Ke Xue: The thief Cao is actually myself

Chapter 699 You bastard, what are you going to do to my wife?! (Seeking monthly votes!)
"It seems that their method of communicating with their trading partners is likely to be cutting out the print from newspapers and piecing it together to form a letter!"

Conan pondered for a moment, muttering to himself.

"That's right! That should be it!"

The more Conan examined the newspaper in his hand, the more reasonable his deduction seemed, and his expression became somewhat excited. Then, he remembered the conversation between the masked man and the others: "Right, didn't they just say that they were going to... take care of the person involved in the transaction!"

Once this mission is completed, the Black Organization's next target will likely be Kogoro Mouri and his group.

Thinking of this, Conan's heart tightened, and he thought to himself, "Damn it, I have to find out where they are making the deal quickly, stop them from killing, and get the drug no matter what!"

Conan focused his gaze on the newspaper again, carefully examining the marks left after the print had been cut out, trying to find clues about the transaction in the gaps left by the cut-out print. "Judging from the words they cut out of the newspaper, it should be rice, rice, big, shop, flower."

Conan muttered to himself as he quickly rearranged the words in his mind. A moment later, his eyes lit up: "Mihana Grand Hotel!"

However, Conan's excitement didn't last long. Soon, he realized a new and thorny problem: "But just knowing it's the Beika Grand Hotel isn't enough. I have no idea where the hotel is located, let alone where they'll be making the deal!"

Unless, of course, he can find other crucial clues.

Conan began looking around anxiously, searching the room for any item that might contain clues to printed text, muttering to himself, "What else could possibly have printed text?"

"Huh... is this a calendar?"

His gaze inadvertently fell on the calendar hanging on the wall.

The moment Conan saw the calendar, his eyes lit up as if he had discovered a new world.

Because he suddenly remembered that calendars happen to meet the condition of having printed text.

I wonder if he'll be able to find any important clues in the calendar on the wall this time.

Without hesitation, he moved a chair over, placed it under the calendar, stood on the stool, and began to carefully flip through the calendar page by page.

With each page he turned, he carefully checked for any signs of cutting.

However, as time ticked by, his hope gradually shattered like a bubble, and he couldn't help but sigh heavily: "It's driving me crazy! I've searched everywhere but can't find any trace of the excision!"

The hope that had been so hard to ignite turned out to be so disheartening. To say that I wasn't disappointed would be pure self-deception.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do even if he was disappointed, since clues don't just appear out of thin air.

Just as Conan was about to give up searching the calendar, he suddenly stopped, his gaze fixed like a hawk on a particular spot on the calendar. "Hmm? This is..."

"Knife marks!"

Conan's eyes sharpened instantly as he stared intently at the number with the mark on it.

He carefully examined the number with the mark, his mind racing. "That's right, the number that was cut off should be the August calendar date on this page, that's right!"

After a tense and meticulous calculation, Conan finally concluded: "So, the date with the cut is September 27th! Then the corresponding number for August is 30!"

"Rice Flower Grand Hotel, number 30, that's where they conduct their transactions!"

Conan clenched his fists excitedly, as if he could already see the glimmer of hope in successfully thwarting the Black Organization's plot. But he knew in his heart that time was of the essence and there was no room for delay. Therefore, he quickly gathered his thoughts, briskly got off the stool, and decided without hesitation to head to the Beika Grand Hotel immediately…

The streets outside were bustling with traffic and people, seemingly peaceful, but Conan knew that beneath this calm surface lay the sinister plot of the Black Organization.

He dared not slack off in the slightest. Relying on his familiarity with the surrounding environment, he quickly chose a relatively hidden path and walked briskly towards the direction of the Mihua Grand Hotel.

Throughout the journey, Conan's brain worked like a high-speed precision instrument, constantly and rapidly considering the various complex situations he might encounter upon arriving at the hotel, and the corresponding coping strategies. Every possibility was repeatedly rehearsed in his mind, striving to ensure that nothing went wrong.

Finally, the magnificent outline of the Mihana Grand Hotel came into view. The hotel stood proudly beside the bustling street, its imposing presence like an unshakeable fortress. Guests came and went in a constant stream, their faces beaming with ease and joy, completely unaware of the impending crisis.

Conan took a deep breath, trying to calm his tense emotions, and then subtly blended into the crowd, walking into the restaurant without making a sound.

Upon entering the hall, he pretended to be nonchalant, casually glancing around, but in reality, he scrutinized every corner, trying to find any clues related to "30".

However, not long after, Conan's expression became somewhat serious.

Because he suddenly discovered...

"This hotel only has 19 floors, there's no room number 30 at all!"

Had I come to the wrong place? Was this not the restaurant where the masked man and his group were supposed to meet? Or perhaps, "30" didn't refer to the floor number at all, but was some other code with a different meaning?
A series of questions suddenly flooded Conan's mind.

Just as he was deep in thought, struggling to find the right words, the conversation between the hotel receptionist and a male guest caught his attention like a glimmer of light in the darkness.

The male customer politely looked at the receptionist and said, "Hello, could you please get me the key to locker number 19?"

"Is this number 19? I'm so sorry, please wait a moment." The receptionist responded politely with a professional and friendly smile.

Conan suddenly had a flash of inspiration, "That's right, number 30 might be the locker number!"

Thinking of this, Conan instantly had an idea.

"Um... I'm sorry, big sister..." Conan walked towards the front desk with just the right amount of shyness and an innocent look on his face.

Noticing his arrival, the receptionist smiled warmly and asked, "Little brother, what can I do for you?"

Conan blinked his eyes cleverly, feigning extreme anxiety, and said, "My dad accidentally lost his key tag... He uses locker number 30!"

The receptionist nodded gently and replied, "Is it number 30?" As she spoke, she reached for the key storage book next to her and began to search carefully, preparing to find the spare key for Conan.

However, after carefully flipping through each page, the receptionist paused slightly, a puzzled look on her face. "That's strange, the lockers here are only numbered up to number 26!"

As soon as she finished speaking, she saw Conan turn around and walk quickly to the side. "Little brother?" the receptionist called out in confusion. "Did you remember the wrong number?"

"Damn it, it's not a locker number either? What is it then? And where are those people?" Conan muttered to himself as he walked away without looking back, completely ignoring the receptionist's calls.

As Conan wandered aimlessly, he subconsciously raised his hand to check his watch. The sight immediately made his brow furrow. "Oh no, it's almost midnight!"

"Their transaction is at 13 PM, if we don't hurry..."

The urgency of time struck him like a heavy hammer, making him extremely anxious.

Although those who can make deals with the Black Organization, even if they are not ruthless killers, are probably not kind people, they are still living beings.

As a detective who upholds justice, Conan simply cannot stand by and watch innocent people suffer.

Not to mention, this deal is likely his only chance right now to capture the masked man and his associates and expose the Black Organization's conspiracy.

Just then, he overheard a conversation between a man and a woman nearby.

"Oh no, I left my wallet in the car." The woman's anxious voice was tinged with panic.

"Huh? What happened?" the man replied.

"Where did you park your car?" the woman asked immediately.

"Parking space number 42, here are the keys!" the man said, handing the car keys to the woman.

"Sorry, I'll be right back." The woman took the keys and hurriedly left towards the parking lot.

Upon hearing this conversation, Conan abruptly stopped, a surge of excitement welling up inside him. "What? The parking lot?"

Then, a new idea popped into his mind: "Wait, if there's a number 42, then there must also be a number 30. Could it be that the number 30 at the Mihana Grand Hotel refers to parking lot number 30?"

The more Conan thought about it, the more likely this hypothesis seemed. Without hesitation, he chased after the woman, running towards the parking lot...

……

"Number 30, this should be it, right?"

Conan gazed intently at the car parked in parking space number 30, his brow furrowing slightly.

Because the car parked here is neither the one that Edogawa Fumiyo drove when he kidnapped him, nor the one that the masked man and the others rode in when they left.

"Why is this happening? Could it be that I've come to the wrong place again?" Conan's doubts grew stronger.

"Or does this car belong to the person making the deal, and they're going to conduct the transaction inside the car?"

Completely baffled, Conan cautiously peered into the car through the window. "But there doesn't seem to be anyone inside!"

Was the trader temporarily absent, or will the two groups only come to the car at the correct time to conduct the transaction?

Various guesses kept popping into Conan's mind.

Just then, a stern, low shout, like a thunderclap, interrupted his thoughts, "Hey, you brat, what are you doing?"

"What do you want to do to my car?"

Conan was startled by the sudden sound and quickly jumped out of the car. Standing in front of him was a middle-aged man in a gray suit, a gentle-looking woman beside him, and a child who looked to be about his age. Clearly, they were a family.

Seeing this, Conan opened his mouth slightly, about to explain, but before he could speak, the little boy excitedly pointed at him and shouted, "Dad, this person must be a thief! A thief! Quickly call the police and have him arrested!"

Conan quickly waved his hands and anxiously explained, "No, you've misunderstood!"

"I think this car is really nice, so..."

Conan racked his brains, trying to find a reasonable excuse to convince the family that he was not a scoundrel, while at the same time not revealing his true intentions.

"Is this car really nice?"

The middle-aged man looked at Conan with a wary expression, his eyes full of suspicion, seemingly not believing his explanation.

However, it's normal for him to react this way, because his car is a Wuling Hongguang.

The Wuling Hongguang is very practical, but if we're talking about its appearance, calling it good-looking would be a lie.

Thinking of this, the middle-aged man took a step forward, leaned down slightly, looked Conan in the eye, and asked seriously, "Little boy, lying is a bad habit. Tell me, why were you leaning against the car window, looking all sneaky?"

Could this kid be planning a prank on his beloved car?

Hmm, thinking about it carefully, the child in front of me is only six or seven years old. Children of this age are mostly playful, active, rebellious, and naughty. They are simply disliked by everyone, and even dogs will avoid them.

So it seems that this is indeed possible.

Thinking this, the middle-aged man's eyes instantly sharpened.

You should know that he saved up for a long time by scrimping and saving, and it was not easy for him to buy this car. To him, this car is as precious as his second "wife".

He might tolerate others playing pranks on him, but if they try to harm his "wife," he absolutely won't let them off easily.

Noticing the middle-aged man's increasingly hostile gaze, Conan inwardly groaned, his mind racing as he desperately searched for a solution. Suddenly, an idea struck him. A pitiful expression immediately appeared on his face, his eyes slightly reddening. He said, "Uncle, I'm really not a thief. My dad has always wanted to buy a car like this, but our family isn't well-off and we simply can't afford it. When I saw this car just now, I was immediately drawn to it and couldn't help but look at it a few more times, imagining how wonderful it would be if my dad could have one..."

As Conan spoke, he gently rubbed his eyes, pretending to be on the verge of tears...

(End of this chapter)