Conan: The Phantom Heart Thief

"Ding Dong——"

After ringing the doorbell on tiptoe, Conan had just steadied himself when he saw the white-haired boy walk out from the side garden with a watering can in hand.

"I figured you'd come." Kazawa opened the gate and set the watering can on the railing, letting Conan in. "Here to ask about Hirota Masami?"

The upscale residences in Beika 2-chome all occupied generous plots—just look at the Kudo house or Dr. Agasa's. Kazawa hadn't made any major changes after buying this detached house, preserving most of its original layout.

There was a gym, a tea room, an audio-visual room—all just on the first floor. The space was vast enough that unless Conan deliberately timed it, he would rarely bump into Hoshikawa Teru.

"Yes. After I told you about her yesterday, I think I saw you following her... Is something wrong with Ms. Hirota Masami? Is she special?" He didn't feel comfortable calling her by name directly, and his email had gone unanswered. After a full day of frustration, now that he'd found someone to interrogate, Conan's questions poured out. "You asked me to keep an eye on her, but I might not be much help in something like finding a missing relative. Uncle Mouri's more experienced in that area…"

Kazawa led Conan into a side room on the first floor. "I was digging into some related information. I realized what was happening after I saw your follow-up email."

This room had originally been designed for entertainment by the previous owner, but Kazawa had repurposed it into something resembling a command center.

Standing before the door, which had clearly been prepared long in advance, Kazawa gave a little smile and pushed it open.

As the door swung open, Conan's eyes widened, and he nearly let out a "Wow."

The room looked like something straight out of a crime drama.

Three massive whiteboards were mounted on the far wall. In the center, a detailed map of Tokyo was marked with red lines and pushpins. Attached in sequence were newspaper clippings, photos, and other evidence. Physical items and witness testimonies were intuitively connected, forming a huge web with Tokyo at its core. Any ripple on the spiderweb would be detected by the web of red lines.

It was neat, methodical, and brimming with the spark of logical reasoning. Standing inside gave the impression that one's brain was speeding up just by proximity.

No detective could resist a war room like this.

"Amazing!" Conan's eyes sparkled. "Are you investigating the organization?"

He instinctively flexed his fingers, itching to take a picture and send it to his father to brag.

But this was Joker's intelligence center. Allowing him to step in and look around was already a major show of trust. Taking pictures felt like overstepping. Reluctantly, he reined in his impulses and simply sighed in admiration.

It was just too cool. It screamed detective—even though it belonged to a phantom thief.

Watching Conan's delighted expression, Kazawa nodded in satisfaction. Then he grabbed a laser pointer and indicated one of the photos. "Investigating the organization is part of it. I've also been collecting info on various criminal activities... Look at this photo. This is the 'Hirota Kenzo' that Hirota Masami was asking about, right?"

This setup wasn't just for show—though Kazawa wouldn't deny that part of it was designed to impress.

In the past, when he worked alone, jotting things down on a scrap of paper was enough. But now that he had teammates, it made sense to build a shared space. So the idea of a proper operations center took form—part resource hub, part psychological weapon to make the detective next door weep with envy.

This war room was born from that concept.

Conan followed the red dot from the laser pointer and looked at the man in the photo Kazawa had pointed to.

"Yes, that's him."

"Then this case is connected to the organization, little detective." Kazawa's statement took Conan by surprise.

He turned and saw Kazawa pin a photo of Hirota Masami beside that of Hirota Kenzo. The photo looked like it had been taken from behind—probably during Kazawa's tailing yesterday.

"Hirota Kenzo isn't his real name. I don't know his real one yet," Kazawa said, moving the laser pointer to a newspaper clipping. The article described a case involving a drunk taxi driver who had caused serious injuries. "I stumbled across him while looking into a small gang. He used to be a taxi driver, but his license got revoked for drunk driving. After that, he got hooked on gambling and ended up deep in debt to this gang. But recently, he started going by the name 'Hirota Kenzo,' hanging around the gang again, and going in and out of the horse racing tracks. Looks like he came into some money."

"Normally, my investigation would've ended there—but I discovered something else."

The red dot slid across the board and landed on a blurry photo of a heavily tattooed man. Standing opposite him was someone wearing a long black coat with silver hair trailing behind.

"This gang has a connection to the organization."

"Gin…" Conan's eyes sharpened.

Kazawa clicked off the laser pointer, making the red dot disappear. He pulled up an office chair, sat down, and wrote "Hirota Masami" in the blank space on the whiteboard.

After laying out all the possible pathways from this case to the organization, Kazawa drew a thick line under the name.

"That's a pseudonym, too. Don't ask how I know." Capping the marker, he cut off any further probing from Conan. "Since she's tied to Kenzo Hirota, the case won't be that simple. Find Hirota Kenzo as soon as possible. If not for the case, then for Miss Hirota Masami. Anyone who gets involved with the organization never has a happy ending."

Spoilers aside, Joker's real cheat skill was being able to sniff out pseudonyms. The method was simple—he just entered the name into a navigation app.

If you input a name into someone's 'notebook' and they don't drop dead a minute later, that name's a fake. Simple, brutal logic.

Conan stood in place, reluctant to leave. His eyes burned as he looked over the war room.

The whiteboards were full of leads and vibrant characters. The table was scattered with all sorts of documents. There were two or three office chairs—he could almost picture people gathering in this room, discussing, arguing, sharing insights.

The air was thick with the scent of intellectual collision.

This… this was the detective office of his dreams.

Not like Uncle Mouri's place, where empty beer bottles rolled across the floor…

…Wait a minute.

"Oh, I see…" Conan finally realized and looked at Kazawa, who was spinning a pen lazily in the chair. "This room... it's meant for you and other people to share information. You're not alone. Do you have other, um, members?"

The multiple chairs, sets of pens, and document piles clearly weren't for one person. He finally recalled something—the calling cards always said "The Phantom Thieves of Hearts," using plural pronouns like we and us…

"Yeah. Why, is there a problem with the Phantom Thieves of Hearts having more than one member?" The proud leader of the group—which technically only had one official member so far—puffed out his chest confidently. "I told you already, we are the Phantom Thieves of Hearts!"

The only other member currently eavesdropping from upstairs, Teru Hoshikawa: "…"