Conan: I'm really not the mastermind behind the scenes

Morofushi Kagemitsu's face immediately darkened.

His aura also became terrifying.

As a former member of the organization and as an active-duty police officer, he couldn't possibly be a truly good-tempered person. Even if he had a gentle side, it would be reserved for trusted friends or innocent citizens who needed comforting, not for those who deliberately offended him.

Aoyagi Akimitsu seemed oblivious to his attitude.

The FBI agent, still smiling, asked again in detail, seemingly unconcerned and without any hesitation:
"Being murdered by the victim's relatives as a former murderer is a completely different concept from being murdered by criminals as a police officer—will you police report this truthfully?"

Aoyagi Akimitsu asked softly, and Morofushi Kagemitsu could even detect a hint of curiosity in his tone.

Rather than being angry, Morobuchi Kagemitsu was more confused.

The FBI agent in front of you is from one of the largest intelligence agencies in the United States, and currently has a diplomatic status. Doesn't he know that directly asking another country's intelligence personnel such questions is extremely offensive?
He doesn't seem like the kind of brainless, incompetent teammate you see in American blockbusters, used to highlight the protagonist's calm and rationality.

If it were Furuya Rei, he might have already turned hostile by now, but this is Morofushi Kagemitsu, and he is facing someone who once saved him.

So he suppressed his dissatisfaction and said tactfully, "Mr. Aoyagi, this is our internal matter and has nothing to do with you. I hope you will not interfere."

Aoyagi Ayaka stared at Morofushi Kagemitsu.

"This doesn't count as interference... well, if I had to describe it, it would be more like a reminder?"

He met those blue eyes and said softly, "Lies can indeed maintain stability for a while, but sometimes they can also lead to greater turmoil and tragedy."

Zhu Fujingguang was slightly taken aback.

He looked at Aoyagi Akimitsu and suddenly recalled the memories that flashed through his mind when he was in the Hell Exhibition Hall, about the past of the person in front of him that Furuya Rei had told him three years ago.

Because the FBI refused to disclose who the officials who hired Pramiere were, one of the victims' family members went to extremes, hijacking a hospital in an attempt to force the FBI to reveal information, leading to the deaths of many innocent patients in that man-made disaster...

Is this what Aoyagi Akimitsu is worried about?
Morofushi Kagemitsu remained silent, but Aoyagi Akimitsu, who was standing in front of him, shifted his gaze away from him first and turned back to the corridor.

"Sorry, I was abrupt."

Aoyagi Akimitsu's tone brightened again, and he even smiled at him:

"Please accompany me to continue shopping."

……

Around 7 p.m., Morobushi Kagemitsu finally returned home.

In the evening, he accompanied Aoyagi Akimitsu to all the exhibition halls and showed him all the artworks. If he hadn't firmly refused at the end, Aoyagi Akimitsu would have even planned to take him to the mall for dinner.

However, the scheduled psychological check-up was too late, so I'll have to find another time to go.

The wind and rain had stopped, the night sky was clear, and the starlight set off the lonely crescent moon in the center.

Morofushi Kagemitsu walked into the living room. Instead of opening the windows for ventilation, he drew the curtains tightly, then took off his suit jacket, put the art museum brochure on the coffee table, and sat on the sofa.

He let out a long, somewhat weary sigh.

Then he heard his phone ring.

"..."

Morofushi Kagemitsu sighed silently to himself, but quickly took out his phone. Seeing the caller ID showed Kazami Yuya, Zero's direct subordinate and a colleague he knew well, he answered immediately:

"Hey?"

A flurry of activity erupted on the ground. Morofushi Kagemitsu heard the sound of a folder hitting the ground. He waited patiently for a few seconds before hearing someone on the other end say, "Mr. Morofushi, are you home yet?"

"Just arrived," Morofushi Kagemitsu replied patiently. "Did Ze... Furuya send you to call?"

"Yes."

With the noise from across the street gone, Kazami Yuu may have entered a quiet, empty room.

"Mr. Furuya is in a meeting that will take a long time to finish, so he asked me to call you and explain the general situation first."

"The Shibuya bombs have all been defused, and there were no casualties. The injured in the shooting were all foreigners, but they left quickly. We haven't been able to find them; their identities are suspicious, and we are still investigating."

After listening quietly, Morofushi Kagemitsu asked, "Has Pramia been captured?"

"No, Officer Matsuda, who came to Shibuya to help defuse the bomb, found her body in the alley."

Kazami Yuya paused, feeling that there were some things he could tell the other person: "Mr. Furuya said that she had joined the organization, and the bomb on the streets of Shibuya today was actually planted by her and the organization, but it was not the organization that killed her."

Morofushi Kagemitsu considered his childhood friend's reasoning: "Was her death unusual?"

"She...was essentially tortured to death, with hundreds of stab wounds on her body from various different knives."

When Kazami Yuya revealed the cause of death, Morofushi Kagemitsu, who was sitting on the sofa, frowned instantly and then turned to look at the bookshelf in the living room.

There are many mystery novels in it, all of which he bought three years ago.

At that time, he noticed that Anisette liked detective novels, especially Agatha Christie's works and social realism detective stories. So, in order to have more to talk about with her, he bought all of these books and quickly read through them. He still remembers the plots to this day.

“Murder on the Orient Express,” Morifushi Kagemitsu said in a low voice. “There was probably more than one murderer who killed her.”

Kazami Yuya, who was on the other side, was stunned for a moment.

“That’s what Mr. Furuya said,” he said. “He believes it was done by the ‘Nadunichtokitti,’ who have an extreme hatred for Pramia. Inspector Matsuda even saw their leader at the scene of the body, but lost track of him.”

“Others tried to track them down, but they cleaned up the mess very well. Mr. Furuya suspects that someone, some professionals, is secretly helping them. Their recent operations have all been in Tokyo, so the case has been handed over to the Metropolitan Police Department’s Public Security Bureau,” Yuya Kazami added.

"Are you at the Metropolitan Police Department now?" Morofushi Kagemitsu asked.

“Yes.” Kazami Yuya responded, “Because today’s nationwide live broadcast had such a negative impact, the case has been transferred to the National Police Agency. I’m here to collect the documents.”

This time, Morofushi Kagemitsu did not answer.

Kazami Yu could sense that the other man was in a bad mood. The Metropolitan Police Department Public Security, who had been taking on cases from the First Investigative Division for years, was suddenly having his case taken away by the National Police Agency Public Security, which was a higher-level unit. His feelings must be complicated. He didn't care and continued to explain: "However, given that Officer Eto used to be with the Metropolitan Police Department, both sides are willing to share information. The autopsy results are now in. In addition to the typical drowning characteristics, the coroner also found a special mark on his hand."

"What mark?"

Zhu Fujingguang gripped his phone tightly.

"The two numbers '4-6' with a scratch in between are probably a code left by Officer Eto with his fingernail when he saw the criminal."

Kazami Yuya's voice was serious: "Mr. Morofushi, have you heard Inspector Eto mention these two numbers before?"

Morofushi Kagemitsu pondered: "No, based on the information I have, his birthday, his family's birthdays or death anniversaries, his commonly used passwords... none of them have anything to do with these two numbers."

In Japanese, the number 4 sounds similar to "death," which is considered unlucky; while 6 represents "smooth sailing," it can also symbolize "imperfection" and "evil" in Western culture. Eto Daizo rarely used these two numbers in his daily life.

Upon hearing the other party bring up the case, Morofushi Kagemitsu couldn't help but ask, "How is Kadoya? What did he say?"

Actually, he wanted to directly remind the other side to strengthen their protection, so that the boy wouldn't be silenced like Teraoka and Kotomine did three years ago.

“He didn’t say anything. He had a seizure and had just been transferred to the hospital half an hour ago.”

After Kazami Yuya finished speaking, worried that the other party might misunderstand, he quickly added, "I really didn't do anything to him. Ishigami-senpai almost attacked him, but he was stopped—Kadoya himself really has a severe mental disorder."

"Diagnosed seven years ago?"

"No, it was diagnosed three years ago, when I was fourteen years old, in the hospital... The diagnosis seven years ago was forged by Administrator Eto at the hospital's behest."

Kazami Yuya's voice was dry: "Because his uncle had an accident, no one paid his hospital bills anymore, so he was discharged from the hospital half a year ago."

Zhu Fu Jingguang was silent.

“Supervisor Eto has been suspended,” said Yuya Kazami. “The National Police Agency will investigate whether he has committed any other acts of favoritism or abuse of power in recent years.”

“…I understand.” Morofushi Kagemitsu said slowly. “Another manager said I’m not in good condition and asked me to have a psychological evaluation before returning to work. Is there anything else on your end?”

Kazami Yuya realized the other person wanted to hang up, so he quickly finished explaining the rest of the conversation:
"Officer Matsuda met other people in Shibuya today, and Mr. Furuya will call you personally later to explain—there's one more thing, about the painting."

"After dealing with the bomb, I visited Mr. Oki, the art dealer who had just been released from prison, as part of the original plan. He said that after he went to prison, his son sold all the paintings to the Suzuki Foundation."

"They recently held an art exhibition in Beika, and Mr. Furuya's next target is... Mr. Morofushi? Are you still listening?"

Zhu Fujingguang was still listening.

He held his phone, then turned his gaze to the brochure for the Suzuki Mikasa Art Exhibition on the coffee table, and calmly hummed in agreement.
"Is it that art exhibition with the four themes of 'Heaven,' 'Ocean,' 'Earth,' and 'Hell'?"

Kazami Yuya exclaimed in surprise, "It's there, Mr. Morofushi, you know it?"

Not only did he know, he had just come from there an hour ago, and he even knew exactly how many feathers were floating on which angel painting... Morofushi Kagemitsu said, "I understand a little. I'll explain this to Furuya later."

Kazami Yuya quickly responded.

There was nothing else to discuss between them for the time being, so they hung up the phone.

Morofushi Kagemitsu was bombarded with a bunch of new messages, and his brain, which had been working hard all day, started to ache again. He sighed softly, turned off his phone, and put it aside.

He wanted to go to the kitchen to prepare dinner, at least to eat his fill before waiting for his childhood friend's call to find out about another friend's experience in Shibuya.

But a familiar voice suddenly rang out close to his ear, speaking softly:

—Will you report the facts?

"..."

Morofushi Kagemitsu's movement to get up suddenly froze.

He sat back down on the sofa, making no other move, but simply tilting his head back to look at the television opposite him and the clock on the wall, listening to the ticking sound stretching endlessly in the quiet room.

Will it be reported truthfully?

Of course not.

As Aoyagi Akimitsu said, being killed by the victim's relatives as a former murderer is a completely different concept from being killed by criminals as a public security police officer.

The police will not smear themselves. Regardless of public opinion, anything that is reported will definitely be embellished and beautified.

Even though Morofushi Kagemitsu utterly despises his superior who covered up murder and had innocent children confined to mental hospitals for years, he will not stand up to expose this hypocritical facade.

Perhaps he would have done the same when he was 22, fresh out of college, but now at 29, he has learned... and has to learn to consider the bigger picture.

Morofushi Kagemitsu didn't want to eat dinner.

He didn't turn on the TV or check his phone; he just sat on the sofa in a silent and stiff posture for a while.

After an unknown amount of time, Morofushi Kagemitsu slowly moved his gaze. He sat up straight, saw the brochure on the coffee table, and, remembering Kazami Yuya's last words, casually flipped it open.

A painting with extremely dark tones caught his eye.

The brochure was printed very clearly, and the picture took up almost an entire page. On the black backdrop, a rising sun was slowly ascending, and a hideous demon was impaled through the chest and nailed to a rock.

Before it stood a knight in a pool of blood, his helmet completely obscuring his face, his armor stained with blood. He turned away without glancing at the dead demon.

The bright red color on it is so realistic that it seems as if you could touch it and get your hands covered in blood.

Morofushi Kagemitsu lowered his gaze and saw the name of the painting.

Divine Retribution

—The knight who kills the demon is destined to be filthy himself, unable to be cleansed.

[One of the works in the Hell Exhibition Hall. Due to damage during transportation, this painting has been sent for restoration and cannot be exhibited at the moment. We apologize for the inconvenience.] (End of Chapter)