Conan: I'm a zaibatsu in Tokyo

Only one warm yellow floor lamp was on in the room.

Ai stood by the bed, arms crossed, her toes curling restlessly inside her slippers.

She stared intently at the culprit on the bed, like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on but refused to bristle.

Zheng Yi leaned against the headboard, still clutching the draft of the troublesome love letter in his hand; the edges of the paper had been crumpled and softened by his care.

Looking at Ai's sullen face, he couldn't help but smile.

The corners of her eyes were tinged with a hint of joy.

"I'm so sorry, I said something that could be misunderstood." Zheng Yi put away his playful tone and put on a sincere expression, even letting out a sigh.

But his tone still carried a hint of the mischievousness he had just displayed while laughing.

Ai snorted coldly, turned her head away from him, and focused her gaze on the bookshelf in the corner: "I refuse to accept this insincere apology."

"Besides, it's obvious you did it on purpose,"

She turned her head: "What exactly are you trying to do, you bastard? Is it fun to make fun of me?"

Zheng Yi tilted his head and blinked innocently, saying, "I'm really innocent. I didn't mean to."

"You did it on purpose!" Ai immediately retorted, raising her voice by an octave.

Ai's expression held a hint of gritted teeth.

She didn't believe it at all; this guy had been watching the show from beginning to end!

Seeing her flustered expression, Zheng Yi finally couldn't help but laugh out loud, and changed his tune without any hesitation: "Okay, then I did it on purpose."

This time, Ai Haibara truly couldn't take it anymore.

Her cheeks puffed up slightly with anger, and she took her short legs and was about to rush forward to argue: "You—"

Before she could finish speaking, a slender hand suddenly reached out and easily wrapped around her waist.

Ai felt a sudden lightness in her body, and before she could react, she was carried to the bed.

"Hey?!"

Xiao Ai gasped in surprise, and the next second she was already nestled in the soft bedding.

"Are you getting angry out of embarrassment?"

Zheng Yi leaned closer, placing his hands on either side of Xiao Ai's arms to form a semi-encircling position, holding her firmly in his arms without any resistance.

"Who's getting angry!" Ai retorted immediately.

Although he was sharp-tongued, his body betrayed him by shrinking back, trying to create a safe distance.

But it didn't work.

The mattress was too soft, and her strength was negligible compared to Zheng Yi's.

Her body was immobilized by Zheng Yi and she couldn't move at all.

Now all she could do was kick Zheng Yi with her legs, trying to express her final stubbornness with her short legs.

But that little bit of force was not enough to be considered. When it kicked Zheng Yi, it didn't hurt or itch at all; it was more like he was just being coquettish.

"Let me go!"

Ai struggled on the bed, her voice tinged with panic.

While the two were locked in a fierce struggle on the bed, Akemi Miyano, who had already left, returned.

She stood at the doorway, holding a glass of warm milk, and froze when she saw the two people on the bed in an intimate position.

For a moment, she almost dropped the milk cup in her hand.

As soon as he looked up, he asked naturally, "Is there anything else?"

"Uh~"

Hearing her sister's voice, Ai felt extremely embarrassed.

Shame instantly overwhelmed anger.

She remembered to take a look to confirm whether it was a hallucination.

But he couldn't sit up, and just as he tried to lift his head, Zheng Yi gently pressed it back down with his other hand.

Ai obediently lay down on the bed, burying her face in the pillow like an ostrich, not daring to make a sound, and even less daring to look at her sister at the door.

Akemi brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered, trying to make the atmosphere seem more natural:
"I want to remind Ai to drink her milk."

She glanced at her motionless sister and continued, "Milk doesn't taste good when it gets cold, and it's not good for your health either."

"Oh, I see," Zheng Yi answered for Ai.

"Then I'll go first."

Akemi nodded, her gaze sweeping over the two of them.

As I was leaving, for some reason, I inexplicably closed the door behind me.

"click~"

The crisp sound of the door locking was particularly clear in the quiet room.

"Your sister is quite considerate," Zheng Yi said with a smile, his tone slightly teasing.

I don't know why they said that.

Ai lifted her head from the pillow, her ears bright red, and glared at Zheng Yi: "It's all your fault!"

Zheng Yi shrugged, looking completely innocent: "How can you blame me for this?"

Wake up the next morning.

Sunlight streamed into the room through the gaps in the curtains.

Shoichi granted Ai's requests, allowing her to stop writing those shameful love letters and directly participate in the competition to write her autobiography.

This made Ai very happy, and she temporarily forgot about Masakazu's evil deeds last night.

Now, even with a minimum guarantee, they'll still have tens of millions of yen in income.

He handed Ai a stack of documents, so thick they were comparable to an encyclopedia.

"Alright, you can start writing my autobiography now."

Zheng Yi said, adopting a businesslike manner.

The writers Zheng Yi invited were all leaders in their respective fields, and each of them was to write an autobiography for Zheng Yi independently.

Finally, Shoichi will choose his favorite book to become his officially recognized autobiography.

The rest, though they will not be selected, will still receive tens of millions of yen as a consolation payment.

Ai nodded, flipped through the thick stack of documents, blinked, and tentatively asked:

Can I pay first?

“No way.” Masakazu said businesslike, “What if you take the money and don’t do your job properly? That’s tens of millions of yen.”

Ok.

Ai nodded, understanding this defensiveness.

This is not a small amount of money.

The previous million yen was nothing to Masakazu.

But when it comes to the tens of millions, you need to be more cautious.

She looked up at Zheng Yidao again: "Shall we sign a contract first?"

Zheng Yi looked at Xiao Ai with displeasure, his brows furrowing slightly: "What? You don't trust me?"

Ai nodded her little head and said seriously, "You are Zheng Yi, and also a despicable capitalist. As everyone knows, you don't keep your promises."

Masakazu clutched his chest, a pained expression on his face, at Ai's distrust.

"We're all so close we could sleep in the same bed, yet you still don't believe me."

"You're talking nonsense!"

Ai immediately retorted, but her face turned red.

“Okay, sign any contract you like,” Zheng Yi said.

He pulled out a document he had prepared beforehand, appearing to have a clear conscience.

……

Involving Ai was just to coax her into playing.

The writers that Zhengyi actually invited were all very famous figures in the Japanese literary world.

There are TV drama editors and writers, bestselling authors, and even Naoki Prize winners. This is to allow them to create more effectively without external interference.

Zheng Yi specially brought out one of his villas located deep in the mountains.

It was a European-style building built on the edge of a cliff, and to get there, one had to cross a suspension bridge spanning a deep abyss.

There is no other way to get there.

Takahashi slowly brought the black Lexus LS to a stop in front of the villa's two heavy wrought iron gates.

He rolled down the car window and took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air.

The air was filled with the fragrance of earth and pine needles, which was refreshing and invigorating.

"The environment here is quite nice," he muttered to himself.

My gaze passed through the windshield and landed on the building nestled among the lush green trees.

The scenery is beautiful; the house is a standalone building nestled in the mountains, enjoying its own unique charm.

These sixteen characters perfectly describe this scene.

Once you cross the suspension bridge spanning the deep valley, the surrounding noise is completely shut out.

All that remained was the rustling of the wind through the trees and the occasional clear bird song.

Takahashi parked the car on the meticulously manicured lawn in front of the villa.

He didn't see anyone along the way, not even a stray cat.

The scenery is beautiful, the place is peaceful, and there's no one to disturb you—it's truly a perfect place for creative work.

Takahashi unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door.

This is paradise for a TV screenwriter who needs inspiration and quiet.

But it is also suitable for killing.

The thought jumped into Takahashi's mind without warning.

He frowned and dismissed the thought.

I wonder if it's because I'm an editor and writer of detective dramas.

His mind was full of all sorts of tricks and conspiracies, and he always liked to think about murder for no reason.

This is an occupational hazard.

He looked up at the suspension bridge.

Destroying that suspension bridge would cut off the only way out.

That makes this place an ideal location for crime.

The classic "locked room mystery" scenario.

"I'm overthinking it."

Takahashi shook his head, smiled wryly, and picked up the suitcase from the trunk.

This is Zhengyi's territory.

Zheng Yi, a super-rich man who has connections in both the legitimate and underworld circles, and whose every move can make the whole of Japan tremble.

They were writers invited by Zheng Yi.

It's always been Zheng Yi who kills others, where would such a reckless person come from to dare lay a hand on Zheng Yi's guest?
Aren't you afraid of implicating your whole family?

Carrying his luggage, Takahashi walked along the slightly damp stone steps toward the villa's gate.

Just as he was about to ring the doorbell, his gaze inadvertently swept over the corner by the door, and he froze.

There were some things piled up there—ropes, pulleys, steel wire, slingshots…

There was even a hunting knife that looked quite old.

Various kinds of equipment were piled up haphazardly, yet they exuded an eerie atmosphere.

These things are perfect for killing people.

Takahashi's heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason.

In one of his scripts, the murderer used pulleys and steel wires to create an impossible murder plot in a locked room.

Those props are so similar to what's in front of us.

"Mr. Takahashi, please come in."

An elderly man in a sharp black suit appeared silently at the door and opened it with deft movements.

He looked to be around seventy years old, with a straight back and a perfectly professional smile on his face.

"I am the housekeeper here, you can call me Miki." The housekeeper bowed slightly: "You must be tired from your journey. Mr. Zhengyi instructed that you should be treated well."

He naturally took the suitcase from Takahashi's hand, his movements so light and agile that they didn't seem like those of an old man.

"Please follow me." Miki led Takahashi inside.

"Mr. Zhengyi said that if you have any problems in your lives, you can come to me."

"But please rest assured, I will not disturb your creative process."

"My responsibility is to ensure your daily life so that you can focus on your work without distractions."

"Uh, okay, thank you."

Takahashi nodded and followed behind Miki, but his eyes couldn't help but wander around.

The interior of the villa was even more luxurious than he had imagined.

He asked curiously, "How many writers did Mr. Zhengyi invite over?"

“Seven in total,” Sanmu replied without turning around. “They are all outstanding figures in the Japanese literary and film industries.”

Seven?

That competition is fierce.

Moreover, Zheng Yi certainly wouldn't invite an unknown person; this 1 billion yen prize is not easy to obtain.

Everyone wants to write a satisfactory autobiography and become the ultimate winner.

As they climbed the stairs, Takahashi's gaze was once again drawn to the strange props.

He couldn't help but ask, "By the way, Mr. Butler, what are those things piled up at the door for?"

"I don't know either," Miki said apologetically.

“Those things were already there when Mr. Zhengyi bought this villa.”

"This villa is quite old; the previous owner seemed to have some unusual hobbies."

"But after buying this villa, Mr. Zhengyi never had time to come and live here, so those things have never been cleaned up."

Miki led Takahashi to a bedroom door, opened it, and placed the suitcase aside.

"But don't worry, once you're settled, I'll take all those things to the storage room," he added.

Takahashi nodded again, but in his heart he was wondering what kind of special hobby would require pulleys and steel wires?
Moreover, I've never lived in it since I bought it?

They must be really rich, spending billions of yen to buy a villa just to let it grow weeds?

"Oh, right," Takahashi suddenly asked before entering the bedroom and closing the door.

"Has anything happened at this villa before? I mean, are there any... bad rumors?"

Miki still wore that professional smile, but Takahashi seemed to catch a fleeting moment of hesitation in his eyes.

“Um,” Miki answered honestly, “some things did happen. There was indeed a murder in this villa before Mr. Shoichi bought it.”

"This villa originally belonged to a painter, but that painter was murdered by her lover."

"Rumor has it that the painter died a very tragic death. But please rest assured, the villa has been thoroughly cleaned and there will be no bloodstains or dangerous items."

Because of that murder, the price of the villa plummeted.

"Oh."

Takahashi nodded, and the inexplicable tension in his heart disappeared.

This is right.

My judgment was correct.

It would be abnormal for such a remote, secluded mountain villa not to have a history of murders.

“You’re the last one to arrive,” Miki said to Takahashi with a smile. “After you’ve settled into your room, please have dinner in the restaurant on the first floor.”

"Understood," Takahashi said, closing the door. (End of Chapter)