Chapter 341: Love Broadcast Staking One's Life 2
Matsuda Jinpei kept his eyes locked on the screen, his hands moving with practiced precision as he inspected the device. He muttered under his breath, complaining about the sheer volume of chaos packed into a single day. Only moments ago, he had been enjoying a rare, lighthearted chat with a long-lost friend. That brief window of good mood had shattered the second the news of his colleague's accident came through. The emotional whiplash was enough to give anyone a headache.
Conan stood nearby, his sharp gaze tracking every flick of Matsuda's fingers. A deep sense of admiration welled up within the young detective. 'As expected of a former professional bomb disposal officer,'Conan marveled inwardly.'There is absolutely no wasted movement. It is pure efficiency.'
While he completely agreed with Matsuda's grim assessment of the day, Conan noticed the heavy atmosphere suffocating the room. The tension was thickest around Officer Sato, whose face had grown pale and rigid at Matsuda's words. Deciding to intervene, Conan adopted his innocent child persona and spoke up. He reminded the room that the culprit had specifically mentioned the freshness expiry date falling on tomorrow or the day after. That meant the clock had not run out just yet.
Matsuda paused his inspection for a fraction of a second, shifting his dark gaze down to the bespectacled boy. It was rare to see a child remain so unnervingly calm and observant at a crime scene, often outperforming the actual police officers in the room. Now that he thought about it, this kid from Detective Mori's household always seemed to be lingering around active investigations, casually dropping insights that blew cases wide open.
The heavy wooden door swung open, announcing the arrival of Superintendent Matsumoto. His imposing figure immediately commanded the room. After a rapid briefing on the situation, the veteran officer began firing off a series of strict directives. Inspector Megure was tasked with tearing through the passenger lists at the station to determine if Takagi had been moved out of Tokyo. Matsuda was ordered to crack into Takagi's computer and comb through his recent emails for any suspicious contacts. As for the tablet broadcasting Takagi's dire situation, Matsumoto assigned a rotating detail of officers to manually light up the screen at set intervals, recording the footage while preserving the device's dwindling battery life. With their orders clear, the officers scattered to execute their duties.
Sato knelt down to eye level with the Detective Boys, her voice tight but gentle as she coaxed every possible detail about the culprit from their memories. A professional police sketch artist sat nearby, his pencil flying across the paper as he translated the children's descriptions into a face. Within minutes, a completed portrait rested in Sato's trembling hands.
She held the drawing out to the group. "Is this the person you saw?"
The children leaned in, their eyes scanning the sketched features before they nodded in perfect unison. "That is right, it is him!"
Hearing their absolute certainty, the rigid line of Sato's shoulders finally dropped a fraction. It was a small victory, but the case finally had a concrete direction.
Klee stood off to the side, her bright red eyes studying Sato's lingering anxiety. The little girl tapped her chin in deep thought before stepping forward, her voice ringing out with earnest determination. "Sato-oneesan, if you want to find Takagi, Klee can help!"
Sato blinked, momentarily pulled from her dark thoughts. "Klee, do you have other clues about the culprit?"
"No, no." Klee shook her head vigorously, her blonde pigtails bouncing. "What Klee means is, Klee can ask Venti-gege for help. Venti-gege is really amazing! As long as there is wind, he can find that person based on the messages carried in the breeze."
A sad, fond smile touched Sato's lips. She gently patted the girl's head, assuming the child was simply using her vivid imagination to offer comfort. She did not take the fantastical claim to heart.
Conan, however, narrowed his eyes behind his glasses.
The power of the wind. Conan's mind raced, piecing together the fragmented clues he had gathered about this strange group. Venti's name itself was a transliteration of Windy., Klee, Kaeya, Diluc, and the rest of their eccentric circle all seemed to share a deep, unwavering belief in the Anemo Archon Barbatos. There had to be a logical connection tying them all together. Could those glowing gems they called a Vision actually grant them some form of divine, elemental power?
A flicker of doubt crossed Conan's mind, but he ruthlessly crushed the absurd, groundless conjecture before it could take root. He was a detective. The systematic scientific education he had absorbed over the years and the countless bloody crime scenes he had unraveled were the foundation of his entire worldview. Those hard-earned experiences constantly hammered home one absolute truth: there were no such things as gods in this world. If a strange phenomenon occurred that defied current scientific explanation, it simply meant human science had not yet advanced enough to measure the trick behind it.
Just as Conan opened his mouth, intending to probe Klee for more information about Venti, the heavy door to the room slammed open. An officer, the one assigned to monitor the tablet, practically threw himself into the room. His face was slick with cold sweat as he shouted, "This is bad! Things are not looking good on Takagi's end!"
The color drained entirely from Sato's face. Unable to sit still for another second, she shoved past the chairs and sprinted down the hall toward the monitoring room. Conan and the rest of the Detective Boys scrambled after her, their footsteps echoing loudly against the linoleum floor.
Klee lingered behind, her small boots scuffing the floor. Even though Sato-oneesan had gently dismissed her offer, the little Spark Knight knew a crisis when she saw one. Fishing her communication terminal out of her pocket, her tiny thumbs flew across the screen, firing off a quick, urgent message to Diluc-gege. With her duty done, she quickly chased after her friends.
Several blocks away from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, Toru Amuro walked through the bustling streets. Having separated from the Detective Boys a while ago, he was mentally preparing to return to Café Poirot and finish out his mundane shift. However, his already sour mood was about to plummet straight into the abyss.
The hairs on the back of Amuro's neck prickled. Someone was tailing him. His eyes shifted subtly, catching a fleeting shadow in the reflection of a storefront window. Without breaking his casual stride, he altered his route, slipping smoothly into a narrow, dimly lit side alley.
He walked deep into the concrete corridor, letting the shadows swallow him before he abruptly stopped. He did not bother turning his head.
"You have been following me for long enough," Amuro called out, his voice dropping its friendly barista warmth, replaced by a cold, dangerous edge. "Come out."
Slow, mocking applause echoed against the brick walls. Glenlivet stepped out from the corner, his hands coming together in a slow, rhythmic clap. The Wanderer offered a smirk that was entirely devoid of warmth.
"As expected of Rum's capable subordinate," Glenlivet drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. "Your alertness is truly excellent."
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