Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

The things that can make someone who is always carefree lose their way overnight, and make those eyes that always hide a wicked smile become empty, are definitely not ordinary events.

She went to the basement.

In the basement stood an ancient round table, its surface engraved with intricate magical runes, with faint traces of dark red visible between the runes—marks left by years of divination.

She reached out and took a crystal ball from the velvet box on the table.

The sphere was translucent, emitting a faint, ethereal glow.

She closed her eyes, placed her hands on the crystal ball, and murmured an ancient incantation.

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped.

The moonlight seemed to dim for a moment.

The inside of the crystal ball began to churn, as if something was awakening from its depths. Red mist spread from the center of the ball, slowly rotating and growing thicker.

Koizumi Akako's brows furrowed slightly.

She's tracking down that person.

The person who turned Kaito Kuroba into that state.

Kaito Kuroba didn't say anything, but she could sense that this matter was not simple.

She is a witch. She has her own way.

The red mist inside the crystal ball spun faster and faster, almost overflowing the sphere. Fine beads of sweat appeared on Koizumi Akako's forehead, and her fingertips trembled slightly.

Magic doesn't come from nothing; it comes at a price.

The same principle applies to divination; the deeper one goes, the heavier the price becomes.

But she didn't stop.

The red mist suddenly exploded—

Then it slowly coalesced, outlining a blurry human figure.

Koizumi Akako held her breath, staring at the cloud of mist.

The figure had just come into focus when it appeared to be a face that looked very much like Kaito Kuroba. She had only glanced at it once when it abruptly changed into something else entirely.

This is the face of a young man.

With a head of white hair and eyes like rubies soaked in ice, those eyes looked at you with a bone-chilling coldness.

Koizumi Akako's heart skipped a beat.

The next second, the red mist vanished with a roar, and a crack appeared in the crystal ball.

Koizumi Akako opened her eyes, gasping for breath. Her face was as pale as paper, and a stinging pain came from her palms. She looked down and saw a small bloodstain on her palm.

She stared at her reflection in the crystal ball, motionless for a long time.

......

Winter's temperament is always unpredictable. Yesterday it was sunny and clear, and today it's snowing lightly.

Yusaku Kudo stood by the roadside, holding an umbrella, watching the snow fall.

Snowflakes danced and fluttered down, landing on the asphalt road and instantly turning into small puddles of water before disappearing completely.

The distant street scene was shrouded in a thin layer of gray, like a faded old photograph.

Pedestrians hurried past, wrapped tightly in their coats, their footsteps quickly swallowed by the sound of snow.

My phone vibrated.

He glanced down at it; it was an unsigned message:

[When the hands of the clock were still one notch away from noon, they paused before Hercules' door. The wind chimes that entered rang only once.]

Yusaku Kudo stared at the line of text for a few seconds, a slow smile creeping onto his lips.

The reply he wanted has arrived.

Hercule Poirot—Agatha Christie's most famous detective. The location is self-evident.

He raised his hand and glanced at his watch.

The timing is just right to go from here.

He put his phone back in his pocket, folded up his umbrella, and got into a taxi parked on the side of the road.

At 10:55, Yusaku Kudo stood at the entrance of Poirot Cafe.

Through the glass door, you can see a few customers sitting sparsely inside the store.

The heating inside was on full blast, and a thin layer of condensation covered the windowpanes.

He pushed open the door.

The wind chime rang once, crisp and short.

A few customers in the shop looked up at him, then looked down and continued chatting.

The bar behind the counter

Welcome!

Yusaku Kudo stood at the door, his gaze fixed on the area behind the bar.

Amuro Tooru's absence is a special signal.

His gaze slowly swept across the entire space before settling on something else.

Two people were sitting in a booth in the corner.

Aozawa, and Koniak.

Chapter 594 Want to guess who he is?

When he saw Yusaku Kudo arrive, Aozawa simply nodded slightly as a greeting.

He stood up, walked to another table not far away, sat down quietly, and kept his eyes on this side.

Yusaku Kudo's gaze fell on Koniak.

He was wearing a black hooded jacket over a gray turtleneck sweater, with the jacket hood pulled up over his head, covering most of his white hair.

A few strands of hair peeked out from under the brim of the hat, gleaming faintly silvery-white under the incandescent light.

He sat there lazily, one leg crossed over the other, his elbow casually resting on the table, his cheek propped up.

With her other hand resting on her knee, her fingertips tapped lightly.

His posture was as casual as if he were at home.

But those eyes—those eyes that were so similar to Qingze's—were looking at him at that moment.

There was none of the gentleness and aloofness Qingze showed him; there was only a playful, scrutinizing light in his eyes.

It felt like looking at an interesting exhibit, or like waiting for a good show to begin.

The snow is still falling outside the window.

With no other guests around, Kudo Yusaku pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Koniak, I've heard so much about you."

The person opposite him smiled slightly.

“Yusaku Kudo.” His voice was even lower than Aozawa’s, sharp as a blade yet with a languid tone at the end. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Kudo Yusaku smiled, his demeanor refined, showing no stage fright under the scrutinizing gaze of the other party.

"It's a bit surprising that you chose this place."

This is where the policeman usually stays. He's not here, and Koniak specifically chose this place, so it's probably not that simple.

Qingze chuckled. "I think you'd feel more at ease in public."

He glanced sideways at "Qingze," his expression unreadable, "My dear younger brother will feel more at ease."

"Mr. Koniak seems to care a lot about what Aozawa thinks."

"No, it's just to save trouble."

Qingze shifted his posture, lowering his hand that had been supporting his cheek and placing his hands together on the table. The movement was slow, with a deliberate casualness.

"Just tell me what you want to do. My time is also very valuable."

Yusaku Kudo looked at him.

He had already heard many rumors about Koniak and had a basic understanding of the man in front of him.

A dangerous, perceptive, patient, and highly controlling person.

The fact that he agreed to meet with him must mean he knew he was going to take down the organization and wanted to see how much resources and information he had.

Koniak was the active party who controlled the information, while they were the passive party, but they also had their advantages.

"Our goals are the same," Yusaku Kudo said bluntly. "Cooperation?"

Qingze raised an eyebrow, a deep smile on his face.

"Consistent?" He repeated the word, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Are you sure?"

"You hate the organization, don't you?"

Qingze didn't deny it. She just looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

"So what if it is?"

Kudo Yusaku leaned forward slightly.

“You want to destroy the organization to vent your hatred,” he said, emphasizing each word. “We also want to destroy the organization. From that perspective, our goals are aligned.”

Qingze's expression remained largely unchanged.

"It seems Sherry told you quite a bit."

He wasn't surprised at all that Kudo Yusaku knew about this.

Or rather, it was always under his control.

Yusaku Kudo smiled. "This is necessary information sharing."

“Rum is dead.” He showed the cards in his hand.

Qingze raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening.

"You seem to know quite a lot."

“I know some,” Yusaku Kudo said, “but not much. For example—who killed him.”

"You found out?" Qingze asked.

Yusaku Kudo didn't answer; he just looked at him.

The two looked at each other, neither of them speaking first.

The snow was still falling outside the window, swirling and blurring the street scene.

Qingze leaned back in his chair, his lazy posture returning.

He tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips, but his eyes were deep, as if hiding something that couldn't be brought to light.

“It doesn’t matter to me who killed Rum.” His voice was languid, but every word was firm and unequivocal. “What matters is the meaning behind his death.”

He paused, then tapped his fingertip lightly on the table.

"With Rum dead, the final boss has surfaced." He raised his eyes, looking at Yusaku Kudo, his smile deepening. "Want to guess who he is?"

Kudo Yusaku frowned slightly, his gaze fixed on him.

"Who?"

Qingze looked at his face, as if he were looking at him, but also as if he were looking at someone else.

The snow outside the window is still falling, disappearing into the silence, without a sound.

After two seconds, he slowly spoke, his tone as soft as if he were revealing a trivial secret:

"Someone who is both unexpected and yet perfectly reasonable."