Conan: What alias? That's my struggle!

Lin Ye believed he could go easy on her.

The most infuriating thing about Shinichi Kudo is that his approach of being clueless and easy to understand.

He carried the plastic bag back to his car and placed it on the passenger seat.

The baseball bat lay quietly in the plastic bag, its outline visible from the outside—thin, long, like a broken and reattached tree branch.

Lin Ye started the car.

The plastic bag on the passenger side rustled as the car shook.

"I hope everything goes well and I can get away safely. Maybe I have a way." The plastic bag on the passenger seat rustled as the car shook.

Lin Ye didn't look at it.

He gripped the steering wheel, looking at the road ahead, thinking about one thing—if he struck with that stick, Shinichi Kudo's life would take a turn.

That high school detective will become an elementary school student, live in Kogoro Mouri's house, and start chasing the Black Organization all over the world.

Lin Ye himself was the one who pushed Shinichi Kudo onto this path, and in order to avoid being hunted down by the other party, he prepared to take some precautions.

Thinking of this.

Lin Ye did not hesitate.

He picked up his phone and dialed his boss's number. The phone rang twice before being answered. There was no sound on the other end, only the sound of breathing, slow and even.

"I need the help of absinthe," Lin Ye said.

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone. Then the call ended.

Lin Ye didn't call back. He placed his phone on the passenger seat and continued driving. About thirty seconds later, his phone vibrated. An encrypted message arrived, containing only a string of numbers—no name, no description. He glanced at the numbers and memorized them.

Then he flipped his phone face down on the seat, took out another phone, and dialed the number. The phone rang a full fifteen times.

Just when he thought no one would answer, the call connected.

"Who?"

It was a woman's voice, languid, with a hint of nonchalant weariness, as if she had been sitting in a bar for too long, her voice softened by tobacco and alcohol.

"Madera," Lin Ye said.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

Then the voice rang out again, its tone changed, now containing something more—alertness, curiosity, and a hint of inexplicable laughter.

"Madeira? How did you get my number?"

Vermouth seemed to have moved to a less crowded area, and the background noise had subsided somewhat.

"Given by the Boss."

Lin Ye's words were concise and to the point.

Vermouth remained silent for a moment, as if processing the information.

"The boss gave you my number? That's really...unusual. But, Madeira, what do you want?" Her tone was somewhat wary.

"You owe me." Lin Ye's voice was flat and monotone, as if he were reading a bill. "Absinthe, you knocked me out. Now, you have to do me a favor."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

The silence lasted longer than before, so long that Lin Ye thought the signal had been lost. Then Vermouth laughed, a soft laugh that seemed to roll in her throat and then dissipate.

"Wasn't that your own request...?"

Lin Ye didn't reply. He didn't know what Vermouth was saying, but he understood the meaning behind her words—that it wasn't me who deliberately hit you.

You made me type it.

system.

The system must have arranged a history he didn't remember between him and Vermouth. Lin Ye didn't think too much about it; this wasn't the first time the system had done something like this.

His voice remained unchanged, still the same flat, emotionless tone.

Even so, you still owe me.

Madeira is such an unreasonable person.

Absinthe's laughter stopped.

You can sense the weight of those words. Madeira isn't one to dredge up the past, so when he does, he's not reminding you, but rather informing you.

"Alright, alright!" Vermouth's voice softened, carrying a barely perceptible hint of compromise. "I work at a bar in Roppongi, called—"

"I know where it is," Lin Ye interrupted.

He hung up the phone and placed it back on the passenger seat. The blue light of the navigation system flashed above the dashboard. He glanced at the route; fifteen minutes to go.

The nights in Roppongi were completely different from those in Beika. The streets were brighter, there were more people, and the air was thick with the mixed scents of perfume, alcohol, and expensive tobacco. He parked his car in front of an inconspicuous building, turned off the engine, and went into the entrance on the first floor.

"Entry check." A bald man in a black suit stood at the entrance, wearing an earpiece. He stretched out his arm to stop Lin Ye when he saw him walking over.

Lin Ye didn't speak, but stood there with his arms outstretched.

The bald man's hand moved from his shoulder down to his ankle, then he turned him around and checked his back and sides.

"No problem, I didn't bring my own drinks."

After the body search was completed, the bald man took a step back and pushed open the door behind him.

Behind the door was a short corridor, at the end of which was a black velvet curtain. Lin Ye lifted the curtain, and music and lights poured out at the same time.

The lights were dim, with only a few colors—red, blue, and purple—slowly rotating overhead.

This is the karaoke style of the 80s and 90s.

The dance floor wasn't large, but it was packed with people. Men and women swayed to the rhythm of the music, their shadows overlapping and intertwining on the wall like a school of fish swimming in water.

"Everyone jump up! I'll pay for the whole thing!"

Absinthe was in the very center of the dance floor. She wore a deep red halter dress, and her long golden hair turned silver-white under the purple lights.

This woman is indeed beautiful. Her body sways with the music, her arms raised above her head, her fingers drawing invisible arcs in the air.

Absinthe was surrounded by several women, their faces obscured, but Lin Ye could see that their bodies were very close together, so close that he felt they were about to kiss each other.

"Could this woman be a politically correct lesbian...?"

Lin Ye mentally scoffed, standing by the dance floor without going over. He leaned against the bar, resting his arm on the surface, watching the absinthe in the dance floor.

The bartender came over and asked him what he wanted to drink. He said "No, thank you," and the bartender left. About two minutes later, absinthe came out of the dance floor.

A thin layer of sweat covered her forehead, and a few strands of her golden hair clung to her cheeks.

The woman walked over to Lin Ye, picked up a glass of wine from the bar (she didn't know whose it was), took a sip, then turned around and leaned against the bar.

He stood side by side with Lin Ye.

"They arrived quite quickly."

Absinthe pursed his lips.

Lin Ye did not look at her face.

"It's not urgent, but I want to get it done as soon as possible."

He spoke softly.

Vermouth glanced at him sideways, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"You're still the same as always, Madeira. Always in a rush, always unhurried." She put down her glass and picked up a napkin from the bar.

"Tell me, what do you want me to do?"

"Disguise yourself as Gin for me."

"??????"