Chapter 121: You’re Plotting Against Me

Jiangxia Tongzhi didn't bother with Conan's complicated expression. Right now, his attention was focused on the trio of worn-down office workers.

Soon enough, Nakajima checked his watch and hurried off.

Of course, the arcade staff didn't stop him. As far as they were concerned, Nakajima wasn't the one who broke the punching machine. And even if he was, there were no witnesses to hold accountable. Besides, the machine was there to be punched. Honestly, apologizing to players for the machine's weird bug was probably more appropriate.

Mouri Ran, however, looked regretful. Seeing the staffer blankly staring at the battered machine, she went over to try comforting him.

Suzuki Sonoko was barely holding in her laughter. "It's not your fault. If anyone's to blame, it's that detective who's addicted to chasing cases and doesn't care about his girlfriend." She'd clearly caught the name Ran had shouted when she'd unleashed a punch on the machine earlier.

Conan broke into a cold sweat, gave a strained laugh, and made his escape under the excuse of needing the bathroom.

Jiangxia Tongzhi thought for a moment, then slipped out of the arcade too, blending into the crowd. Before long, he spotted Nakajima.

Nakajima glanced around the hall before quickly heading over to Tequila. As they passed each other, the two men exchanged luggage claim tags. A deal had just gone down.

Originally, Brother Buzzcut's bag contained a bomb. Nakajima's bag held a list of programmers wanted by the Organization. And Tequila's briefcase? Cold, hard cash.

Now, with the exchange complete, they'd each retrieve new bags from the storage office: Brother Buzzcut would end up with the documents, Nakajima with the cash...

...and Tequila, well, he'd receive the bomb meant as a "gift" for Nakajima.

Jiangxia followed, zeroing in on Tequila—or more precisely, the bomb in Tequila's bag.

After all, Tequila was dressed head-to-toe in black with a face that screamed villain. It was only a matter of time before he triggered Conan's allergy to suspiciously dressed men.

If Tequila snuck off to some quiet corner to check the bag, and Conan—being his curious, tool person self—followed him... well, they'd both go boom.

Just as Jiangxia was thinking that, he spotted Conan in the distance. The kid was standing at the bathroom entrance, eyeing Nakajima and Tequila with deep suspicion—he'd seen the handoff.

The shady adults parted ways, and Conan watched each one for a second before locking eyes on Tequila and tailing him without hesitation.

Jiangxia: "…"

Why are you like this. Why do you love walking into danger.

But Conan couldn't die yet. He had to live on, shine brightly, and attract murder cases like a crime magnet...

After a moment of thought, Jiangxia headed to the stairwell.

No one was there. A few shikigami flitted out from beneath his feet and began forming a human shape.

For this kind of public location, and with the Organization involved, Jiangxia picked Xiaobai's puppet.

Once the little boy took shape, Jiangxia moved his consciousness into it and adjusted the puppet's clothes and hairstyle.

Then, he walked over to his real body, pulled a bag from its pocket, pushed open the stairwell door, and slipped out quickly.

…

Meanwhile, Conan was tailing Tequila, heart thudding like crazy. When the check-in clerk handed Tequila his bag, Conan had caught the number: 98.

He remembered clearly that Ran had luggage tag number 100. The three exhausted office workers ahead of her had numbers 97, 98, and 99. So if this tall man in black had number 98... then Conan had been right—this guy had definitely done a deal with Nakajima, who worked at a big-name company.

With the black clothing and body build eerily similar to Vodka's, it didn't take much for Conan to suspect the Black Organization.

Sure, maybe he was jumping at shadows—but that Organization was just too mysterious. Their members came and went like ghosts, and even Dr. Agasa's massive database couldn't pin down their real info.

And Conan... well, Conan had this beautiful dream: to capture a man in black and squeeze the antidote formula out of him.

So if he had to wrongfully tail nine innocents to catch one real enemy? Worth it.

…

Tequila retrieved the briefcase and walked into a quiet hallway. He planned to check its contents in the restroom at the end of the hall. If there was an issue, he'd drag Nakajima back and teach him a lesson. If not, he'd disappear with the goods.

He was alert the whole time—but he didn't bother looking down. Kids like Conan didn't even register on his radar.

Conan had no trouble sneaking behind him.

But then, as Conan stepped into the corridor, he spotted another child his age slumped against the wall. The kid looked weirdly hunched.

Suspicious, Conan slowed.

Suddenly, the kid's legs gave out and he collapsed, clutching his stomach in agony.

Startled, Conan rushed over. "Hey, are you okay?!"

Tequila, hearing the commotion, turned warily.

Seeing only two kids—one flat on the ground—he lost interest and kept walking.

Conan grit his teeth. He glanced toward the corner Tequila had vanished around, frustration bubbling inside him.

But he couldn't leave this sick kid unattended. If it was something serious and he died here, Conan would never forgive himself.

He took out his phone to call an ambulance and reached to remove the scarf covering the kid's face in case it restricted his breathing.

But as his hand moved, he caught a glimpse of the kid's face—and suddenly, it looked familiar. "You…"

Before he could finish the sentence, the "injured" kid dropped the act, whipped out a needle, and stabbed Conan right in the leg.

Conan's leg went numb. He lurched up and stumbled back.

The kid now held a syringe, its contents halfway gone.

Shocked, Conan froze. He'd been plotted against?! But why would anyone attack an ordinary elementary school student?

And by another elementary school student no less? One wearing a scarf, who looked suspiciously like the missing kid from the Suzuki cruise…

A dozen questions flooded Conan's mind. But before he could sort anything out, dizziness hit him like a wave and he slid down the wall.

Jiangxia got up, walked over to the now-limp Conan, and injected the rest of the anesthetic.

Dragging Conan away, he muttered to himself.

As long as Conan was conscious, he'd never let go of the Tequila lead. Keeping him safe while tailing Tequila would've been a full-time job. Better to just knock him out and be done with it.

Jiangxia hauled Conan up the stairs. The second floor was practically deserted. He found a room out of blast range and unlikely to attract attention, dumped the unconscious Conan inside, dissolved the puppet, and returned to his main body.

*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 30 days by POWER STONES.

Progress: 26/50(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS

Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.

Progress:1/10*