Jangxia Tongzhi recorded the entire moment of Ikezawa Yuko breaking into the house.
Once Yuko stepped through the door, Jangxia silently followed, camera rolling.
…
Ikezawa Yuko flipped on the lights as she entered the room.
She walked into the bedroom, raised her arm, and dramatically tossed a pile of threatening letters—stained with chicken blood—onto Yoko Kinoshita's bed.
Looking at the blood-red letters scattered across the covers, she thought of Yoko's recent breakdown and couldn't help but feel pleased with herself. A twisted little smirk crept onto her lips. Genius move.
She turned, intending to head back to the living room to mess with the furniture or something.
But the moment she turned around, she found herself staring directly into the lens of a dark camera.
Ikezawa Yuko froze. A chill rushed up her spine to the top of her head.
And just beyond the camera, someone was standing silently in the doorway.
The person wore a mask, a hood, and gloves—completely wrapped up. Their eyes were hidden in the shadow of the cap brim, face completely indiscernible.
He leaned against the doorframe in a lazy posture. But as Yuko turned around, he straightened up and gave her a small nod—like he was thoroughly impressed by her performance.
It was meant to be polite.
But Ikezawa Yuko stared at the camera, her heart plummeting.
Breaking and entering. Harassment. Threatening a colleague with blood letters... If all of that got caught on tape and leaked—forget her career, she could end up in jail!
…Still, maybe it wasn't hopeless.
She was wearing a scarf pulled high and oversized sunglasses. Her face was fully covered.
As long as she wasn't caught red-handed and her full face wasn't clearly filmed, she could argue it wasn't her. Say it was a setup. Someone impersonating her. Frame job.
Resolved, Ikezawa Yuko made up her mind—she had to get out of there.
She looked at Jangxia Tongzhi, who was blocking the exit, and considered grabbing something to knock him over with, or scare him off, then bolt for the door.
First—find a weapon...
Her eyes flicked toward the step stool nearby.
But in that tiny second of distraction, something flashed before her.
Jangxia closed the distance and yanked off her scarf and sunglasses in one swift move, tearing off her disguise.
Ikezawa Yuko flinched.
Then, horror dawned.
Her face—exposed.
Even worse, the camera was still trained right on her. The guy in front of her... he must've predicted everything she was thinking!
Buzzing filled her mind. In a panic, she raised her hand, aiming to smack the camera down.
But before she could land a hit, Jangxia grabbed her collar and slammed her to the bedroom carpet.
He pinned her arms with his knees, holding the camera in one hand, and with the other, reached down and tugged at her face.
Hard.
—In the Detective Conan universe, thanks to a certain phantom thief, everyone knows about disguise masks.
So just showing someone's face on camera isn't enough. They could always claim it was a mask.
Jangxia figured that if he could pinch her face on camera, and show the natural redness that comes with it, that'd prove she wasn't wearing a disguise. Just good old-fashioned exposed skin.
But something was off.
He tugged, but the face didn't budge.
And weirder still, her skin didn't even turn red.
He pulled his hand back, puzzled—and saw that his black glove was now caked in thick makeup powder.
There was a pause.
Then Jangxia reached out again, a little disbelieving, and gave her face another squeeze.
Still no redness.
Maybe... maybe the makeup was just that thick.
But that also meant it was useless as proof. He couldn't prove she wasn't wearing a disguise if the powder masked the natural reaction.
He stared down at his now-dirty glove and the woman shrieking beneath him, deep in thought.
Then he remembered—he'd seen a box of wet wipes on the living room table earlier.
A metaphorical lightbulb *biu!*ed above his head.
Jangxia picked Ikezawa Yuko up like a ragdoll, carried her to the sofa, and pinned her down again.
Then he grabbed a wet wipe and scrubbed at her face.
This time, success.
Under the lens of the camera, her real skin was finally visible—flushed, irritated, obviously not a mask. No disguise technique in the world could pull that off.
Ikezawa Yuko blinked, her face damp. She looked up and saw Jangxia holding a wet wipe streaked with her foundation.
She stared at the wipe. Then at the still-recording camera.
Realization hit.
And she let out a blood-curdling, rage-fueled scream.
Startled by the sheer decibel level, Jangxia reflexively chopped her neck.
The scream cut off mid-shriek. Ikezawa Yuko's eyes rolled back, and she slumped over, unconscious—still fuming in her sleep.
Silence fell once more.
Jangxia let out a long sigh of relief.
Still holding the camera, he looked down at her and thought—well, I've already started. Might as well finish the job.
So he grabbed a few more wipes, thoroughly cleaned the rest of her face, and filmed the entire process before finally turning the camera off.
This should be enough.
Whether it was to hand her over to the police or just use it as leverage to make her stop harassing people, this was solid evidence.
…But then a new problem arose.
Jangxia rewound the footage and paused it on the final frame.
He stared at Ikezawa Yuko's bare face.
Then compared it in his mind to her usual poster-perfect look.
Something didn't quite match up.
The before-and-after difference... was huge.
…Would people really believe this was the same person and not someone in disguise?
But he couldn't exactly reapply her makeup now just for comparison.
Then he thought back to the panicked look in Ikezawa Yuko's eyes earlier. How desperately she'd tried to stop the filming.
Clearly, she thought it was damning enough.
…So it should still be fine.
The plan could proceed as usual.