Chapter 3: My Porsche Is Gone

“You scoundrel!”

Vodka, furious, was about to teach Shoichi a lesson, but was stopped by Bourbon.

“Looks like your brain really has serious issues; you’re acting up again,” Bourbon said coldly.

Shoichi sipped his juice indifferently, paying no mind to Bourbon’s words.

He was a traveler—over a decade ago, he had crossed into Conan’s world. Perhaps due to some side effect of the crossing, when he was five years old, his mind became foggy, and he was fully lucid for less than half an hour each day.

His parents searched the world over for doctors but found no cure.

In the end, they approached the Organization, whose drugs revived Shoichi, binding them into a pact.

Though the illness was cured, some aftereffects remained.

For example, Shoichi was regarded by the world as mentally ill.

But Shoichi never believed there was anything wrong with his mind.

He was fully recovered long ago; what others called “episodes,” he explained as expressions of his true nature.

Coming from such a privileged background, if one did not act freely, wouldn’t that be a waste of such heritage?

He hadn’t unleashed his true self before because he was too young to do much—not because the Organization’s drugs had damaged his mind.

Over the years, Shoichi had grown accustomed to these misunderstandings.

Let them say I’m crazy; after all, having a mental illness means I can act even more freely.

“I won’t get involved unless it’s about money,” Shoichi said. “Don’t come to me for other matters—I’m not obliged to work for you.”

Bourbon nodded.

They never expected this young master to be passionate about the Organization’s affairs.

Given his status, helping the Organization with things that interested him was already a great contribution.

Bourbon had no intention of lingering here with Shoichi longer.

He wasn’t as leisurely as this young master, who could afford to waste time drinking and chatting.

After dealing with Akemi Miyano, there was still one troublesome individual in the lab who needed attention.

“Not even a goodbye before leaving?” Shoichi asked Bourbon.

Bourbon glanced back at him—consider it a farewell.

Shoichi stood and walked over to Bourbon. “I heard there’s a genius researcher in the lab?”

“Interested in Sherry?” Bourbon asked.

“I just heard she’s unhappy in the Organization. I wonder if I could invite her to work at my company,” Shoichi replied.

“You’re trying to poach from the Organization?” Bourbon looked at Shoichi with displeasure.

Shoichi shook his head. How could that be poaching? This was normal business competition.

“Hmph,” Bourbon sneered. “Only the dead can leave the Organization. Besides, you just killed her sister. Do you think she’d choose to work for you?”

Shoichi said nothing to Bourbon’s words.

I only said I dealt with Akemi Miyano, not that I killed her.

They walked side by side, with Vodka a step behind.

“Do me a favor?” Bourbon suddenly asked.

“What favor?” Shoichi didn’t immediately refuse.

Bourbon irritably stuffed a cigarette into his mouth. “My car was stolen. With your influence in Japan, you should be able to find it easily.”

“Oh?” Shoichi asked calmly. “What kind of car?”

“A black Porsche 356A. A beautiful vintage car. Getting another one would be a huge hassle,” Bourbon said.

Bourbon hated the thief with a passion, wanting to peel him alive.

That car was precious to him.

Vodka fell silent nearby. That car was like Bourbon’s wife; the thief’s fate would surely be miserable.

Shoichi looked straight ahead. “Was it stolen in front of the Mitsui convenience store?”

“How do you know?” Bourbon’s eyes sharpened.

Indeed, the car was parked outside the Mitsui store. When Bourbon went inside to buy cigarettes, it was gone upon his return.

“I’ll help you find it,” Shoichi said.

He didn’t respond to Bourbon directly but agreed to assist.

The three traveled in a black Toyota to the Organization’s research lab.

They arrived just in time for dinner and headed to the cafeteria.

Researchers inside wore white lab coats, making the three dressed in black stand out conspicuously.

Bourbon’s reputation here was high; researchers kept their distance from him like avoiding the plague.

Not a single person dared glance at the handsome stranger beside Bourbon.

They approached a female researcher with brown hair.

Seeing these ominous figures, she lost her appetite, swallowed her food hastily, and tried to leave.

“Hello, Sherry,” Shoichi blocked her path and handed her a business card.

“This is my card. You can call me Shoichi. Pleased to meet you.”

Sherry glanced at the card but didn’t take it.

In her mind, members of the Organization always concealed their identities carefully. Who was this guy just handing out business cards?

Manager at Sumitomo Bank?

Would you just reveal your identity so casually? And your face doesn’t even seem disguised.

She looked at Bourbon, who showed no reaction to Shoichi’s behavior, instead casting her a cold glare.

When Sherry refused the card, Shoichi stuffed it into her pocket himself.

It’s a gift from Shoichi himself—how can you reject it?

“Sherry, your sister Akemi Miyano offered one billion yen in exchange for your and her freedom.”

Sherry’s face darkened. “You wouldn’t agree.”

“Of course not,” Bourbon said. “That’s why I killed her.”

Shoichi raised an eyebrow and took a step back, placing Bourbon and Vodka before him protectively.

Smack!

A tray was thrown at Bourbon, splashing soup over Bourbon and Vodka, and dirtying Shoichi’s sleeve.

Despite Sherry’s anger, Bourbon didn’t flare up. He simply stared at her with a cold gaze.

“Looks like you need to cool down,” Bourbon said. “Vodka, lock her in the gas chamber until she calms down.”

“Yes, sir!”

Vodka stepped forward and dragged the struggling Sherry away.

The researchers in the cafeteria remained silent, quietly eating and leaving as if Bourbon’s disturbance never happened.

Shoichi warned Bourbon, “Treating employees like this will cause problems.”

“Haha,” Bourbon sneered.

He had controlled the Organization’s Japanese branch for years and always dealt with disobedient or useless employees by killing them outright.

In the Organization, no one was indispensable.

Shoichi shook his head.

One must treat employees as family.