As Jiangxia Tongzhi stepped inside, the smell of simmering broth hit him square in the face. The hot pot on the table bubbled warmly, packed with tofu, mushrooms, beef slices, and other delicious bits.
He plopped down at the table and glanced up at the clock on the wall.
It was nearly eight o'clock.
Next door, the Yabuchi family had one of those old-fashioned clocks that gave a solemn chime every hour. You could hear it even from across the courtyard.
Jiangxia thought of that, and then of Yusaku Kudo, who was still wandering around outside. He leaned lazily against the wall, facing the table, and pretended to be deep in thought while staring longingly at the food.
In truth, he'd already asked Miyano Akemi to take a shikigami and slip it through the wall to puppetify someone in the back yard.
A few seconds later, the "Miss Anonymous"—once adored by tabloid headlines—appeared. She was clad in a flowing black dress, adjusted her wide-brimmed hat, and silently slipped along the courtyard wall.
…
Meanwhile, the world-renowned mystery novelist, uninvited police consultant, and human brainpower ceiling himself—Yusaku Kudo—was wrapped in the classic villain-style trench coat, investigating around the Yabuchi residence.
Having a wealth of experience in "placating Yukiko Kudo," he knew better than to show up early. That would only earn him a glare—or worse, a scolding.
No, the smart play was to make a grand entrance later, at just the right moment. Yukiko's moods were like a child's—changeable, influenced by timing and setting. Yusaku figured the best move was to wait until Jiangxia had solved most of the case, then he'd casually stride in, drop a few insights, patch up the kid's shortcomings, and secure his spot as the unseen hero.
Originally, his plan had been to use his son—who had recently swiped his credit card without asking—as the dramatic stepping stone toward reconciliation. In the old father's heart, all of this mess was obviously Conan's fault.
But to Yusaku's mild surprise, Yukiko didn't bring their son. Instead, she brought that new detective, Jiangxia Tongzhi.
That gave Yusaku pause.
After some deep contemplation, he decided to stick to the plan—just with fewer sarcastic jabs.
First step: gather dirt on this "Uncle Yoshifusa."
With his coat dramatically fluttering, Yusaku crept into the Yabuchi property and tiptoed toward the storage shed, hoping to find some old family letters.
Just as he opened the door, the clock struck eight.
The creaky door hinge was masked by the chime… along with some other suspicious sounds.
Like footsteps sneaking up behind him.
And then—thwap—a sharp chop to the neck.
Yusaku realized too late that his shadow looked off. He began to turn, but then, pain exploded in his neck, and his world went black.
Miss Anonymous caught him as he fell, dragged him inside, and closed the warehouse door.
Both elder and younger Kudo were equally terrible at hand-to-hand combat. And both had an unfortunate fondness for lone-wolf cool guy theatrics…
Jiangxia, who had now captured a top-tier brainiac for the first time, awkwardly dragged Yusaku inside and surveyed the warehouse stuffed with random junk.
He found a decent hiding spot, hauled the unconscious novelist over, and gave him another quick dose of anesthetic. Just in case the human megabrain woke up too early and ruined the vibe. Collecting killing intent wasn't easy when people started solving mysteries too fast.
After all, he'd come all this way—it would be a waste not to pick up something useful.
Besides, in the original story, Yusaku Kudo didn't do anything until the end anyway. This was just... streamlining. Ethically neutral. Jiangxia's conscience? Crystal clear.
Having manhandled the literary legend into submission, he tossed the syringe, dismissed the puppet, and snapped back into his own body.
Back at the table, in the lively dining room, Jiangxia sat up straighter, glanced at the clock, then looked at the steaming pot before him. He declared with gusto, "Smells so good, I feel like I could eat the whole thing!"
Hiromi Yabuchi's eyes curved into a smile. She was clearly pleased. Sure, the hot pot base deserved most of the credit, but she had added the ingredients. Technically, it was her cooking being complimented.
She handed him the serving chopsticks and subtly rotated the pot to present the beefier side. Then she said humbly, "It only tastes good because you're hungry. With this many people, dinner ends up a bit late." She glanced at the clock. "It's already eight."
Yukiko followed her gaze and nodded. Yep. A little late. She was starving too.
Jiangxia caught on, confidently picked up two pieces of fish tofu, and dug in.
Detective. Especially high school kids in this world were known for their sharp intuition. But they had a specific weakness—not exactly a flaw—they leaned a little too hard on science and alibis.
Jiangxia had timed the knockout punch exactly to the eight o'clock chime.
Now, thanks to the dinner timing being seared into Yukiko's memory, if Yusaku woke up and got suspicious, then asked his wife what Jiangxia was doing at eight… she'd say he'd been sitting at the table the whole time.
Simple. Elegant. Untraceable.
Satisfied, Jiangxia peacefully finished his food and mentally flipped the switch into "ghost wait mode."
…
Later, during dinner, the stepmother Machiko—still allegedly partying at the wedding banquet—called to say she'd bought firewood yesterday. Now they could heat bathwater for everyone.
The Yabuchi family, in this age of bathtubs galore, still used a giant wooden tub.
By the time everyone finished eating, the water was nearly ready.
Bathing followed a specific ritual. Thirty years ago, Uncle Yoshifusa always went first. So now, the old man pretending to be him stuck to tradition—he bathed first each night.
During his soak, he left the young Brazilian man in the hall. Ostensibly, this "bodyguard" was there to protect him from sneak attacks in the bathroom. In reality, it kept the Brazilian guy in a busy room—harder to ambush.
…
As he headed off for his bath, fake Yoshifusa got another call from his "stepmother," Machiko.
The wedding banquet noise buzzed in the background. She said she'd be back by 11 and asked Hiromi to keep the water warm.
Hiromi agreed and hung up.
…
Meanwhile, in the woods behind the Yabuchi house…
A luxury car sat quietly parked.
Inside, Machiko—who was supposed to be living it up at a wedding banquet—put down her phone and pressed a button on an old-school tape recorder.
The "party noise" cut off abruptly, replaced by the soft rustle of the wind.
Machiko's expression chilled. She slipped into a raincoat, picked up a gleaming kitchen knife, pushed the car door open, and stepped into the dark.
She was headed to kill "Uncle Yoshifusa" while he bathed.
*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.
Progress: 6/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS
Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.
Progress:2/10*