THE KNIGHTS JUSTICE:
DIVINE PUNISHMENT PART 12
Caught in the whirlwind of the child's impatience and the perceived urgency of the situation, Ochiai instinctively fell into the rhythm of Conan's performance. To the Manager, this was simply an overwhelmed child in need of a toilet, too panicked to follow verbal instructions.
Ochiai accepted the booklet with his left hand. With his right, he reached for the pen clipped to the breast pocket of his crisp white shirt.
"Hurry up... hurry up... hurry up!" Conan urged, shifting his weight as if he were barely holding back a tidal wave.
Oblivious to the snare being laid for him, Ochiai uncapped the ballpoint pen. "As I said, you exit this room—" He began, his voice calm as he prepared to sketch the route on the blue cover.
Then, he froze.
The Manager's squinted eyes suddenly blew wide, and his mouth hung agape as a crushing realization shattered his composure. The hand clutching the pen began to tremble violently.
The onlookers, who had been watching the exchange with mild amusement, were suddenly struck by Ochiai's bizarre paralysis. The transition from helpful guide to a man possessed by terror was instantaneous; they watched in silence as his hand shook above the paper, his expression one of sheer, unadulterated shock.
A cold, knowing smile touched Conan's lips. The trap had sprung. He ceased his frantic acting, standing perfectly still as he looked up at the trembling man.
"What's the matter, Mister?" Conan's voice was no longer that of a panicked child; it was steady and piercing. "Why aren't you writing anything? Hey, Mister, why did you stop?"
Mouri Kogoro, observing the Manager's peculiar reaction, stepped forward, positioning himself behind Conan to study Ochiai's face.
"Ah... I see. You already knew, didn't you, Mister? You knew that the pen didn't work," Conan stated with chilling matter-of-factness.
The silence in the room thickened. Conan continued his interrogation, his gaze locked onto the Manager's horrified face. "But that's strange... why would you keep a pen on your person that doesn't write?"
"A pen that doesn't work?" Megure repeated, his professional curiosity ignited by the Manager's breakdown and the boy's pointed question. The Inspector moved to stand beside Mouri.
"Wait a second!" Kogoro barked, his mind finally clicking into gear. He pressed his right fist into his left palm, the gears of his own deduction turning rapidly. "A non-functional pen... if Mr. Manaka was also attempting to use a pen that didn't work, then this dying message should be..." He reached out and snatched the evidence from the officer standing near Megure.
Conan nodded subtly, as if encouraging the detective to finally see what was hidden in plain sight.
Kogoro glared at the paper, his brow furrowed. "Then this paper must be... it must be blank!"
Conan nearly stumbled, a metaphorical weight crashing into him at the detective's sheer denseness. His glasses nearly slid down his nose as he stared at the "Great Detective" in disbelief. Hey, hey... are you serious? he muttered internally. Isn't it obvious by now? Adjusting his frames, he reached out and pointed a small finger toward the paper in Kogoro's hand.
"Look, Uncle! There's a strange mark left behind. It looks like someone scribbled over the letters with a pen that didn't work," Conan said, guiding the man's eyes.
Kogoro squinted at the parchment, searching for the detail the boy had highlighted. Then, he saw them—faint, colorless indentations carved into the paper's surface.
"You're right... there are faint scribble marks obscuring the letters," Kogoro confirmed, his voice rising in surprise.
"What if those marks were left there because someone tried to cross out the name beneath them, but their pen failed to leave any ink?" Conan suggested, his tone adopting a playful, inquisitive lilt once more.
"Who in the world is this boy?" Ochiai gasped, his voice a ragged whisper. His hand had ceased its shaking, but he now gripped the pen with such white-knuckled ferocity it looked as though it might snap. He stared down at the child, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and absolute dread.
"Exactly... This dying message wasn't scrawled by Mr. Manaka's hand at all. It was prepared in advance by none other than the culprit himself!" Mouri Kogoro proclaimed, his voice booming as the true nature of the deceptive parchment finally became clear to him.
"What?!" Inspector Megure interjected, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But if that's the case, why did the victim snatch the paper from the table in the first place?"
"Heh... heh... heh... That part is elementary," Mouri chuckled, a smug grin spreading across his face as he reconstructed the grim confrontation that had occurred within the armor's shadow. "The murderer likely taunted the victim, saying something like, 'Look at the paper behind you! Written upon it is the name of the man who is about to end your life!'"
Mouri paced a few steps, his eyes narrowing. "The paper bore Kubota-san's name, not the true identity of the assassin. A desperate Mr. Manaka, reeling from the shock, attempted to strike through that name and replace it with the real one using the ballpoint pen conveniently left on the table. But he failed... because that pen had been planted there as a trap. It was a dud, an instrument specifically chosen because it could no longer leave a mark."
"So that explains why he hurled the pen away in frustration and attempted to crush the paper in his fist before he expired," Inspector Megure concluded, the pieces of the puzzle snapping together as he followed Mouri's logic.
Mouri Kogoro nodded sagely, his chest swelling with pride. "In short, this entire scene was a sophisticated ruse designed to lead us astray. It was a performance orchestrated by the killer using a dry pen and a silent video tape—all of it a calculated effort to manipulate our perception of the truth!"
Having reached the climax of his deduction, Mouri erupted into a fit of manic, boisterous laughter, reveling in the brilliance of his own revelation.
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤