Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

The officers looked at each other in bewilderment.

A man dressed in a sushi restaurant uniform, wearing a fake beard and dentures, and using a false identity, died in an alley, shot in the head by a sniper rifle.

This case is getting increasingly strange.

"Contact Iroha Sushi Restaurant." Megure handed his badge to the officer beside him. "Find out when this Kenjiro Wakita started working there, who recommended him, and if he's ever acted strangely. Also, review the nearby surveillance footage to see if any suspicious individuals entered or left the area before or after the incident..."

"Yes!"

The officers got busy.

Megure stood there, looking down at that unfamiliar, unremarkable face.

Who exactly is this person? Why was he sniped? And who killed him?

Among the onlookers, Conan and Subaru Okiya stood there, quietly watching everything.

His face was expressionless, but his hands, which were in his pockets, clenched slightly.

It was indeed a fake identity.

And that retreating figure on the rooftop—

Who is it?

Amuro Tooru left Poirot Cafe and quickly headed towards the alley Aozawa had mentioned.

Before we even got close, we could see the police tape cordoning off the alley entrance.

Several uniformed police officers stood nearby, and an investigation vehicle was parked on the side of the road; most of them were familiar faces.

Amuro Tooru walked past the whispering passersby and reached the police line.

Amuro Tooru's gaze fell on the face of the deceased.

That left eye. That bloody hole.

He stared at that eye for a long time.

He never imagined that Rum would appear before him in this way of dying.

"Mr. Amuro?"

A familiar voice came from the side.

Amuro Toru looked over his head.

Conan and Subaru Okiya walked over from the other side of the police line.

Amuro Tooru gave Okiya Subaru a cold look, then ignored him and focused his gaze on Conan.

What are you doing here?

“We called the police. Mr. Wakita just died right in front of me.”

What did you see?

Conan looked up and met his gaze.

"I saw the person who fired the shot. The person who fired the shot was on the rooftop. I didn't see their face. But that back view... it looked familiar."

very familiar.

Amuro Tooru chewed over these three words.

Who is that familiar back view that Shinichi Kudo recognizes?

He looked at Subaru Okiya.

Subaru Okiya pushed up his glasses.

“I saw it too,” he said calmly. “Judging from its shape when it was leaving, it was a woman.”

woman.

Amuro Tooru's mind raced through all the possible names.

Vermouth? No, she can't snipe.

Chianti and Fryward are both dead.

Could it be... Curaçao after faking her death?

Or is it really, as Koniak claims, Rum's own enemy?

"Mr. Amuro."

Conan's voice interrupted his thoughts.

He lowered his head.

Conan was looking at him with a serious expression.

Do you know who died?

Amuro Tooru met his gaze and remained silent for a long while, without answering the question.

"It's cold, don't wander around outside."

After saying that, he turned around and walked back the way he came.

Watching his retreating figure, Subaru Okiya adjusted his glasses.

“He knows who that is.”

Conan sighed almost imperceptibly. "But he's not going to tell us."

The trust between the parties has been broken.

……

Police Department.

Toshio Moroboshi sat at his desk, a thick stack of documents spread out in front of him.

He had a refined appearance, with some graying temples, and was around fifty years old.

He stared at the dense text, his brow furrowed slightly, and tapped his knuckles lightly twice on the table.

A knock came at the door.

"Come in."

A man walked up to the table and gently placed a folder on it.

"Look, the shooting in Beika Town."

Moroboshi Toshio glanced at him, noticing his somewhat unpleasant expression, and opened the folder.

Photos from the scene. An alleyway. A body. A bloody hole in the left eye.

His gaze fell on the face of the deceased.

The left eye pierced by a bullet. That familiar silhouette. The face revealed after the false teeth and fake mustache were removed—

"This is……"

“Rum,” the newcomer said in a deep voice.

Moroboshi's fingers froze. He looked up in shock at the person in front of him.

"Sakamoto, you're not kidding, are you?"

The man named Sakamoto looked very uncomfortable. "Do I need to joke with you like this?"

Moroboshi Toshio remained silent.

Since the last meeting of all senior police officers at the Metropolitan Police Department, where the Black Organization was exposed, he has been suspected by many people.

If it weren't for the help and cover-up from the person in front of him, he would already be facing surveillance and investigation.

However, conspiring with this person in front of you is like asking a tiger for its skin.

Because he had a code name—Alark.

—They were also the organization's true protectors within the Metropolitan Police Department.

Chapter 582 What do you plan to do?

The office fell silent. Only the hum of the air conditioner and the faint sound of traffic in the distance outside the window could be heard.

Toshio Moroboshi sat there, staring at the tablet in front of him.

The face on the screen was still looking at him.

Rum is dead.

The organization's number two is dead. He died in an alley, a bullet piercing his left eye, like a stray dog ​​that had been abandoned.

He zoomed in on the photo and stared at the bloody hole for a few seconds.

This was not an accident.

Someone knows Rum's identity. Someone is targeting that organization.

What will Rum's death trigger?

Organizations will fall apart. There will be purges. There will be turmoil. Some will rise to power amidst the chaos, while others will fall into ruin.

He looked up at the person opposite him.

Ryuichi Sakamoto sat on the sofa, his brows furrowed, his face so grave it looked like it was about to drip water, a stubby unlit cigarette twirling between his fingers.

Toshio Moroboshi stared at him and spoke in a deep voice:

"What does Rum's death mean to us?"

He doesn't belong to that organization, but he has business dealings with it.

The person in front of me had a deeper, closer, and more covert connection with that organization.

Ryuichi Sakamoto, codenamed Arak, did not answer immediately.

The cigarette was still twirling between his fingers.

Moroboshi Toshio waited a few seconds, then asked again, lowering his voice even further:

"What do you plan to do? Abandon that organization?"

Ryuichi Sakamoto raised his eyes.

There was no outward ripple in those eyes, but what lay beneath was frighteningly deep.

"When it's time to let go, you should naturally let go."

He spoke in a flat tone, as if he were talking about what to eat today, "But for now—I need to see if the organization still has any value after Rum's death."

He wasn't some organization's mole planted in the Metropolitan Police Department. At the level of the Superintendent General, that's not called a mole, that's called a protector.

Cooperation, mutual benefit, and holding each other's secrets—that's their true relationship.

"Investigate this case thoroughly. I need to know who killed Rum. Also, contact the other members of that organization..."

Ryuichi Sakamoto walked out of Deputy Superintendent Moroboshi's office at a leisurely pace.

It was getting dark, and people were coming and going in the corridor. A police officer nodded and greeted him, but he only nodded slightly without stopping. The elevator doors opened, he stepped in, and pressed the button for the elevator going downstairs.

During the few seconds the elevator descended, he looked at his face in the mirror, expressionless.

The door opened, and he walked toward his office.

The room was quiet. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in a dim, gray light.

Ryuichi Sakamoto walked to the locked cabinet and took out the cell phone from the deepest part.

He turned it on.

The phone was quite ordinary; the casing was slightly worn, and there were a few small scratches on the screen. It felt flimsy in my hand, like something I could throw away at any moment.

But this is the most important thing to him.

Arak's personal cell phone. It has no SIM card, no GPS tracking, only email. It's his only means of communication with Rum.

He opened his email.

There are only two addresses in the recipient list.