Beika Second Apartments.
A high-end residential complex nestled near the heart of Beika City, designed for single-occupancy living.
After stepping inside and changing into his indoor slippers, Hayaki poured himself a glass of water and walked to the computer desk in his bedroom.
Sitting atop it was a bulky, outdated CRT monitor.
The evolution of tech in Detective Conan was always peculiar—while the series never establishes a specific year, time still flows more or less in sync with the real world. Ever since the manga began serialization in 1994, even though only a few months have passed in-universe, the style of buildings and electronic devices depicted has steadily kept up with the times.
At this rate, this ancient machine might soon be replaced.
But the computer wasn't today's focus.
Hayaki opened a drawer in the desk, removed a false wooden panel hidden at the bottom, and took out a pitch-black notebook.
DEATH NOTE
These English words were written in ghostly white letters, slightly askew, across its dark, eerie cover.
The handwriting belonged to a Shinigami.
As the name suggests, the Death Note brings death—anyone whose name is written in it will die.
It was a tool originating from another high-stakes mystery manga centered on psychological warfare.
Hayaki didn't know how it came into his possession.
But ever since he was mysteriously transported to this world, the notebook had been with him from the start.
After numerous experiments, he had no doubt: it was the real thing.
—As long as the user clearly envisions the target's face while writing their true name in the notebook, the person will die of sudden cardiac arrest exactly 40 seconds later.
Once a name is written down, it cannot be erased or altered within those 40 seconds to stop the process—the target will die, no exceptions.
However, the user can also specify the cause and time of death, as long as both are physically possible. Whether it's an illness, a car accident, or a gunshot wound, any plausible cause of death works. The only condition is that the death must occur within 23 days of the name being written.
"As long as the method is physically feasible, the Death Note can control a target's actions before death."
"In other words, if you write that the target dies of a heart attack one hour later, then for that entire hour, their actions can be controlled through the notebook."
As for what counts as "physically feasible," here's an example: you can't have someone currently in Tokyo die in New York an hour later—that's physically impossible with current means. So even if you write it in the Death Note, the person will simply die of heart failure at the one-hour mark right where they are.
"The news report of Shigehiko Nishikawa's death aired this afternoon exactly as I wrote… If it works this reliably, it'll be quite useful going forward."
Hayaki slowly opened the Death Note.
The pages of the Death Note never run out. But physically, it feels no different from an ordinary slim notebook. On the most recent written page, the entries read:
Shigehiko Nishikawa
March 16, 8:23:47 p.m.
Suffered cardiac arrest while fleeing police during an attempted arrest.
————
> Izumi Itou
April 1st, 4:48 p.m., shot and killed by police during a routine crime.
Before her death, on March 17th, she hears of Nishikawa's death from a press conference broadcast by Beika City Police. On March 18th at 2:21:30 p.m., she hears the same news again from Beika's lunchtime news radio.
————
This was what he'd written the night before last.
Hayaki had long stopped doubting whether the Death Note could kill. What he was testing now was whether the supplementary conditions listed in Izumi's entry would be fulfilled.
Because if the notebook could control a target's behavior before death, then the kind of social information they encounter could also fall under the umbrella of "pre-death actions."
And receiving news via a TV or radio broadcast certainly isn't physically impossible.
The result? Just as Hayaki had hoped—after Nishikawa's death, the news did indeed air at the exact time he'd written in Izumi's entry.
Hayaki had no way of knowing when the real news broadcast about Nishikawa would have aired. But since he wrote that Izumi would hear it on March 18 at 2:21 p.m., the moment he boarded the cab, the news played on the radio—at precisely that time.
It played out like a script.
And that meant, with smart planning, Hayaki could use the Death Note to manipulate this world's events—at least to some extent.
Of course, this power had limits.
First, the news report on Nishikawa's death had to exist to begin with. If it wasn't going to be reported naturally, then no amount of writing could force it into reality—the conditions he wrote would simply be nullified.
More experiments would be needed.
"…"
Lost in thought, Hayaki powered on the computer.
Over the past year since he obtained the Death Note, he'd only used it on criminals—unless circumstances truly called for otherwise. Conveniently, he also had access to resources for gathering information on such people.
After waiting for the sluggish system to boot and connecting to the internet via dial-up, Hayaki opened a particular website.
He entered his username and password.
Adjusted the external webcam.
The moment the login succeeded, a torrent of information poured across the screen. Amid the flood of data were several sections—but the most notable was the Marketplace.
Intel, drugs, firearms, forged IDs…
If you ignored the pricing, these were as easy to buy as a pack of gum.
Of course, the site also hosted all kinds of illegal content. But with Hayaki's current access level, he could only view its more superficial layers.
While browsing, the external webcam remained fixed on his upper body—undoubtedly being monitored. Someone on the other end was likely making sure he wasn't doing anything suspicious beyond moving the mouse.
Hayaki knew that every click left a trace in the site's backend. So to blend in, he also viewed plenty of random content outside what he actually needed.
By the time evening light faded from the window and the screen glow grew too harsh, he closed the site and reached for some black tape to cover the camera again.
Bzzzt~~ Bzzzt~~~!
His flip phone buzzed from the desk.
Unlocking it, he found an anonymous message waiting in his inbox:
"9:00 p.m. tonight. Top floor of the Daikoku Building. 'Cocktail' bar."
"Cocktail"—as in, the drink.
Hayaki narrowed his eyes slightly.
After a long pause, a faint smile crossed his lips, and he muttered softly:
"The sun's gone down. Guess it's time to turn on the lights."
---
Author's Note:
Didn't expect people to get hung up on the whole "dark web webcam" detail…
Just flip to the next scene and you'll see that the protagonist receives a message from Gin. It should be easy to infer that it's a communication method for the Organization.