Chapter Eleven: Three Against One, Then Ambushed—Are You Skilled Enough to Play?

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Conan, accompanied by Ayumi and the other two, searched nearby briefly before confirming that the fish-shaped outline referred to the neon lights of the bridge and their reflection. Once they reached the rooftop of the building marked by the last neon sign, they would likely see the red light atop the building ahead filling in the fish’s eye.

At this moment, they were about to reach the rooftop of the treasure-hiding building. Despite their waning strength, the thought of the treasure so close ignited boundless energy within the elementary schoolers.

“This way!” Conan led the way onto the rooftop, then beckoned the others to follow. Without waiting for them to catch up, he dashed into the abandoned top floor.

Based on the direction and height, it should be here… What?!

Conan’s steps abruptly halted.

He spotted a red glow near the windowsill—someone was smoking. Looking closer, it was a man dressed entirely in black!

Hopefully, he wasn’t a member of that organization… Conan hoped against hope.

The three who followed him in stumbled, colliding and rolling into a heap.

“Conan, why did you suddenly stop?” Mitsuhiko got up, brushing off dust. Yet recalling the touch of falling with Ayumi just now made him blush.

“Hey, that person ahead…” Following Conan’s gaze, they saw a man in a black trench coat sitting on the windowsill smoking.

“Uncle, sitting on the windowsill is dangerous—” Mitsuhiko shouted toward the man.

“Could he be here for the treasure too?” Genta pushed himself up with one hand, scratching his head with the other. “But would he really compete with elementary school kids for treasure? That’s just rude.”

“At last…” The man named Morai stubbed out his cigarette, casually tossing it out the window. “You’ve kept me waiting.”

What?!

Conan’s face turned pale as he stepped back, a cold sweat breaking out on his back.

Could it really be that organization?

When he said “You’ve kept me waiting,” was he waiting for me? Do they know Shinichi Kudo didn’t die but shrank?

Is he here to kill me? What should I do?

He’s coming this way! At least, I can’t drag everyone down...

Damn it… Before he gets serious, I’ll have everyone run while I draw his attention.

There’s no other way!

With urgency, Conan turned and shouted to Ayumi and the others, “Run… escape outside and call the police! I’ll distract him—”

“Heh, that won’t do…”

At the door, three men in black suits and sunglasses appeared simultaneously.

“If you all run, that’ll be dangerous for us. You’ll have to stay and die here.”

The leader, a Japanese man in sunglasses, looked puzzled. How did these kids find us?

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Surrounded… no way out?! Conan gritted his teeth.

“Conan, who… who are they?” Ayumi was scared, hiding behind Conan.

“…I’m sorry, Ayumi. I dragged you all into this.” Conan pursed his lips, still searching for a way out.

Morai, seeing the three henchmen, sighed helplessly and muttered, “Wearing sunglasses at night, really stupid… Is it necessary to stay here…”

“What? Who?!” The henchmen suddenly realized others were on this floor. The Japanese leader took off his sunglasses, stared, then cursed, “How the hell am I supposed to see at night if you wear all black! …Wait, who are you?”

Morai sighed and turned to Conan’s group. “Alright, kids, thanks for leading them here. This is no longer your concern.”

Hearing this, Conan’s heart jolted—was this about silencing them? But judging by the tone, Morai didn’t seem to know those three. Maybe I can sow discord between them…

Suddenly, drowsiness overcame him. In a haze, he saw the silver-haired man in black across from him emitting a faint glow from his hand.

This form… a gaseous anesthetic? Hidden in the sleeve?

He forced himself to stay awake and noticed the three he assumed were thieves weren’t affected.

Only a dosage effective on children? Damn… I…

He collapsed.

“Enough. No worries about leaks now.” Morai ended the hypnosis, tied up the four kids in a compartment, then looked at the three henchmen. “That captured leader is your boss, right?”

“W-what did you do?” The Japanese man panicked seeing someone incapacitate four kids with unknown means. “Yes, what of it?”

He seemed to consider something, then sighed in relief. “Could you be the boss’s backup?”

Morai shook his head.

“Then you’re after the gold? Want a share?!” The Japanese man gritted his teeth. “We’re almost there. No way we’ll let you cut in!”

Morai shook his head again, raising a finger.

“First, I arrived long before you, so I already found the gold.”

“Second, I need help moving and fencing it. If you cooperate, I’ll share a bit.”

The three laughed at the absurdity.

“We’re three, you’re one!” The Japanese man sneered. “And we have guns!”

Each drew a handgun and spread out, forming a loose encirclement.

Morai sighed.

“Then I’ll try to keep one alive. Hope my interrogation skills aren’t rusty…”

Upon hearing this, the three fired continuously. Muzzle flashes and gunfire echoed far across the deserted rooftop.

Morai deftly dodged between bullets. It sounded dangerous, but he was accustomed to this. Three shooters were no real threat; by observing movements and gun direction, he could predict trajectories. Even if their muzzles moved rapidly targeting him, they couldn’t hit what they couldn’t catch.

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“What a monster…” The Japanese man gritted his teeth. Seeing Morai close within two or three meters, he swung his gun toward Morai’s face; Morai ducked.

Seizing the moment, the man threw a punch with all his might!

Morai recognized the clumsy punch—he wasn’t a fighter.

He knew the man aimed to increase the punch’s power, but it wasted the element of surprise. If you strike, best do it before the opponent senses it—like in gangster movies, chatting and laughing while the hidden hand grips a bottle, waiting to strike suddenly.

This man’s foot direction and wind-up revealed the punch’s path.

Morai suddenly crouched, the gust sweeping overhead. The man looked down—no! He vanished?!

In truth, Morai had sidestepped around him to his back.

The next moment, the man blacked out from a heavy blow to the back of his head, collapsing forward. The other two froze. One furtively reached into his pocket, pulled out a phone, and dialed.

“One down,” Morai said, turning to the intimidated pair. “So, ready to consider my offer?”

One opened his mouth to drop his gun, but the one who just dialed suddenly grimaced and fired.

Morai just sidestepped the bullet, glancing at the shooter. “Then two down.”

He snapped his fingers. The two faltered momentarily, then found Morai suddenly upon them!

“Bang!”

At the critical moment, a stray shot rang out; Morai rolled aside to evade.

One of the two looked back, terrified. The other sighed in relief.

A silver-haired man in a black round-brimmed hat and night-black trench coat stood in the doorway, cigarette in mouth, gun still smoking—it was Gin.

Behind him was a similarly dressed man with a square jaw and sunglasses—Vodka.

Gin lowered his gun. Six men in black suits and sunglasses rushed in behind him, shielding them.

“Perhaps you owe me an explanation?” Gin said darkly to the man who relaxed upon seeing them.

“Vincenzo, you betrayed us?!” Another man looked furious and raised his gun at Vincenzo, but suddenly was struck and fell back.

Gin stared at Vincenzo. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead as he explained, “This man found the gold location before us, then threatened us to help fence it, promising a share. We refused but…”

He swallowed hard, “But we couldn’t beat him…”

“Three armed men couldn’t beat one and lost one? Pathetic.” Gin sneered.

“Since you lasted this long, I’ll give you another chance. Five days to wait for the mission, then leave.” Gin dismissed Vincenzo, who quickly retreated.

“As for you…” Gin flicked aside his finished cigarette, lit another, and looked at Morai. “Who are you?”