looked down at the handle.
The stainless-steel grip was clean and bright—no dust at all—completely unlike the door itself, which was coated in a thick layer.
"You mean this counts too?" she asked, incredulous. "That it proves someone's been here?"
Heiji nodded seriously.
Eri went silent.
Heiji pressed the shutter again.
"Are you done yet?" Eri asked.
The entire sequence had left her genuinely baffled.
"Done," Heiji said casually, nodding.
"From a lawyer's point of view," Eri said flatly, "these photos are useless."
Heiji was about to respond—
Eri opened the door.
Whoosh!
A heavy curtain of dust poured down like a waterfall—straight onto her.
Heiji shrugged.
"Someone may have opened this door before, but they didn't swing it wide like you did. The top edge still had a thick layer of dust. When you pulled it open that hard, it came down."
Eri's hair turned white with dust. Her glasses were coated. Even her clothes were filmed over.
She turned around and stared at Heiji.
"Give me my phone." Her voice was tight. "I'm going to a nearby hotel to clean up. Call me when you're finished."
Heiji handed it over without argument.
Eri left in a hurry.
Once her figure disappeared completely, Heiji's mouth curved into a thoughtful arc.
"So the 'Undefeated Queen' is still a woman in the end—just as particular about her appearance as anyone else."
From the start, everything he'd done was designed to grind down Eri Kisaki's patience. The nonstop photos from the entrance all the way up had been part of that.
Those pictures didn't do much for the case itself.
Not completely useless—but not the real goal.
The real value was disrupting Eri's composure. With her calm temperament, if she'd been fully focused, she should have anticipated what would happen the moment she opened that door.
"Finally got her out of the way."
Heiji smiled and walked across the rooftop at an unhurried pace, leaving a trail of footprints in the thick dust.
After a while, he stopped at a corner and looked down at a black object lying there. A sneer tugged at his mouth.
Because a few days had passed, the black gun body was already covered with a thin layer of dust—clearly not something sprinkled on just now.
"This net can finally be pulled in."
After leaving that day, he had deliberately left the tranquilizer gun here, intending to use it as evidence later.
He took several photos of the surroundings—especially the tranquilizer gun—then a few close-ups as well.
After that, Heiji reached into his jacket and took out a spent casing.
"I shouldn't have taken this casing with me back then."
It was the casing from the round that killed Ito Kazuki. He hadn't thought much of it at the time—he'd pocketed it on impulse. He hadn't expected he'd need it again today.
Sending Eri away had been for this reason too. Otherwise, there was no way to handle what came next.
Heiji walked to the edge. From here, he had a clear view of the apartment building where Officer Shiratori lived—directly across from the spot where Shiratori had supposedly been standing.
He loosened his fingers.
Clink.
The casing hit the ground, bounced once, and picked up dust.
To make it look like it had been lying there for several days, it needed to blend naturally.
Heiji crouched, gathered a bit of dust, and carefully sprinkled it over the casing—focused and meticulous.
For someone at the top of his field, staging and disguising details like this was second nature. And Heiji's technique was clean enough that ordinary methods wouldn't catch it.
Maybe higher-end equipment could.
But who would deploy that level of resources for a routine case involving an Assistant Inspector?
From a budget standpoint, it simply wasn't worth it.
When he finished, the casing looked like it had been sitting there for days—no obvious sign of tampering.
"Done."
Heiji nodded in satisfaction.
"Next—time to find a witness."
Rain-like static rustled from the phone speaker as he called.
"Ms. Kisaki, you should come over now."
"I'm taking a shower," Eri replied briskly. "Give me ten minutes."
"…Taking a shower?" Heiji was speechless. "Wouldn't wiping off be enough?"
"Ten minutes," she repeated. "Almost done."
The line clicked dead.
Heiji stared at the phone, expression dark.
Then the phone rang again.
Ran?
Heiji frowned and answered.
"Hello?"
"Mom…" Ran's voice came through, strained.
Heiji responded on reflex.
"Your mom is taking a shower—so I—"
The call cut off.
Heiji blinked, dumbfounded.
"She hung up… just like that?"
A bad feeling crept in.
"Did she misunderstand something?"