Double Chapter
After a moment's hesitation, Jiangxia wandered back among the police officers, poking around for scraps of information.
According to Heiji Hattori's deduction, Takeda Shinichi had been using puppets to smuggle drugs. But when the police cracked open the puppets stashed around the Takeda house, they found the insides were empty — not a speck of contraband. They also tried to dig up a client list in Shinichi's study, but came up empty-handed.
In the end, the police held a mini meeting in the courtyard to argue over whether Takeda Shinichi had really been trafficking at all. Jiangxia didn't bother listening further — the missing drugs and vanished client list screamed "Black Organization cleanup crew." Which meant Gin had definitely come by, just like he'd said: "I'll be there shortly."
Jiangxia thought back: when he'd been at the Takeda residence stargazing for ghosts, there'd been no sign of any Organization members sneaking around — otherwise his ghosts, while running in circles chasing Miss Spider, would've spotted them. So, the sweep must've happened after he left.
By then it was already late — and this was only day one of his business trip with Gin and Vodka. No way would Gin rush two jobs in one night. The ghosts who'd peeked into Gin's private room last night reported he hadn't even closed his eyes — too busy, maybe waiting to watch Boss Izumo die.
Poor Gin didn't have ghost mint to chew on either. He could only recharge by sleeping. So tonight he probably wasn't sailing anywhere — just finding a quiet place to nap.
Jiangxia felt perfectly happy about it. As long as he showed up at the pier on time tomorrow, he'd reunite with his dear cadre teammates just fine.
…
When Heiji wrapped up his deductions — and yanked the ghost off Rob's leg — Jiangxia hitched a ride in a police car, heading down the mountain overnight. Heiji and Kazuha didn't linger long either. Heiji was still annoyed about the vanished drugs, but there was nothing more they could do — it was Sunday already, and he hadn't even finished his homework. High school detective or not, you can't deduct your way out of math worksheets.
Thinking about this, Heiji glanced at Jiangxia, who was idly flipping his phone with that calm "I have no finals to fear" look. Heiji sighed dramatically. "Why don't you ever have to go to class?"
Jiangxia's phone still had no signal. He closed the screen with all the enthusiasm of a bored cat. "I'll go when I can't get a perfect score. Otherwise it's a waste of time."
Heiji: "…"
He had a feeling he was being shown off to. But with Jiangxia, you could never quite catch him red-handed.
…
Once they reached the city, the three split up. Heiji and Kazuha grabbed a taxi to the station for the long ride back to Osaka. Jiangxia thought for a second, then flagged down his own cab to the pier. There, he found the nearest hotel and checked in.
—On the way down the mountain, his phone finally buzzed to life with an email from Gin.
No text. Just a lonely comma.
That single punctuation mark meant "Proceed as planned" — which lined up with their original itinerary: the day after Takeda Shinichi's death, they'd regroup at the pier, board the Organization's pre-arranged ship, and set off for Moonlight Island.
So Jiangxia picked a room on the third floor, the highest one. Not quite a fancy sea-view suite, but he could see the dock from the window — good enough for his ghosts to take turns on guard duty and keep watch for Gin and Vodka's arrival. Wouldn't do to oversleep and miss the boat like an idiot.
After locking the door, Jiangxia pulled out his anti-surveillance gadgets and fiddled with them for a bit. No bugs, no wiretaps — good.
Next, he gently plucked Miss Spider off his shoulder. She'd been perched there upright the entire time. A normal ghost would've slipped off whenever he took a step, but Miss Spider had her own cheat skill: when her human form wobbled, her hidden spider legs hooked into his clothes from behind to steady her posture. The shikigami who hacks physics.
She'd cried the entire ride down the mountain. But maybe the vast ocean view was good ghost therapy — staring at the moonlit sea outside, she finally sniffled, wiped her tears, and settled down.
Jiangxia nodded to himself. Perfect timing — while she was calm, better sign her into the vest roster.
He closed the window tight, set Miss Spider down gently on the bed, and loosened his collar. Then, pricking the tattoo on his chest, he squeezed out a tiny bead of blood and let it drip onto Miss Spider's translucent forehead.
A faint frying sound crackled through the room. The bead sizzled, dancing wildly across her ghostly skin like a pot of boiling water. The other ghosts poked their heads up over the edge of the bed, all craning to watch.
Miss Spider sat stiff at first, hands clenched in her sleeves — but when she realized it didn't hurt as much as she'd feared, she relaxed a little, wide eyes following the jittery blood bead with cautious curiosity.
But soon her eyes couldn't keep up. The blood slowed and stopped on her forehead, coalescing into a clear "Z"-shaped tattoo.
Jiangxia: "…"
He'd thought: since Miss Spider could retract her extra legs, maybe she could pass for a normal person-shaped vest. A perfect stand-in when it was inconvenient to drag Akemi Miyano around, or the inseparable parent-ghosts.
But of course, the tattoo's position was random. And now it had to be right on her forehead.
He sighed. He'd noticed a pattern: the ghosts who could take on human shapes always got tattoos in the worst possible places — Xiaobai's was on her neck, Akemi's was under her eye, and now Miss Spider had a big Z smack on her forehead.
Meanwhile, the yokai-type ghosts with less convenient vests always had their tattoos hidden away in impossible spots: the Tengu's was between its wings, the parents' was at their fused spine, and the mermaid's was way down on her lower back. Technically the mermaid's tattoo was visible, but only because her clothes barely qualified as clothes.
In short, it was like the tattoos themselves were being yinbi on purpose. Make the useful ones a pain to disguise.
Well, at least Xiaobai could wear a scarf, Akemi could hide hers with sunglasses, and Miss Spider… would probably need to keep her straw hat tilted low over her eyes. Or just bow her head all the time like a buddhist pilgrim.
Jiangxia rubbed his temples with a sigh — too tired to scold fate today. Better to focus on the next pot.
When a ghost-embryo and a spiritualist sign a contract, there's a chance for a special skill to awaken — its nature depends on both sides' states.
For example: Xiaobai's Forced Confession, Akemi Miyano's 1-Second Invincibility, the parent-ghosts' Fire Resistance, the mermaid's Underwater Breathing, or the Mist Tengu's one-click suicide... well, Death Reenactment.
By that standard, Jiangxia felt pretty gifted — or maybe this world's ghosts just liked to be wierd. Either way, every ghost he'd signed in with so far had awakened something unique.
Miss Spider was no exception. Though her new skill was... peculiar.
Jiangxia thought back to that legend Yoko Takeda had told them at the Spider Mansion. If he had to name it, he'd probably call it "Heavenly Interrogation."
The one who activates it can ask a target three questions:
"Do you believe heaven exists in this world?"
"What kind of place is it?"
"Do you want to go see it with me?"
If all three questions are asked, and the target nods at the last one — whether sincerely or just to get it over with — that person will get lost somewhere no one can find for 1 to 72 hours. The duration's random.
But if the target refuses to go, then from the moment they say no, the user gets to sprout eight freely-controlled spider legs from their back for 1 to 72 minutes. Pretty metal.
And then there's the worst-case scenario: if the target refuses to answer, or storms off before the third question, the user will spiral into extreme self-doubt — within the next 1 to 72 minutes they'll want to hang themselves from a beam, wander off a cliff, or otherwise "restart" their life in dramatic fashion.
Jiangxia: "…"
He stayed silent for a whole minute, feeling this skill had the same unsettling vibe as the Mist Tengu's Death Reenactment — both were disturbingly convenient for suicide.
After all, under normal circumstances, who'd patiently stand there answering three deep questions about heaven? Most people would walk away halfway, triggering the third scenario by default.
At least this one was more "practical" than the Tengu's — because this Detective Conan universe was a little different from the world Jiangxia was used to.
The chuunibyou level here was off the charts. The stronger a person was, the more they loved long-winded monologues at the worst times.
As for the regular folks… well, wave a knife in their face, and you could probably squeeze in all three questions before they faint. Might even be able to guide the answers the way you want.
So, the first scenario — making someone vanish for a few hours — wasn't completely impossible.
Besides, Jiangxia wasn't alone. He had plenty of puppets.
Best case, a puppet asks the questions, the target nods, and poof, gone.
Worst case, they get the third scenario? Let the puppet shoulder that meltdown — if a puppet wants to commit suicide, that's fine. Not like it'd be the first puppet to die for him.
His only worry was whether a puppet's suicidal state would bleed back into his main body once its consciousness returned.
But judging by the contract's feedback, the negative state wasn't an instant game-over like the Tengu's. It was more like a creeping mental spiral — if your willpower was strong enough, you could resist. The puppet might just stew in angst for a while and get over it.
The more Jiangxia thought about it, the more tempting it sounded.
How could anyone resist poking at a new toy like this?
Even the Tengu's skill — he'd tested that out with a puppet once, just to scare someone covered in shikigami into diving off a cliff. Worked great.
Miss Spider's "Heavenly Interrogation," if used well, could be even more useful. Making people disappear was a handy trick for a psychic who found regular murder too much hassle.
And he did have strong mental control. Looking on the bright side, the downside might barely dent him.
Still… he wasn't about to go courting death for fun.
So, Jiangxia thought it over carefully. When he had the time, he'd find a place with zero convenient suicide spots, anchor his main body there, maybe get a reliable bystander to babysit him — then send a puppet out to pester some grumpy old man who'd never answer properly, just to test how bad the third scenario could get.
After all, how bad could it really be? Even if the puppet went full emo, it'd take more than that to make a spiritualist with puppet clay kill himself. And if it got that far… well, he wouldn't be the type to give up.
He rubbed his temple, then dropped his hand with a faint sigh.
New skill, new problems — but also a fun new pot.
With that decided, Jiangxia parked those thoughts for now and got to work gathering puppet clay in his room.
One by one, shikigami swarmed out from under his feet, merging into a white, sticky gel in the center of the floor. Miss Spider, when he nudged her, obediently melted in too.
Before long, a figure formed — draped in a white kimono, straw hat perched low, veil dangling.
Jiangxia slid his consciousness into the puppet and tested the hat's fit.
When crafting puppets, the outfit usually took shape based on the ghost's taste. Afterward, he could tweak it with clay, but Miss Spider was unusually stubborn. That folklore look was non-negotiable.
Luckily, people still wore kimonos nowadays. He hadn't seen anyone strolling around with a straw hat, but if the puppet kept its head down like a proper buddhist pilgrim, it'd pass — and conveniently hide the big Z tattoo on its forehead.
Satisfied, Jiangxia settled his real body onto the bed and switched off the lights.
Then, steering the puppet, he padded over to the window and nudged it open.
It was past midnight — this place only had a handful of guests, and every window but the lobby's was dark.
Inside the puppet, the ghost fetus gave him perfect night vision — no need to borrow any other shikigami's eyes.
He scanned the moonlit street. Empty. No suspicious people or lurking cadre.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the puppet's new form.
A moment later, there was a faint, tearing sound — fabric splitting at the back.
—New vest, unlocked.
*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.
Progress: 46/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS
Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.
Progress:4/10*