Conan's Corpse Picker

Double Chapter

Although it was never written in any manual, everyone in the Detective Conan universe abided by one unspoken rule:

Once someone starts a deduction, no one else is allowed to interrupt with a different theory, no matter how many plot holes there are. You can question it, sure—but hijacking the spotlight? Taboo.

Vermouth kept this rule in mind.

So, the moment she cut off Jiangxia's incoming deduction, she was confident:

Ouzo wouldn't have a chance to frame her. Not today.

It helped that the whole thing had happened so suddenly. He wouldn't have had time to prep a full setup. And she wasn't some random innocent—catching her wouldn't be that easy.

Vermouth shot Jiangxia a calm, confident smile.

Jiangxia instinctively smiled back, but inside, his confusion deepened.

He hadn't expected Vermouth to be the type who enjoyed solving murder cases. Or… was she just remembering that Amuro Tooru was supposed to be a detective and committing to the bit?

Jiangxia idly poked at the killing intent curled up inside his pocket—still clinging to him like a mermaid to a shipwreck.

Right now, he didn't really need the credit. In fact, to keep luring new criminals into appearing before him, it was better to not look too competent at solving cases.

So if Vermouth wanted to play detective? Fine. Let her.

He had shikigami, killing intent, and time to kill. One more part-timer couldn't hurt.

Inspector Megure, meanwhile, seemed convinced.

Jiangxia always solved cases with such flair—surely his boss at the agency had to be even sharper.

Eager to hear the big reveal, Megure leaned in:

"Brother Amuro, about this culprit of yours…?"

"Amuro Tooru" gave a mysterious smile and led everyone toward the warehouse.

Inside, Matsui Shugo—the actor who played Gomera—was still sitting on the floor, clutching the bandaged wound on his leg and waiting for a stretcher.

Vermouth walked straight to him.

The moment Matsui sensed something was off and began to look up, she crouched beside him, pulled out a knife from somewhere, and ripped open the gauze wrapped around his thigh.

At the same time, she tore open the pant leg around the wound, revealing blood-soaked fabric underneath.

The move was... not exactly standard police procedure.

Officer Takagi, the resident lawful good, jumped in alarm and rushed over to stop her.

But Vermouth simply raised an eyebrow and gestured calmly.

"This wound's shape and angle? Not consistent with a surprise attack. And the location—here on the thigh—it's all wrong for his story."

She didn't even wait for anyone to ask.

"He said he ran into a knife-wielding Gomera in the warehouse and got stabbed in the chaos. But this? This looks self-inflicted."

As she spoke, Vermouth had a strange feeling of déjà vu.

She glanced at Jiangxia—then quickly away.

…Cosplaying as either Jiangxia or Kudo Shinichi was unexpectedly fun.

Her deduction flowed smoothly now.

"The truth is, Matsui entered the warehouse, poured stage blood on his leg to fake an injury, and pointed the kids toward the crime scene upstairs."

"After the Detective Boys left, he took the corridor to get to the studio ahead of them, killed Producer Kamei in front of the children—if you check that route, you'll probably find some spilled fake blood along the way."

"Then he staged the scene to make it look like 'Gomera' ran to the rooftop and burned up before falling. After that, he came back to the warehouse, stabbed himself for real, and sat here waiting to be found."

Vermouth paused.

…Wait. If this really was Ouzo's impromptu guidance, then where did Matsui get the knife to kill Kamei—and the one he used on himself?

She wanted to stop and think it through.

But now, with everyone watching her like she was the star of a live murder show, it wasn't exactly the time to space out.

Besides, she was already operating under the assumption that Ouzo was behind the scenes pulling strings.

And once she accepted that premise, her instincts filled in the rest.

Maybe Matsui had long considered killing Kamei, but lacked the courage. Lots of people buy a knife and then just… wait. Weeks. Months. Forever.

If that were the case, then he could've had a weapon stashed away long before today.

As for the other knife—

When she checked the wound earlier, it didn't match the long, sharp knife that had fallen with the monster suit. Too shallow. Too neat.

That meant Matsui likely used a smaller blade on himself.

And that made sense.

One knife hidden in the studio. Another on his person. Classic setup.

With her logic all lined up and the motive accounted for, Vermouth nodded to herself.

Next step: Find the second knife. Case closed.

…

Having sorted out her thoughts, she left the pale, trembling Matsui behind and moved toward the nearby prop weapon box.

She smiled politely at a forensic officer standing nearby, then casually tapped the glove on his hand.

"This—could I borrow it?"

The officer blinked, momentarily stunned.

Something about "Amuro Tooru's" every move felt… oddly seductive.

And not in a way that should logically be possible for a man who looked that serious.

He handed over the glove, dazed.

Vermouth turned her attention to the weapon box, wanting to first locate the knife visually so she wouldn't accidentally cut herself.

She stared for several seconds…

But still hadn't received the glove.

She looked back up. "Hmm? No glove?"

"Ah—yes! Sorry! It's just... a little dangerous. Maybe I should—look for it instead?" the forensic officer offered, clearly trying to remember what professionalism looked like.

Vermouth hesitated, then shook her head.

Not everyone carries a spare knife. Not everyone can find one quickly either.

And if Matsui's props really were insufficient, there was one more terrifying possibility—

That Ouzo, in order to take out her, had personally supplied the murder weapon.

…That would mean he was willing to cross a line.

That he'd stopped caring about hiding himself.

And if that were true—then she had to find the knife first.

Before the police could connect the dots.

…

Just as she was about to turn and ask someone else, a shadow approached.

The real Amuro Tooru had arrived at some point.

Face grim, he reached straight into Jiangxia's coat pocket and yanked out a pair of gloves—then smacked them onto Vermouth's face.

She raised her hand and caught them just in time.

Her expression didn't change.

But behind the calm disguise… she was slightly embarrassed.

Vermouth snorted, then shot a glare at Bourbon—only to pause in surprise.

He was already wearing gloves.

She glanced at Jiangxia, who was calmly tucking his flipped-out pocket back into place. Her expression eased slightly. She unfolded the gloves and pulled them on.

Then, with gloved hands, she rummaged through the prop knife box. After pushing aside a few fake daggers, she found her target:

A small fruit knife with a plastic handle and an old, scratched casing.

The blade had clearly been wiped down—no obvious bloodstains—but at the base and in the grooves of the handle's design, faint traces of dried blood remained.

Vermouth blinked.

This wasn't the worst-case scenario. It wasn't Ouzo's personal knife of doom.

It was just… a regular old staff lounge fruit knife.

She recognized it now—normally kept by the sink, available for anyone who wanted to peel an apple. Small, dull-colored, easy to miss. Perfect for hiding in a box full of props. Even if Matsui Shugo failed to ditch it in time, no one would think twice about seeing it there. It was the perfect background knife.

Across the room, Shugo Hideho spotted the not-fully-cleaned blade.

Then heard "Amuro Tooru" describing his earlier actions like a director reading from a leaked script.

His last shred of hope evaporated.

He gave a hollow laugh, raised his hand to cover his face, and muttered:

"Yeah. I killed him."

…

After his heartfelt confession, the police escorted Matsui Shugo away.

As he was lifted to his feet, Jiangxia stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder. He offered a mass-produced helping of canned chicken soup. (TL: Basically inspirational words to inspire/console the other)

And while he was at it, quietly plucked the shikigami that had been clinging to Matsui.

On the way downstairs, Jiangxia carefully flattened the spirit and tucked it away, content.

Then he suddenly remembered his gloves.

By now, the group had reached the entrance of the film studio.

He turned to look for "Amuro Tooru," eyes scanning the area.

But only the real Amuro Tooru remained.

…Vermouth had slipped away during the chaos.

The surface layer of killing intent on her had already been fully harvested by the ghosts. No more supernatural clingers. And since his ghosts weren't reacting, Jiangxia figured she'd left the vicinity entirely.

Probably didn't want to deal with the police. Again.

He wasn't too worried. Once her killing intent grew back, he could retrieve his gloves later.

For now, his attention shifted.

Out of nowhere, Kojima Genta tiptoed up to him.

The kid looked evasive, eyes darting, clearly struggling with something.

Ayumi and Mitsuhiko were still tearfully gazing at the burnt-up Gomera suit.

Conan was off talking to Matsui Shugo.

The real Amuro had already gotten into a police car to give his statement.

For a rare moment, Jiangxia and Genta were alone.

Jiangxia looked down, puzzled.

He thought Genta was maybe scared of him again.

Then the bear child took a deep breath, clapped his hands together, and bowed deeply.

"I've already played with you! Please let me go!"

Jiangxia: "...?"

Wait—had he done something to this rice-ball-headed kid?

Sure, he'd fantasized a little about weaponizing the Detective Boys for efficiency, but that was just hypothetical. He hadn't actually done anything.

…Right?

Did he sleepwalk to Genta's house or something?

No way. He didn't sleepwalk. The ghosts would've told him.

Jiangxia glanced at his spectral entourage, silently asking for confirmation.

They nodded. No midnight excursions. Jiangxia had been sound asleep the past two weeks. No sneaking off to haunt innocent children.

Feeling vindicated, he turned to Genta.

"Why are you suddenly saying this?"

Genta looked up, still a bit wary, but now confused too.

He scratched his head.

"A few days ago, when I passed under a bridge, I heard weird footsteps behind me. And then… someone pushed me on the stairs."

As he spoke, the kid slowly seemed to realize something didn't quite add up.

…If Brother Jiangxia had wanted to push him, would he really go to that much trouble?

Jiangxia studied Genta's round, earnest face.

Actually… this might be a case.

Because buried in Jiangxia's spoiler-library-of-a-brain was a vague memory:

There was one time Genta had gotten a haircut at a salon while half-asleep, and next to him sat a wanted criminal.

A few days later, Genta saw a wanted poster and recognized the guy. He wanted to tell the police, but couldn't remember where he'd seen the man.

Not long after, there was a case near Genta's house.

When Genta showed up to gawk (as bear children do), he saw a blond man in the crowd.

And remembered:

That guy had been next to the wanted criminal in the salon. So logically, he must've seen the criminal too!

Genta tried to drag him to the police to give a statement.

Unfortunately… the blond man was the wanted criminal.

He'd gone to the salon specifically to change his appearance.

After being half-recognized by Genta, he lied his way out, fled, and started plotting how to get rid of the kid before he blew his cover for real.

As Jiangxia processed all this, the mermaid shikigami—sensitive to killing intent—suddenly tugged his sleeve and pointed toward the street.

…Killing intent.

Jiangxia subtly turned his head and spotted a figure lurking under the shade of a tree.

Blond hair. Nervous posture. Glint of intent in the eyes.

He was clearly watching Genta. Whether he'd been tailing the boy or just spotted him now thanks to all the flashing police cars, who could say.

Either way—this level of killing intent wasn't top-shelf, but it was harvestable. And wasting that would be a sin against capitalism.

He turned back to Genta.

"Go home. Don't worry about it anymore."

"…"

Genta looked like he wanted to say something, still not entirely convinced it wasn't Jiangxia stalking him that day.

But Jiangxia had spoken. So Genta, in classic survival mode, said nothing more. He nodded meekly and shuffled away with Mitsuhiko and Ayumi.

*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.

Progress: 48/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS

Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.

Progress:3/10*