Officer Sakata parked his car in front of an abandoned house, stepped out to glance around, and went inside quietly.
Heiji leaned in a dark corner, still enough to go unnoticed. From there, he could watch Sakata's every move. However, he did not follow him inside immediately.
Sakata wasn't inside for long—he emerged in about five minutes. He cast another wary glance around the area to confirm there was nothing suspicious before driving away.
Heiji stayed put, hands in his pockets, making no move to leave. Suddenly, two headlights swept across the night; Sakata's car had returned. He stopped in front of the house, peering through the windshield for a full minute before driving off again.
This time, Heiji moved.
He burst from the shadows, his eyes cold. He sprang up nearly 3 meters, landed on the roof without a sound, and slipped inside through a skylight.
Numabuchi Kiichiro was gnawing on some dry bread. Hearing a noise, he snapped his head up. A faint whistle cut the air, and Numabuchi's body slumped against the wall, silenced forever.
The house fell silent again.
The Call to the Shadows
A light flickered within the house. Heiji inserted a newly purchased SIM card into his phone and began to dial.
Tokyo, a luxury apartment.
A woman sat on a sofa with her legs crossed, idly swaying one foot. She held a glass of red wine, eyes fixed on the television screen. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.
Looking down at the phone on the table, her eyebrows knit slightly. "A strange number?" After a moment's thought, she took a sip of wine and answered.
"Vermouth, how about we make a deal?"
The moment the call connected, a cold voice rang out. Vermouth froze, her smile fading. "Who are you?"
"We're old friends, yet you've forgotten me so quickly? It seems we really do need to make a trade again."
[That voice?!]
Vermouth's pupils constricted. She dropped her crossed legs and sat up straight, her nerves tightening. "Are you shadow?"
The Black Organization had investigated this individual across the world, but the conclusion was that no such person existed in the underworld. There were only two possibilities for such a result:
He was a newcomer to the dark world.
It was an alias for a well-established figure.
Based on the data provided by Gin, everyone leaned toward the second possibility, but the lack of intelligence made it impossible to learn more.
"It seems Vermouth still has a decent memory," the voice on the phone said, flat and emotionless.
"How do you have this number?" Vermouth asked. This was the number she used to contact Gin; very few people knew it.
"That is not your concern."
A chill flashed in Vermouth's eyes. "In that case, we have nothing to talk about."
She was playing a game of retreat to advance. She figured this mysterious "shadow" must be calling because he needed something from her. Since she held the initiative, she intended to squeeze out the maximum benefit.
Unfortunately for her...
"You only have one chance."
The voice carried a tone that brooked no argument.
[In less than five sentences, he'd used a dozen different tones, rhythms, and pitches. This person is an expert at vocal disguise,] Vermouth noted mentally.
"Hehe, then it's a pity. I've always been fond of mysteries."
She continued the psychological warfare, but the phone line suddenly went dead. Listening to the busy tone, Vermouth was left dumbfounded.
"Damn it... he actually hung up?"
The Discovery at the Scene
After hanging up, Heiji removed the SIM card and casually tossed it onto Numabuchi's body. He jumped, caught the skylight's edge, and pulled himself back out into the night.
As the darkness deepened, he vanished into the distance.
Tokyo, luxury apartment.
Vermouth stared at her phone with a frown, her eyes hard. He really hadn't called back.
Back in Osaka, Heiji carefully moved the sleeping Kazuha to the side and got up to answer his vibrating phone.
"Heiji! New situation: Numabuchi Kiichiro has been killed," Sakata's voice came through the speaker.
"Numabuchi Kiichiro?" Heiji asked, feigning confusion.
"Oh, I forgot you might not know. Numabuchi was a wanted robber and murderer. Someone reported a body today; he was killed in an abandoned house," Sakata explained quickly.
"Wait for me. I'm coming right now."
Heiji hung up, crawled back onto the bed, and gave Kazuha a light kiss. "Eat lunch with my mother today." Kazuha gave a languid nod. After a quick word with Shizuka, Heiji drove off.
The abandoned house was already cordoned off.
"Heiji, over here..." Sakata greeted him the moment he stepped out of the car. "Let's talk inside."
Sakata led Heiji to where Numabuchi's body lay. Seeing the corpse, Heiji's brow furrowed. "A one-hit kill?"
"Exactly. A small knife, just like in the previous incidents, buried up to the hilt in his chest. From the precision of the wound, it was a fatal strike," Sakata said, looking unsettled.
Heiji looked around the room, walked under the skylight, and looked up. "The whole room is covered in dust, but the dust here seems thicker. And there are marks on both sides of this skylight, as if someone climbed through."
He straightened. "The killer likely came in through this skylight and delivered the fatal blow to Numabuchi from a distance."
"Are you saying the killer used a throwing knife technique?" Sakata looked at Heiji in shock.
"Mhm." Heiji nodded. "Look at the dust under Numabuchi's feet. Aside from where he was sitting and where his feet rested, the rest of the area is undisturbed. If the killer had stabbed him from the front, he would have struggled. Any struggle would have messed up that dust pattern. Furthermore, there's a significant distance from the skylight to his position; walking over would have alerted him. There is only one explanation: a throwing knife."
Sakata stared at the knife, his eyes unreadable. Who could it be? He faintly felt that the situation was spiraling out of his control.
"Officer Sakata, we found a SIM card on the victim."
"A SIM card?" Sakata froze, his face changing. "This could be a vital lead. Notify Superintendent Toyama immediately!"
Heiji watched Sakata silently, a faint arc touching his lips.
A bird in a cage.