Chapter 60: High Schoolers Who Deceive Elementary Schoolers' Feelings Are Scum

So, you managed to get Joker's email address? Sitting at a table outside the Poirot Café, Karasawa let out a yawn and asked Conan casually while flipping through a workbook.

Fortunately, the math teacher was not overly particular about handwriting, as the differences in penmanship across this workbook, which had been completed by two successive ghostwriters, were quite noticeable. However, Karasawa did not care in the least, rating the experience as pleasant and expressing his readiness to do it again next time.

Conan glared with bitter resentment at the slip of paper bearing the copied email address left by Joker.

The warning letter possessed far too distinct a characteristic for him to dare carry it around openly; it drew entirely too much attention.

And I even got a reply from him. Conan was utterly baffled. He claimed earlier that he knew the identity of the man in black, but in the email, he refused to explain clearly, simply telling me to attend the game release event on time... Is there some absolute reason why I have to go?

If you do not go, what would happen if Tequila failed to explode? Karasawa was still waiting to update his achievements, and he was growing rather tired of drinking whiskey.

Is there a possibility, Karasawa said with a completely straight face, misleading him, that Joker has a reason he cannot show his face? For instance, those people might know him, they might discover him, or perhaps he suffers from solar dermatitis or social anxiety...

As he spoke, Karasawa actually felt somewhat tempted by the idea.

Oh, that's right! He now possessed the disguise skill, and Joker's white-haired persona was deeply rooted in people's minds. Could he fabricate another realistic persona for Joker? For example, albinism, which made him unable to tolerate direct sunlight, and eyes that were sensitive to light due to the condition, which was why he wrapped his face up like a blind man...

A good idea. Note that down.

What on earth are all these wild theories? Conan's brow twitched violently.

The first two reasons sounded somewhat plausible; perhaps Joker had some connection to those people that prevented him from appearing in person. One had to remember that this was also a guy capable of disguising himself. If he truly intended to sneak into the venue to investigate on his own, he would hardly need to borrow a detective's hands to look into anything...

And what was that last piece of nonsense? Putting aside the fact that Joker projected an aura of flamboyant, second-year-syndrome chuunibyou posing, someone with social anxiety would hardly go around shoving small cards into people's pockets in the first place! Solar allergy was admittedly harder to refute, since no one had actually ever seen Joker in broad daylight...

No, wait, none of this makes any sense! Conan reined in his wandering thoughts, looked at Karasawa, and curled his lip. You did tell Mr. Amuro that you are going to the release event, right?

Don't worry, he has already agreed. He won't come storming over here with a dark face to lecture you. Karasawa felt a genuine surge of sympathy for Conan. He could not tell whether the persona he projected was genuinely convincing or if Conan's constitution for drawing incidents was simply that conspicuous, but Tooru Amuro always adopted an attitude of You are leading a good kid astray, warning him not to run around aimlessly with Conan. Miss Mouri and Miss Suzuki will be coming too this time, along with Mr. Mouri.

Right... At the thought of this, Conan felt a wave of helplessness. Maitendo has designed a detective game starring Uncle Mouri as the prototype, and they invited him and Ran to the release event. As soon as Sonoko heard you were going, she insisted on coming along immediately. Her family has numerous business partnerships with Maitendo, so getting a ticket for her is a simple matter.

Good grief, since Joker specifically demanded his attendance, there was a strong possibility that something significant would happen at this event. Yet, ironically, Conan's current identity gave him no standing to object to their presence...

It was a headache.

Karasawa patted Conan sympathetically. Nothing to be done about it; what's done is done, we must make the best of it. At least Mr. Mouri and the others have very good physical combat skills. If a violent crime occurs, it's still safer than you being there alone.

Conan nodded heavily, his thoughts drifting from the aforementioned Tooru Amuro to everything that had happened aboard the ship.

...Karasawa, how well do you know Mr. Amuro? Is he a friend of your parents?

Not quite, but, well... Recalling the cover story Tooru Amuro had fabricated for himself, Karasawa added, Let's just say he's someone my parents would trust.

Trust indeed—the man came from the iron-blooded Public Security.

Conan sighed. In that case, are your parents in a terrible situation? When I was on the ship, I saw that he had a gun. Are their friends such dangerous people?

Karasawa had a sudden realization. Ah, right! No wonder he felt something was missing; he hadn't acted this scene out with Conan yet. On that day, he had only played Akai Shuichi and Tooru Amuro. It was high time to plunge a knife into Conan's heart as well.

Actually... Karasawa put down the workbook, stared at his own fingers, and slowly sank into the emotional state. I haven't told you yet. I received word a few days ago that my parents have already passed away.

Conan's eyes widened instantly. Eh?

So there really is something fishy about my case. With his gaze slightly out of focus, Karasawa slowly curled his hands into fists, portraying the image of someone weighed down by grief yet still trying to analyze things calmly with great emotional depth. It was completely impossible for them to have commissioned a lawyer to handle my case. They were already gone by that time.

Conan's lips parted slightly as he looked at the lost-in-thought Karasawa, unable to utter a word.

I should have trusted them more. Karasawa's voice grew lower and lower, yet he could not stop talking, as if failing to do so would cause him to lose control of his emotions. Even if we hadn't seen each other for many years, Mom and Dad would never have believed I was a criminal. If they had been well at the time, no matter what, they would have come back to see me at least once... I was too immersed in my own emotions, complaining about my fate and feeling resentful toward them... If I had thought of it sooner, if I had contacted them sooner...

Conan felt somewhat at a loss. He was not the type of person who excelled at comforting others, especially in such a heavy atmosphere. He did not even know where to put his hands and feet, wondering whether he should first offer condolences or first console Karasawa to look on the bright side.

After a moment of silence, he could only place his hand, which was a full size smaller, over Karasawa's clenched fists.

Then you must pull yourself together all the more, he said clumsily, struggling to convey a sense of comfort. Your parents' death might be connected to your case. Leave it to me; we will investigate it together until the truth comes to light and find the culprit who killed them.

Conan felt how hollow his words were. Voicing such encouragement sounded thin and feeble.

Karasawa lowered his head, unsure whether he was desperately holding back tears or suppressing his emotions, but he simply opened his palm, grabbed Conan's small hand, and held it tightly within his own.

I am Sherlock Holmes's disciple, after all. You must have faith in me. Conan did not pull his hand away from Karasawa's tight grip.

Inside the café, Tooru Amuro, having finished wiping a glass, sneezed involuntarily and rubbed his nose in puzzlement.

Was someone talking about him behind his back?

He cast his gaze through the café's wide, bright floor-to-ceiling windows toward Conan and Karasawa, who were sitting in the outdoor armchairs and inexplicably clasping hands.

A high schooler and an elementary school student, standing there with completely serious expressions, holding hands—what on earth were they talking about?