A gentle morning breeze rustled the sheer curtains hanging by the open window.
Down below, the street buzzed with the morning rush – cars flowing, people walking briskly, a vibrant picture of life in motion.
On the fourth-floor balcony, Fujino stood overlooking the scene.
He glanced down at his phone, staring blankly at the date displayed: Saturday, the 22nd.
Wait, wasn't it just the 5th yesterday?
He already knew this world's timeline was notoriously wonky, but seeing it firsthand still elicited a wry comment. "Classic Conan-verse! Never change."
Shaking his head to clear the lingering fog of sleep, Fujino stretched luxuriantly, a satisfying crack echoing from his spine. Time for a shower.
The sound of running water faded.
Fujino emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed and significantly more human.
But his good mood evaporated instantly as his gaze swept over the messy state of his apartment.
Yep, typical bachelor pad.
Dust bunnies huddled in corners, discarded ramen cups formed small mountains near the trash can, and clothes were draped over furniture instead of being put away.
He sighed. "Guess it's time to clean up."
Today was Saturday, or Doyoubi as they called it here. No school, no work-study make-up days.
He had plenty of time to tackle the hundred-square-meter disaster zone he called home.
Half a day flew by.
As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Fujino sank onto the sofa, wiping sweat from his temples.
"Man, cleaning a big place is exhausting," he muttered, glancing around the now-spotless main room – easily the size of a standard three-bedroom apartment elsewhere.
Just cleaning this one room had taken him nearly the entire day.
The other rooms… He shuddered. Nah, forget it. Procrastination wins.
Knock, knock, knock!
The sudden rapping at the door startled him.
"Who could that be this late?"
The sky was already darkening. Usually, clients only came during the day. Only someone he knew would likely show up now.
Puzzled, Fujino opened the door. Standing there was a woman bundled up conspicuously.
She wore a striking red bodycon dress under a black coat, her face obscured by a large black mask. She looked decidedly furtive.
"You're Detective Fujino, right?"
Without waiting for an answer, the woman breezed past him into the newly cleaned apartment, scanned the room, and promptly plopped down on the sofa.
"I need your help with something."
Seriously? Who just barges in like that? Fujino's eyebrow twitched.
After a moment to process—Okay, not some weird new scam, just a really forward client—he sighed inwardly and sat down on the opposite sofa.
"A friend recommended you," the woman said softly. "I hear you're very discreet."
"Naturally." Fujino nodded. "Client confidentiality is paramount. It's part of the job."
In the local detective circles, Fujino had earned a reputation – the 'Desperate Saburo.' He'd take jobs others wouldn't touch, often for less pay, and worked relentlessly. This dedication, despite his low rates, had built him a solid word-of-mouth reputation among clients over the past year. He rarely needed to advertise.
"Good." The woman seemed reassured. Trusting his reputation, she pulled down her mask, revealing her face.
"You're... Yoko Okino?" Fujino blinked, surprised.
Wait, not Yoko Okino. Wrong idol. This was... "Ikegami Yuko?"
Yes, definitely Ikegami Yuko. She looked mature, dressed like she was older, but Fujino recalled she was only twenty-two.
"Oh? Are you a fan?" Ikegami Yuko's eyes lit up with amusement seeing his recognition.
"Want an autographed poster, kiddo?" she teased.
"No, thanks." Fujino shook his head, his refusal blunt.
"Tch." Yuko clicked her tongue, slightly disappointed.
Not a fan, huh? Shame. He's actually kinda cute.
Shaking off the thought, she reached into her purse, pulled out a photograph, and handed it to Fujino.
"I want you to investigate the person in this picture."
Fujino took the photo.
It showed a young woman, probably around twenty, wearing a pink trench coat. She had long, coffee-brown hair and an undeniably pretty face radiating an air of pure innocence. A classic beauty!
"This is..." Fujino studied the photo, a flicker of recognition sparking. Wait, I do know this one.
"This is Yoko Okino, right?"
He looked up at his client, frowning slightly.
"So, Ikegami-san, you want me to investigate Yoko Okino?"
"That's right."
Yuko nodded firmly.
"Dig up some dirt on her. Find a scandal. That would be ideal."
"I see."
A knowing smile touched Fujino's lips. He leaned back.
"If I had to guess, the reason for this request is... you're holding a grudge because she snagged a TV drama role you wanted?"
"Why ask so many questions?" Yuko shot him an annoyed look.
"Five hundred thousand yen. Yes or no? Can you do it?"
"Hmm, that's tricky," Fujino stalled, scratching the back of his head.
"Yoko Okino's a huge idol right now. Investigating her is risky... If word gets out, you might be fine, Ikegami-san, but my reputation would be ruined."
"What exactly are you getting at?" Yuko narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Is this guy trying to shake me down?
After a tense moment of silence, Fujino leaned forward slightly. "It's going to cost more."
"Huh?" Yuko blinked, then rolled her eyes, a hint of exasperation in her voice.
"If you thought the pay was too low, just say so! No need for all the dramatics."
Geez, I thought he was about to threaten me or something.
She paused, considering.
"Alright, final offer. Six hundred thousand yen. Take it or leave it."
She knew digging up dirt on a top idol was a dirty job few detectives would touch.
600k was pretty much her limit. If he refused, she'd have to drop it.
"You got it, boss!"
Fujino beamed, instantly pocketing the photo. He practically leaped up to pour her a cup of tea he didn't have readily available.
"Please, make yourself comfortable, boss!"
"..."
Yuko stared, utterly speechless.
Wow. This guy switches gears faster than a race car.
Is hiring him really a good idea? Suddenly, Yuko had a sinking feeling she'd just stepped onto a very shady boat.
And just like that, Fujino accepted Ikegami Yuko's dubious commission, pocketing the sixty thousand yen down payment she offered upfront.
Honestly, Fujino had considered refusing. Tailing a top idol was incredibly risky.
But 600,000 yen! That was serious money! A fortune for him, and clearly a significant sum even for an actress like Yuko. The offer was simply too good to pass up.
Just as Fujino was about to stash the cash safely in his system inventory, another knock echoed through the apartment.
Knock, knock, knock.
Fujino frowned again. What now? More business?
He quickly deposited the yen into the system, got up from the sofa, and opened the door once more. Standing there was a young woman wearing a distinctive deep red hat and a familiar pink trench coat.
Fujino recognized her instantly. It was Yoko Okino. The very person Ikegami Yuko had just hired him to investigate.
Well, damn. Talk about the target delivering themselves to my doorstep.
And why does this whole situation feel strangely familiar...?