Chapter 71: The Invitation Letter
Conan Edogawa watched the figure retreating into the distance, his heart hammering against his ribs. The clues to the Black Organization were walking right out of his grasp. He lunged forward, desperate to close the distance, but before his sneakers could even strike the pavement a second time, a heavy hand clamped down on the back of his collar.
His feet left the ground.
"Didn't you say you were just returning something?" Kogoro Mouri's booming voice rattled Conan's eardrums. The older detective hoisted the boy up, glaring at him. "You've been gone so long, Ran thought something terrible had happened to you. You really are a troublesome brat!"
"Uncle, put me down! Quickly, put me down!" Conan kicked his legs in the air, twisting his small body in a frantic attempt to break free from Kogoro's iron grip. Every second wasted was another step the target took into the shadows.
By the time Kogoro finally clicked his tongue and dropped him back onto the sidewalk, Conan scrambled to regain his footing. He whipped his head toward the street corner.
Empty. The person had completely vanished.
Gritting his teeth against the bitter sting of a lost lead, Conan sprinted a few more yards down the pavement, scanning the crowds. Nothing. The trail had gone cold. He let out a heavy breath, his shoulders slumping in reluctant defeat.
A shadow fell over him. Kogoro had caught up. A closed fist came crashing down on the top of Conan's head with a dull thud.
"Seriously!" Kogoro barked, dusting off his hands. "I told you not to run off!"
Conan clutched the rising bump on his head, his face twisting in pain as he forced out a strained apology.
Just a little further past that very corner, Kaeya strolled at a leisurely pace. He caught the faint echoes of Kogoro's scolding drifting down the street. A quiet, amused smile touched his lips. Without breaking his stride or altering his relaxed expression, he opened the organization's private communication network right under Toru Amuro's nose.
[Kaeya]: 'It seems Conan Edogawa has discovered that people wearing a Vision might be connected to the Black Organization. I wonder what the little detective plans to do next?'[Alhaitham]:'That has nothing to do with me. I usually stay inside the organization's base anyway, so I won't run into that troublesome brat.'[Kaeya]:'You really are boring. Speaking of which, where is your Vision? I didn't see it on you.'[Alhaitham]:'Naturally, I keep it hidden close to my person. There is no strict rule dictating that a Vision must be worn externally. I cannot possibly wear something so conspicuous while operating within the Black Organization. Gin is neither blind nor stupid.'[Kaeya]:'Alright, alright. That was just a slip of the tongue on my part.'
While Kaeya and Alhaitham conversed effortlessly through the system, the physical reality was utterly silent. Toru Amuro led the group to his parked car without a word. The plan was simple: drop Kaeya and Klee off at their hotel, then transport Bordeaux back to the organization's hidden base.
Amuro slid into the driver's seat. Glancing through the rearview mirror at the young child buckled in the back, he adjusted his driving style. The car pulled away from the curb, moving with a swift but incredibly smooth precision. The gentle hum of the engine and the rhythmic passing of streetlights quickly worked their magic. By the time Amuro pulled up to the entrance of Kaeya's hotel, Klee was sound asleep, her small head resting against the seat.
Amuro cut the engine and stepped out, watching quietly as Kaeya carefully gathered the sleeping girl into his arms. The night air carried a sharp chill. Amuro paused, his mind calculating the angles. He walked to the trunk, popped it open, and retrieved a soft blanket.
Approaching Kaeya, Amuro draped the blanket over Klee's small shoulders, ensuring she was shielded from the cold wind. It was a simple gesture of care, but beneath the surface, Bourbon saw it as a calculated move—a low-risk method to build rapport and gain favor with the organization's new partners.
The next day at noon, the savory aroma of spices and roasting meat drifted from the doors of Xiangling's restaurant.
"Conan, are you here alone today?"
Noelle paused her table-clearing duties, holding a tray against her hip. She blinked in mild surprise as the young boy walked through the entrance by himself. It was unusual; he almost always arrived accompanied by the Mouri family or the energetic cluster of children from the Detective Boys.
Pushing the thought aside, Noelle offered him her usual warm, welcoming smile. "What would you like to eat today?"
Conan hopped onto a stool and casually pointed out two dishes from the menu. Once his order was placed, he reached out and gave the edge of Noelle's maid uniform a gentle tug.
"Sister Noelle, I have a question I want to ask you."
Noelle immediately set her tray down, giving the boy her full attention. "What is your question, Conan? I will definitely do my best to answer it for you."
Conan offered a sheepish smile, feeling a brief flash of guilt over her absolute sincerity. He didn't need her to be quite so serious, considering his ulterior motives.
"Sister Noelle," Conan began, keeping his voice light and innocent. "Do you know Kaeya?"
This was his entire reason for visiting the restaurant today. He needed information, and he wasn't entirely sure if Noelle held any pieces to the puzzle, but he had nothing to lose by trying. Through his past interactions with her, he knew Noelle was a genuinely kind girl. She possessed a deep-seated desire to help others and lacked the guarded cynicism of most adults. Extracting information from her would be far easier than interrogating anyone else., his appearance as a harmless child naturally lowered the defenses of those around him.
He had deliberately kept Ai Haibara in the dark about the events following yesterday's performance. If she learned that individuals potentially linked to the Black Organization were operating so close to her daily life, the sheer terror would crush her. Conan had resolved to shoulder the burden alone, investigating the waters before adding to her psychological strain.
Noelle tilted her head, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Mr. Kaeya? Yes, I know him. I met him during my time working as a maid."
Conan's eyes widened. His heart gave a sudden, violent kick. He grabbed Noelle's hand, leaning forward over the counter. "Then can you tell me his identity?!"
"Huh?" Noelle looked slightly taken aback by his sudden intensity. However, seeing no reason to hide what she considered public knowledge, she answered honestly. "Mr. Kaeya is the adopted son of the Ragnvindr family from Country H."
Country H? The Ragnvindr family?
The gears in Conan's mind immediately began to turn, locking these new puzzle pieces into place. Having secured a solid lead, he didn't rush out the door. He had already ordered his food, and Xiangling's cooking was far too delicious to abandon. He decided to finish his meal first, then contact his parents abroad to pull whatever records they could find on this Ragnvindr family.
He made no attempt to question Xiangling. The fiery chef was friendly, but she possessed a sharp intuition that made her far less susceptible to his childish probing than Noelle. Asking too many pointed questions might trigger her suspicion.
Still, the fact that Noelle actually knew Kaeya was a massive revelation. It cemented his theory: the people who carried those strange, glowing beaded ornaments were all connected.
A few days later, the quiet hum of machinery filled Dr. Agasa's laboratory.
Conan sat on the sofa, staring at the faxed documents in his hands. He had finally received the background check on the Ragnvindr family from his parents, routed securely through Dr. Agasa.
The results were incredibly frustrating.
According to the extensive investigation, the Ragnvindrs were nothing more than a lineage of ordinary, wealthy nobles whose entire empire was built on the wine industry. The famous dandelion wine that Natsume had previously gifted to Kogoro Mouri was a direct product of the Ragnvindr family's Dawn Winery. Information regarding Kaeya was even more sparse. The records merely confirmed his status as the adopted son of the previous family head. Beyond that, his history was a blank slate.
There was absolutely nothing in the thick stack of papers that hinted at even a shadow of a connection to the Black Organization.
Conan sighed, tossing the papers onto the coffee table. At the very least, he had made some forward progress. He forced himself to find comfort in that small victory.
Yet, the core mystery remained entirely unsolved. What exactly did those glass beads represent? What was the significance of wearing them openly? The individuals he had seen carrying these identical ornaments came from wildly different walks of life. There was a brilliant chef, a dedicated maid, a languid librarian, a foreign noble, and even a little girl who still played with toys.
Was it a crest for some hidden syndicate? If so, what kind of twisted organization would recruit a child like Klee? And where did Natsume fit into all of this? She did not carry one of those beads, yet she was intimately acquainted with everyone who did. What invisible thread bound them all together?
The more Conan pulled at the strings, the more tangled the knot became. With no clear path forward, he decided to shelve the investigation for the time being.
Glancing across the room, he saw Ai Haibara hunched over her workstation, deeply engrossed in synthesizing data. Not wanting to break her concentration, Conan quietly bid Dr. Agasa farewell and slipped out the door, heading back to the detective agency to check on Ran.
The moment Conan pushed open the door to the Mouri Detective Agency, Ran stepped inside right behind him. She was humming a light, cheerful pop tune, holding a stack of mail she had just retrieved from the downstairs box.
She sorted through the envelopes, pulling one out to hand to her father, who was lounging at his desk. But as her eyes fell upon the front of the envelope, her humming abruptly stopped. Her expression shifted into one of deep unease.
The envelope was pitch black. The sender had written Kogoro Mouri's name across the front in stark, white ink. It looked like a mourning letter, radiating an ominous, heavy aura.
Kogoro, however, lacked his daughter's superstitious dread. He snatched the envelope, tore it open, and peered inside. His eyes instantly bulged out of his head.
A perfectly valid check for two million yen sat nestled against a formal dinner invitation. Kogoro pulled the heavy cardstock out, his gaze dropping to the bottom to read the sender's signature.
It read: The Phantom of the God-Forsaken Child.
Meanwhile, miles away in a quiet room, Natsume stood by her window. Between her fingers, she held an identical black envelope, the exact same white ink spelling out her name.
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