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Eight p.m., outside the Koharubiyori Private Club.
Vermouth glanced at Steven, who was dressed with a scarred-face makeup job and a wild afro, then sighed and pulled out her phone. She smoothly flipped through her contacts and found a familiar number.
When Yukiko invited her, she'd casually mentioned bringing Steven along. Vermouth's original plan had been to keep him hidden and make up some excuse at the last minute, say he couldn't come.
Who knew Gin's new assignment would line up perfectly with Yukiko's chosen meeting place.
Both of them had picked Koharubiyori Private Club.
"Chris, I'm really sorry. I'm two minutes late. Did you wait long?"
Before Vermouth could dial, Yukiko's voice came from behind her.
Yusaku Kudo was with her, and Conan trailed along behind them. Being so small, he was easy to overlook if you weren't paying attention.
At the very back, Ran Mouri spotted Steven and lowered her head, her expression complicated.
She didn't understand her own feelings. She wanted to see him, but now that she had, she had no idea how to face him.
"Oh, it's fine. I just got here too."
Vermouth put her phone away and replied with a polite smile.
They were all seasoned players. Everyone knew what everyone else was thinking.
The moment Yukiko called, Vermouth had guessed that the real organizer behind the scenes was Yusaku Kudo. She herself was just supporting cast. Steven was the real centerpiece.
"Let's go in first."
Just as Yukiko finished speaking, there was a sharp screech of brakes, followed by a burst of surprised greetings.
Everyone turned toward the sound.
A dark-skinned American man walked over with an arm around a scantily dressed woman. Behind him were two tall, muscular bodyguards, the kind who screamed money and status at a glance.
Lucky?
Steven frowned slightly. The photo Gin had given him flashed through his mind.
They looked exactly the same.
This man was very likely the target, but Steven wanted to be absolutely sure.
"You are…?" Yukiko looked puzzled, certain she'd never met him before.
"Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier," the man said with a smile. "My name is Joseph Obama. I'm the president of a foreign trade company. I was invited here tonight to experience the club's services, but I didn't expect to run into the two of you."
"I've booked Room 444. Would you like to come have a drink together?"
The name matched.
The face matched.
Even the background matched perfectly.
Steven was now certain. The target was standing right in front of him. Truly, no need to search far and wide when the answer walks right up to you.
On the surface, Joseph Obama was a foreign trade company president. In reality, he was a peripheral member of the Organization, the kind who provided funding. Unhappy about being forced to double his annual contributions, he'd started thinking about defecting. That was what got him marked for death.
In fact, his company's success in the foreign trade sector owed a lot to the Organization, which had quietly cleared countless obstacles for him.
"Of all things you could do, you had to play CEO. And you even booked Room 444. If you don't die, who will?"
Steven couldn't help mocking him inwardly.
In the Detective Conan world, being a company president was basically a high-risk job. One wrong step and you were a corpse.
He'd assumed it would take some time for Joseph Obama to show up. He never expected to run into him the moment he arrived at Koharubiyori.
"Thank you for the invitation," Yukiko said casually, making up an excuse on the spot. "But it's rare for me and my friends to get together. We were planning to catch up properly. I'm afraid we'll have to disappoint you."
"I see. Then please accept my business card. If you ever have time, you and your friends are welcome to visit my company."
Joseph Obama handed over his card, then led the woman toward his reserved room.
In Steven's eyes, Joseph Obama's life had just entered its countdown.
"Let's go in too."
Yukiko stuffed the card into her bag and turned toward the club.
Looking around the lobby, which was steeped in local island culture, Steven felt like a country bumpkin wandering into the big city for the first time.
Singers in kimonos stood waiting, ready to be chosen by guests.
From dark corners came strange noises now and then. Occasionally, servers could be seen carrying various electric toys to different private rooms.
If he weren't accompanied by beautiful women, Steven would definitely have picked two singers and taken them into a room to experience some local culture firsthand.
Ran seemed to sense how improper the place was. Her face turned red as she lowered her head and followed Yukiko closely. Conan, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed.
Before long, they entered their reserved room.
Yukiko ordered a table full of snacks to go with the drinks and two bottles of premium liquor. She also thoughtfully ordered two freshly squeezed juices for Ran and Conan.
After a few rounds of drinks and several dishes, the atmosphere settled into a comfortable rhythm.
They chatted and bonded, and before they knew it, the conversation drifted to hobbies.
"Mr. Turtle Egg," Yusaku asked, looking at Steven, "what do you usually do in your free time?"
He was clearly trying to find common ground, to appeal to Steven's interests.
For Conan's safety, he'd really put in the effort.
"In my spare time, I like flower arrangement."
Steven blurted it out without hesitation.
Beside him, Vermouth couldn't help mocking him internally. Lying with a straight face like that.
After spending so much time together, she'd never once seen him touch so much as a vase, let alone arrange flowers.
"Flower arrangement?" Yukiko's interest was piqued. Her eyes lit up with curiosity.
"Yeah. Not only do I like it, I'd say I'm pretty good at it."
"Especially buds that are just about to bloom. Once I work my magic, they go pop and blossom right open."
Steven spouted nonsense with a completely serious expression. He glanced at Ran meaningfully, then shifted his gaze back to Yukiko.
"Do you like flower arrangement too? Maybe we can exchange tips someday."
The words were bold and dangerous, yet delivered without the slightest trace.
Ran, who had firsthand experience, instantly understood what he meant. A sharp ache stabbed her chest. Embarrassed and flustered, she lowered her head to hide it.
She struggled internally over whether to warn Yukiko, but had no idea how to even begin.
Conan watched the interaction closely and sensed that something was definitely off.
Out of trust in Ran, he didn't dig deeper. He just assumed there was some ambiguity between them, nothing that crossed the line.
"Sure," Yukiko replied with a playful smile. "My flower arrangement skills are terrible. I'll have to ask you for guidance when the time comes."
"Heh. I think what Mr. Turtle Egg is really good at isn't flower arranging, but bombs."
Conan rolled his eyes and spoke with thinly veiled sarcasm.
He'd seen through Steven's identity long ago.
That cheap, nine-yuan disguise wouldn't fool Conan for a second.
As soon as he spoke, the atmosphere in the room tightened.
Yusaku and Yukiko stared at Conan, wishing they could smack him twice across the face.
They'd gone to great lengths to pretend they hadn't seen through Steven's disguise, playing along just to draw him into their camp and ensure Conan's safety.
They never expected this kid to suddenly tear down the curtain himself.
"Wow, little guy, you're really smart."
"Besides flower arrangement, I do like studying bombs in my free time. I've even developed a magical kind that can be controlled with your mind, both in power and timing."
"Want to know how it works? I bet you're dying to find out."
Steven looked straight at Conan, a smile with unclear meaning tugging at his lips.
Since the disguise was blown, there was no point pretending anymore.
Once the table was flipped, nobody was eating this meal in peace.
Seeing the chill flash through Steven's eyes, Yusaku and Yukiko's hearts leapt into their throats.
They had influence in Japan, sure. But they knew very well that if this man was truly angered, no amount of fame would save their lives.
"If you're willing to explain, I'd be happy to listen," Conan said calmly.
"The recent explosion at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department used some unknown kind of bomb. No clues were left at the scene. Since you're an expert, Mr. Turtle Egg, I'm sure you could offer some useful insights."
Conan, unfortunately, insisted on dancing right in the minefield.
"Hey, kid. Can't you eat without running your mouth?" Yukiko shot him a fierce glare. "Mr. Turtle Egg is just teasing you. People who enjoy flower arrangement are gentle by nature. How could they mess with dangerous stuff like bombs?"
If Conan kept this up, it wouldn't just ruin Yusaku's plans. Their entire family might end up dead.
"Mr. Turtle Egg," Yusaku added quickly, "kids don't know any better. He's obsessed with Sherlock Holmes and spends all day dreaming of being a detective. When he runs into something interesting, he just won't stop asking questions. Please don't mind his nonsense."
The secrets of bombs weren't just of interest to the Organization. The FBI and Japanese police wanted them too.
But Yusaku remembered clearly what Steven had once said. The more secrets you know, the shorter your life.
From what he'd just seen, he was certain Steven had already felt a surge of killing intent.
Vermouth and Ran stayed silent, clearly unwilling to get involved.
"It's fine," Steven said lightly. "Kids are curious. I wouldn't take it to heart."
For a brief moment, he really had wanted to teach Conan a lesson for framing him for rape and nearly getting him thrown in prison.
But not to the point of killing him.
After all, Steven's preferred revenge was to take away the woman Conan cherished most.
Since the Kudo couple had stepped in, Conan could count himself lucky this time.
"Oh right, Mr. Turtle Egg," Yusaku said, seizing the chance to change the subject. "About that thing I mentioned before, have you given it any thought?"
"That thing…"
"Ah, sorry. When you drink too much, nature calls. I really can't hold it. I'll go take care of that first, we'll talk later."
Steven clutched his stomach and made a quick bathroom escape from the room.
As if that thing needed any thought.
Of course he'd refuse.
With the system backing him up and the Wolf Brother card fused in, Steven felt absurdly strong. He'd have to be insane to become someone else's lackey.
Especially not as an undercover agent for America or Japan. Being someone's dog was absolutely out of the question.
"Mr. Turtle Egg is young and strong," Yukiko said mischievously as she watched him leave. "I bet his yoga skills are impressive. Chris, you must be very satisfied."
"Oh please," Vermouth replied coolly. "He drinks two glasses and already needs the bathroom. Clearly his kidneys are shot. If he can last five seconds, that's a personal record."
She knew full well that Steven wasn't heading to the restroom. He was off to finish the Organization's task.
"So that means you and Mr. Turtle Egg are…?"
Yukiko seized on the implication, rubbing her chopsticks together with wild hints.
"Get lost. That kind of hired help isn't my type."
"Oh ho ho, come on. We're both women. I know exactly what you need."
"There's a child here. Can you at least pretend to have some dignity?"
"…"
Listening to their exchange, Ran felt an inexplicable sourness settle in her chest.
So Chris and Steven…
"Scumbag. Playing around and then walking away."
"What's wrong with me? Am I jealous?"
As she murmured to herself, her pupils contracted slightly.
…
After leaving the room, Steven soon arrived outside Room 444.
As expected, he was stopped by two bodyguards.
"The president said no one is to disturb him."
"I'm here on behalf of the Kudo couple to invite Mr. Obama to dine with us," Steven said smoothly. "Please let him know. Once I get his response, I can report back."
As he spoke nonsense with a straight face, he was ready to force his way in at any moment.
The Organization's mission had to be completed. No one was saving Joseph Obama tonight.
"All right. Wait here."
One of the bodyguards recognized Steven. He had arrived at the club with the Kudo couple, after all. The man turned and went into the room.
A moment later.
"The president invites you in for a drink."
The bodyguard stepped aside and let Steven enter.
Inside the room were various electric toys scattered about. On the table sat an opened bottle of premium red wine and several glasses, along with delicate cosplay outfits.
Joseph was wearing floral-patterned shorts and lounging on the sofa with a glass of wine. The woman from earlier was nowhere to be seen.
"My friend, I'm really sorry," Joseph said. "I still have some private matters to deal with, so I'm afraid I can't accept the Kudo couple's kind invitation."
"Since you're here, have a drink before you go."
He stood up, poured a glass, and handed it to Steven.
"Looks like I came at a bad time," Steven said lightly. "Sorry to interrupt your fun."
This guy really knew how to play.
Taking the glass, Steven instantly understood the scene at a glance.
Getting one last wild indulgence before death. That was probably satisfying enough.
"Mr. Obama, you seem to be in great shape. You must work out a lot."
Steven teased him and raised his glass.
"Cheers."
"Just occasionally. Cheers."
Joseph Obama downed his glass in one go.
"Friend, want to join in?"
Damn.
Joseph Obama was generous enough to not even mind another man joining him with his woman.
But Steven had long since risen above such base interests. He had zero interest in alphabet games.
"Mr. Obama, there's a saying in Huaxia. Lust is a blade hanging over your head. I value my life. Your woman has the look of a widow. I think I'll pass."
Steven set the glass down, his gaze turning cold.
"What do you mean?" Joseph asked, his mind clouded by desire, completely missing the killing intent.
"You've had your farewell drink. It's time to be on your way."
The formalities were over.
Time to get to work.
Steven took a knife from his system inventory and pressed it against Joseph Obama's neck.
"....."