I'm in Conan, I'm not a gangster

Chapter 717 Taking You to Experience the Unique Features of Los Angeles (2 Updates)
Vermouth was wearing a pair of retro sunglasses that covered half of her face today, and her bright red lips were curved into a perfect arc.

She casually rested her arm on the edge of the car window, her slender fingers gently tapping the steering wheel.

"Would you like a ride, gentlemen?" Her voice carried a lazy smile, as if she were inviting old friends to afternoon tea.

Conan's pupils contracted slightly, and he subtly took a half-step back.

His mind raced, analyzing the possible motives behind this "chance encounter."

In Los Angeles' most upscale luxury district, less than half an hour after they parted, this mysterious female celebrity appeared right in front of them at just the right moment—the coincidence was too perfect, unsettlingly so.

Shiraishi E's reaction was quite different.

He merely glanced at the people inside the car, then exchanged a meaningful look with Conan.

There was neither surprise nor wariness in his eyes, but rather a knowing look of "I knew it."

He shrugged indifferently, opened the passenger door first, and calmly got in, his movements as natural as if he had already anticipated this scene.

"Could you please take us to Lemote Park?" Shiraishi E fastened her seatbelt, her tone as calm as if she were speaking to a taxi driver.

Vermouth's red lips curved into an even more alluring smile, her gaze behind her sunglasses casually sweeping over Conan's wary little face in the rearview mirror: "Want to come along?"

Conan hesitated for a moment, but finally opened the back door and got in.

He deliberately chose a position directly behind the driver's seat, an angle from which he could clearly observe every change in Vermouth's expression in the rearview mirror.

The engine let out a deep roar, and the sports car smoothly merged into the traffic.

Vermouth's driving skills were surprisingly adept; she navigated the congested lanes with ease, as if the street were her private racetrack.

The convertible design allowed the California sun to pour into the car without reservation, and a gentle breeze ruffled the hair of the three people.

Vermouth casually adjusted the rearview mirror, her gaze meeting Conan's wary stare in the reflection.

“Can you tell me?” she broke the silence first, her voice sounding somewhat ethereal in the wind, “Why are you interested in that place?”

Shiraishi gazed out the window at the rapidly receding streetscape, where luxurious buildings were gradually being replaced by ordinary commercial districts. "I want to experience authentic Los Angeles culture."

His answer was understated, yet it made Vermouth burst out laughing.

The laughter was crisp and melodious, yet inexplicably carried a hint of irony.

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, the amusement in her eyes palpable even through her sunglasses. “If you really want to experience the unique charm of Los Angeles, you’ve chosen the wrong place.”

"Then where should we go?" Shiraishi E finally turned her head, her gaze calmly falling on Vermouth's profile.

“I’ll take you there!” Belmore gently turned the steering wheel and turned into a relatively quiet street.

Conan asked curiously, "Where are we going?"

Vermouth smiled without saying a word: "You'll find out soon enough!"

Conan frowned, disliking this kind of mysticism. He deliberately kept his voice calm: "Miss Chris, can you explain why it's such a coincidence that we met here?"

"A coincidence?" Vermouth looked at Conan in the rearview mirror, her red lips slightly parted. "Perhaps. But in this neighborhood where there aren't many Asian faces, it's not hard to spot the two of you."

Her tone was relaxed and natural, as if she had really just happened to be passing by.

Conan's glasses reflected the sunlight, creating two white beams that obscured the emotions in his eyes: "You were at the party last night too."

He spoke slowly, each word carrying the weight of a test: "Xiao Lan was missing for a period of time."

Vermouth tapped her fingers lightly on the steering wheel, maintaining a calm and unhurried pace.

"So?" she asked casually.

As a seasoned assassin, she wouldn't be fooled by Conan.

"So," Conan leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, "Miss Chris, this matter isn't related to you, is it? What was your purpose in sending someone to kidnap Ran?"

This was a bold test. Conan stared intently at Vermouth's expression in the mirror, not missing a single subtle change.

Unexpectedly, Vermouth suddenly chuckled, her voice tinged with a hint of mockery: "Boy, I swear to God, I absolutely did not kidnap your lovely friend."

Her gaze drifted almost imperceptibly to Shiraishi E, and her tone suddenly became meaningful: "After all, I don't want to offend this... handsome guy next to you."

"You two know each other?" Conan keenly caught the deeper meaning in her words, his gaze shifting back and forth between the two of them.

This discovery gave him a jolt, and countless questions instantly flooded his mind.

Shiraishi E sighed helplessly, raising her hand to rub her temples: "Why isn't your smart brain working today? Can't you even hear such obvious attempts to sow discord?"

Conan opened his mouth as if to ask another question, but Vermouth interrupted him at the right moment. Her voice suddenly became serious: "Don't worry, I do have something to ask of you, but I certainly don't want to hurt you."

The sports car slowly came to a stop at a red light. She turned her head and glanced at the two men: "Actually, I need your help."

"What is it?" Conan asked warily, his body involuntarily tensing up.

“Something… a small favor.” Vermouth’s voice returned to its nonchalant tone as she took a beautifully wrapped chocolate from her handbag.

She unpacked the package and, while Conan was speaking, shoved it directly into his mouth: "Be patient, you'll see when we get there."

Conan was annoyed that his words had been misinterpreted, so he chewed the food in a fit of pique. The rich, sweet aroma immediately melted on his tongue, mixed with a faint hint of alcohol.

“This is Swiss handmade chocolate with a touch of brandy.” Vermouth seemed to read his mind and explained with a light laugh, “Don’t worry, the alcohol content is very low and won’t make minors drunk.”

Conan chewed on his chocolate with displeasure, but his gaze never left Vermouth's retreating figure as he began to ponder what she was up to.

The sports car sped through the increasingly sparse streets, and the distant cityscape began to reveal a completely different appearance from Beverly Hills.

Neat streets are gradually being replaced by mottled walls, and exquisite boutiques are giving way to convenience stores reinforced with iron bars.

An indescribable tension permeated the air, as if even the sunlight had become thinner.

Shiraishi E gazed thoughtfully ahead, her fingers tapping lightly on the car door, as if waiting for something. Her profile appeared remarkably calm in the interplay of light and shadow, a stark contrast to Conan's tense expression.

Vermouth tapped her long fingers lightly on the steering wheel, her gaze sweeping over the silent Shiraishi E, a hint of amusement flashing in her eyes.

"You haven't said a word since just now," she finally spoke, her voice tinged with inquiry. "Aren't you even a little curious about where we're going?"

Shiraishi E turned her gaze away from the window and gave her a calm look: "What's there to be curious about? You'll find out when we get there."

Vermouth chuckled softly, her eyes slightly upturned: "You're much more patient than that kid in the back seat."

Her gaze met Conan's wary eyes in the rearview mirror, and her tone was clearly sarcastic, "However, your vigilance is far inferior to his."

"What if I'm a bad guy and sell you two delicate Asian boys? You know, there are quite a few wealthy people around here with unusual tastes who like your type."

Shiraishi E's lips curled into a disdainful smile as she laughed, "Sell us out? If you're so capable, feel free to try."

This provocative response evoked a hint of admiration in Vermouth's eyes. She parted her red lips slightly and said, "I like confident people like you."

During the conversation, the sports car gradually slowed down and stopped beside a relatively quiet street.

This place is completely different from the bustling areas we passed through before. The streets are lined with old buildings, and occasionally pedestrians stroll by slowly.

An old-fashioned Italian tailor shop sits on the street corner, displaying several well-made suits in the window. Above the door hangs a faded sign that reads "Antonio's Tailor Shop" in cursive script.

"Wait a moment, I'm going to get something, I'll be right back." Vermouth gracefully opened the car door, her high heels making a crisp sound on the cobblestone street.

She pushed open the glass door of the tailor shop, and the doorbell rang with a clear, ringing sound.

Taking advantage of the moment, Conan immediately leaned forward into the front seat and whispered to Shiraishi E, "I have a bad feeling about this woman. She gives me a dangerous vibe... Should we leave now?"

Shiraishi E, however, maintained her nonchalant demeanor, a hint of excitement even flashing in her eyes: "It's precisely because there's danger that we should go and see. Isn't this much more interesting than watching some black uncle's street performance?"

Conan opened his mouth, but ultimately did not refute it.

To be honest, deep down he was also very curious about Vermouth's behavior and words.

As a detective, his desire to explore the unknown ultimately overcame his wariness.

Just as the two were talking, the door to the tailor shop opened again. Vermouth came out carrying a travel bag.

The bag is dark blue, made of a sturdy material, and has no markings on it.

She casually tossed the bag into the back seat, where it landed right next to Conan, and then returned to the driver's seat.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." She smiled slightly, and the sports car started again, smoothly merging into the traffic.

Conan's gaze involuntarily fell on the travel bag.

The bag looked bulging, but you couldn't tell what was inside from its appearance.

He couldn't help but ask, "What's inside?"

Vermouth glanced at him through the rearview mirror, a faint smile playing on her lips: "Some personal clothing I had custom-made. You can open it and take a look if you're interested."

Conan immediately blushed and shook his head vigorously in refusal.

He's not a pervert; no matter how curious he is, he wouldn't go so far as to rummage through a woman's private clothing.

However, at that moment, a sudden burning sensation spread from my chest.

Conan felt his heart clench violently, and his whole body felt as if it had been thrown into a furnace, with every inch of his skin burning hot.

He couldn't help but curl up, letting out a painful groan: "It's so hot. What's going on?"

Shiraishi E, sitting in the passenger seat, immediately turned her head and keenly noticed Conan's unusual behavior.

Conan's cheeks were flushed an unnatural red, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He was writhing in pain in his seat.

Seeing this, Vermouth gave a meaningful smile: "It has begun."

As she spoke, she pressed a button on the roof, and the convertible slowly closed, isolating the interior from the outside world.

Shiraishi E's sharp gaze fell on Vermouth: "What did you feed him?"

The sports car was driving along a tree-lined road, and dappled sunlight danced across Vermouth's face through the car window.

She tilted her head slightly, her voice calm yet carrying a powerful, awe-inspiring force: "The antidote. The antidote for APTX4869."

These words exploded like a thunderclap inside the car.

Despite being in extreme pain, Conan suddenly opened his eyes wide and looked at Vermouth in disbelief.

Shiraishi E's pupils contracted slightly, clearly surprised by the answer.

"You," Conan began with difficulty, but was interrupted by another wave of intense pain.

He could feel his body undergoing some kind of fundamental change, as if his bones were being reorganized and his muscles were being torn and healed. This pain far exceeded any physical discomfort he had ever experienced.

Vermouth gazed at the road ahead, her tone remaining calm: "Don't worry, this is just temporary pain. Once the medicine takes full effect, you'll be back to normal."

Her fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel. "But I must remind you, this antidote is not very stable yet, and I cannot guarantee how long its effects will last."

Conan gritted his teeth, trying his best to endure the turbulent changes within his body.

He could feel his limbs gradually lengthening, and his clothes, which had previously fit him well, were beginning to feel tight. This feeling, a mixture of pain and anticipation, left him with mixed emotions.

Shiraishi E watched this scene thoughtfully, then suddenly spoke up: "So you came to us specifically for this?"

Vermouth chuckled softly: "That's just one reason. The more important task is yet to come."

Her gaze swept over Conan's pained expression in the rearview mirror: "However, we'll have to wait until this little detective turns back before we can move around easily."

(End of this chapter)