Conan had spent ages preparing this surprise. He'd never thrown a birthday party for anyone before. The thrill of anticipation had been eating him alive. Whenever Ishikawa Kaito asked, Conan's mind flashed with the boy's amazed face during magic shows, his eyes gleaming, his voice brimming with excitement. He imagined Kaito praising him, begging for another trick.

But all he could do was dodge the questions, stammering out excuses that didn't exist, slipping away before nightfall.

Genta, with his supernatural sense of smell that could detect snacks ten streets away, caught a whiff of something off. Ayumi squinted and whispered with Haibara...

The kids came to a conclusion: Conan was hiding something. Something big. Something he couldn't talk about.

After several rounds of private debate, they had eliminated every plausible reason they could think of, still unable to guess what Conan was secretly planning.

"Conan, are you serious? But the Kamen Yaiba anniversary movie is about to start!"

Conan, who had been about to sneak out through Agasa's back door, froze. " Ojiisan and Megure-keibu are investigating a homicide case in Shinjuku,I have to go help. You guys go ahead and watch the movie—"

He glanced at the clock on the wall—eight sharp—then darted off down the street. The conditions KID demanded was the strangest Conan had ever encountered. But once the thief asked, he had no choice but to comply. KID had agreed to help him design a magic performance, including the full staging and training.

The time was set for 10 p.m., with a beginner-level demonstration and instructions on basic tricks. Together, they crafted a routine KID found satisfactory. In exchange, Conan had to infiltrate the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department and steal back a piece of evidence for KID.

Even though they'd agreed on the time, Conan showed up two hours early to "buy the deposit." He thought he might get lost in the chaos of Kabukicho, but the dessert shop KID had specified stood out immediately—a neon-lit, late-night café with a line stretching out the door.

"Damn it... this better be worth it."

After nearly an hour and a half of waiting, he finally reached the counter. On tiptoes, he bought a slice of sweet chestnut chocolate mille-feuille and a tropical fruit cream cake. Carrying the paper box, he made his way to their meeting spot: Beika Park.

"He never said where in the park..."

Conan clicked on his flashlight and walked the perimeter path. The few dim streetlights barely kept the park from resembling a haunted forest. He circled once without spotting a soul, then headed for the children's playground.

"KID! Hey! Where are you—KID... mmph!"

A hand clamped over his mouth in the dark, yanking him beneath the slide. If it had been anyone else, Conan would've smashed the cake box into their face. But even in the dark, he recognized that familiar presence instantly.

"A little kid wandering Kabukicho at night... surprised no officer stopped you for questioning."

Only this guy would mock him like that.

Conan shot back, unamused, "Look at what you're wearing. If a patrol cop showed up, they'd probably arrest you on sight for child abduction—oh wait, my bad, you are a kidnapper."

The candlelight flickered to life, pushing back the darkness. Conan squinted at the young man in a black jacket and baseball cap. "Next time, don't pick such a damn creepy place. Just saying... if someone mistakes you for a sketchy uncle, I'm not vouching for you."

"Relax. I've scouted this place. Total blind spot for patrols. Some high schoolers were lighting fireworks here the other day—nobody showed up. I'm just lighting a candle."

KID accepted the cake box like a child receiving candy, carefully unwrapping the desserts. He peeled back the foil lining and the plastic sheet stuck to the cakes, then gleefully licked the whipped cream and chocolate from the top.

"Thank you, Meitantei, those are awesome!"

"Where's your adult dignity?"

Eat, eat, eat—All you can do is eat. Conan rolled his eyes.

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!" KID smirked. "You look way more like a kid than me."

The mille-feuille melted in his mouth, each creamy, delicate layer sinking like sweet clouds. KID didn't even care that Meitantei was watching him devour dessert like a glutton. He pulled his knees up, leaned against the pillar, and let out a satisfied sigh.

They had a long night ahead. Conan didn't rush him. After all, this had been his request, and everything followed KID's schedule. Conan sat cross-legged in silence, a flickering candle dancing between them.The candlelight cast their silhouettes onto the stone wall—offset just enough to look like a scene from a dream.

So tell me... doesn't this look like a date?

Conan realized it too late. Heat flushed his face, and the warmth wasn't just from the candle. When Conan opened his eyes again, the fruit cream cake had been nudged toward him.

"Try it.Have a bite."

So close. The silver spoon in KID's hand had already brushed his lips. Those moonlit eyes coaxed gently: "Trust me, Meitantei. I picked this because I knew you'd like it. Just one bite. Open your mouth."

"I don't trust you."

Just one bite... Conan frowned. Kaito had said something like that before. Done something like that. And now, KID was doing the same—offering sweets with such natural ease. Conan knew he shouldn't. He knew not to accept food from 'strangers'. But he couldn't resist.

The cool curve of the spoon skimmed his hot lips, slipping into his mouth. The cake landed softly on his tongue. The rich cream smoothed over his taste buds, laced with just enough sweetness to delight, not overwhelm. Then came a burst of tart tropical fruit—heavenly.He swallowed with a blank expression.Then opened his mouth again.

KID's grin widened. He scooped up another bite and brought the spoon close—only to jerk it away at the last second and pop it into his own mouth. He made a show of chewing with exaggerated pleasure, grinning mischievously as he swallowed.

"Even the way you eat reminds me of one of my classmates. You might want to reflect on that." Conan muttered icily.

"Who, me?" KID licked the last bit of chocolate off his fingertips, folded the wrapper neatly, and tucked it into a plastic bag. He used hand sanitizer, then handed some to Conan along with a few clean napkins. "I never asked—why do you want to learn magic anyway? Trying to impress someone? Miss Ran, perhaps? Or is it... has our little detective fallen for someone?"

Just a joke, of course.

"None of your business." Conan smacked the napkin against KID's chest, his tone stiff. "Let's get on with it. I don't plan to spend all night with you."

KID clutched his chest like he'd been stabbed. "Ouch, Meitantei, you killed me. Could it be you've fallen for someone else and forgotten me?"

Conan gave him a look. "You talk too damn much. All nonsense."

"Not talking nonsense!" KID plopped down cross-legged, two stacks of playing cards appearing between his gloved fingers with a flick. "That is not nonsense at all. If you want to learn magic, I need to know why. If it's just for a quick effect, I can teach you some flashy tricks—a crash course, nothing foundational. Those are great for short bursts of applause, but once the audience figures out your trick, it's finished. But if you want to be a magician... then you need structured training, persistent and gradual. It depends on your purpose."

His fingers danced, shuffling cards with breathtaking speed. To an outsider's eye, they were nothing but flickering shadows. The simple fundamental tricks in KID's hands were nothing simple.

Mastery in any field comes from time, precision, and repetition. Especially for magicians, where sleight of hand reigns supreme—not just creativity, but the grind behind the glitter. The audience gasps, awestruck—but how many ever wonder how much sweat and solitude live behind the curtain?

Conan stared into those bright eyes in the dark. That light—it burned with passion, purpose. He realized, with no small shame, that in all the years he'd been chasing KID, he'd never once asked about the craft of magic. He'd only ever dissected his criminal methods, stolen plans, crime-scene traces. But how an idea became a living illusion—that dedication... he'd never thought to care.

Until now.

A strange compulsion welled up inside him—to crack open KID's mind, take it apart and analyze its structure. What did this man like? What fueled him? How did he become KID?

"It's... compensation," Conan muttered.

"Oh? And who did you break this time?"

"My friend. Ishikawa Kaito."

KID nearly choked on the bite of cake in his mouth, barely suppressing the grin creeping up his face. "You're talking about the boy you shoved into the fireplace? I met the boy, you know. Meitantei, you really went hard on him. The kid's barely what, seven? Are you trying to give him trauma for life?"

"And weren't you the one who left him in there and didn't bother pulling him out? You don't get to lecture me." Conan fired back, "It's unlike you to just leave someone locked up like that."

KID shrugged lazily. "Hey, I'll defend myself here. I asked him like multiple times, if he wanted to come out with me, maybe even call the cops. But that little boy insisted on staying put. Said you'd come for him. Said if he left, you wouldn't be able to find him. "

Conan had been about to shoot back another snide remark, but the words stalled halfway. He fell quiet, absorbing it, chewing his lower lip before finally murmuring, "So... that's why I came to you."

KID rested his chin on his knees and chuckled. "Tell me honestly, Meitantei... you do like him, don't you? "

Conan choked. Again.

It wasn't just Hattori anymore—even KID had called him out. And Conan knew the lies he told tonight would be effortlessly unraveled by this man. If you're going to ask someone for help, at least have the decency to speak the truth.

...Or don't ask at all.

And then, swallowing his pride with visible effort, he added, "I want to learn a trick—something, anything—that will make him forgive me. If I succeed, I swear that the glass slipper the MPD's been chasing will vanish off the face of the Earth."

Meitantei was dead serious.

KID, on the other hand, was nearly shaking from suppressed laughter, so caught off-guard by the absurdity of it all that he accidentally kicked over his thermos. Conan, the famously logical sleuth, wanting to learn magic—not for a case, not for a con—but to make him smile? KID couldn't resist. He reached out, ruffled Conan's hair with deliberate force, and asked, "So what does this Kaito of yours like? What do little boys like these days?"

He handed Conan a small catalog—his own list of short-term flashy illusions. Conan flipped through it with furrowed brows. "...Food. Like you. Sweets, in particular. How long would it take to learn one of these?"

"Each one? At least a week of prep just to get your fingers used to moving properly. Don't give me that look," KID added as Conan frowned. "Meitantei, do not complain. You're the one who said no cheap tricks online, no store-bought props. These are hand-crafted, mind-melded illusions. I worked very hard on it, did you get that? You want to pull it off, you gotta put in the work. And frankly? You don't even have the aptitude for it."

"Excuse me?! Who doesn't have the aptitude?! KID, you're teaching me at least one trick tonight, or you're not much of a teacher at all."

KID smirked, accepting the challenge.

"They say you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, but I guess I'm the kind of teacher who takes on hopeless cases. All right. Since you want quick results, and since the target's a kid, I've got just the thing. Magic is about flipping expectations, bending logic. Want to make a kid happy? Give him what he loves... in a way he's never seen before. That is called a surprise. And fortunately, kids know only a few things so...... kinda easy on this one."

He pulled a flier from his backpack. Conan blinked at it, then stared. "Seriously?!...Ramen and curry rice? From the supermarket?"

"Look at the name at the bottom." KID leaned closer. "Ever seen the show Cake or Fake ? Pastry chefs spend hours making desserts that look like real-world objects. You do the same—make a cake that looks like ramen. Kids love that stuff. Curiosity and surprises always win their hearts...... well, except maybe you."

"Except I need this tomorrow , and you picked a time when everything's closed except convenience stores and bars." Conan stood, brushing off his pants, and grabbed KID's wrist. "And this isn't a magic trick. It's not what we agreed on. So help me make the cake or whatever this thing is."

KID unfolded his legs and rose smoothly to his feet, tapping Conan gently on the forehead. "Let me be a good guy for once...."

......

Making a cake for himself—what kind of backwards logic was this?

KID nearly rolled his eyes out of his skull but still accepted the metal mixing bowl Conan handed over. With expert ease, he began whisking the egg whites at high speed. Rolling up his sleeves, he glanced sideways. "So? Planning to keep learning magic after this?"

"Of course," Conan nodded. "I'll master at least a few tricks. If I don't, that glass slipper's headed straight to the top lab in the country. Your choice."

...This damn Tantei-kun really liked blackmailing people.

"By the way, using the kitchen at the Kudo residence—are we not going to disturb anyone? I heard you guys rented it out to some grad student."

"He's out for the night. Won't be back till tomorrow." Conan crouched to check the oven. KID patted his shoulder, motioning him to step back, then slipped on mitts and opened the oven door. "Just about done... Once a metal skewer goes in clean, we're already."

"KID." Conan said quietly, watching him tidy the mess on the counter. "You wouldn't happen to be a pastry chef in disguise, would you?"

"Not even close," KID smirked, then pointed. "Clean the countertop. And center that tray. We'll use chestnut paste, piped like soba noodles. The color's a bit off, but it should fool him."

Conan stepped on KID's foot. "Don't treat him like an idiot. He's a kid, yeah, but he's smart. Maybe smarter than you."

"Fine, fine, jeez... Meitantei, go get the microwaved apple slices. We'll use them to mimic meat cuts. Agasa Hakase's and your house didn't have any canned fruit, so this'll have to do."

Carefully, Conan peeled off the plastic lid to let the steam escape, then lifted the tray with a towel. "KID, take a look at this color—does it look more like pork or grilled fish? And why are you standing all the way back there?"

"Why the hell did you have to bring up fish?" KID quickly turned his back to Conan and brought out the baking tray. He raised a brow. "Because Kaito's afraid of fish. I don't want him making the same horrified face you just did."

KID turned back around with a dramatic pout. "You're always so considerate with Ran and your little friend... but when it comes to me, you're now acting like I'm some kind of plague. Last time I helped you, someone nearly burned me to death. And now the great Kudo Shinichi is baking a cake for a seven-year-old brat..."

"What the hell is wrong with you today, KID...? You think you can compare to them?" Conan shot him a sideways glance. "Don't get jealous. Once you're in jail, I'll bake you as many cakes as you want."

........... hahaha......

KID burst out laughing at last. He wiped a dollop of cream off the corner of Conan's eye. "Catch me? Nonesense." Then he hoisted Conan up and set him on the stool in front of the kitchen counter. "And don't mess up the soba noodle topping, Meitantei. My precious sweet chestnut cream isn't for you to waste."

As KID loaded whipped cream into a piping bag, Conan asked, "Where the hell do you even learn all these weird skills?"

"I'm a thief, not an Otaku. And I like sweets, so I learned how to make my own cakes." KID answered seriously as he sliced the cake into two layers. He spread crushed berries and chocolate crisps onto the middle layer, while Conan decorated the outer cream. The two stood close, occasionally bumping elbows, but neither said a word.

They spread orange marmalade on top to mimic ramen broth, piped sweet chestnut paste to resemble soba noodles, and crushed green lemon hard candies from the convenience store to sprinkle on top like scallions.

Conan handed KID a glass jar. "Thanks for helping today... Kaito means a lot to me. I'll admit, I really screwed up this time. I chased after the culprit and forgot I'd left someone behind..."

He expected a jab or a sarcastic remark, but KID only gave a faint smile. He said softly, "He's not the kind to hold a grudge. Like you said, he's no idiot. I'm sure he understands why you made the choice you did."

Honestly, I didn't mind... I wasn't even really upset. Just putting on a show... Didn't expect you to actually buy it.

"Where's your plastic wrap?"

"Top cabinet, right-hand side."

Conan pulled one end of the plastic wrap as KID held the roll steady. Together, they wrapped the two bowls of ramen cake and put them in the fridge.

"By the way, how did you crack the vault?"

There it was—leave it to Meitantei to bring up an interrogation even while decorating cakes. KID sighed and pulled a face. "Why does it matter? You saw all those damn locks and mechanisms inside. I stood there for over two hours, picking through them one by one. But actually... there's something that's been bugging me."

Some things couldn't be said as Ishikawa Kaito. So he could only speak as KID.

Conan nodded, half-doubting. "Go on."

"I was going to force it open, but it was Ishikawa-kun who told me about the constellations... He even shared the story of you and him sneaking into other guest rooms. Long story short, he mentioned that one of the guests seemed obsessed with Sherlock Holmes. Not just the room number, but even the decor was Victorian. So your little friend and I looked up everything we could about Sherlock Holmes. I tried everything. Eventually, our informant traced the mansion's history. Turns out, it's linked to us too. Remember the Mansion? Karasuma-san? Apparently, this villa was one of his properties in Karuizawa. And... by sheer chance, I found a 20th-century newspaper that made it pretty clear that Karasuma had once met your idol, Conan Doyle."

Conan's eyes flew wide open. "What did you say?"

"Conan Doyle." KID knew Meitantei would be interested in that name—but Conan's focus wasn't there at all.

"Not him. The one before that. Who did you say?" Conan's voice was rapid now.

"Karasuma Renya, Meitantei... That one time I actually teamed up with Hakuba. Anyway, I felt kind of guilty toward Karasuma... you know, his castle sank, now I've broken into his villa too. So I went back and started digging..."

"No!" Conan cut him off sharply. "Don't look into this! KID. Stay away from it!"

KID blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "What's with the change in tone?"

"Don't investigate. Don't lay a finger on any of their jewels. Diamonds, rubies, whatever—they're all off-limits. Do you understand?"

It was the first time Meitantei had warned him with such gravity. Not mockery, not playful baiting—but a word-for-word, serious warning.

"Meitantei, can you at least tell me what the hell this is about?" KID frowned. Conan clenched his fists, visibly frustrated at KID's nonchalance.

"No! You don't need to know. Just stay away from their stuff. I'm not repeating myself." Conan took off his apron. KID unhooked him as well.

"You don't have to freak out like that. I was just going to tell you how the vault really opened. Why'd you suddenly blow up? Though... Now I wonder if some dead guy pissed you off or something. Is he someone important to you?" KID took a sip of water. "Or... does it have something to do with your shrinking?"

"Kaitou KID!!!"

Conan's shout nearly knocked KID off his feet.

"Okay, okay! I won't touch their family's treasures, alright? ...At least not for now... But I can't make promises forever, can I? If the gem I'm after just happens to be on display in one of their descendants' living rooms, how the hell would I know?"

"Then how about you just don't steal, KID!" Conan shot daggers at him.

A long silence fell, stretching like a century. Then KID walked toward him with a slight smirk. Conan instinctively stepped back until his back hit the kitchen counter.

"Since you won't tell me about Karasuma or the organization that shrank you, I won't press you. But I shared information on the Karuizawa villa with you—you should at least give me something useful in return. For example, how much do you and Hattori know about the Black Widow? I couldn't get anything worthwhile out of Ishikawa Kaito. Meitantei, that fugitive is here for the Last Dance, nine times out of ten. I'd like to know who else knew about it before me."

Conan kept his eyes tightly shut, feeling KID's breath as he spoke.

"No. The police couldn't find any trace of him either. Even with Hattori Heiji and me together, we couldn't take him down easily. And after we gave chase, we were attacked. Even if you want to find him, it's impossible."

"Oh? Are you saying the Black Widow still has accomplices hiding in the hotel?"

Conan's eyes remained closed. "Not people... sparrows. They seemed to obey someone's command, swarming us with clear intent. Hattori nearly caught him, but was almost blinded when they came at his eyes. The suspect timed it perfectly—as soon as the sparrows attacked us and Arishima-san, then the killer fled to the parking lot, mounted a motorcycle, and vanished."

When no reply came, Conan opened his eyes to see KID propping his chin, deep in thought.

"What? You have an idea?"

"...Meitantei. Is Hattori-kun alright?" KID asked.

"Nothing serious, but he got a scrape at the corner of his right eye, and part of his eyebrow was nicked off."

KID instinctively straightened. "You said his right eye?"

Conan tensed at his expression. "Looks like you're thinking what I am. The one who targeted your right eye before—Scorpion—was also an assassin. But isn't she..."

"Meitantei, she escaped prison not long ago. The last person who hired me to deliver you was her. That was the reason I disguised myself as Kudo Shinichi."

Conan's eyes widened. He snatched up a nearby rolling pin and cracked it against KID's shin. "KID! And you're only telling me now? I thought it was the Organization blackmailing you with that briefcase incident!"

Realizing he'd slipped the secret he didn't want KID to know, Conan froze.

"So the one who knocked me down in Central Park and took the wrong briefcase was the same Organization that shrank you... connected to Karasuma, right? That is why you've been acting weird" KID pressed.

Another jab of the rolling pin hit his knee, making KID wince.

"I told you not to get involved! And something this big—you should've been upfront before you faked my death!"

KID shot back through gritted teeth, "I forgot about Scorpion until now. And the moment I remembered, I told you, didn't I?"

"It's been days since we last talked! Out of common sense you should've told me. What if she went after the Mouri Detective Agency? You haven't even been that active in your heists lately—how could you forget something like this?"

There was only one criminal Conan ever nagged like this—

KID suddenly lifted him off the ground with one hand, knocking the rolling pin from his grip with the other. "Stop hitting me, Meitantei! Calm down, alright? I admit, it was my fault for forgetting to tell you."

Conan narrowed his eyes midair, the faint crackle of static between them. KID still played the part of someone not fully in the know. "We can't confirm any link between the Black Widow and Scorpion yet. If we're talking about Scorpion alone, you can relax—she won't act that quickly. Yes, she hired me to take you last time, but the ones who tried to kill Kudo Shinichi were a different group. Could this be a turf war between two mafia or terrorist outfits?"

Conan shot him a look, then fell silent in thought.

From KID's angle, it all made sense. Conan had already learned from the police that Scorpion—who targeted the right eye—was an internationally wanted assassin. In the earlier Pumpkin Hairpin case, Aoyama-san had also mentioned a contract killer syndicate that used animal codenames: Spider, Scorpion, Snake... and Sazerac, who also served as a high-ranking Organization executive.

Conan sat cross-legged, trying to untangle the mess in his mind. If the Black Widow was Scorpion's subordinate, then they might be after the physical evidence Vodka had botched a deal over—willing to kill tenants to get 'the Last Dance' hidden in the vault. A month ago, Vodka had successfully traded with a mysterious third party in Central Park, only to botch things badly: not only failing to kill KID, but letting him take their thing. Even if the cases were swapped, Vodka still had to make a show of locking something in the vault, then find the lost briefcase before the boss checked. If the boss found proof, Vodka wouldn't be the only one in trouble—Gin would be dragged down too.

All of this was still speculation. Conan pulled out his phone to text Amuro Tooru: Be sure to investigate the vault's contents. The reply was marked as read almost instantly.

Switching to Ishikawa Kaito's thread, Conan saw only the earlier morning apology and get-well text sent by himself—no reply.

Read, but no reply.

It was too late to call Ishikawa Kaito now. Conan forced his focus back.

If the Black Widow and Scorpion were partners or in a superior-subordinate relationship, then what was the true link between the killer syndicate and the Black Organization? Why target the Karuizawa Rose Villa?

According to Arishima's timeline, the Black Widow appeared at the same time the black briefcase was deposited in the vault. If the killer was after the briefcase, that raised more questions:

Why would Vodka store it there?
Was the Black Organization competing with, cooperating with, or controlling this killer syndicate?

The only thing Conan could be sure of now was that Scorpion knew Kudo Shinichi was alive—not Conan's identity. Perhaps she had seen with her own eyes at that party when he danced with KID, which was why she had hired KID to deliver him.

"KID, I never asked you this—what did Scorpion offer in exchange for me? KID! Answer me!"

After a pause, KID finally said, "...She promised me 'the Last Dance'."

Bingo. Scorpion had to be tied to the Black Organization and Gin in some way.

The shadow on Conan's face deepened—KID couldn't miss it. Many things weren't as simple as they looked. Just like Conan hadn't sought out KID merely to learn magic tricks, KID hadn't agreed without hesitation for simple reasons either. Both were prying information from the other.

"Damn it... You know this has gone way beyond stealing a few gems. The reason Japan's Public Security is watching so closely is because of that briefcase you took by mistake last time! This isn't about you anymore... not to mention it's tied to an international hitman and an entire assassination syndicate."

KID cut him off, expression blank. "Meitantei, it's not your turn to tell me what to do."

"What exactly did you take from Vodka?! A Public Security contact told me the Organization has been in secret contact with you. Don't tell me you already handed over the briefcase! Damn it, what's inside? Listen to me—turn it in to the police." Conan's voice was deadly serious. "...That's Pandora's box!"

KID shrugged, utterly casual. "It is Pandora's box... but Meitantei, it's my bargaining chip. Only an idiot would hand it over to the police. And let me say this—Public Security did contact me, using the late Miss Chizuru's email, offering me a deal for that briefcase. But Meitantei... no one's told me what's inside it. How am I supposed to negotiate?"

"As far as I know, very few people are aware. Speaking of which, Kaitou KID—how did you even learn about the vault? I haven't asked why you were in Room 314 at all!!!"

"I planted a bug and a tracker on you." KID spread his hands.

"Stop talking nonsense!" Conan snapped.

Realizing how serious this was, Conan didn't even care about finishing the cake—he grabbed KID's sleeve with flour-and-cream-covered hands, dragging him out of the kitchen. Kaitou KID had clearly gotten into trouble with the Organization.

"Kaitou KID! What leverage are they using against you? How does a jewel thief even get tangled up with them?"

"How is it my fault? I was flying in the sky, minding my own business, when your Public Security buddy shot me down! And then..." KID wasn't planning to spill everything just yet. "Then some idiot chased me relentlessly, even walking into a dance hall in his real identity to get himself killed—only for Scorpion to spot him."

"What's that supposed to mean? I never asked you to help fake Kudo Shinichi's death!" Conan shot back.

"That's different! That was Scorpion! Do you have any idea what happens once an assassin syndicate has its eyes on you?!"

Conan stared at him—this was the first time he'd ever heard a tremor in KID's voice, laced with unease. It was like plucking a string on a piano, only to hear the note warped and discordant, the dissonance spreading like a cold wind.

And after shouting it, KID lowered his head, suddenly guilty. "You don't want to get tangled with them... even Scorpion—the one we... you put in prison—is no exception. And for the record, your Organization isn't blackmailing me. They just happened to steal something very important from me. I need to take it back before they figure it out."

"They stole from you...? What?" Conan asked, even knowing KID wouldn't answer. KID frowned, shaking his head. "Meitantei... if I could, I'd never tell you."

I'd never tell you. It was just a refusal, understandable on the surface—but to Conan, it felt like being shoved miles away, stepping squarely on KID's boundaries. He took a long breath, forcing a smile, then steered the conversation back.

"Fine. Then how exactly do you expect me to steal police evidence for you? You do realize it's evidence . What's the plan?"

"Let's set it for tomorrow at three p.m.—I'll pick you up from the Mouri Detective Agency. We can prepare the tools now. We'll both go in—you as Conan, me as Kudo Yusaku."

As KID spoke, he placed the cake into the fridge, carefully labeling the best-by date. Conan stood silently beside him—the light mood from earlier had vanished, replaced by a tightening storm front.

"Why not in the morning?" Conan frowned.

"I've got something in the morning... meeting a friend to make coffee."

"At a time like this, you've still got the mood for coffee? ...Hey! Kaitou KID! Don't forget you promised to teach me magic after this!"

KID had just stepped out the door before turning back, handing Conan a fresh deck of cards and a book— Magician's 101 Tricks: The Secrets Behind the Curtain . He folded one page's corner. "Almost forgot—read to this page, practice the hand movements a few times before tomorrow. I'll check your homework when we meet. Be good—I trust smart little Conan-kun can manage it well and get some stickers, right?"

This time, KID actually smiled—a smile that scattered all the tension and unease.

"Get out of my house! And what kind of teacher gives a student less than a night to practice?!"

Even after the door closed, KID's laughter lingered in the night air. Conan rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop the small, soft curve of his lips.

His phone buzzed—a message notification. Conan opened it, expecting Kaito to have finally replied. Instead, it was Amuro Tooru, with an attachment. Conan frowned, opening the file.

It was a blueprint of the vault in Room 314 of the Rose Villa.

Another message followed: If you're still awake, can we talk?

______________________________________________________________

"Conan-kun, why are you still up? Meeting someone?"

Caught off guard, Conan stammered, "I... hahaha, I was gaming. And about the Karuizawa case—something's odd and I couldn't sleep. I'm guessing that's why you messaged me, Amuro-san? So Public Security is involved."

"That's right... You must also know that Rose Villa used to belong to the Karasuma family. Later, it somehow ended up with Sharon Vineyard. Makes you wonder what Vodka's real reason was for locking that briefcase in the vault."

Amuro Tooru couldn't quite read Vermouth's intentions, but she had repeatedly warned him not to target Conan or Ran—perhaps on that point, they stood on the same side. But in a profit-driven organization, Vermouth's ties with Gin were far from simple. Likely, Vodka had handed the briefcase to Arishima-san without telling her.

"Conan, you've got more questions, don't you?"

Since Amuro had said so, Conan didn't hold back. "Does Scorpion have another subordinate—or maybe a partner? Codename might be 'Sparrow'?"

"Indeed." Amuro Tooru replied.

"And as early as fifteen years ago, they were already on the Public Security Bureau's record. Back then, they were notorious killers in Japan's underworld, both officially operating solo. Scorpion was vicious by nature, swift and decisive in murder, always targeting the right eye. The assassin codenamed 'Sparrow' likes to unleash birds to attack officers pursuing him, aiming for their eyes as well. We only learned—through undercover investigation—that the two had a superior–subordinate relationship. And why are you asking about this person?"

"I suspect the Black Widow who attacked me and Hattori at the Rose Villa, committed the poisoning, and tried to locate the safe in Room 314... is Sparrow. Too bad he escaped." Conan pressed on, "That last time, the Black Organization member Sazerac who died in the café—he was secretly a high-ranking member of a certain assassin syndicate, wasn't he? Perhaps even its top leader."

Amuro Tooru murmured, "We in Public Security don't yet have conclusive proof of that. However, from his belongings that day, we did find numerous encrypted messages—some of which were indeed sent to internationally renowned killers."

"...Scorpion?"

Amuro smiled faintly. "Ah yes, Conan... Yes, one of them was Scorpion. And not long after Sazerac's death, Scorpion successfully broke out of prison. That may be the thread tying Scorpion to the Organization."

"A thread? What do you mean?" Conan asked.

"Brandy. The Organization recently recruited some new members, and the one who impressed me the most was Brandy—a female assassin. She is Scorpion. And now I've answered your question, Conan, it's my turn—do you know why KID helped fake Kudo Shinichi's death back then? He must have mentioned who commissioned him."

Amuro Tooru gazed out at the café window, into the night, while rinsing the last batch of glasses.

"KID said the one who hired him to kidnap Kudo Shinichi was Scorpion—Apparently, after her escape, she didn't rush to take revenge on me or KID. Instead, she joined the Black Organization. After all, if she could present proof that Kudo Shinichi was still alive, it would be the perfect weapon to topple Gin's standing in the Organization—an express elevator for her own promotion. Tell me... do you think she joined the Organization for revenge? To uncover Sazerac's real killer? Or something else, something much bigger?"

"Hm... just as I suspected. But there's a bigger problem here—you've noticed it, haven't you?" Amuro's question made Conan's heart drop like a stone.

"...Why hasn't the Organization gone all out to deal with KID?" Amuro's voice was calm and gentle as he hung the last glass upside down on the rack.

Indeed, Gin was not that type of person who gives mercy to anyone, especially those who took their briefcase away and are still out there.

Conan's pupils constricted instantly. He quickly scrolled to a schematic on his phone, his voice trembling. "...You're saying... the real reason Vodka and Gin chose to store the item in the safe..."

Why would Vodka place the briefcase in the safe? Why, after nearly a month, had Gin—who never hesitated to kill—not moved against KID?

It wasn't only to avoid confirming the rumors that Vodka had botched the deal. More importantly—no one in the world could uncover KID's identity, let alone track his movements. So they left the item in the safe, waiting for the prey to step into the trap on his own.

Intricate locks, complex mechanisms—not even a master craftsman could crack them quickly. They were certain KID would find the place, certain of his skill, certain he could open it.

But here's the problem...

No matter how skilled a magician, one cannot pick such delicate locks through gloves. And according to Kaito's account, when he awoke, KID had just finished cracking it and left in haste for some reason—leaving 'the last dance' behind, highly likely without properly covering his tracks.

Which meant...

"KID took off his gloves!"