Drip... drip...
Steam still lingered in the bathroom air as Hayashi Yoshiki stepped out, towel slung over his head, wiping away the remaining droplets from his hair.
It was 10:00 a.m.
Reiko Shimizu was still sprawled across the rumpled bed, asleep. Her lingerie and stockings were scattered like petals around the frame. The sheets were disheveled. A pillow—used for waist support—showed distinct marks of having been wet and later dried.
Hayashi glanced at her with detached calm.
"You at the gate already? All right, I'll be down shortly."
He ended the call, dressed swiftly, and strapped on his watch. Without waking the sleeping beauty, he scribbled a quick note and quietly stepped out.
At the entrance of the hotel, Amuro Tōru waited in Hayashi's Mercedes-Benz.
"You look refreshed, Boss."He grinned as Hayashi approached. "Did you rest well last night?"
"Naturally. Slept like a baby."
Hayashi ignored the sarcasm, slipped into the passenger seat, and noticed a breakfast bag on the console—McDonald's.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Thoughtful, Mr. Amuro."
"So, can I expect a raise?"
"How about raising the value of this pork fillet and egg McMuffin Set?"
"I'll take it. Inflation's inevitable."
They chuckled as the car pulled onto the open road.
Destination: Sunset Manor
The address from the invitation was remote—deep in the suburbs. If they left now, they'd arrive just around sunset.
"By the way, Boss… I did a little digging on the Sunset Manor."
"And?"
Amuro's voice darkened.
"That place has... a grim history."
He detailed the infamous incident from 40 years ago:
A lavish memorial was held at the villa to honor Karasuma Renya, who had allegedly died at 99. But beneath the surface, it was a secret auction of priceless artifacts from his vast collection—over 300 items to be bid on over three days.
Then came the stormy second night.
Two rain-soaked men arrived, claiming to be lost travelers. Denied at first, they handed the host a peculiar cigarette—who inexplicably welcomed them after smoking it. The other guests, too, fell under some strange spell.
Then the madness began.
A man screamed at nothing and fled, abandoning his winning bid.
A woman begged for forgiveness, sobbing hysterically.
Another stabbed his own wrist with a pen.
Chaos erupted—guests fought over the items, wielding auctioned blades and antiques as weapons.
When dawn came, the villa was a massacre site.
The two men? Vanished—along with every auction item.
"No press coverage. The guests were all elite. The story was buried."
"It sounds surreal... Were they drugged? But how could such prominent people fall so easily?"
"That's what bothers me."
Hayashi fell into thought.
If Karasuma had faked his death at 99, could that auction have been a setup? An experiment? A test of influence?
Arrival at Sunset Manor
By evening, under a gloomy twilight sky, they reached the gated estate.
It began to rain again.
"The weather forecast didn't mention rain...""Good thing I brought an umbrella."
"You're too reliable, Mr. Amuro. Maybe I'll give you that raise after all."
"A raise for carrying an umbrella? That's new."
They pulled into the stone courtyard, where several other luxury cars had already arrived—Ferraris, Porsches, even an Alfa Romeo.
A familiar voice called out.
"Ah, isn't that... Yoshiki-nii!?"
Under an umbrella, Conan looked shocked.
"Brother Yoshiki?" Ran blinked in surprise.
"Tch. If I knew he'd be here, I wouldn't have bothered renting a car."Kogorō Mōri grumbled as he shielded an elderly woman from the rain.
Hayashi rolled down the window with a smirk.
"What a coincidence. Didn't expect to see everyone here."
"Did you also get the strange invitation and the check?"
"Yep. Felt like I had to show up."
"Same here!" Ran smiled, her anxiety about the villa momentarily forgotten.
"Who's this old lady?"
"I recognize you."The elderly woman smiled. "You're the famous young detective. Such a pretty face."
"My name is Furuyo Senma. Just an old lady now."
"Wait! You're the legendary armchair detective—the one who solves cases just by listening?"Amuro's surprise was genuine.
"And who's this?" Conan asked, glancing at Amuro.
"Amuro Tōru. I work as Mr. Hayashi's assistant."
"Assistant? You have one now?"
"Too many love letters and cryptic notes fill my inbox. It's exhausting."
"Especially from red-haired narcissists..." Amuro added with a smile.
Kogorō rolled his eyes.
"All right, let's head inside. We're not getting younger standing in the rain."
Inside the Villa
The interior was luxurious, but the emptiness and the eerie quiet made the space feel haunted.
A fat man in a white suit stood near the center of the room.
"That's Shukuzen Ogami, the gourmet detective!"
"I've read his tasting columns!" Ran exclaimed.
Hayashi handed his damp handkerchief back to her after drying his shoulder.
"How's your shoulder, Yoshiki?"
"Fully healed. Don't worry."
Suddenly, Ogami shouted at the maid:
"What do you mean the chef is sick!? I came for the dinner!""I'll handle the kitchen myself!"
He stormed off. The maid returned, apologizing profusely.
"Excuse me, miss. Why were we all invited here?"
"Ah, there are actually seven detectives invited. Two arrived earlier: a young lady and a young boy."
Conan's eyes lit up.
"Heiji?"
"No, he declined. He's stuck with midterms."
The maid revealed she had never met the villa's owner. All her instructions had come via computer. She knew only the guest list and basic duties.
Amuro leaned close.
"Boss... look at the hall."
"Yeah, I noticed."
"What?"
"Bloodstains. On the floors, walls, even the doors. Wiped, but poorly. They match the story from forty years ago."
The hall of madness.
Hayashi looked around. In his mind's eye, the guests were fighting, screaming, losing their minds.
Karasuma Renya...
The Death Note couldn't kill him.
To seize the Black Organization from him…
would require a war.