Mission Five: An Unfamiliar Guest
At his sixteen years of life, Shinichi could hardly remember having to worry about his height.
Falling somewhere in the average range, maybe a bit on the short side for a male, he had never been particularly proud of it, but he had never felt bothered by it either. Mostly because he was still a teenager, which meant that there was still some room for improvement until he hit his twenties. And besides, even if he was to stay that tall for the rest of his life, Shinichi wouldn't have really minded at all ─ it was practical and surprisingly comfortable, so all in all, would have been fine with it.
But now…
"95 centimeters."
Wow, he didn't even reach the meter mark.
It was hard not to cringe at the thought, to grin like the adorable youngster he was supposed to be and thank the proprietress for her hard work. Although he did manage a small smile, Conan guessed it had not been as perfectly natural as he had intended it to be, because the woman pulled out a sympathetic one of her own, adding,
"That's pretty impressive, for a growing young boy."
Yeah, impressive for a growing young rat, maybe. Conan nodded vigorously and promptly moved aside so that she could take Anya's measurements.
Was I this much of a midget when I was six? Being honest, he couldn't even remember.
Though, then again, if he wracked his mind, he supposed he could recall one separate instance, far too trivial and uninteresting for his brain to hold on to so firmly. One where he had been so infinitely irritated at Ran for being taller than him, back in their earlier years ─ and therefore, he had been so proud of himself when he had finally hit a growth spurt that summer and reached the astounding height of one meter and one centimeter.
The years quickly passed by, and so did all of those concerns, allowing that bruised little ego of his to heal and forget. Yet, looking back, Conan figured he should have cherished those olden times while he still could.
I'm a first grader. Even if that had been the truth he had been living under for more than a few weeks already, it had yet to fail in making him cringe; it was so odd and ridiculous to even think that something like that would happen, let alone living through it in his own skin. Being shrunk would obviously affect his height, he knew that already ─ so why was he getting all that worked up for?
As a first grader, that's a perfectly normal stature. I suppose that means I'm not actually all that short-
"99.3 centimeters."
Conan froze. Bit by bit, his head craned towards the source of that voice until Anya's all too lively, cheery grin appeared in his field of vision. She was jumping in her spot out of pure excitement, stealing an amused giggle from the woman before her ─ and a guttural groan out of him, as well.
That's…. a new kind of low. No pun intended.
"Now we're finished here," the proprietress said with a gentle smile on her lips. "Shall we return you two with your dad?"
Please don't, he was tempted to say. "Yes~!"
"My, what an adorable young boy!"
He grinned, wide and bright. Kill me, please.
Again, perhaps he had not done a great job hiding it, because it was hard not to notice the weirded glance Anya sent towards him. Or perhaps, it was true that children were intuitive, thus she had been unsettled by the clear dissonance between his smile and inner feelings.
He definitely needed to work a lot harder.
Whatever had piqued her interest, it eventually faded to dull normalcy. She shrugged it off pretty quickly and hurried her way back to her father.
He watched her run around the place, giggling the entire way. Without realizing it, his lips had quirked upwards with an abrupt chuckle.
At this point, Conan had given up on figuring out where in that small body of hers ─ not small, he reminded himself. Otherwise, that would imply that he, too, was small, which he definitely wasn't ─ she was storing such impressively vast amounts of energy. Anya was Anya, and she certainly was capable of breaking the laws of physics. Moderately. Probably.
Of course, it came with a price. Initially, Conan had actually tried to make an estimate of how many hairs Loid might have lost ever since she was adopted. But he lost count somewhere down the line, and he wasn't as interested in starting up again. Granted, despite everything, if there was something he had learned from staying with the Forgers for so long was that you could not hate Anya, no matter how hard you tried to. But that didn't mean she wasn't a hell lot of work to deal with.
And of course, it pained to admit he wasn't any better. He might look six, or even younger, but his mind was over a decade older, so the disparity between his inner and outer age might put some people off. At times, he did come out as a pretty creepy child ─ or so he assumed. It was difficult to believe otherwise with all those odd glances and random bouts of flinching coming from Anya every time he tried to play the cute little kid.
Under those conditions, the boy doubted there would be a single soul in this country that was so selfless, loving enough to willingly appoint herself to the role of the mother. Conan couldn't decide whether that was a good or bad thing to him ─ probably the former, though.
"Papa! I now know how long I am!" Anya stopped suddenly, her head tilting slightly in her confusion. "Who's that?"
"Another customer," replied Loid.
A figure turned away rapidly, unwillingly catching Conan's eye. So, he hastened his pace to join his supposed sister in staring at the woman that stood in front of Loid, keeping her gaze as far away as possible from the man with her.
Could she be embarrassed about something? Maybe Loid, in his desperate search for a woman to marry, had tried to flirt with her. That would explain her reaction upon being so rudely interrupted by a certain pink-haired little girl, daughter of a man she likely believed to be single-
Wait a second.
His steps halted for a second before they began to move again. Carefully, he moved closer to that woman, his eyes round and big under thick glasses as stared up at her, feigning concern about another's well-being.
"Are you alright, miss?"
At his question, her gaze flickered towards him. "Oh…" She smiled, rather awkwardly. "Oh, no, I'm just…"
She finished her sentence with a nervous giggle, but he did not pursue the case any further ─ not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. Far too busy with the sight before him to even remember to breathe, Conan failed horribly to rely on any kind of response.
"Conan." Somewhere in the distance, Loid's voice barely made it through the rising haze within his mind. "It's improper to stare."
The woman turned to the man, waving her hand almost frantically. "No, don't worry about that…"
Only then, he noticed the strange itchy sensation in his eyes was an indicator of them going too dry to stay a second longer without blinking.
And so he did, and again for good measure.
Scarlet red eyes. Hair as dark as the night they met.
He… didn't expect to cross paths with her so soon. Scratch that, he didn't expect to meet with her at all. Like, here? At a random tailor shop in the middle of Berlint? Truly, he wasn't even sure it was a good thing, or the worst thing that could have ever happened to him. Besides the shrink, naturally. Nothing could beat that one.
Their conversation died down right after another few other words, however, bringing back the knowledge of the basics of how to breathe in Conan's mind. Looks like Loid-san is letting this one go, he thought, placing a hand over his chest as he exhaled deeply. That's… actually comforting.
I might be in a serious need of clues regarding this person, but having a possible murderer as a 'mother' is something I don't even wanna think about.
Looks like we're safe-
"Ah~! I'm oh-so-lonely because I do not have a mama~!"
For the second time today, blood froze solid in his veins.
Loid raised an eyebrow, and was just about to open his mouth when Conan rushed over with an expression that would be almost comical if it wasn't so mystifying.
"I long for a ma-!"
He was at her side in an instant to cover her mouth. "She clearly doesn't," he said, his body wracked by nervous chuckling.
Loid's eyebrow rose even higher.
His grip must have not been too firm, as she freed herself with a single shake of her head. She twirled about to face him, a strangely determined, if stubborn, expression etched in her face.
"Anya does!" she yelled at him.
Conan's face contorted in a scowl. "Anya-!"
"Anya wants a mama!"
"Hey, you two!" They both were broken out of the argument before it could even begin with Loid's stern scolding. In unison, they flinched, and turned their gaze over to where their father was slowly making his way to them. "What came over you?"
Anya's little fists rose somewhere in front of her chest, but otherwise failed to respond to it. Conan did not even try, turning his head firmly away, lips pressed tightly against each other.
"Are you…" the woman spoke from behind, shifting anxiously as she spoke, "… not with your wife?"
It took a second longer than necessary for Loid to nod. "I actually lost my wife two years ago, so I'm raising them on my own now."
Conan did his best to conceal a flinch, which he probably did not succeed, but at least he had tried. The effect of his words on the woman before her was visible enough, her red eyes widening, her face lit up at the implications of what he had just said.
His hand latched on the hem of Loid's shirt. "Say, say," he called, purposely high-pitched and childish. "Now that they took our measurements, can we go home already?"
But no matter how much he pulled, all he got was Loid to look down at him, confused. "We still aren't done here," he answered, much to Conan's dismay. "You'll have to be a bit patient-"
Yor's steps resounded from behind, shuffling closer.
"Excuse me…"
And then, Conan knew. He was doomed.
Well, technically he wasn't doomed, he found later on. But it was a process, and surely by the end of the week, he would be, even if it hadn't happened yet.
At least, Yor hadn't seemed to have fallen for Loid's charm and wanted to marry him on the spot because of a disturbing case of sudden infatuation, or obsession, with him. Far from that, she had actually wanted him to pretend to be her partner in some party her coworkers were throwing, so that could put her brother's mind at rest.
Conan wasn't about to wonder about her life choices, or how she had thought that some random stranger would agree to that ─ which Loid would, but just because she clearly had a bizarre amount of luck to ask a spy willing to form a fake family for the sake of his mission. Like, seriously. How crazy is that?
Loid had accepted in a heartbeat, but obviously, not for free. He didn't ask her to marry him, but to pretend to be his wife at the school interview. And through the use of such heart-moving acting skills worthy of a Macademy Award, he had convinced her that his late wife's last wish had been to send his children to a good school.
Moving as it was, Yor had agreed to play her part in return. He might not have gotten her to agree to an actual marriage, but that was surely a matter of time. Soon, Loid would convince her and she would finally become just another pawn in his game.
In only a few weeks, Yor would surely become a Forger on her own, and once then, their family would be finally complete.
Yeah. That wasn't happening.
Because hell could freeze over before Conan was letting her, someone who was likely to have blood on her hands, someone that might as well be a danger to his and everyone's lives, share a roof with him. Getting close to get clues was one thing. But this? It was practically asking for a bullet to the head.
I cannot let that happen, Conan came to the conclusion as he stood there, silently after closing the bathroom door behind him ─ actually, the conclusion had come long before the moment in fact, but whatever. I know the place where they agreed to meet, so maybe…
I might have a chance.
The babysitter that had been assigned to them both was… pretty normal, actually. She was nice, she found Anya's antics pretty amusing and his overly sweet demeanor quite adorable ─ which was weird, because she was most likely his age, but he had to let it pass with nothing more than an internal cringe.
But the thing was, she seemed to be rather inexperienced. The way she had fallen asleep on the couch right after they went to bed reassured Conan that she wasn't another of those friends of Loid's, and rather, was nothing but a civilian.
Thus, he was free to do whatever he wanted. And that was keeping a marriage from happening.
Plucking his head out from the bathroom window, he looked down to the street beneath, where the seemingly miniature cars passed through without ever noticing his gaze ─ he was a few floors off the ground, after all. Which wasn't ideal, but it was the best he could manage for the time being.
Later, he would think of a more efficient, less risky way out of the apartment. But now, he needed to get out.
Carefully, he climbed out of the window, landing softly onto a ledge on the walls ─ it could be worse, Conan supposed, even though there was clearly some room for improvement.
Besides, unlike the last time he used this way of escaping, he actually knew what he was doing. All he had to do was thread close to the wall for a little longer ─ the balcony from the apartment next door was just making it to his sight. From there, reaching the fire escape would be easy. All he had to do was to be quiet so not to spook his neighbors into calling the police, or worse, Loid, and he would be all set.
He's on a mission tonight. He wasn't sure what it consisted of, precisely, but he had snooped around him and his friend Franky to know that much. Twilight had been slightly concerned about the possibility of not making it to meet Yor, but he had been determined. And Conan really had no motives to believe otherwise ─ on the contrary. He was certain Loid would find a way to wrap up his mission and meet Yor in the accorded place, at the accorded time.
But for Conan, this might as well be the only chance he had.
Resolve burned from deep within himself, propelling his body forward, faster with the need to impede a tragedy from happening. However, his movements didn't grow any more precise, either.
So when he failed to land onto the balcony as gracefully as he had hoped to, Conan inwardly winced, all of his movements dying out abruptly. Still as a statue, the boy waited, attentive to any sound or movement that could indicate that he was in big trouble. When nothing of the sort occurred, his shoulders dropped and his breath left him in a quiet sigh.
The glass window slid open ─ so abruptly, so violently, that Conan worried it had shattered at the impact. In a way that was reminiscent of a cat, the boy jumped backwards, only to the bars of the veranda to dig against his shoulder blades.
Just as he was convincing his soul to hurry back to his body, a face peeked out from behind the curtains which, despite himself, he was capable of recognizing it as that of a little girl.
Her big blue eyes twinkled in what he could interpret as excitement ─ not fear, which was strange ─ until they seemed to take all of him. They dulled with disinterest, a dejected sigh escaping her, as if his mere existence disappointed him like none other.
For a moment, Conan wondered how he ought to feel about this.
"You're not Kaito KID," she mumbled, dropping her head.
He blinked. "Who?"
"The famous phantom thief, Kaito KID! Don't you know him?"
His mouth opened and closed soundlessly as the girl, clad in her pajamas in front of him ─ which couldn't be older than six, for the record ─ raised her eyebrow at him. She was giving him a weird kind of stare, intense beyond belief. Unconsciously, he found himself standing straighter.
"Y-Yes, I do," he lied between his teeth. "I'm a big fan, actually. I just misheard you."
It could have been better, he always did better than that, so there was no doubt she would call him out for it when she finished her scrutiny.
Despite what he had assumed, the girl brightened. "I see!" she exclaimed, strangely happy for someone who had just spotted a stranger on her balcony. "Well, I wasn't all that much of a fan before, but…" Her hands rose to her cheeks and giggled. "He landed on my balcony last night. He said he was resting his wings. Genta-kun and Mitsuhiko-kun didn't believe me, though."
So, this isn't the first time…? He kept his thoughts to himself, forcing a childish grin. "Really? I'm so jealous!" Even though he had no clue of what she was talking about.
She nodded, then glanced back at him. And stared, for a bit too long for Conan to be comfortable with. "If you're not Kaito KID…" she began. "Who are you?"
Conan flinched again. "I'm… uh…"
The girl tilted her head, blinking curiously at the boy before him.
"I-I'm… Bondman!" he finished, his lips twisting upward. He stood proud with his chin high ─ though he wanted nothing but to jump off the balcony and be swallowed into the shadows of the night. "Yeah, Bondman. I was summoned to-"
"Who's that?" she asked, cluelessly. Not that Conan could answer that, for sure. Eventually, her face lit up with realization. "Wait! I think I know who that is! He's from that special crossover episode with Kamen Yaiba!"
Kamen… what?
"I remember now! You must like that show a lot, right?"
Of course it didn't work ─ she was likely six, not three years old. As realization of the embarrassing scene he had just pulled out in front of a neighbor, his wish of decking himself against the balcony's veranda grew exponentially.
"I'm Ayumi Yoshida!" the girl chirped, mostly amused than anything else. "What's your name?"
"Conan Forger," he let out in a defeated whisper.
She seemed to ponder about it for a second. "Ah! You're one of the children that moved next door recently, aren't you?" As if things couldn't have gone worse, there was that. "Mom said he wanted to go over and say hello, but she was too busy and I think she forgot about it."
"Okay, cool. So…" Conan held out his hands, hoping that she did not realize the beads of cold sweat rolling down his temple. "Could you… not mention anything about… Um…"
"About you sneaking out of home?" she repeated innocently. Too innocently. "It's fine. I've, too, snuck out of home once! Or twice."
Conan just stood there.
"There's a fire escape over there." A little finger pointed at a specific place, but Conan's eyes remained stuck to her bright, childish smile. "I could try opening the front door, but I don't want to wake Mom and Dad up."
"It's okay. Thank you."
He decided not to question it. Any of it.
Once he was back on firm ground, he looked upwards and found Ayumi waving at him from the balcony, grinning from ear to ear. As he waved back with a muted smile, he realized that Anya might not have been such a strange kid as he had thought, after all.
As the time of Camilla's party drew nearer, Yor was starting to believe that, maybe, this wouldn't work out as well as she had hoped.
Not for the first time tonight, her eyes scanned her surroundings. They danced under the dim lights of the street, looking for a sign that things would go any differently. There was a young man with distinct dirty blonde colored hair, but the coloration wasn't quite the same after a second look. A girl with eyes strikingly blue as the sky on a sunny day, but they were rounder than she remembered. A businessman crossed the street quickly, but his suit wasn't the same exact shade of green.
Shivering against the chilly wind that had just picked up, Yor began to worry that this kind man who had lent her an ear had been in a terrible accident. For all she knew, he could be somewhere out there battling for his life while she was still there, awaiting someone who might never come.
And also, there was the possibility that he had just stood her up, but Yor preferred not to think about it. The realization that nobody would come did not settle well with her.
Yor heard the steps first, serving as the sole warning that she apparently had company. It was just below her line of sight, so she actually had to lower her chin to see the tiny figure that currently stood in front of her, blinking large blue eyes behind a set of oversized glasses.
It took a moment for her to realize that she did know the child. "Conan-san?" she asked, unsure.
"Dad asked me to come and tell you," he said, tilting his head ever so minutely. "He's sorry, but something came up and he won't be able to make it."
Yor's expression barely even changed. "I see." It was almost as she had been expecting it, but the way her hold on the gift bag tightened led him to believe that, maybe, there was a part of her that had thought otherwise.
A second later, however, the boy had not moved an inch. He kept on looking at her with wide eyes, giving no sign of leaving. And Yor herself hadn't even tried, unable to piece together what should her next step be, with him right there.
"Say…" he began, she listened. "Could I please go to the party with you?"
That… Yor was surprised to hear it.
And it must have shown, because the child frowned, sending a glance at his surroundings. "I-It's scary," he admitted, his voice wavering a little even though he was clearly trying to hide it. "Being alone here. It's dark."
Which, to Yor, actually made sense now that she thought about it. Late as it was, there was only so little light to see her surroundings better ─ who knew how many dangers could be out there, lurking in the shadows? And at that young age, it fell on Yor how vulnerable this boy would be were she to leave him to roam alone.
Out of everyone, Yor knew best of how cruel could humans turn out to be. If she let him walk back home on his own, Yor realized, there was a big possibility that this child could never get back home.
She forced a smile. The boy lit up when she nodded.
And Yor had to admit, she was surprised. After watching him talk so fondly about his late wife and the children she left behind, Yor wouldn't have painted Loid as that much of an irresponsible parent as to leave this child to wander alone in the dark just to deliver a message. Then again, she knew appearances could be deceiving ─ that was how she had survived for so long.
"Oh, Camilla. That bag you're using…"
"Where did you get it? It's so pretty~!"
A smile lit up Camilla's face. "I know, right?" she said in between giggles, pressing her beloved gingko-patterned handbag closer to her chest. "It was a pain to get this one."
There was a chuckle, and instantly, a frown had taken over the woman's features. Her glare was hardly effective, but at least it got the man to try to muffle the sound with his hand, waving off with the other.
"Sorry, sorry," he said, leaning further into the couch he had been occupying. "I was thinking of a good joke, don't mind me."
She shot him a look, unconvinced.
"Could I get another look at it?" he asked.
"Eh? Why?"
"Just because."
Camilla hesitated, turning away and clutching her bag almost protectively. Eventually, with a huff, she gave in and passed the item. He, in turn, let his eyes narrow, as if taking into every inch and corner of the bag ─ for some reason, Camilla felt herself holding in her breath.
Finally, he let out a sudden bark of laughter, and she bristled.
"Don't be mean, Noah." Dominic walked over, plucking the bag from the man's grip, only to set it back on the empty spot beside him. "You know Camilla loves these things."
Noah rolled his eyes. "Like I couldn't tell," he mumbled. "It isn't like she carries designer bags wherever she goes. Even at home."
The blonde was just a minute away from shooting something back at him, when suddenly, the bell rang. Turning towards the door, she stilled, then allowed a smirk to creep up her face.
"I thought she wasn't going to show up," commented Millie from behind her, snickering.
Fair enough, Camilla had believed the same thing, especially as the night wore out without a single sign of a certain ivory-haired young woman. It took some guts, she would give her that, to actually come here alone after claiming to have a partner ─ because it was obvious she had not gotten anyone to come with her, she would blindly bet on that.
Thus, she opened the door.
Camilla's smile froze on her face, her eyebrows raising as she spotted a tiny child, blinking innocently up at her behind thick lenses.
"Hi!" he chirped, cheerfully waving back at her.
Who didn't even return the gesture, simply stared for another beat before she allowed her gaze to rise upwards to meet Yor's blank, unsettlingly calm expression.
"I thought you were… coming with your boyfriend."
She couldn't even bring herself to laugh about it, and she was sure Sharon and Millie were finding her reaction to be unusually weird. From over her shoulders, she felt those two peeking outside to see by themselves what had shocked her so badly ─ and by the silence that ensued, Camilla could tell their reactions had been extremely similar to hers.
"I'm her friend!" The boy clasped his hands behind his back and beamed. "And I'm a boy, so it counts, right?"
Most certainly not, but nobody told him otherwise.
Sharon was the first to send Yor a pointed look. "Who is this child?"
Yor blinked. "A friend," she repeated, her tone surprised. She had just heard the boy himself saying, so why was she asking? "Unfortunately, something came up and my boyfriend couldn't make it."
"So… you brought a child?"
Rather than answering, Yor passed Camilla the gift bag she had been carrying for a while. "I apologize for my lateness," she told her. "Here's a gift."
Neglecting to offer any further explanation, Yor calmly stepped inside while, on the contrary, the child skipped ahead with an excited squeal. Camilla, despite herself, found herself rooted to her spot, confusion dancing in her gaze as she watched the unfamiliar boy stop beside a random kid his age he found, grinning widely as he started on a conversation.
Sharon sighed and made her way over ─ it was then that it fell on Camilla that it was Sharon's kid. She wasn't even sure what to make out of that situation.
Contrary to what people might come to believe, the child he had set his sights on had not been chosen at random. Unbeknownst to everyone else, he was well aware of who he was dealing with.
Well, sort of.
Black hair, glasses and an overall neat appearance ─ even a bowtie, like the one Conan himself was using; he was the splitting image of the woman over there. Judging on how quickly she had left her family to make her way over to the door, Conan could tell she was in a close relationship with the blonde woman who had thrown the birthday party. Possibly a coworker of hers, and therefore, Yor Briar's coworker, as well.
He wasn't certain, but it was all he had. Better give it a shot.
Cheekily, Conan plopped down next to the child. "Hi!" He grinned as widely and brightly as possible. "My name is Conan! What's yours?"
The child recoiled, deciding against engaging in a conversation with him. Conan sat still, desperately keeping his smile from crashing down with pure determination.
Okay, maybe that wasn't the approach he should have taken. To his defense, all the experience he had with children was Anya ─ and the three-minute interaction with that other girl named Ayumi. None of them were the best examples of six-year-olds, he supposed.
He better keep that in mind. I'm starting grade school in a few weeks, after all. The thought did not fail to steal a shiver out of him.
As per predicted, the mother ─ Sharon? He wasn't sure he had gotten it right ─ came over to check on his son, and the weird kid whose existence they didn't know until five minutes ago and stumbled into their lives uninvited. To be fair, he was pretty sure nobody knew of his existence either until maybe a month back, if he was optimistic ─ and if they did, well, it would be a new kind of creepy. That woman named Fumiyo Edogawa certainly claimed to have done so, and she definitely was no exception to that rule.
With Sharon came the other two women. Camilla, the host of this party, and another one ─ whoever that was. He hopped off his seat and rushed over, and predictably, he was met with a collective flinch from all three.
"Camilla-san! Camilla-san!" She cringed at the notion of being addressed, and truthfully, Conan did not feel in himself to judge her so harshly. "Where is she?"
She blinked slowly. "Where is who?"
"The pretty lady!" Camilla only stared harder, so Conan puffed out his cheeks ─ doing his best impression of an impatient child dealing with an adult who could not understand something he thought was obvious. "The pretty lady with the kind smile. Yor-san showed me a photo once, you know."
And then, there was understanding ─ a kind of understanding Conan was not too hopeful of seeing in that woman's face. Obviously enough, such a photograph did not exist beyond the story the boy had fabricated on the spot, and even if it did, Conan had not really interacted with the woman long enough for his story to gain some credibility.
Not that Camilla was aware of any of it.
"I can't see her anywhere!" Conan pressed on, seemingly oblivious, his head whipping from side to side as he pretended to search for her. "Did you perhaps forget to invite her, Camilla-san?"
Shinichi might have never seen those people in his life, but in the subsequent days of Masami Hirota's passing, he had tried to look into it. The robbery case, in which she had been implicated beyond a doubt, had been a good place to start, and hopefully, a step closer to uncovering the identity of her murderer. Or so he had believed.
He remembered having read files. Masami had never been out of suspicion for her crime, so an interview at the place where she had worked had been a must for the investigation. The City Hall. That had been the place she had chosen to be, surprisingly ─ or unsurprisingly, for a criminal like she turned out to be ─ enough.
Her coworkers had been of little help, actually, as practically nobody had claimed to know much about her. But there had been remarks, though, about something unnatural behind her smile, about her being nice to be around, but oddly closed off to herself.
Yor-san, Camilla-san, most of the people here… That must have been the impression Masami-san made on these people.
Regardless of that, it was easy to see the moment where it dawned on her. Her eyes widened slightly and shifted her weight on her other feet. "I… didn't invite her," she managed.
Conan blinked up innocently at her. "Why?"
Her friend stepped up, pushing her glasses closer to her face. "Because she isn't around anymore," she said on Camilla's behalf.
"Did she quit?"
She shook her head, leveling with a look that Conan did not bat an eye at. But he did open his mouth slightly, nodding rapidly in fake understanding. "Do you…" he began, sort of hesitantly. "Do you… miss her?"
Camilla considered the question. "I wouldn't say I miss her, but…"
She looked over at her bespectacled friend, seeking support. "She was surprisingly closed off," was all the help she got.
"That's why there were so many guys after her," commented the third girl, shrugging. "Because of that aura of mystery and everything."
"You sound jealous, Millie."
So far, it checked out with what he knew so far ─ good. Eyes wide and innocent, he opened his mouth, hoping that he would get something more out of this group.
"Hey, Camilla!"
It was hard to keep himself from clicking his tongue out of pure annoyance when a gruffer voice beat him to it. Schooling his expression back to something between neutral and slight curiosity, he, just like the other three women, turned about to see a man. One with a lazy smile hung on his lips, sitting on the couch a few feet away from them with no other company besides a discarded and expensive-looking handbag.
Camilla immediately approached, hastily taking the item away from the man ─ proving that it had been hers all along. Not that Conan tried to comprehend why she would take a bag with her when she was at her own home, because there was probably no reason at all but a desire to show off with her friends. From what little she knew of her, by his own observations alone, Conan felt pretty confident in his guess.
"Don't be like that," the guy said, snickering. "Now, do me a favor and bring me some wine."
Another man raised his eyebrow ─ Dominic, Conan thought was his name. He was Camilla's husband, or boyfriend, he couldn't be bothered to remember.
"What's this about, Noah?" Dominic interjected. "I'm pretty sure I just passed you a glass minutes ago."
"Yeah, you sure did!" Noah laughed, raising his own glass over his head ─ filled alright, to its maximum capacity ─ why would he want another when he had barely taken a sip of the one he already had was beyond Conan's comprehension. "But can't I just have another? It's not for me, actually."
The blonde woman squinted his eyes at him, and he winked back in response. Though rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Camilla eventually complied, stomping into the kitchen in hopes of, no doubt, getting him to stop being such a nuisance.
Conan wondered who that man was talking around. And it must have shown in his face, because Noah glanced over at him, smiled lightly before motioning with his head to the seat closest to the entrance, and therefore, the furthest from where they all currently gathered at.
Yor had been sitting there ever since she had gotten there. Back straight, posture rigid and a blank, sort of empty look in her scarlet eyes ─ standing out despite her very obvious intent of blending in with the crowd. And even though Conan still hardly trusted the woman, he couldn't help but feel sort of bad about it ─ he had, after all, been the one who had caused her to be stood up, and mostly forced her to endure it and go to the party alone either way.
Well, he had been her company, actually. But he was hardly any company at all.
Can't be helped, he thought. I'm not taking any chances in getting that close to a murderer.
Shinichi did have a soundly working survival instinct, even if Ran would strongly disagree.
Camilla walked out of the kitchen with a filled glass and a scowl on her face, all but shoving the glass to Noah, which he accepted gracefully regardless. With one cup in each hand, he approached the lone woman sitting in the furthest corner of the room. In the distance, Yor lifted her head, and momentarily, an emotion danced in her gaze ─ bewilderment, Conan was sure of it. She shook her head rapidly, rather embarrassed for some reason, but Noah hardly seemed the one to give up. He promptly sat beside her, nudging a glass at her with a grin on his lips.
Meanwhile, that certain group of three had shuffled together. Muffled whispering reached Conan's ears, a bit of giggle making it out from their circle as they threw obvious glances to their raven-haired coworker.
"I wonder if her 'boyfriend' will be jealous if he saw this."
"Like that person exists, anyway."
Conan had to admit, he was surprised ─ they weren't even trying to be discreet about it. So nasty, he thought. They seem like the kind of people that are a pain to deal with.
"She said he 'didn't make it'. What a lame excuse."
"How pathetic."
"I knew she was lying about having a guy."
"Should we report the liar?"
"Eh~? You're supposed to report liars?"
Three pairs of equally shocked glances fell upon him. He received all of them with a tilted head and bright, big eyes filled with fake confusion. "I didn't know that…" he murmured, then stopped as if considering something. "Wait, wait, am I supposed to report you, Camilla-san?"
She blinked owlishly. "Eh?"
But Conan hardly heard at all, and instead, crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to ponder about it. "What to do?" he murmured. "I'm not even sure how you're supposed to report someone."
"Really?" A light smirk crossed her lips, and soon, her other two friends giggled at the scene. "What are you going to report me for?"
Conan blinked. "For lying?" he stated, as if it was obvious enough. They all exchanged glances, so he elaborated, "Like, you threw this big party and invited everyone as if to show off your wealth… But you couldn't even afford glasses!"
Suddenly, the smiles were erased from each of their faces, allowing a bewildered silence to settle in. A single, tiny little finger lifted, pointing at the blonde woman in question ─ or rather, as they later figured out, the gingko patterned handbag she had been carrying for a few hours now.
"It's labeled 'Fuzae'," he explained, his tone high-pitched, but even through it all. "Shouldn't it be 'Fusae', with an 's'?"
Sharon was the first one to reach, plucking the item from the slackened grip from her friend to take a better look at it. "He's right," he mumbled, as if surprised by her own discovery.
"No way!" exclaimed Millie, unwillingly causing Camilla to flinch, and reached for the bag. "Let me see! It can't-"
She all but tore the bag from her friend's hands, stealing a startled gasp out of her. The abrupt, unexpected force of the motion caused the clip to click open, and the few contents of the inside to slip and fall out, to Camilla's utter dismay.
A muted, almost inaudible cling drew Conan's attention to the floor, to find a miniature flask rolling about ─ in one piece, actually, having miraculously survived the fall in some amazing turn of events. It was empty, the boy could not help but notice ─ which was, to say the least, weird. What reason would there be for someone to keep a container inside a bag if there was nothing to keep in it?
Having lost the remains of the initial force it had been subjected to, it slowed down until it eventually stopped right in front of his feet, and really, Conan wouldn't have bothered to pick it up hadn't it been for his eyes. They caught a label attached to it, and since the boy was too nosy to help himself, he actually crouched over and picked it up for closer examination.
His breath caught in his throat, his eyes snapping open at the words he certainly had not expected to read today:
"Potassium cyanide"
"Uh, kid? What's that thing you-?"
"Cyanide," he murmured.
"Sorry, what."
Conan barely paid any attention to it. In a single movement, he had pulled the container open and held it under his nose, his eyes slipping close for a split second, deeply in thought. Whatever that was, something must have clicked because, at the next one, his head had raised sharply, his gaze darting from place to place in a desperate search ─ for what, though? Neither Camilla nor her friends had a single clue.
His gaze found Yor's polite smile, her hesitant hands cradling the glass she had been offered. As if in slow motion, he saw her lifting it to her lips, tilting until the wine was mere inches from touching skin.
A reverberating crash plunged the entire room into a deafening silence.
Surprised, Yor's gaze shifted from her own empty hand to the ground; and gazed, for a moment longer than strictly necessary, at crystal shards that scattered all over her sight. Beneath an expanding pool of deep ruby, she visualized a pair of small, vividly red sneakers.
Heavy breathing dragged her attention to the child that had suddenly manifested by her side, from all the way to the other corner of the room, if only to swat the wine glass away from her grip. It took him a second to recover, but then he lifted his head to meet her eyes.
Instead of explaining, he silently passed her something he had been apparently carrying all this time. She eyed the container, gently turning it over until she could read the label attached to it.
Her gaze darkened with realization. I knew it, she thought, but did not say. That certain bitter aftertaste, reminiscent of almonds, she had grown used to… She hadn't imagined it, after all.
From somewhere in the background, there was a gasp of realization. "Camilla… You didn't…"
Camilla naturally went pale at the accusation thrown at her and started stuttering incoherently in a vain attempt to explain herself. But, curiously enough, the little boy did not even glance over in her direction. Instead, he settled Noah with one of his own, sharpening at contact ─ who, in turn, felt his muscles stiffen up despite himself.
With a heavy sigh, pierced blue dulled with boredom.
"Okay. Were you even trying?"
Noah blinked. "Huh?" he uttered, intelligently.
"To get away with murder, I mean. Of course you tried to kill her, that's pretty obvious."
There was no reply from Noah, none besides an incomprehensible ramble born of an incapacity to truly grasp the situation he was in.
But the boy seemed to grow more irritated, if possible. He tucked his hands inside his pockets and leveled with a look that made him flinch ─ not unlike that of a mother, secretly disappointed at her amazingly unintelligent offspring.
"Me?! Kill Yor-san?!" he eventually managed, but Conan would hardly call it an accomplishment. "Why would I even do something like that?"
"I don't know. You're supposed to tell me."
"I was the one who gave her the glass. Would a killer put himself on the spot like that?"
"You would." Conan did not blink. "Because you're an idiot."
And here he had thought himself to be so smart, when really, he was so far from it that it physically hurt his young detective soul. He would have explained that there was not a single logical reason for Camilla to have hidden the container inside her handbag while she was at her own home, and that she could have literally hid it anywhere else ─ but he deemed it too much effort to do so.
"Look, boy," Noah began, an awkward smile etched on his tense features. "If you want to accuse me, you'd need some proof first-"
A guttural groan interrupted him.
"Fingerprints," Conan said. "You do know the police actually check those, right?"
"Yeah, but…"
Confused, Noah blinked owlishly when the boy lifted his finger and pointed at something; the wine glass he was still holding onto, he realized an embarrassingly lengthy amount of time later.
"Camilla-san's," was all the kid told him. He redirected him to the shards scattered all over and added, "Not Camilla-san's."
When silence met his statement, Conan could not help but roll his eyes. "She came back from the kitchen holding the glass with her bare hands, remember?" he explained, his tone even, uninterested. "The one she poisoned, according to you."
There were some larger fragments in the mess he had inadvertently made earlier, which used to belong to the glass that had been filled with wine and poison. They were big enough to look for Camilla's fingerprints if the police wanted, but it was clear that they would find none. The results would be different if they repeated the process at the glass Noah was holding right now ─ proving that was the one Camilla got from the kitchen, and not the other one.
As Noah's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, reminiscent of a fish out of water, Conan turned over to Yor, who was still all too much interested in the container in her hands.
"Yor-san. Mind telling us what that smells like?"
Without even pausing to consider the request, she gave it a careful sniffle and sat back, her eyes a sliver wider with shock. "It smells… like nothing."
"Exactly. Nothing." A cocky smirk crawled up Conan's face, which widened at the sight of the horror that crossed his prime suspect's face. "There are no traces of poison in it. Can't say the same from the one you're hiding in your pocket, though."
Staggering backwards, Noah slid his hands inside his pants pocket ─ no doubt, clinging onto that one piece of evidence he had failed to get rid of. Now, with so many people staring, a way out did not seem likely.
"You brought an extra, empty container to the party, and placed it inside Camilla-san's bag when you had the chance." Conan did not allow him a respite, shooting the rest of the deduction back at him with no kind of warning. "Next, you got a drink from Dominic-san. You laced it with cyanide when nobody was paying attention and then asked Camilla-san for another glass before approaching Yor-san. You didn't offer the wine glass Camilla-san gave you, but the one you poisoned earlier."
The shaking that had been wracking Noah's body subsided, his head hung down in defeat. With a groan, he finally pulled what he had been hiding out of his hiding spot inside his pockets, for him to contemplate with a resigned smile on his lips.
On the palm of his land, laid another tiny flask, unlabeled.
"Hadn't we found the empty container, you'd have probably managed to kill Yor-san. But I doubt you'd have gotten away with it," Conan conceded with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. "You're clearly not criminal material, Noah-san. So, why did you do it?"
A frown carved itself into Noah's features. Fingers curling around the container, he closed his eyes and turned his face away.
"I did it… because I loved her!"
With that declaration, the man collapsed ─ sunk into his knees in a blink of an eye, shoulders trembling with sobs that wracked his entire body. Too shocked to do anything, the rest of the guests stared at him, still unable to process what their own two eyes had perceived.
Dominic was the brave one, crouching next to the man to place a hand over his shoulder. "With 'her'…" he murmured. "Do you mean…?"
"Yes, her!" he screamed in his face. "Masami Hirota-san! I've been in love with her for as long as I can remember!"
Even Conan felt his breath hitch at the revelation. For all he tagged along in order to gather some information on the woman in question, he could never have foreseen that her name would pop up in a random murder confession. He had not expected to find someone who had fallen for her so hard as to let hatred cloud his mind, to filter through his eyes as he turned to glance over to Camilla and her group.
"I've been watching over her, you know! I know how despicable you have been to her. Smiling at her, even though you talk trash on her back… Even though you made sure to make her life a living hell, in every other way possible…"
Next, his glare went to Yor. But even though the contempt had barely been dispelled, and rather, strengthened over time, she stood firm, immutable.
"You abandoned her. When she needed you the most… When everyone thought the worst of her, you should have stuck for her. You were her best friend, weren't you?! You… should have believed in her!"
Yor did not answer. Her expression did not shift.
But Noah broke down, forehead lowering until it hit the floor, dampened by the wine that had been spilled. "If it hadn't been for you… for all of you… Maybe she wouldn't have taken her own life." His breath hitched, his voice trembled. "Maybe, if it wasn't for you all, Masami-san would still be here… You all killed her."
His words hung in the air, echoed in the silence that nobody seemed to want to break. Eventually, a random guest came over from the back and helped him back onto his feet. They took him away from everyone's scrutiny, somewhere further inside the apartment, away from prying eyes.
Somewhere to wait patiently for the police to come and fetch him.
Slowly, Conan's gaze wandered over to Yor, and realized she had barely moved at all, her expressions rigid as always. There was something, however, in the way her lips pressed against each other, or a tinge of something Conan could not interpret in her gaze, that hadn't been there before.
Yor Briar was a puzzle on her own, Conan decided.
Whatever that had been, it was chased away when surprise took over. And not without good reason, because the door had been slammed open, drawing the attention to their odd, newest guest.
"I'm terribly sorry for arriving late. I'm Yor's husband, Loid Forger."
Conan felt the blood drain from his face. Though swaying in his spot, blood dripping from his forehead from whatever God's forsaken reason, he was him. Him ─ Loid freaking Forger, the last person whose face he wanted to see ─ in a place like this, at an hour he, Conan, was not supposed to be wandering about.
Even though, Conan was certain, Yor had never outright told him the location of the party… But of course Twilight would know either way ─ of course. What was I even thinking?
"Um… Mr. Forger, was it? You're bleeding…"
Lips clicking shut, Conan threaded backwards. Carefully… Slowly…
"Oh, pardon me. One of my patients had a violent episode. It happens all the time to a psychiatrist."
It wasn't until he was halfway through his disappearance mission that it fell on Conan that he was trapped with Loid literally standing by the front door. But then again, he guessed it really didn't matter ─ as long as he could escape Loid's notice, he would eventually figure an alternative way out.
He just couldn't have Loid figuring out he was perfectly capable of sneaking out at night if he put his mind on it, no. It would make things infinitely more complicated for him and his investigations in the long run.
"You're joking, right? You're married, Yor?"
The kitchen, he realized, hope seizing his chest. It was just a few steps away, so he could hide there for a while ─ at least, until Loid and Yor left. Then, he would be free to step out and leave through the front door. Then he could sneak back into his bedroom and pretend this had never happened.
Renewed with determination, he lowered to his knees in an attempt to make himself the least noticeable as humanly possible.
Good. He could do this.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Just a little longer… Just…
Loid laughed at Yor's clear hesitance.
"It's embarrassing to say so, but it's my second marriage and I already have two children, so it may have been hard to bring up."
Camilla blinked, vastly more clueless than she had been in the entire night ─ which was saying a lot, actually.
"Children…?" came out in a feeble whisper. "Do you mean…?"
The room shifted at the revelation, and in perfect synchrony, the crowd parted to look somewhere on the far back of the room. His polite smile, once so perfectly anchored to his features, faded at the sight of a tiny form crouched on the floor. That blue blazer and those red shoes, combined with the exceptionally stubborn cowlick at the back, made it impossible for him to look away.
Not even risking a single glance at where he was, the figure continued to crawl away ─ too focused on seeing his objective through to sense the sudden scrutiny he was subjected to.
"Conan?"
He winced, and gradually, began to turn his head until blue peeked from those ridiculously large frames of his. They grew like a deer caught in headlights, and his movements were cut short ─ as if he could somehow blend with the background if he stayed quiet enough.
Loid blinked once, then twice, before a stern glare took hold.
Conan could only laugh nervously, perfectly aware of what was coming for him.
A.N:
jirokishisuzuki: Thank you! And I wonder about that, actually... ;)