Chapter 399: The Identity of Kaitou Kid
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Amuro's lips as he wiped down the cafe counter. It was a genuine shame he couldn't be there in person to witness the look on that man's face. The man suspected to be Shuichi Akai would undoubtedly have a rather unpleasant reaction upon discovering the surveillance net closing in around him.
Across town, Amuro's assumptions proved entirely accurate. Subaru adjusted his glasses, his usually placid expression hardening into a severe line. Standing slightly away from the window, he peered down at the street through a narrow gap in the curtains. The men loitering near the entrance of the Kudo mansion were far too rigid to be ordinary pedestrians. He was being watched.
His mind immediately raced back to the chaotic events aboard the Bell Tree Express. The moment Cointreau had cornered him and exposed his carefully crafted disguise flashed vividly behind his eyes. Yet, he shook his head, dismissing the thought just as quickly.
It couldn't be Cointreau's doing. If the Black Organization had even the slightest inkling that Subaru was actually Shuichi Akai, they wouldn't waste time with a stakeout. They operated on absolute paranoia. The moment they suspected his true identity, a sniper's bullet would have already shattered the glass in front of him. They preferred to slaughter a hundred innocents rather than let a single rat slip through their fingers.
So, who did these watchers belong to? Subaru mentally retraced his steps over the past few weeks. His routine had been agonizingly mundane.
Ever since the train incident, he had kept a strictly low profile. His primary objective remained keeping an eye on Sherry. Since the young girl rarely ventured beyond the safety of Professor Agasa's house and her elementary school, his own radius of movement had shrunk accordingly. He had given no one a reason to track him.
He scrutinized the men below once more. The way they shifted their weight, their synchronized sweeps of the perimeter, the deliberate avoidance of direct eye contact—it all reeked of institutional training. They moved like government agents. Subaru narrowed his eyes. What could he have possibly done to draw the gaze of the Japanese police?
A familiar face surfaced in his thoughts. Amuro. Could Bourbon be behind this?
He remembered the bitter, rain-soaked night Scotch had died. Bourbon's reaction back then had struck him as entirely out of place for a loyal syndicate hound. The suppressed grief, the raw desperation—it painted a different picture. Was it possible that Bourbon was also playing a dangerous game? An undercover agent operating for the Japanese authorities?
He let the curtain fall shut, plunging the room back into shadows. Now was not the time to chase ghosts or verify old suspicions. His immediate priority was slipping through this surveillance net without raising any alarms.
Meanwhile, the bell above the door of Café Poirot chimed softly as customers came and went. Amuro stood behind the counter, his back turned to Kogoro and the rest of the patrons as he expertly plated a serving of sandwiches. A quiet vibration buzzed against his thigh.
Wiping his hands on his apron, he pulled out his phone. A quick glance at the encrypted interface confirmed it wasn't a priority alert from the Organization. Relaxing his shoulders slightly, he tapped the screen to open the unread message.
His eyes widened a fraction of a millimeter. The sender was Ganyu. Attached was a highly detailed dossier concerning a mysterious syndicate known only as 'Zoo', extracted directly from the assassin known as Spider.
Amuro's thumb instantly slammed the power button, plunging the screen into darkness. He cast a swift, sidelong glance over his shoulder. Kogoro was entirely engrossed in devouring a plate of Neapolitan pasta, completely oblivious to the world around him. Amuro released a slow, controlled breath, letting the tension bleed out of his spine.
That had been entirely too close. Had the sleeping detective merely shifted his gaze, he would have caught sight of classified intelligence that a humble cafe waiter and amateur sleuth had absolutely no business possessing.
He could not afford to jeopardize his infiltration mission by making such an amateur mistake. Maintaining his cover as Kogoro's eager apprentice was crucial, especially now that he sensed a dense web of secrets tangling around the detective's immediate circle.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his mind racing. How exactly had Ganyu acquired this specific, secure contact number? If the caller ID hadn't appeared so innocuous, completely detached from the Organization's usual routing, he would have treated it as a hostile breach rather than opening it so casually.
He shook his head, returning to the cutting board. Teyvat had their methods. It would be far easier to simply corner Kaeya later and demand an explanation for the breach in his operational security.
Still, he had to admit a grudging respect for their efficiency. Yelan had managed to pry Spider's mouth open in less than twenty-four hours. The illusionist was notoriously stubborn, yet she had cracked him with terrifying speed. She certainly lived up to the professional reputation Ganyu and the others had spoken of.
Shifting his stance so his body completely shielded the device from the dining area, Amuro pulled his phone back out and reopened the dossier.
His eyes scanned the text rapidly. The primary objective of the Zoo syndicate was the acquisition of a mythical jewel known as the 'Gem of Destiny'—Pandora. The file carefully detailed various black-market operations Spider had either orchestrated or witnessed. It even included a complete list of rival factions and individuals who actively opposed the Zoo.
One particular entry made his breath hitch. Kaitou Kid. The phantom thief had apparently been locked in a shadow war with the Zoo for over a decade. The conflict had culminated eight years ago in a staged accident during a grand magic performance. The Zoo had successfully assassinated the original Kaitou Kid—the world-renowned, genius stage magician, Toichi Kuroba.
Amuro stared at the glowing screen. He had never expected to stumble upon the true identity of the legendary phantom thief through the interrogation of a captured assassin.
A new connection sparked in his mind. Toichi Kuroba. The name wasn't just famous in the world of magic. In the underground, it was whispered that Toichi was the very master who had taught Vermouth the flawless art of disguise. That meant the Organization's most elusive witch shared a direct, personal history with the original Kaitou Kid.
A dark, calculating gleam flashed in Amuro's eyes. 'It seems that besides her strange attachment to Ran, Vermouth has a few other hidden vulnerabilities just waiting to be exploited.'
His thumb hovered over the screen for a fraction of a second before he hit the forward button, sending the entire encrypted file directly to Rum. He then deleted the local copy and pocketed the device.
Hiding the information would be a tactical error. Ganyu had undoubtedly forwarded a copy of this exact dossier to Cointreau. In fact, Cointreau's version was likely far more complete.
By taking the initiative and feeding this high-value intel to the second-in-command, Amuro could solidify his own standing. It was a cheap but effective way to earn a few more points of trust with the notoriously paranoid Rum.
A few tables away, Conan paused with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth. He peered at Amuro's back, his eyes narrowing behind his oversized glasses. Something about the waiter's posture had shifted. The air around Bourbon felt suddenly sharper, thrumming with a dangerous, calculating energy. Yet, as Amuro smoothly turned around to serve another customer with his usual, sunny smile, Conan frowned. He lowered his fork. Perhaps he was just being paranoid, his nerves frayed from spending too much time in close proximity to a Black Organization operative.
Shortly after, Kogoro tossed a few bills onto the table, and the Mouri family made their exit, the cafe bell chiming their departure. Amuro spent the remainder of his shift in perfect tranquility, playing the role of the diligent, cheerful employee to perfection. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he untied his apron, offered a warm farewell to his coworker, Azusa, and stepped out into the evening chill.
His destination, however, was not his apartment. Following a secondary set of instructions embedded in his earlier messages, he handled the winding streets toward a secure Organization base.
The heavy steel door clicked shut behind him as he stepped into the dimly lit warehouse. The air inside was stale, smelling faintly of gun oil and cold concrete. He wasn't the first to arrive. Several figures were already gathered in the shadows.
Standing at the forefront, draped in his signature black trench coat, was Gin. The silver-haired executive slowly turned his head. A pair of icy, predatory green eyes locked onto Amuro. The silence in the room stretched, heavy and suffocating, before Gin finally spoke, his voice a lethal, grating rasp.
"Bourbon. If you drag your feet like this next time, don't bother showing up at all."
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