Frequent High-Profile Murder Cases

A week slipped by in the blink of an eye.

“Yuki, we’re back!”

An ice cream was suddenly thrust in front of Rumi Kisaragi, who sat lost in thought. Startled, he looked up, but before he could say a word, a spoon was already forced into his hand. The short-haired girl beamed at him, her manner bold and carefree. “What are you thinking about? I called your name a few times and you didn’t even look up. Here, it’s the limited edition Super Jumbo Strawberry Ice Cream Bucket! Ran and I waited in line forever to get it!”

Gazing at the double-strawberry treat topped with a decorative umbrella inscribed with words of encouragement, Rumi Kisaragi could only offer a helpless thanks to this wealthy heiress. “Thank you, Sonoko, but you really didn’t have to be so... enthusiastic.”

Ever since leaving the welfare home, he had been looking for a chance to sneak out and find Toji and the others, but every attempt had ended in failure. It was summer break, and both the child called Conan Edogawa and Ran Mouri were always at home.

Especially the former—he was like a watchdog whose territory had been invaded, eyes wide and ever-watchful, as if determined to catch Rumi in a lie and use it as an excuse to throw him out. If it hadn’t been for the Suzuki heiress inviting them all to visit her family’s newly-built amusement park today, Rumi Kisaragi had no idea when he would have next managed to leave the house.

He had originally planned to slip out when Kogoro Mouri was away on business and Ran was distracted looking after Genta, Ayumi, and the others, hoping to avoid Conan and make his escape. He hadn’t expected to run headlong into his biggest headache!

This heiress was far too enthusiastic!

The moment she first laid eyes on him, her gaze lit up. She squeezed past Ran, glued herself to his side, and snapped photo after photo, muttering unintelligible internet slang about melancholy beauties and fresh-faced heartthrobs...

Conan Edogawa, watching Rumi’s discomfort, was secretly gloating. “You’ve got to be kidding—Sonoko is a total sucker for good looks. Even Kaito Kid can’t escape her clutches! You’re no exception.”

Even though Conan was wary of this newcomer to the Mouri household, who seemed eager to sneak out at every opportunity, he had to admit—the boy’s appearance was undeniably striking.

He was slender but not frail, with a youthful face that still held traces of innocence, yet somehow carried a tenderness at odds with his age. The subtle melancholy between his brows inspired an unbidden sense of pity... and then there was his long hair!

From the moment they entered the park, he had attracted an endless stream of admiring glances. He was a veritable magnet for the girls—so much so that even Shinichi Kudo, usually hailed as Teitan High’s heartthrob, found himself envying the boy’s popularity.

Meanwhile, the protagonist himself, Rumi Kisaragi, felt ill at ease under the fervent stares of both the older and younger girls. He bowed his head, pretending to dig into his ice cream, all the while racking his brain for a plausible excuse to send the two away. Just then, a terrified scream rang out from the restaurant’s restroom—“Help! Murder!”

“What?”

“No way!”

In an instant, Conan and Sonoko, who had been glued to Rumi’s side, dashed toward the source of the commotion.

It took Rumi a moment to realize this was the perfect chance to escape. He had just reached the entrance when Conan burst from the restroom, shouting, “Yuki, guard the door! Don’t let anyone leave! Anyone in this restaurant could be the culprit!”

Seeing the blood on Conan’s hands, Rumi realized the gravity of the situation. With no choice but to abandon his escape plan, he pulled out his phone and dialed the police.

Ten minutes later, a fleet of police cars arrived.

A burly officer stepped over the police line, leading the forensics team into the restaurant. When he saw Rumi blocking the entrance, he froze. “You again?!” Then, as if struck by a thought, his mouth twisted. “Don’t tell me Conan is here too!”

Rumi pointed dumbly toward the crime scene. “Uh, he’s inside.”

Inspector Megure pressed a weary hand to his forehead. “I knew it!”

With that unfinished mutter, Inspector Megure hurried straight to the scene.

Rumi stood rooted to the spot, completely baffled as to why Conan’s presence would provoke such a reaction. Just then, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to find a young officer with an exasperated expression. After glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, the officer leaned in and sighed, “Here’s how it is...”

After listening to Officer Takagi’s examples, Rumi was left gaping in shock, his gaze toward Conan turning increasingly fearful. Granted, murder cases were common in Japan, but for them to crop up wherever this kid went—it was uncanny!

Rumi wasn’t one to believe in ghosts or spirits, but when faced with the sheer number of cases Takagi listed, any scientific explanation seemed woefully inadequate.

This was a living, breathing god of death!

“You think so too, right?” Takagi looked relieved to find someone who shared his incredulity. The way he seemed to relax made Rumi suspect that, had the circumstances been different, the officer would have slung an arm around his shoulders and dragged him off to a bar to commiserate over drinks.

Takagi tried to reassure him. “But don’t worry! With Miss Sonoko here, I’m sure this case will be solved quickly.”

Rumi was about to ask why, but Takagi was already being called away by Inspector Megure to take statements, leaving Rumi no choice but to let it go.

Because of the murder, the entire restaurant had been cordoned off. Even though Rumi had never left his seat, as a witness he was temporarily not allowed to leave.

With nothing to do, he found an empty corner and sat down to continue eating his ice cream.

He had barely taken a bite when suddenly four heads popped up from behind the display window in front of him, nearly causing him to choke on a strawberry in fright.

He coughed violently, drawing stares from everyone in the restaurant. Hastily apologizing, he waited until no one was looking before rapping on the glass, gesturing for the kids below to come up.

Ayumi, Genta, and Mitsuhiko all fired off questions at once, but the window was so well soundproofed that Rumi couldn’t hear a word.

Seeing their confusion, the three members of the Detective Boys were about to resort to frantic gestures when Ai Haibara, standing nearby, pulled out her phone and sent a text.

Ai: What’s going on in there? Who’s hurt?

Rumi, spoon in mouth, typed back: “Seems like there’s been a murder? A chef was killed, but I don’t know the details...”

He’d never had much interest in this kind of thing and never made a point of asking around. Years of working as a corporate drone had taught him the supreme wisdom that if you didn’t go looking for trouble, trouble wouldn’t come looking for you.

He hadn’t even finished typing the word “chef” when his hand suddenly stalled. Out of nowhere, a thought surfaced in his mind—

Ah, a woman steeped in sin, finally meeting her end at the hands of the one most important to her—what a masterfully staged play!

Clatter.

The spoon dropped from Rumi’s mouth onto the table.

He jerked around, but there was no one behind him. Then who had spoken? Was it a ghost?

Ai: ?

“It’s nothing.”

Forcing down his confusion, Rumi quickly sent the reply. Just then, Conan, carried out by Officer Takagi, was plopped down in front of him.

Rumi: ?

Takagi, looking harried, said, “This kid’s running all over the crime scene again. Yuki, could you keep an eye on him for me?”

Before Rumi could nod, that voice in his head spoke again: Oh dear, the little brat was just a step away from catching the real culprit. What a pity. I’d have loved to see that woman’s reaction upon learning the truth...

The statement was packed with information. Rumi did his best to parse it. The “little brat” referred to Conan, who wasn’t just running around the scene—he was solving the case? Judging by Takagi’s perplexed expression, the police had no leads, but Conan was close to the truth?

Huh?

Rumi already thought his own reincarnation was bizarre enough. But realizing that an elementary schooler could outwit the police made him reconsider just how fantastical this world truly was.

So maybe he did have another person living in his head, someone who could even predict the future. Was that really so strange by comparison?

Nonsense! How could this possibly be normal?

To test whether the mysterious voice was telling the truth, Rumi accepted Conan from Takagi and began to observe him carefully.

What he saw made his heart sink.

Sitting in his chair, Conan’s mind was racing. He had already deduced the culprit’s methods, but the murder weapon—the crucial piece of evidence—remained missing. Damn it, how had the killer made it disappear?

Just as he was running out of ideas, Rumi suddenly spoke. “Conan, I dropped my spoon. Could you grab a new one for me from the kitchen? It should be in the sanitizer.”

Conan started to refuse: “I’m really...”

Rumi pressed his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please.”

“Fine.” Unable to resist Rumi’s earnest gaze, Conan gave in and ran to the kitchen to fetch a spoon.

But as soon as Conan was gone, Rumi dropped the pretense and lifted his arm from the table, revealing the “lost” spoon.

Moments earlier, another piece of information had surfaced in his mind, this time clearly pointing to the murder weapon’s whereabouts.

The only reason he’d asked Conan to fetch him a spoon was to test whether the information was real—if it was false, he was just being paranoid. But if it was true... the consequences were almost too much to contemplate.

After all, if he was just mentally unstable, there were treatments for that. But if there really was someone else living in his head, it’s not as if you could split your body in two and each take a half, right?

So Rumi hoped for the former.

But a few minutes later, he watched as Conan, who should have returned with a spoon, strode straight past him toward the crime scene instead. With a resigned sigh, Rumi accepted the inevitable and began to communicate with the mysterious consciousness in his mind.

However, every attempt he made vanished without a trace, as if no one else was there at all.

“This is turning into quite a mess,” Rumi said with equanimity. “After all, this life was a gift—I suppose if it’s taken back, so be it. For now, let’s just solve this case.”

Just as he was pondering how to reveal the truth, Sonoko’s voice suddenly rang out: “Inspector Megure, I already know who the murderer is!”