Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

That was an extremely dangerous and terrifying individual.

He will not allow such danger to operate in his Japan.

Kuroda Hyōe stared at him.

The wall clock ticked away for another ten seconds or so. He looked away, took a cigarette from his pack, put it in his mouth, and lit it.

The smoke rose slowly in the sunlight, blurring his wrinkled face.

"That's settled then, you handle it yourself."

Chapter 605 I always feel uneasy

Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a bright glow on the floor.

Kuroba Toichi stood by the window and raised an eyebrow slightly when he saw the ringing phone.

He turned his head and glanced at the three sleeping children on the sofa.

He looked away and pressed the answer button.

"Toichi, how have you been lately?" Kudo Yusaku's voice came from the other end of the phone, his tone normal, without any hint of anything amiss.

"Not bad." Kuroba Toichi's voice was as gentle as ever, with a slightly lazy tone at the end. "Why did you suddenly call me?"

His gaze was fixed on the view outside the window. Cars streamed by on the street, and pedestrians hurried past; no one looked up at the window.

“I saw Kaito a few days ago,” Yusaku Kudo suddenly said.

Kuroba Toichi's finger twitched slightly.

"Oh? Where?"

“Mihana Town. He was walking alone on the street, looking unwell and listless, as if he had lost his soul.”

Kuroba Toichi remained silent.

The sunlight shone on his face, casting shadows of varying depths in his eyes.

Yusaku Kudo waited a few seconds before continuing, "Did you tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

“The truth.” Kudo Yusaku paused deliberately for a few seconds before continuing, “Tell him you’re still alive.”

"No."

"What happened to him?"

Kuroba Toichi's gaze fell on a certain point outside the window, as if he saw something, yet also as if he saw nothing at all.

"Maybe something's bothering you."

Yusaku Kudo sighed.

The sigh was soft, yet it carried an indescribable feeling—like helplessness, or something else entirely.

"Dao Yi, why don't you tell him?"

Kuroba Toichi did not answer immediately.

He looked down at the three sleeping children on the sofa. Sunlight fell on them, outlining their silhouettes with a warm, golden edge.

“Some things,” he finally said, his voice low, “are better left unsaid than known.”

“That’s your son.” Kudo Yusaku’s voice was still gentle, but a few degrees heavier than before. “Keeping it from him will only hurt him.”

“I didn’t intend to keep it from him forever.”

Kuroba Toichi drew the curtains.

The sunlight was blocked out, and the room suddenly became dark. He stood in the shadows with his back against the wall, his phone pressed to his ear.

The noise outside the window seemed to vanish in an instant, leaving only the sound of two people breathing quietly flowing through the phone line.

"You called just to say this?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone before Yusaku Kudo's voice came through, much lower than before, as if he had shed his gentle facade.

"Dao Yi, we're brothers, right?"

Kuroba Touichi lowered his eyes.

In the dark room, his face was expressionless.

“Yes,” he said softly, “brother.”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

"I hope there will never be a day when we turn our swords against each other and kill our own brothers."

Kuroba Toichi did not answer immediately.

He looked up at the window, which was covered by curtains. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the fabric, leaving a thin trail of light on the floor.

“I hope so too,” he said.

......

Base One is quite lively today.

The bar was packed with people.

The bartender, who usually enjoys fancy cocktail mixing, has lost interest. He pours the drinks quickly and roughly, smashing ice cubes into the glass with a clanging sound, and leaving water stains on the glass when he pushes it out.

Nobody cared—nobody had the inclination.

Several familiar people huddled together, heads close together, their voices huddled in hushed tones.

They were all people without code names. To put it nicely, they were the organization's basic staff; to put it bluntly, they were doormen, car repairmen, deliverymen, sweepers...

But at this moment, this group of people who are usually the most inconspicuous have become the most well-informed group in the base.

"I heard Lord Rum is dead?" A middle-aged man in overalls approached, his eyes wide. "Really?"

The young man with dyed blond hair next to him scoffed, looked around, and lowered his voice:

"You're only finding out now? Lord Gin has been purging quite a few people lately because of this. Everyone's keeping quiet, but you still dare to shout."

"Uh..." The man in overalls scratched his head. "What does Lord Rum's death have to do with Lord Gin's purge?"

The blond-haired guy rolled his eyes and poked his forehead with a look of exasperation: "Isn't this because you're afraid the organization will fall into chaos? How come you have no political awareness at all?"

The man in overalls said matter-of-factly, "I'm a car mechanic, what would I need that thing for?"

A middle-aged man holding a wine glass chimed in, leaning closer mysteriously: "I heard that all the big shots from abroad have returned."

"Probably..." the blond-haired man said in a low voice, "With Lord Rum dead, so many resources under his command will be freed up and will definitely have to be redistributed. I feel like there will be a lot of bloodshed."

The man in overalls blinked, then suddenly grabbed the blond-haired guy's sleeve: "Hey, who are you planning to side with? Take me with you."

The blond-haired guy almost choked, slapped his hand away, and growled in a low voice, "How can you talk about something like this in public!"

In the corner, a man in racing gear sat with his legs crossed, leisurely swirling his drink, listening to the group's chatter. He grinned, his tone languid:

"Why think so much? Following Brother Gin is definitely the right thing to do."

Someone nearby chimed in, "Whatever, no matter how things change up there, my racetrack is still in my hands."

"You're quite open-minded."

"What else can we do? We just live one day at a time."

The person who answered shrugged and took a swig of wine.

Once you're on this big ship, there's no getting off. Even if something goes wrong, not everyone on board has the ability to jump overboard.

A man with a buzz cut wearing sunglasses spoke, his brows furrowed and his face showing unconcealed worry.

"I don't know why, but I always feel uneasy when I drink at the base now."

The person next to him scoffed, "What are you afraid of if you haven't done anything wrong?"

The crew-cut man shrank back, lowering his voice even further: "Afraid of seeing Koniak..."

This scene uncontrollably brought to mind the images he had seen on the surveillance camera—that terrifying figure reaping lives like mowing grass, comparable to the arrival of death itself.

His comment sent shivers down the spines of several people nearby.

"Hiss—don't you dare jinx it!"

As soon as the words were spoken, a voice came from the doorway. It wasn't loud, but it was like a needle, instantly piercing through all the noise in the lounge.

"I think I heard someone saying they miss me."

In an instant, the entire lounge fell silent; you could hear a pin drop.

All eyes turned to the doorway—a figure dressed in black overalls, wearing a hood and with his hands in his pockets, slowly walked in.

He raised his head slightly, revealing stray white hairs on his forehead under the shadow of his hood, while a few longer strands of hair hung down his chest, swaying slightly with his movements.

Those scarlet eyes seemed to glow in the shadows, exuding an indescribable sinister and terrifying aura.

He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the stiff faces, then raised an eyebrow and a cryptic smile curved his lips.

"Huh? Why is nobody talking? Aren't you welcoming me?"

Chapter 606 Don't worry about me, you guys continue.

Under the watchful eyes of several people, Qingze slowly began to walk.

He walked leisurely through the lounge, and as he passed, the crowd automatically parted to the sides, creating a considerable distance between them.

No one dared to look up at him, and no one dared to make a sound.

Only the occasional soft clinking of cups against the table sounded particularly jarring in the deathly silence.

Qingze found a sofa in a shady corner and sat down.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his posture as relaxed as if he were in his own living room.

The hood remained pulled up on his head, casting a shadow over most of his face, revealing only a pale chin and a faint curve at the corner of his lips.

He didn't say anything.

Just sitting there.

But the atmosphere in the entire lounge changed.

Those who were whispering just moments ago now wished they could sew their mouths shut.

The man with the buzz cut kept his head down, staring intently at the wine glass in front of him, as if the glass contained some unparalleled secret.

Behind the bar, the bartender's hands trembled slightly, and he almost spilled the drink while pouring it.

No one dared to move.

No one dared to speak.

Koniak's fearsome reputation reached its peak again after several years of silence.

Qingze's gaze slowly swept across the entire lounge from the shadow of the hood, passing over the stiff faces.

He chuckled, his tone nonchalant, "Don't worry about me. You guys continue."

The lounge remained eerily quiet.

No one dared to continue.

Qingze tilted his head.

In the shadow of the hat brim, those scarlet eyes narrowed slightly.

“I said,” his voice was still soft, but a few degrees colder than before, “go on.”

Behind the bar, the bartender's hand trembled violently, and he almost dropped the bottle he was holding.

After a brief silence, a dry, labored voice rang out.

"Um... the braised pork I ate today... was quite salty."

"Is...is that so?" someone chimed in, their voice trembling slightly. "The curry I ate...was...quite salty too..."

“I ate ramen,” another voice chimed in, trembling even more violently, “The soup…the soup was a little cold…”