The patter of water from the bathroom tapered off, then stopped.
Moments later, Hayato Masaki emerged in a yukata, towel in hand, drying his damp hair as he flipped open his phone.
Tomorrow, 7 p.m., the bar.
Another anonymous text.
Hayato's expression didn't shift. He deleted the message and drifted to the bedroom window.
A second meeting with Gin was no surprise. But without a leash to pull—Hayato's absence at the hit had seen to that—Gin's next move was unclear.
For now, it didn't matter.
To Hayato, the Organization was manageable.
Complete their tasks, avoid crossing them—or at least avoid getting caught—and most things could slide.
Take Gin, who tolerated the cryptic antics of Vermouth and Bourbon, even Binge's brazen provocations. Why? Their skills were sharp, and he had no dirt to pin them down.
But if Gin took a shine to Hayato, piling dirty work on him, things could get messy.
"So, the next step is climbing the social ladder—fast," Hayato murmured.
Like Pisco, whose public clout as a financial mogul kept his Organization duties sparse.
Being a mystery novelist wasn't enough.
"If I could make waves as a renowned detective…"
Hayato gazed out the window.
The Organization didn't need another executioner. A detective, though—someone who could dive into cases, gather intel openly—would be far more valuable.
Becoming a detective had been his plan from the start.
The Death Note was a flawless tool, but relying solely on criminals from the Organization's dark web risked drawing eyes over time.
A detective, though? No one bats an eye at one poking into cases or mingling with crooks. Plus, it opened doors to useful contacts.
Like the theater-version hitman "Scorpio," who favored right-eye shots. Or Kevin Yoshino, ex-Marine sniper. Or Mayo Tachibana, the wire-strangling pro.
With the Death Note, Hayato didn't strictly need their help.
But their identities and skills were ripe for exploitation.
Even with the Note, writing an untrained Target A to snipe Target B from six hundred yards would fail—both would just drop from heart attacks. A trained marksman, though? That was another story.
And since they were criminals or hired killers, their body counts wouldn't raise eyebrows.
A spark of inspiration hit. Hayato set the towel aside, his hair still damp, and settled at the computer.
Booting it up, he typed "Lupin III" into the search bar and hit enter. The sluggish connection lagged, the page loading seconds later.
Lupin III, international master thief, heir to Arsène Lupin. Wanted for countless crimes worldwide, currently pursued by over thirty nations.
It actually came up.
The screen's glow lit Hayato's face.
He scanned the results, landing on a wanted poster featuring a monkeyish grin, absorbing the details.
Lupin III, star of a hit '70s series, had crossed over with Detective Conan in two theatrical films. Finding him here meant their worlds had merged.
And Lupin's crew wasn't short on talent.
Hayato's mind branched out.
Before crossing over, he'd been no assassin or spy. Never fired a gun. His bit of martial arts training was laughable next to this world's human wrecking balls.
If cornered, he'd be helpless. Scribbling names in the Death Note wouldn't outpace a bullet.
His thoughts churned.
The Conan-verse had its share of the supernatural—Koizumi Akako's magic being the prime example.
Learning magic, though, felt like a stretch.
What piqued his interest more was another figure from Kaito Kid: the world-famous illusionist, Gunter von Goldberg II.
By day, a celebrated performer. By night, a killer codenamed "Spider," hired by a shadowy group, who'd tangled with Kaito Kid multiple times. His illusions bordered on sorcery, yet seemed grounded in tech.
Hayato searched for him. As a public figure, Gunter's info—photos included—was plentiful online.
Opening the Death Note, Hayato wrote on a blank page, penning a cause of death.
Gunter von Goldberg II
March 19, 12:14:31 a.m. Tokyo time, dials international number 0081-xxx-xxx-xxx. Upon connection, follows all instructions from the other end.
April 12, Tokyo time, killed by a robber's gunshot in public.
In the manga, Hakuba Saguru had noted "Gunter von Goldberg II" was likely an alias, his nationality fabricated. Hayato wrote it anyway, testing the waters.
By 12:15, his phone stayed silent.
A fake name, as expected.
No disappointment stirred him.
He only regretted lacking a shinigami's eyes—those would've pulled the real name straight from a photo.
Time to find another way.
***
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