Chapter 233: On the Feasibility of Leading Jiangxia to the Bomb

It was best not to let Conan keep thinking down that line—or he'd end up figuring it out before they even reached the restaurant.

So, Jiangxia glanced at the cable car up ahead and gently interrupted Conan's train of thought.

In a calm and coaxing tone, he said, "Don't worry, the attacker probably hasn't figured out who you are. Maybe the 'one' is just from the 'nan' (ナン) in 'Conan'. Or maybe it's from... wherever you want. Draw a line from any part of the name, really."

He continued, "I think the real concern is that these four newcomers—despite the numbers in their names—don't seem to be connected to Uncle Mouri. Are they really the attacker's targets?"

Conan frowned slightly. "…That's true."

Thinking calmly, there were plenty of people with numbers in their names. Even more if you start creatively extracting them. Maybe this entire number sequence really was just a coincidence?

Conan's thoughts took a brief detour.

Jiangxia, satisfied, watched him board the cable car.

The cable car had no driver—just a single "Start" button at the front.

Once everyone was in, Jiangxia pressed the button. The automatic cable car hummed to life, ferrying this carload of numbered suspects toward the isolated sea restaurant.

Most people enjoyed the view of the ocean below.

Except for Kogoro Mouri and Nishina Minoru—both looking green around the gills. One had a fear of heights, the other a fear of water. In the end, the two sat across from each other, eyes fixed miserably on the floor, united in one prayer: Get us off this deathtrap ASAP.

A few minutes later, the group disembarked and entered the undersea restaurant.

Clearly, a lot of money had been thrown into this building—it was all hardcore design and luxury finishes. Though above water, much of it extended beneath the surface.

After descending in the elevator, the main hall opened up: clear and bright, lined with massive circular fish tanks full of vibrant, exotic fish swimming lazily around.

And smack in the center of the room: a bright red Ferrari F40, casually parked as decor.

No one knew why a car was in the middle of a seafood restaurant. But clearly, someone liked it—Nana Osanai, a rabid sports car fan, squealed with delight, dashed over, and began circling it like a shark. She peered inside repeatedly, clearly itching to open the door and just hop in.

Jiangxia scanned the hall, then let his ghosts drift outward to scout for the bomb.

Meanwhile, he casually asked, "I don't see Mr. Asahi. Is he in the office?"

Shishido Eimi, camera in hand, snapped a few shots of Jiangxia with the glowing blue fish tanks as a backdrop. As he fiddled with his lens, he replied, "The email he sent said to meet in this hall."

"…Hmm." Inspector Megure checked his watch. It was already 3 o'clock.

Katsuyoshi Asahi was late. For an industrialist known for being ruthlessly punctual, this was weird.

Inspector Shiratori frowned slightly. "Could Murakami have killed him already? The ocean's a classic place to dump a body, and this restaurant is brand new—lots of materials lying around…"

Inspector Megure gave Shiratori a deadpan look.

Shiratori always sounded serious, but deep down, the guy just had a thing for blockbuster-level conspiracy plots. Last time, he'd gotten the entire precinct involved in a full-blown search operation for Officer Sato—wasting manpower and time—only for it to turn out she and Takagi had gone out for coffee. The "Kidnapping of the Police Flower" was entirely his screenplay.

This time, though, Megure shook his head. "Murakami doesn't seem like he's out to kill. Especially not Katsuyoshi Asahi—he barely knows Kogoro Mouri. If anything, maybe he was attacked on the way here and sent to the hospital."

Megure asked a few people who had Asahi's contact info to try calling him again.

Just then, someone chimed in.

Nishina had overheard Shiratori and asked, puzzled, "'Killed by Murakami'? What do you mean?"

If anyone else had said a mogul like Katsuyoshi Asahi had dropped dead, he'd have called it ridiculous.

But this time, it was two police officers saying it…

Megure froze for a second, then realized—ah, right. He'd never explained to the guests why the police were here.

As Megure began briefing the group on the case, Jiangxia used the excuse of "scouting" to slip away.

The farther the ghosts got from him, the more murderous energy they drained.

But hey, he had nothing better to do. Might as well go look around and crack the whip a little on his ghost crew.

Meanwhile, Shiratori, Kogoro, and Conan also split up to search the place.

…

Kogoro and the others didn't have ghost-sight or protagonist intuition, so they just poked around the rooms. No corpses. No suspicious vibes. They soon gave up and returned to the hall.

Jiangxia also finished his sweep and returned.

By then, Megure had finished recounting the case to the celebrities seated at the table.

The group cross-referenced the names and—surprise!—the guests just so happened to fill the number sequence from "eight" to "one."

Jiangxia's surname, "Jiang," of course, was once again ruthlessly dissected and stitched into place to pad the numbers.

What a stunning coincidence.

Just to be safe, Megure asked the celebrities if they had any connection to Murakami. Maybe he had a personal grudge that was influencing his revenge plan.

Peter Ford shook his head—he'd never even met the man.

Nishina and Shishido had both encountered Murakami while he was in prison—Nishina had done an on-site report, and Shishido had taken some criminal portraits.

Nana Osanai, on the other hand… reacted oddly.

First, she bit her nails nervously. Her eyes darted around. She looked clearly guilty.

But when she asked when Murakami was released, and learned it had only been a few days ago, she seemed to relax all at once.

She waved her hands and said firmly, "Nope! Never heard of him."

...Which would've worked, if she hadn't looked like a cat in a guilt sweat just moments before.

The others weren't letting that slide.

They were about to press her when—bam! Nana struck first.

She leapt up, jabbed a sharp nail toward Nishina, and changed the subject like a pro: "Speaking of which! I've been meaning to say this for ages—weren't you the one who wrote that garbage book 'Paris Restaurant'? Every restaurant you recommended was worse than the last! Do you even know what food is?!"

*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.

Progress: 4/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS

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

Progress:2/10*