Chapter 17: The Pawn

Not long after, the ballpoint pen was found by Conan, who was closer to the ground. Inspector Megure rotated the barrel to extend the nib, scribbled on a notebook to confirm it worked, and noted that the ink color and thickness matched the note in the victim's hand.

"That's a very high-end pen, though," Inspector Megure remarked, examining the exquisite instrument.

"This was a commemorative pen commissioned for the gallery's 50th anniversary," Iijima, the man in the blue suit, stepped forward to explain. "It was a limited edition, one for each internal staff member, and it's no longer in production."

However, seeing Inspector Megure extend the nib, a flash of insight struck Conan like lightning.

*That’s not right!*

When the pen was first discovered, the nib had been retracted!

Would the victim, after writing a dying message, really take the time to retract the ballpoint pen's nib?

For a high-end pen that required twisting the barrel to retract or extend the tip, the mortally wounded Mr. Manaka shouldn't have had the luxury of time to do that.

With this thought, he began to form a theory about the case.

*Is this pen really the one Mr. Manaka used?*

*I have to go back and check the surveillance footage!*

With that, Conan rushed back to the monitoring room.

*If I’m right... there should be other clues in the footage!*

Meanwhile, Inspector Megure was pressing the flustered Kubota: "What else do you have to say for yourself? The message left by the victim has your name written on it!"

Morley, on the other hand, yawned, generously forgiving Inspector Megure for his "Scotland Yard" style of policing.

Whether it was the Japanese police or Scotland Yard, their primary goal upon encountering a case was to close it—finding the truth was merely one way to achieve that end. If someone were willing to weave a layer of "truth" to capture their attention, they were more than happy to present that false reality to the public as a resolution.

It wasn't that they truly wanted to be this way; they were just inept.

Much like the scene currently unfolding in the art gallery.

Ignoring the Scotland Yard-esque procedural comedy and filtering out Kubota’s desperate pleas, Morley walked over to the forensics team.

"May I take a look at that note?" he asked with a friendly smile. "One of you should remember me, right? I was the one who solved the case at the Suwa residence."

"Oh, the… uh, detective-san, here is the evidence." The forensics officer offered a sheepish smile and handed over the note.

Morley examined the note against the light before returning it.

He then addressed Inspector Megure in a clear voice: "Hold on a moment, Inspector Megure, I have a question."

"When you picked up that ballpoint pen, was the nib retracted or extended?"

"It was retracted. Why do you ask?" Inspector Megure replied, confused.

"In that case, you can stop accusing Mr. Kubota, Inspector. It is highly probable that he is not the killer."

Morley smiled confidently.

"Because that dying message was not written by the victim at all!"

"But in the surveillance footage, didn't Mr. Manaka pick up a pen and write something on the note?" Inspector Megure countered.

Kogoro Mouri, standing nearby, had a rare moment of clarity.

"Inspector Megure, you just said the pen was retracted when you found it," Mouri said, slapping his palm. "But how would the victim have had the energy to twist the nib back in?"

"Which means," he said, his expression turning serious, "this pen was swapped by the killer!"

However, a few seconds later, his face fell as he stroked his chin in thought: "But what would the killer gain by swapping the pen..."

Ignoring the deep-thinking Mouri, Morley stated his deduction: "Inspector Megure, please examine the note with the dying message. Are there not faint indentations on the paper, as if someone had been drawing with a pen that wasn't producing any ink?"

Inspector Megure took the note from the forensics officer, held it to the light, and gasped. "There really are!"

In that moment, the wonder and bewilderment on his face mirrored that of a familiar person from Morley's memory.

*Lestrade,* Morley scoffed inwardly.

But his expression remained unchanged as he continued to guide them. "This proves that the victim was using a pen that didn't work; those indentations were left by the dry ballpoint pen."

"Could it be that someone else had used a dry pen on the paper beforehand?" Ran Mouri interjected. "Maybe Mr. Manaka wrote the message after that?"

"That's simple. Look at where the two types of marks intersect. You'll see that the inkless marks are interrupted by the inked ones, right?" Morley explained. "If it were as you suggested, it would be the other way around."

Inspector Megure examined it closely and accepted the argument, and Ran had no further objections.

"So this note was forged by the killer to interfere with the investigation?" Mouri realized.

"Exactly. The killer was across the table, hiding inside the suit of armor; he could see the paper and pen on the table through the slits in the helmet. Why, after killing him, would he choose to swap the pen on the floor instead of searching for the dying message? If he saw the pen, he should have associated it with the paper. And between the two sword strikes that killed Mr. Manaka, the killer intentionally paused for a few seconds. It was those few seconds that gave Mr. Manaka the opportunity to pick up the paper and pen and write something."

Morley looked around at the crowd. "Why would he intentionally pause, leaving time for the victim to write a message? And why swap the pen but not destroy the paper? In fact, my theory is that the killer wasn't worried about the dying message at all—or rather, the dying message was part of his plan. He swapped the dry pen for a working one specifically so we would believe the message was left by Mr. Manaka."

Director Ochiai, standing in the crowd, felt a shiver run down his spine.

*I thought my method was seamless. To think it would be exposed by a pen nib and some indentations?*

*But even so, they shouldn't be able to prove it...*

"So, where is the original pen? This is a commemorative pen commissioned for the gallery's 50th anniversary. Everyone here associated with the gallery should have one. No one has left the premises during this time, and you’ve been under police supervision, which means the pen hasn't been disposed of. Please, Inspector, check who among you is carrying such a pen and see if it writes. A pen that doesn't write is likely the one Mr. Manaka used. Let's list those whose pens don't work as suspects..."

"I confess." At these words, Director Ochiai closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

That pen was tucked in the inner pocket of his suit.

*...As expected.* *While swinging the sword of divine retribution at Manaka, was I, also stained with sin, destined to be judged?*

The crowd looked at the kind-faced director with disbelief.

Conan, who had just run to the hall entrance, had his mouth agape.

*Wait, why is he confessing?*

*What about me?*

*I solved the mystery too!*

Director Ochiai continued to explain his motive and his love for the art pieces, but Conan was no longer listening.

"...Like that oil painting—'Divine Punishment'—the knight kills the demon, but is also stained by the demon's blood; I killed the man whose soul was consumed by greed, but in doing so, I unleashed the demon within my own heart."

Director Ochiai finished his confession and hesitated, looking toward Morley.

"I noticed you when I heard you talking about art earlier." His eyes were hidden beneath his brows, indistinct, but his tone softened. "You have not only knowledge, but also a commitment to justice... that is good."

"Keep at it."

With that, Director Ochiai seemed relieved and accepted his arrest. However, just as he was being handcuffed and led out of the gallery, Morley’s voice came from behind him.

"Director Ochiai." He didn't turn around, but looked at the oil painting as he asked, "This painting is excellent. I would like to purchase it; how do I contact the owner?"

Director Ochiai reminded him, "That one... is just a reproduction. As for the original..."

"No need, this one is fine." Morley waved his hand, turning to look at the director. "This painting witnessed this incident. After hearing what you just said, I feel that for me, its value may already exceed the original."

Director Ochiai opened his mouth, then shook his head, saying nothing more. Iijima stepped forward, indicating he could contact the owner and, upon receiving permission, act on behalf of the gallery to sell the painting to Morley.

Morley nodded, listening to Iijima while admiring the painting.

In his magical vision, the knight in the painting was shimmering with a faint white light.

...

After finding an excuse to leave the statement-taking process to Mouri and the others, Morley hummed a tune as he returned home.

The gallery owner, having heard that Morley had solved the case, readily agreed and waved his hand to have the reproduction delivered to Morley's apartment.

After seeing off the staff who delivered the painting, Morley examined the knight in the picture.

Within the shimmering white figure, Morley felt a strong emotion. But a painting is an inanimate object; how could it possess emotion?

However, speaking of emotion...

Morley thought about his Noble Phantasm, "Mathematical Extraction of Malignancy." According to his calculations, its effect should be to extract emotions essential for combat, such as fighting spirit, hostility, or the intent to kill... Could it be possible to modify the construction formula of the Phantasm to make it effective on other emotions?

But there was no need for modification at the moment, because in Morley's perception, what was attached to the painting was indeed the "emotions essential for combat" he had mentioned.

"Then... I am the good, you are the evil—'Mathematical Extraction of Malignancy'!" Morley attempted to activate his Phantasm on the painting. The next moment, something surprising happened.

The shimmering white light trembled, rippling like water. Then, it began to actively draw on Morley's mana, and a small, silver-white statue gradually solidified in the air.

The statue had a silver-white base and featured a figure in a hooded robe holding a long staff. Morley reached out and gently plucked the statue from the air. He recognized this statue.

Wasn't this the statue representing the Caster class among the seven classes of the Holy Grail War?

But why would it appear here?

He closed his eyes and tried to channel his synchronization magic into the statue. Silver-gray light paths crawled over it, and Director Ochiai's voice abruptly echoed in Morley's mind.

Even with his eyes closed, Morley could see himself inside the armor, wielding a long sword to stab Mr. Manaka.

"To keep the gallery from being destroyed by this man... I shall execute divine punishment!"

Blood splattered, the scene turned dark, and Morley's consciousness returned to his apartment.

Morley seemed to understand: "Overwhelming emotion and willpower combined with a fitting action, then encountering a suitable vessel—this painting—and finally absorbing the spiritrons from Manaka's dissipating soul..."

"Resulting in this statue."

"Why not Saber? Could it be because the Director was an artist at heart?"

He examined the statue in his hand. "Though it should be useful, what exactly will it do?"

With that thought, he suddenly recalled the structure of the Holy Grail.

*Using the souls of the seven knights as fuel...*

He tried to absorb the piece into his body. To his surprise, as soon as it touched him, it merged without resistance, hovering around his spirit core.

The flow of mana became smoother, and his output was slightly enhanced. The reinforcement magic he could previously maintain for about five minutes could now last for about six. In battle, even the slightest enhancement was critical; Morley was pleasantly surprised by the effect of the piece.

As he felt it more closely, some thoughts flowed through his mind, and his understanding of the magic he had previously studied deepened.

He even had many new ideas about the Rune Magic he had never been able to master.

Feeling the flow of mana in his body, Morley mused.

*Caster... I wonder if statues of other classes can be formed?*

The statue looked a lot like a chess piece, silver in color; it could be called the Caster Silver Piece.

The other classes included Saber, Lancer, Archer, Assassin, Rider, and Berserker.

If he collected them all, what would happen?

At this thought, Morley couldn't help but have the urge to encourage lucky citizens to commit crimes. However, after careful consideration, he shook his head and pushed the thought out of his mind.

He had clearly vowed to place a bit in the mouth of the evils of this world. How could he let his own thinking slip so easily?

He would never degenerate into the person he was in his old age, eventually becoming a comic relief character!

Besides, even if one committed a crime, without sufficient willpower, how could one be qualified to form a statue?

Morley still remembered the resentment, tragedy, determination, and sense of mission in Director Ochiai's heart during the synchronization—regardless of whether what he did was right or wrong, his emotions were at least "in place."

Just as Morley was searching his past memories, trying to figure out how to use the Silver Piece, the phone rang.

He picked up the receiver, and Gin's hoarse voice came from the other side.

"Evaluation tonight." Gin's voice was as cold as ever.

After saying this, he paused and added, "Remember to use your disguise."

Morley agreed casually and climbed into bed, planning to get some sleep before the night's operations.

*The organization's evaluation... it came so soon. It seems the magic research will have to be delayed a bit.*

Morley pulled a pillow over his eyes to block out the remaining daylight, wondering if he should buy an eye mask.

*I hope it's not some boring task like 'go here and kill that person'.*

Morley yawned, set an alarm in his mind, and drifted into a deep sleep.