Chapter 422: The Meaning of Travel
"As long as it isn't anything dangerous," Ran murmured, her tense shoulders finally relaxing. Sonoko nodded in immediate agreement, easily buying into Natsume's casual dismissal.
"But wait," the heiress tilted her head, tapping her chin. "If this 'Gnosis' thing isn't a big deal, why was that Tartaglia guy so desperate to get his hands on it?"
Natsume offered a helpless, open-palmed shrug. "I honestly have no idea."
And that was the absolute truth. She genuinely had no clue what grand scheme the Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya was weaving in the shadows; frankly, she wished she did. It would save her a lot of headaches.
"Well, whatever! What happened next?" Sonoko waved off the topic of the Gnosis, her eyes sparkling with eager anticipation. "You still haven't told us how you ended up meeting Miss Raiden!"
To the high school girls, Natsume's grueling experiences sounded like a thrilling fantasy novel. It also neatly explained a lingering question in their minds: no wonder Natsume was so incredibly capable and unflappable in the face of armed robbers and murderers. Her past travels were clearly packed with far more perilous encounters.
Sitting nearby, both Conan and Toru Amuro exchanged a brief, subtle glance. They desperately wanted to pry more information out of her regarding the Gnosis, but pushing the issue now without a valid excuse would only raise suspicion. Reluctantly, they swallowed their questions.
Natsume smiled at the girls' enthusiasm and picked up the thread of her story. "The next part happened after I finally arrived here in Japan. That's where I met Ayaka, Ayato, and Raiden Ei. Oh, and Shikanoin Heizou as well—he's another friend I made during my time here."
Amuro blinked, seizing the opening. "Wait," he interjected smoothly, leaning forward with feigned casualness. "Does that mean you met Venti and Zhongli in completely different countries?"
"That's right." Natsume nodded, her gaze drifting toward the window as if looking at a distant horizon. "I met them overseas. I've traveled across many different borders, searching every corner I could for any trace of my missing brother. Venti and Zhongli were friends who helped me along the way."
At the mention of her relentless search for her brother, Amuro's gaze flicked instinctively toward Cointreau. The blonde man sat quietly in the corner, his expression a mask of absolute indifference. Amuro mentally scoffed. He had to hand it to the Black Organization operative; Cointreau's sheer emotional detachment was almost impressive.
If Amuro hadn't already deduced the hidden blood tie between Natsume and Cointreau, he never would have guessed this cold-blooded executive was the beloved sibling she was tearing the world apart to find. A dark, vindictive spark flared in the undercover agent's chest. He wasn't about to let Cointreau sit there in comfortable silence. The man had overstepped, meddling in Amuro's recent mission, and a little psychological retaliation was in order.
Masking his intentions behind a warm, sympathetic smile, Amuro turned his attention back to the blonde girl. "It sounds like you've poured your entire heart and soul into finding him, Natsume," he said, his voice softening with practiced concern. "But searching for so long without finding a single clue... doesn't it leave you feeling exhausted? Or deeply disappointed?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Amuro tracked Cointreau's reaction through his peripheral vision. A subtle thrill of victory coursed through him. The executive's brilliant golden eyes had darkened, glazing over with a layer of absolute frost. It wasn't a glare of fiery rage, but rather a dead, freezing stare that swept over Amuro like a merciless arctic wind.
Tsk. So he does have a temper, Amuro noted with dry amusement. Guess he isn't quite as composed as he likes to pretend.
"Not really," Natsume replied, her voice pulling Amuro back to the present. The corners of her mouth curled into a soft, genuine smile. A warm, nostalgic light danced in her amber eyes. "When it was time for me to say goodbye to Venti, he shared something with me..." She paused, her eyelashes fluttering as she visualized the windswept plains of Mondstadt.
Meeting the rapt attention of her audience, Natsume softly recited the bard's parting wisdom. "He told me: 'When you set out on your journey once more, you must remember the meaning of the journey itself. The birds, the poetry, and the city-states; the enemies, the crises, and the setbacks—they are all woven into the fabric of your path. The destination is not everything. Before you reach the end, cherish every step of the road, and observe this world with your own eyes.'"
A heavy, poignant silence settled over the room.
Ran sniffled, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from the corner of her eye with her index finger. "That's beautiful," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Venti is right. The journey itself holds so much meaning. I mean... we're the friends you met along the way, aren't we?"
A quiet realization dawned on Ran. She had spent so much time passively waiting for Shinichi to return, letting the days blur together. But she shouldn't ignore the precious things right in front of her. Her parents, Sonoko, Natsume, little Conan, and the rest of the Detective Boys—they were all a vital part of her own journey.
Sonoko lunged forward, grasping Natsume's hands in a tight, reassuring squeeze. "Exactly! And don't you worry for a second, Natsume. We are going to help you find your brother! With the great Deduction Queen, Sonoko-sama, on the case, it'll be a total breeze!"
Conan stared at the boastful teenager with deadpan, half-lidded eyes. Right. Because relying on a 'Deduction Queen' who sleeps through all her own cases is a brilliant strategy. She's better off leaving the detective work to me.
Snark aside, Conan's brilliant mind was already churning through the implications of Natsume's story. He found it incredibly difficult to reconcile the poetic, uplifting wisdom of 'Venti' with the reality of an underground syndicate operative. Did this mean the Teyvat Organization wasn't fundamentally evil? Were they operating in a gray area, far less malicious than the Black Organization?
No, wait. Don't jump to conclusions, Conan quickly corrected himself, his brow furrowing. Based on everything Natsume had revealed, the specific faction housing Tartaglia and Rosalyne was violently unstable. And Kaeya—the man acting as the direct liaison to the Black Organization—was clearly a master of deception.
Conan rubbed his temples, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. What on earth was wrong with the Teyvat Organization's recruitment process?! Half of their members were ruthless enough to turn on their own comrades, while the other half lived perfectly mundane, cheerful lives like Xiangling and Noelle. Did the polarization really have to be this ridiculously extreme?
Across the room, Amuro stole another glance at Cointreau. The freezing hostility in the executive's golden eyes had melted away, replaced by a remarkably soft, almost melancholic gaze directed at Natsume. Amuro suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
Honestly, if you care about her this much, why not just reveal yourself? Better yet, why drag yourself into a criminal syndicate to begin with?
The undercover agent ruthlessly critiqued the man in his head. If the Black Organization had one less highly competent, overly protective wildcard like Cointreau running around, Amuro's job of dismantling them would be significantly easier.
Suddenly, Cointreau's smooth, icy voice cut through the room, aimed like a sniper's laser directly at Amuro's forehead.
"Mr. Amuro. You are a grown man. Why do you insist on being just as ill-mannered as Conan?" The blonde executive crossed his arms, his tone dripping with condescension. "I believe I already mentioned that if you intend to listen to a story, you should do so quietly. Do not interrupt her with random, probing questions. It is one thing for Conan—he is merely a child who lacks proper upbringing. But you? Exactly how old are you to be acting this petulant?"
Cointreau stared down at Amuro with blatant disapproval. The murderous frost from earlier had receded, but his golden eyes were utterly devoid of anything resembling goodwill.
Conan: "..."
The boy detective sat frozen, his eye twitching. He hadn't said a single word for the past five minutes! How did he suddenly become collateral damage in this passive-aggressive crossfire? And what did Cointreau mean by 'lacks proper upbringing'?! He wasn't being immature; he was simply exercising a detective's indispensable curiosity!
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