Chapter 90: Dendro Archon Buer
"Then, Sister Natsume... have you ever heard the name 'Anemo Archon Barbatos'?"
Conan peered up through his oversized glasses, carefully watching Natsume's face for any micro-expressions. He had been holding this question back for a while now. Did those glowing glass beads they all carried have something to do with religious faith?
To the little detective's surprise, Natsume didn't feign ignorance, nor did she try to hide anything. Instead, she poured herself a cup of tea and replied in a completely nonchalant tone, "I've heard of it. That's the god Klee and Kaeya believe in, right? It's not really a big deal. Don't foreigners usually believe in some strange gods?"
She took a casual sip before continuing, "Besides, I haven't exactly seen Kaeya or the others show any particularly respectful or worshipful behavior toward this god they talk about."
It was the truth. Back in the day, whenever Paimon casually threw around the nickname 'Tone-deaf bard' every other sentence, Diluc and the rest of the Mondstadt crew hadn't batted an eye. Honestly, considering Venti's usual drunken antics at the tavern, it was physically impossible for anyone to muster up much reverence for him.
Conan blinked, his deductive logic hitting a brick wall. How could this be?
He distinctly remembered Klee cheerfully explaining that her Vision was a gift from the Anemo Archon. Seeing how fiercely the group carried these glowing gems with them everywhere, he had naturally assumed they were sacred relics of immense value. True, Lisa and Xiangling had casually tossed their Visions to Ran during a previous incident, but he had rationalized that as an isolated case—a deep sign of their trust in Ran.
But now? It turned out they didn't even care about the very deity who supposedly granted them these powers?
If they didn't care about the god, why carry the items around at all? Was it purely symbolic? And if they were so willing to just hand them over to other people, weren't they the least bit worried about losing them?
Conan's thoughts twisted into a messy knot of unanswered questions.
Watching the usually sharp boy stare blankly at the table, Natsume suddenly felt a familiar, mischievous urge bubble up in her chest.
A wicked little smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Leaning in close, she lowered her voice, adopting a tone of feigned, heavy mystery. "Conan... let me tell you another secret."
Meeting his instantly expectant, wide-eyed gaze, she whispered, "Actually, Nahida is also a god. She is the Dendro Archon, Buer..."
"Sister Natsume!!!"
Conan's face flushed with an embarrassed rage. His encyclopedic brain instantly supplied the fact that 'Buer' was the tenth spirit listed among the seventy-two demons in the Ars Goetia of King Solomon. Realizing she was just messing with him, he shouted her name, his voice cracking slightly in indignation.
Honestly, did she have to tease him like this?
He readily admitted that Nahida was unusual. The little girl possessed an intellect and a calm demeanor that completely shattered the illusion of her being an ordinary child. But calling her a literal god? That was going way too far. Did Natsume really think she could fool him with fairy tales just because he looked like a first-grader?
If that little radish of a girl was some 'Dendro Archon', then maybe he was a god too!
Had Natsume been able to read Conan's indignant thoughts in that exact moment, she would have patted his shoulder and replied with absolute certainty: You are indeed a god, little guy. The God of Death! Haha!
Meanwhile, across town, inside the quiet, sterile walls of Dr. Araide's clinic.
"Dr. Araide" was methodically sorting through a stack of medical files when a burner phone resting on the desk suddenly vibrated. A sharp, rhythmic ringtone cut through the silence. Picking up the device, the doctor glanced at the familiar string of digits on the screen. A slow, meaningful smile curved across his face—a smile that looked entirely out of place on the gentle physician's features.
"Dr. Araide" pressed the answer button and brought the phone to his ear.
"Hello, Cointreau," Vermouth's voice purred smoothly, dropping the masculine disguise entirely. "Why the sudden call? You asked me to disguise you a while back so you could visit the boss's old mansion and check on your precious Princess, but you never bothered to tell me how that little family reunion went. Why have you suddenly thought of me now?"
On the other end of the line, Cointreau completely ignored Vermouth's blatant prying into his movements at the Twilight Mansion. His voice was cold, precise, and cut straight to the point. "I heard you recently had Calvados come to Beika. What exactly are you planning to do?"
Vermouth let out a soft, throaty chuckle, feigning surprise. "Oh, Cointreau, this isn't your usual style at all. Weren't you always the one too lazy to bother with the Organization's operational details? It seems having someone you actually care about really changes a man."
"Vermouth," Cointreau's voice dropped an octave, the underlying threat clear. "Answer my question."
"Fine, fine. It doesn't matter if I tell you." Vermouth leaned back in the leather office chair. Her icy blue eyes locked onto a dartboard mounted on the far wall. Pinned to the cork by a steel-tipped dart was a photograph. "It's just that I finally have a solid lead on that woman the boss asked me to find. So, I had Calvados fly over to do me a little favor. Don't worry, I won't involve your Princess in the crossfire. I'll find a way to lure her away when the time comes."
That's right, Vermouth thought, her gaze sliding from the target to two other photographs pinned nearby. Lure her away... along with Angel and Cool Guy.
Staring at the picture of Conan Edogawa placed right next to Mouri Ran, Vermouth's eyes darkened. She had never expected that Sherry's little pet project would yield such a miraculous, terrifying effect. However, this exact complication meant she absolutely could not let Gin or the other executives get involved. Once she personally settled things with Sherry and burned all the evidence to ash, Gin would have nothing to investigate.
It was the only way to ensure the secret of APTX4869 remained buried. It was the only way to keep them safe.
"Is that so?" Cointreau's voice broke through her thoughts. "Then why don't you just ask Gin and the others for help?"
"Gin isn't exactly the type to obediently follow my arrangements," Vermouth replied smoothly. "Besides, I have my own reasons. You don't need to concern yourself with this matter any further, Cointreau. Rest assured, I'll handle everything perfectly."
She couldn't afford to let Cointreau interfere too much, either. Although they currently held mutual use over one another, the fewer people who knew the truth about Cool Guy, the safer the boy would be. Even now, Vermouth wasn't entirely sure if the reason Cointreau's physical appearance hadn't aged much over the years was due to the same cursed situation as her own.
"I see," Cointreau said, his tone unreadable. "Then I wish you a successful operation."
With a sharp click, the line went dead.
Sitting in the shadows of his own safe house, Cointreau slowly lowered his phone. To be completely honest, he didn't believe for a second that Vermouth's operation would go according to her grand design.
During his recent trip to the Twilight Mansion, after noticing the strange, obvious connection between Conan and Kudo Shinichi, Cointreau had launched a private, deep-dive investigation into the bespectacled child.
The results he uncovered were truly eye-opening.
He felt that the sheer volume of life-or-death experiences this tiny child had accumulated over the past few months was vastly richer than his own bloody experiences over the last forty years in the underworld. It was absurd. It could quite literally be said that the boy was either currently standing at a murder scene, or actively on his way to one.
For the longest time, Cointreau had wondered why Natsume was constantly stumbling into violent cases so easily, causing his own behind-the-scenes workload to skyrocket for no apparent reason. He hadn't expected a primary schooler to be the root cause of the anomaly.
, based on his quiet observations at the Twilight Mansion, that child didn't seem like the type to ever obediently follow someone else's script.
And as for his own sister...
Thinking of this, Cointreau pinched the bridge of his nose, a dull headache throbbing at his temples.
She wasn't exactly a well-behaved, sit-on-the-sidelines kind of person either!
Combined with the terrifyingly capable group of 'friends' she had gathered around her, he couldn't even begin to predict what chaotic variables she might introduce to Vermouth's plan.
It seemed that before Vermouth officially made her move, he had to find a way to let Natsume know about his true relationship with the Black Organization. If she knew the stakes, she would at least have some reservations before charging headfirst into the line of fire.
She should, anyway.
He let out a heavy, tired sigh into the empty room. Honestly, he really hadn't wanted to drag her into this darkness so early.
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