The three victims died at a crossroads—right in the center of the intersection.
The moment he confirmed this, Detective Hakuba immediately called his father, the Superintendent of Police.
After explaining Hayashi Yoshiki's discovery and the potential location of the next victim's death, the authorities recognized the urgency. However, they ordered Hakuba not to go to the scene under any circumstances.
Hakuba hung up without hesitation.
"How could I not go to the scene myself?"
The high school detective pocketed his phone and flashed a boyish grin.
"Right, Hayashi?"
"Yes, but your own safety is important too," said Hayashi Yoshiki, his interest clearly piqued.
After checking the time, the two quickly agreed and set off.
The police—particularly the task force—sprang into action.
At 4:00 p.m., the intersection in front of Mihua Department Store was peaceful.
There were still three hours until 7:00 p.m.
Hayashi Yoshiki and Hakuba found a restaurant overlooking the entire intersection. From the window, they had a perfect vantage point.
"Everything looks normal," said Hakuba.
"No need to waste energy now," replied Hayashi, flashing a soft smile as he picked up the restaurant menu. "Let's order some afternoon tea first."
"You're really laid-back."
"Sugar helps the brain think," Hayashi replied. "Besides, there's nothing to see yet."
Hakuba didn't argue.
Hayashi Yoshiki ordered food and pulled a book from his pocket, reading calmly.
He was too calm.
Even though Hakuba knew that nothing unusual was likely to happen before 19:05, he couldn't help but keep his eyes on the surroundings.
Was the killer nearby... watching?
According to criminal psychology, a surprising number of killers return to the scene of the crime to witness their "masterpiece" or to observe the police's reaction.
A perfectionist killer with a strong need to perform wouldn't miss the moment his setup unfolded.
But from where would he observe?
Hakuba scanned the area—the street, the buildings, even the guests inside the restaurant. After all, it was an ideal observation point.
"You're being too obvious," Hayashi Yoshiki said suddenly.
Hakuba was startled.
But Hayashi's eyes never left his book. He turned a page and asked:
"Why do you think the killer provoked the task force? Issued a challenge letter?"
"To gain a sense of superiority... perhaps to test if the task force had someone smart enough to challenge him."
"Exactly. If you're too obvious, you might be noticed—and killed—by the murderer hiding in the shadows."
He closed the book, looked at Hakuba, and gave a gentle smile.
Hakuba's face turned grim.
But he wasn't the stubborn type. He relaxed, keeping his curiosity in check.
Meanwhile—
Hayashi Yoshiki had already noticed plainclothes officers among the passersby.
They wandered inconspicuously, scanning for anything suspicious.
Unfortunately, nothing turned up.
Time slowly slipped into evening. As the sun set, the moon rose.
The time: 19:01.
Hayashi Yoshiki could feel Hakuba's tension.
The same went for the plainclothes officers.
They checked their watches, glancing around vigilantly. Yet the traffic and foot traffic were light.
One minute passed.
Then two.
Until the time ticked to 19:05—
Suddenly, the traffic lights at the intersection began to flicker.
Then—just like a faulty connection—the red and green lights shut off completely.
Noticing this, Hakuba stood up abruptly.
During rush hour, the blackout triggered instant chaos. Drivers honked furiously, each eager to push through the intersection first.
The plainclothes officers were caught off guard. Their view was obstructed. They strained to catch any signs of abnormality.
Then Hakuba spotted it: a white car stalled in the traffic.
The driver tried repeatedly to restart the engine. The car shuddered—but wouldn't start.
Then smoke began to fill the cabin. Suddenly, flames erupted from within.
"A car's on fire!"
"What!?"
"Over there! That car! Hurry!!"
Panic spread quickly as the surrounding drivers swerved to avoid the flaming car. Plainclothes officers rushed in.
Inside the white car, the driver was frantically pounding the windshield. The doors were locked. Nothing worked.
Officers scrambled to break the windows using emergency tools.
Hakuba checked his pocket watch.
11 seconds left. Maybe 26.
Nothing else looked suspicious.
Then a tall officer at the front of the white car smashed the window with a fire extinguisher and dragged the terrified driver out.
"Thank you...!"
The driver, face covered in soot, gasped in panic.
19:05:44…
Hakuba held his breath.
The second hand ticked to 45.
Still nothing.
But he didn't relax. He noticed something critical: all the police were now focused on the rescued driver.
"No… this might just be a distraction!"
He realized it instantly.
Luckily, some sharp officers realized it too—and spread the warning.
Screeech!!!
A sudden braking sound came from 20 meters behind the intersection.
A small truck, speeding toward the crossroads, hit the brakes upon seeing the jam.
Officers turned toward the sound—some even moved to investigate.
It was at that very moment—
BOOM!!!!!
The white car exploded—with no apparent cause.
Amidst the shock and fire, a palm-sized shard of iron hurtled through the air—piercing through the eye socket of the soot-covered driver and embedding itself in his brain.
Time of death: 19:06:00.