Chapter Nine: Are You Asleep? I Am Not

Climbing up to the attic, Tang Ze remained unaware that the distillery was currently experiencing turmoil because of his family. He peacefully lay back and drifted off into a dream where he could drink freely.

They had just acted out a grand performance. Though it wasn’t particularly tiring, sharing jokes and spoilers with Leon, a fellow spoiler, was quite relieving.

That night, the Velvet Bar held two drunkards who boasted they couldn’t get drunk in their dreams and were passing the whiskey bottle back and forth.

Tang Ze slammed his palm on the bar counter, clutching the bottle. “Why not give me ‘driving’? I’m not convinced. Is something wrong somewhere?”

“Stop messing around. Do you even have a driver’s license?” Leon pushed away Tang Ze’s leaning head. “You have such a practical thing as combat power, yet you’re still picky.”

“It’s not like Conan actually has a pilot’s license or can fly a plane,” Tang Ze grumbled. “Besides, I haven’t even entered a single hall yet. Just jumping straight into a co-op side quest feels a bit perfunctory.”

Leon shook his head. “You won’t get anything from me that way. I’m not authorized to spoil the co-op content. Good luck to you.”

“You really have info, huh?” Tang Ze showed no shame at being caught. “Let me think…”

Tang Ze already had a rough idea of the list of allies.

Since there was Amuro Tooru, it felt disrespectful not to include Akai Shuichi. Red-side detectives like Conan and Hattori were certainly on the list, but who on the black side was less clear.

Also, what about the external factions like Kid and Kyogoku Makoto? Could they be counted among them?

If they could be triggered, and he got a tarot reading from Kyogoku Makoto, well, that would be something...

“So do you think I need to infiltrate the distillery to try?” Tang Ze changed the subject.

“It’s very likely that it’s not just that simple,” Leon replied.

“True, I still haven’t figured out why the organization cares so much about ‘Tang Ze Zhao’,” Tang Ze flicked the bottle in midair, somewhat troubled. “Bourbon definitely knows, but I haven’t asked his position. Should I just tell him directly, ‘Amuro Tooru, something’s happened to you’?”

Leon chuckled at Tang Ze’s antics, took a big gulp from his bottle, and closed his eyes in enjoyment. “Now you understand the difficulty of holding a script, right? It’s like knowing the final truth of a detective novel from the start but not being able to tell anyone, having to pretend it’s your first time reading it, and acting like you’re following a tightly reasoned deduction.”

“Yeah, it’s not easy. My script is even mixed up,” Tang Ze imagined a future where, whether infiltrating the red or black side, he’d have to always be in character. His temples throbbed with phantom pain. “If I’m critical to the organization’s plan, I’ll be under long-term surveillance. Once I use the power of the cognitive world and the black side discovers it, I’ll be in deep trouble...”

The villains at the P5 social level, except for the traitor Akechi Goro, were all ordinary humans. With just Akechi alone, they managed to create a chain of crimes that brought disaster upon society.

If this power were exposed to the distillery, the consequences...

“You can’t be so passive. You still have to find a way to infiltrate the organization… Though that does bring a bit of nostalgic feeling,” Tang Ze said, then looked down at his legs, which were still perfectly intact.

“What nostalgia? It’s safer to make fake alcohol in the Conan universe than real stuff,” Leon waved his hand and patted Tang Ze’s head, breaking his wandering thoughts.

“Ouch!” Tang Ze lifted his head and glared. “I get it, but why are you patting my head too?”

“Just wanted to feel it,” Leon withdrew his hand, rubbed his fingertips, and approved, “No wonder Amuro Tooru always likes to ruffle your hair. It really feels nice.”

——

The next day, Amuro Tooru arrived at the café for work and saw Tang Ze, who had been chased and beaten by Leon all night until he rolled off the bed, looking listless.

“Good morning. Didn’t sleep well last night? Make sure to rest well tonight,” Amuro said, patting Tang Ze, who was slouched in his seat.

He wanted to pat his head, but remembering Tang Ze’s protest yesterday, he settled for a pat on the shoulder.

“Morning,” Tang Ze answered without much energy, then glanced at Amuro’s dark circles. “Don’t lecture me; you didn’t sleep well either, did you, Mr. Amuro?”

Tang Ze was actually fine; he had plenty of sleep.

It was just that he drank too much in his dream. His past drinking history made him subconsciously think he should be hungover now, but his body felt energetic, which unsettled him.

Amuro, however, wore many hats and must have had an increased workload yesterday due to the case information Tang Ze revealed. Whether he slept or not was unknown, but his dark circles were so heavy they couldn’t be hidden by his skin.

“I have insomnia, I’m used to it. It’s because I often can’t sleep that I tell you to rest well,” Amuro said without blushing or flinching, sounding quite sincere. “Only after losing good sleep did I realize how important it is.”

Can’t sleep often? Must be because the work never ends. Tang Ze looked at his face sympathetically.

Yawning, Amuro noticed Tang Ze’s clothes and asked curiously, “Why are you wearing your school uniform even on your day off?”

Good question. Tang Ze sighed because he didn’t know today was a day off when he got up!

Why is it a day off after a full day of school? You ask me, I ask who? None of you Conan fans understand this, much less me.

If he hadn’t grabbed his phone on the way downstairs and seen the calendar, he would have headed out to school.

“I didn’t bring many clothes and didn’t know what to wear. The uniform isn’t bad-looking, it’s fine,” Tang Ze made up a reasonable excuse.

“Is that really about whether it looks good?” Amuro pressed his forehead, thinking about a minor who had lived alone under domestic care for years, and decided not to criticize his poor self-care skills. “Miss Enomoto and I will take a day off and bring you to the mall.”

Tang Ze quickly refused, “No need, no need. Just tell me where the nearest mall is. I can go buy things myself. Mr. Amuro, you should go upstairs and rest a bit. You look awful.”

Rare chance to move freely—better to let the tired undercover agent rest.

“Is it really that bad?” Amuro checked himself in the floor-to-ceiling window reflection and saw that he indeed looked visibly exhausted. He glanced at the café attic. “The attic is your personal room now, right? Is that okay?”

“It’s originally a break room, so no problem. I don’t have many personal belongings, and they’re all locked in the drawers. Staying long-term in the shop is already a big inconvenience to everyone,” Tang Ze said reasonably.

He sounded so sensible that asking for accompaniment would be too deliberate. Seizing the chance to thoroughly search Tang Ze’s things, Amuro agreed.

“I’ll just sleep for two hours. I’ll make the bed again after. You can go to the northern shopping street. The large department store is on the other side—Mi Hua Department Store,” Amuro indicated directions.

Seeing Tang Ze only carried a flat commuter bag, he casually asked, “Do you have money on you?”

Despite being so tired, Amuro still cared about the citizen’s welfare. Tang Ze, the main cause of all this overtime, was touched for a moment and decided to offer some info he wanted.

“Don’t worry, I have a bank card left by my parents. They deposit living expenses every year. There’s still plenty of balance, enough for me.”

Just as Amuro was about to turn toward the stairs, he paused and naturally replied, “Good. Be safe on the way.”

Tang Ze glanced at Amuro’s hand in his pocket, apparently blindly typing a message on his phone.

Looks like unlucky Amuro won’t have time to rest again.

With a smile, Tang Ze headed out, adding yet another wave of overtime for someone else.