"Have you ever done anything you've regretted, Amuro-san?"

Conan asks him this as Amuro is wiping and drying the last two tabletops in Poirot. Almost all of the chairs are overturned; most of the fluorescent bulbs are switched off. The shop is closed, but Amuro promised Conan a drive around town before sending him home for the night. Conan had previously entertained himself with his phone, but it seems that he has moved onto him now. Still, the question opens a tide of memories Amuro would rather leave behind, and his hand pauses. It is long enough that Conan homes in on it, but short enough for him to gain back his stride.

"Doesn't everyone have something they regret doing?"

"Maybe, to varying degrees. But that doesn't answer my question." Conan's cheek rests on his hand as he studies Amuro; Amuro, in turn, keeps his expression as serene as possible. "So, have you?"

"Have you, Conan-kun?"

There is a beat of silence. Then, "Yeah, I have." Amuro can tell Conan weighs the next words in his mouth before he comes to a decision. "My parents taught me nothing about comforting others. There was this girl who just lost her family. Have you heard about that Serial Arsonist Case that took place in 2001? She was one of the victims."

Amuro wrings the washcloths dry and gingerly rests them on the heater next to Conan's table. He files the information away in the back of his mind. "How unfortunate. I suppose you were the one to find the culprit?"

"Yeah, I did. I caught that guy right in the act. But by that time, her family was dead. And I was the only one around that she trusted, but I couldn't help her. I didn't have the right words to say, and my apathy made her really distressed. I heard she didn't last long after that."

"…I'm sure that even if you had comforted her that day, she would have eventually taken her life. She would have needed a consistent support to keep her going. If she has nothing to lose, she won't hesitate to take the last step. For those in despair, words are meaningless. It won't bring back what has been lost."

"No, words have power. They can revive a person just as easily as they can send a person to their death." Conan scrunches his nose, sighs, and tilts his head back until it hits the cushion. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore. Alright, I told you something. It's only fair if you share something too."

Amuro wants to ask, whoever says I play fair, but when he meets Conan's near-petulant look, he caves in with a laugh. Slipping off his apron, he gestures to his car parked upfront, and Conan snatches up his phone and darts outside. Amuro is not sure whether it's because Conan is trying his utmost not to look eager despite being so overwhelmingly interested or it's because he is still pleasantly surprised that Conan is willing to show a glimpse of his vulnerability, but Amuro finds himself endeared enough to capitulate.

After folding the warm washcloths into neat little triangles, turning off the remaining lights, and locking the front door, Amuro opens the door for Conan. Conan was in such a rush that he didn't grab the car keys from him, but Amuro had figured that it would be fine since it would take only five minutes at best. Now, seeing Conan's rosy cheeks and his frosty nose makes him slightly remorseful—although he is almost certain that was intentional on Conan's part—and when they climb in the car he turns the heat all the way up until the windows fog around them.

Their drive starts off relatively quiet. Amuro shifts through his regrets; Conan waits for him to gain the right words.

"Do you remember when we were playing that virtualized game? That one with that enthusiastic detective. If I recall correctly, his name was…Barawa-san?"

"Is that the same one where we met Djeeta and Lyria?"

"Yes, that one. There was a glitch in the game, but we had managed to solve it and free ourselves. We were fortunate the mystery wasn't too hard."

A light smirk twitches Conan's lip. "As if there's a mystery that can stop us." Slowly, the smirk dies the longer he considers Amuro's choice of words. "…the other one. Didn't it take a while for Professor Agasa to fix the glitch that time?"

"It had. I was impressed to hear how quickly you freed yourself."

"No, I just chose the path of justice. After Black Swan Bay, I got the distinct impression that the choices we made didn't really matter, but I couldn't let that guy die. He was a scumbag, but…" Conan glances at Amuro, but Amuro's eyes are on the road. He still manages to catch something on Amuro's face.

"You didn't save him."

"No, but that wasn't it." Amuro's fingers periodically drum on the steering wheel and abruptly stops. Conan watches them until they completely fall still. "I was approached by Ming-Lu. He offered to fulfil any wish I wanted under one caveat."

"The price of a fourth of your soul. I've seen that guy before. Did you do it?"

"I didn't. There wasn't a single desire I had inside of that game. He clearly knew that we weren't from that world; he offered to fulfil anything outside for the same price. Would you believe it if he told you he would raise that girl from the dead?"

"…no, I wouldn't. It's just a game."

"Exactly. You and I would rationalize that it was nothing more than a bug at most—perhaps telling vital signs that indicate our feelings and impulses. I know you aren't superstitious, and even though I would not be surprised if there were supernatural forces, neither am I."

Suddenly, the car slows, and Conan peers outside. After what feels like five minutes, they're already back in front of the Detective Agency.

"The choices we made didn't matter, but that child's suggestions made me second guess myself. He promised to grant the one wish I wanted for such a cheap price. If I had followed through with it, I might not be sitting here right now."

Amuro knows Conan hears the honesty in his answer when Conan tentatively asks, "What…what would you have asked him?"

Although Amuro is learning to trust Conan, and although Conan is trying to open up to Amuro, he knows there are certain things that are better left unsaid. He waits until Conan catches his eyes again, emphatically beams down at him, and then unlocks the side doors.

"Well. It doesn't matter anymore now, does it?"