Chapter Thirteen: The Encounter

Moray dodged the bullet fired by Gin, his arm snapping out to strike Gin’s firearm. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through Gin’s arm, causing it to swing outward and the gun to fly from his grasp. Gin gritted his teeth, ducking beneath Moray’s follow-up shot, then lunged forward. With a twist of his torso, he delivered a roundhouse kick that sent Moray’s pistol clattering to the floor.

Moray, however, remained unfazed. He assumed a stance, closed the distance to Gin in a single step, and unleashed a heavy punch.

*So fast!* But Gin was utterly undaunted; he simply raised his forearm to block. Instantly, he felt a tremendous, surging force emanate from Moray’s fist.

*What a heavy punch!*

Yet, having clawed his way through the Organization for so many years, always at the forefront of field operations, how could Gin’s combat skills be anything but formidable?

He used the momentum to backflip away, then immediately launched a front kick.

To maintain his balance, Gin leaned back slightly, which also happened to evade Moray’s pursuit punch. Because his extended leg had a much longer reach than his arm, Gin’s foot slammed hard into Moray’s chest.

Taking the direct hit, Moray was sent flying backward, only stabilizing himself after taking a few steps. While an ordinary person would likely be left wailing on the ground, Moray seemed completely unscathed, his breathing steady. Instead of faltering, he pressed the attack once more.

At this moment, Moray was still in his disguise—or rather, his "transformed" state.

For Moray, whose soul had materialized, his true form remained unaffected as long as the physical damage did not exceed the threshold of his disguise. However, if the disguise sustained too much damage, it would automatically dissipate, and Moray would have to divert his mana flow to repair it over a significant period. During that time, the disguise would be rendered useless, unable to be deployed until fully restored.

But the current intensity of the battle was nowhere near enough to damage Moray’s disguise; he had nothing to fear.

Watching Moray rush forward at high speed, Gin seized the moment to sweep with a left whip kick, which Moray blocked by raising his right arm. In that instant, Moray hooked his left hand around Gin’s left leg, exerting force to destroy his center of gravity, then delivered a vicious right leg sweep that knocked Gin to the ground.

Gin felt a sting as his back hit the floor, but his expression remained unchanged. He performed a side roll to dodge the foot Moray brought down toward his chest. Rising to his feet, he flicked his right arm, and a dagger slid into his grip.

He drew the sheath with his left hand, stepped forward, and shifted his right-hand grip to reverse. Under the moonlight, the blade carved a silver arc, forcing Moray to retreat repeatedly. Amidst the flurry of movement, a small gash was opened on Moray’s cheek, and bright red blood trickled out. Fortunately, once he reverted to his true form, the injury would not transfer to his actual face, and the state of his disguise would slowly recover.

However, under Gin’s relentless pressure, Moray’s back finally hit the corner of the wall; he had nowhere left to run.

The blade flashed and stopped just inches from Moray’s throat. Gin wore a cruel smile.

Suddenly, a cold, hard object pressed against his chest.

Gin’s smile vanished, and the corners of his mouth turned down.

"...You had two guns." He seemed still immersed in their duel, his voice low and raspy, like a cold viper.

"So, does that mean we’re even?" Moray gripped the muzzle, lifting the pistol to show him.

The safety was still on.

Gin’s expression softened slightly. With a gloomy face, he turned and headed toward the building’s exit, gesturing for Moray to follow.

In that moment, it wasn't that Moray didn't want to use reinforcement magic; he simply couldn't.

First facing three opponents, then six, maintaining high-intensity reinforcement magic had placed a significant burden on his physical body.

The quality of his magic circuits was not particularly high, and thus his output was insufficient. Even though his body constantly generated mana, he could only maintain reinforcement for a few minutes at full capacity before overheating—not to mention the mana being consumed in the background by his imaginary space and his "transformation." Consequently, he had chosen to forgo reinforcement and rely solely on technique.

He had practiced combat daily ever since synchronizing with the memories of the old professor, and he had even recovered weapons once held by ancient heroes, using synchronization magic to absorb their combat experience in hopes of pummeling Holmes at Reichenbach Falls. Unfortunately, Moray hadn't practiced enough to fully integrate those experiences; he never got to beat Holmes before finding himself in this world.

The two entered the hallway, and Gin nodded to Vodka.

Vodka understood immediately—this man had fought his boss to a draw? He was not to be underestimated. Thinking of the man’s earlier "oath of loyalty," he couldn't help but feel a sense of crisis.

*If you want to be a lackey, find another boss! Don't come here and steal my spot! Otherwise... watch out... or I'll recommend you to Rum to learn how to make sushi!*

Despite this, he maintained a steady, reliable expression. He followed behind Gin, and the three of them headed downstairs.

Back at the top floor, only the unconscious or groaning subordinates of the Black Organization remained. Seeing that Moray and Gin’s group had departed, Conan finally dared to widen the crack in the door to observe the situation.

Among the elementary school students, only Conan had fully recovered. As a high schooler with a notoriously resilient mind, he had regained consciousness while Moray was battling the six subordinates. Hearing the gunfire outside, he hadn't ventured out, but he had gathered the courage to open the door slightly, allowing him to witness the combat between Moray, the subordinates, and Gin.

*Who exactly is that person?* He clenched his fists.

*He looks a bit like Moray, but the build doesn't match... He had a cut on his face just now. If I have the chance tomorrow, I'll go and confirm it with Moray.*

*With such powerful combat skills, expert marksmanship, and the intelligence to find the gold coins before anyone else—why would someone like that choose to collude with the Black Organization?*

*He clearly saw that at the very last moment, that man’s gun was pressed against the chest of the silver-haired man who drugged him. If he had just pulled the trigger, there would be one less criminal in the world!*

However, there was no time for him to dwell on it. Ayumi and the others were beginning to come to their senses and regain their ability to move. He had to take this opportunity to lead his classmates out of the building to safety!

Meanwhile, on Moray’s side, a team of subordinates carrying stretchers approached from below. The leader saw Gin and stopped between the flights of stairs to bow in greeting. Gin impatiently signaled for them to go upstairs and save the others, then quickly headed down. Moray noticed a Porsche 356A parked by the roadside.

Gin got into the car, reached into his pocket, and frowned.

*Tsk, I’m out of cigarettes.*

Seeing this, Moray pulled out a pack and looked at Gin with an inquiring gaze. Gin waved him off and signaled for Vodka to go buy cigarettes.

At this moment, although Moray claimed to offer his loyalty, he was still untrustworthy. Gin wouldn't just casually accept a "kind gesture" from him.

Moray didn't mind; he lit a cigarette for himself.

The previous battle had taken a toll on Gin as well, so he closed his eyes to rest, leaning his head back against the headrest. "Since you’ve joined the Organization, you’ll be entitled to a cut of these gold coins," he said to Moray. "The lion's share goes to the Organization, of course. After deducting the costs of laundering, you will receive about 20% of these 600 million worth of maple leaf gold coins. This is not just your cut; it’s also a welcome gift from the Organization. Of course, you’ll only get the money after the Organization verifies your background and loyalty."

"I don't need it," Moray exhaled a smoke ring. "I’d like to trade it for something else. Don't worry, the value won't exceed that 20%."

Vodka had returned by then. Hearing Moray’s request, he nodded and said, "If you pass the assessment, make a list and I’ll ask for you. But the Organization might not agree."

Moray had no objections. Vodka took the driver's seat, and Moray climbed into the back. Gin lit a cigarette and let out a long sigh. The car fell into silence.

...

Elsewhere, Conan, having successfully utilized the time gap to escape the building with his friends while the Organization members were busy transporting their men, was sprinting toward the police box, his face pale.

*What should I do? Should I bring the patrol officers to that place?* Conan wondered.

*But the patrol officers' equipment can't even handle a gang of robbers, how could they possibly deal with people from the Black Organization?*

Upon reaching the police box, the officers were shocked to see four elementary school students tied up with ropes and immediately untied them. Mitsuhiko, Genta, and Ayumi were trembling and speechless, but Conan was caught in an internal struggle.

*If I don't bring the officers there, the hard-won clues will slip away, and who knows when there will be another chance to track down that organization? However, if I bring the officers, there is absolutely no way they can arrest those people with their current gear—they’d likely lose their lives instead.*

*And by the time the patrol officers notify police headquarters, those people will have long since evacuated!*

*But... I cannot sacrifice them for the sake of these clues.*

After a fierce psychological struggle, Conan chose to lie, concealing the truth about the organization and claiming they had been kidnapped by an Italian robbery gang.

The officers naturally reported it to their superiors. When the First Investigation Division arrived at the building, they were surprised to find that two of the three robbers were dead on the roof, the gold was missing, and there were clear signs of a shootout.

They initially determined that the trio had been double-crossed by another organization and that the gold had been stolen. The police announced that they would use this as a lead for further investigation.

But these subsequent events no longer concerned Moray. He had followed Gin to a bar under the Organization's name.

Gin found a booth and sat down. Shortly after, Vodka returned from outside and whispered into his ear.

Gin fixed his gaze on Moray.

"Your face doesn't appear in any national citizen record," he said, ordering a gin. "You’d better explain."

The atmosphere in the tavern grew heavy.

Moray chuckled and placed his right hand on his left shoulder. With a rustle of fabric, a shawl swept across his vision, passing over him.

Gin’s eyes narrowed. He realized that the person before him no longer looked like a man in his thirties or forties, but was the silver-haired French detective who had been making headlines in the newspapers recently!