"Akechi-kun, hey, that's dangerous!"
Standing behind him, Rena Mizunashi couldn't help but shout.
Inside and outside the camera, everyone who witnessed the scene instinctively took a step forward. Even the cameraman visibly staggered.
"Hahaha, no problem." Kazawa raised his hand casually, showing no intent of coming down. The leg dangling outside the window even started swinging.
In the room below, everyone who saw the precarious position of Goro Akechi broke out in cold sweat.
"Akechi, come down now!" Kogoro Mouri couldn't help but push open the window. Ignoring the bloodstains on the glass, he leaned out and looked upward.
He was in the warehouse on the 7th floor—directly above the crime scene. When studying the floor plan earlier, Mingzhi had suggested communicating with someone in the room above.
So when they noticed Akechi's dangerous position, everyone instinctively opened the window and looked up.
What met Kogoro Mouri's eyes was the black barrel of a gun in Akechi's hand, and a pair of deep, sharp eyes staring down at him.
Pop!
Kogoro Mouri clutched his forehead and hissed.
A small white rubber ball bounced off his forehead and rolled into the room.
"This is..." Inspector Megure bent down and picked up the ball at his feet. "A BB pellet?"
"Yes, it's a prop from today's show. I asked Miss Nagai to get it for me," Kazawa said, still leaning out the window. He gave the gun in his hand a little shake, then casually let it fall.
The model gun tumbled down, bounced off Kogoro Mouri, and clattered into the room.
"That's how you pulled off the 'impossible crime', right, Mr. Matsuo?" Kazawa turned his gaze back to Takashi Matsuo. "Conan, how's it going on your end? Did you find it?"
"Found it!" The camera cut to Conan waving. "Is this what you're looking for, Akechi-nii?"
The camera zoomed in on where Conan pointed—outside the TV station building, at the edge of the green belt on the sidewalk.
There, in the middle of a cracked brick, lay a deformed metal bullet.
"Brilliant, little detective." Kazawa wasn't surprised. "That's the key piece of evidence supporting my theory. The shot was fired from the 7th floor, pierced through the victim's head on the 4th floor, and landed here on the ground. That bullet caused the death."
"So, the other bullet holes inside the room were fakes meant to confuse the location of the shot," Kogoro Mouri said, rubbing his sore forehead. Now that everything was clear, even he could understand. Though he had trouble identifying clues, he could still play the corpse. He slumped into the victim's position beside the window. "After firing, he threw the gun down to the 4th floor. The dying victim, with fading strength, slowly slumped into this position... just like when we found him."
"Exactly." Kazawa's gaze shifted from the camera's feedback to the nervous Takashi Matsuo. "As for how you did it... Since the victim was on a call when he died, all you had to do was say something like, 'I'm on the 7th floor warehouse, I'm going to jump,' and the victim—just like Mr. Mouri—would rush to the window to stop you and look up."
Matsuo Takashi's body trembled.
He clenched his fists and looked coldly at Goro Akechi, who was still sitting on the windowsill.
Kazawa half-lowered his eyelids, concealing the flicker of golden light in his eyes.
"You have no proof. You're just making wild guesses!" Matsuo shouted, his voice rising with desperation. He lunged forward, trying to push Goro Akechi off the windowsill.
Inviting this kid was the biggest mistake!
If it wasn't for him... if only it wasn't for him——!
Kazawa couldn't tell whether he sighed out of sympathy or regret. Before Rena Mizunashi could knock down the charging Matsuo, he flicked his wrist, and a pistol slipped from his sleeve into his hand. Without hesitation, he raised it and pointed it straight at Matsuo.
The sight of the gun barrel froze Matsuo in place. His outstretched hand trembled and dropped.
"Be careful, Mr. Matsuo." Kazawa now stood up straight, no longer sitting precariously. He pressed the gun muzzle against Matsuo's face. "You're a shooter too—you should know this isn't a toy."
The cold steel on his forehead made Matsuo shiver. He could only mutter, "You have no evidence… no evidence..."
"Let me think." Kazawa tilted his head, tapping his temple with a finger in mock thought. "Testing for gunpowder residue won't work. You likely prepared for that. Since the plan was so tight, you must've come up with a way to cover it up."
Matsuo Takashi, calmer now, took a small step back from the gun. He curled his lips but didn't answer.
"It can't be obstruction. From the time the show started until now, you were always in sight—except for the brief time you rushed over to commit the crime. Even if you're a skilled shooter, firing a gun while on the phone is tricky. No... it has to be gloves and a change of clothes... And this warehouse? It's a prop warehouse."
Without lowering the gun, Kazawa turned and reached back. He grabbed a suit that was faintly glowing red in his vision.
"Like this—identical to what you're wearing. Think the police will find gunpowder residue or sweat on it?"
This detail wasn't in the original script. But Kazawa, with his third eye, wasn't afraid. He was a born detective.
Matsuo Takashi stared at the suit in Kazawa's hand, then slowly slumped his shoulders.
"…Ha. Hahaha." Matsuo let out a bitter laugh. "Told you... inviting you was a mistake. Suwa Michihiko was an idiot."
"So Mr. Suwa invited me?" Kazawa glanced at Rena Mizunashi, who looked surprised. He pretended to think aloud. The one stuck cleaning up this mess shouldn't have to suffer more than necessary.
That scapegoat was already done for—might as well pile it on.
"Yeah, that guy always does things his own way. He'd change the whole format of the program without even telling us, let alone the guests. This was our show—mine and Suwa's—but he hijacked it, forced me to give up my role as producer. I endured it. This program was everything to me—I worked hard every week collecting info, writing scripts... My whole career was tied to this show. And now he wanted to replace me!"
"So today's episode..."
"He was going to fire me. I had some leverage and used it to stop him. He retaliated by changing the script—to humiliate me!" Matsuo shouted, his eyes brimming with fresh, real tears.
Outside the door, the police arrived and stood behind him. Seeing the handcuffs, he slumped.
"...I'm sorry, Akechi-kun." As he was escorted out, Matsuo gave a bitter smile. "I don't know what came over me... 'The devil who killed Suwa'—maybe it was a prophecy."
Kazawa didn't answer. He just holstered his gun and watched Matsuo's retreating back.
What else could it be?
The Phantom Thieves of Hearts had already taken the blame.
But Kazawa wasn't really "Pancake Man." Even though his many faces bordered on the surreal, he didn't have any supernatural debuff skills. At most, he could cause a bit of confusion. It was all psychological manipulation.
If Matsuo hadn't already wanted to kill, his provocations would've done nothing more than irritate him.
"Akechi-kun, are you alright?" Inspector Megure and the Mouri father and daughter rushed up. "Even if it was to re-create the scene, that was far too risky!"
"I'm fine." Kazawa smiled brightly. "Don't worry—everything was under control~"
"Really? But you told Conan without telling me first." Kogoro Mouri frowned. "You scared the hell out of me."
"Haha, just messing around. Did that rubber bullet hurt?" Kazawa grinned. "And actually, I didn't tell Conan either. He's just that clever. Already a qualified detective."
"Well, anyway, the case is closed." Kogoro Mouri watched the camera follow Matsuo being taken away. "We're finally done here. These TV people toss you aside as soon as you're no longer useful."
"Dad, don't talk like that," Ran poked him in the back, then turned to Kazawa with a smile. "Akechi-kun, you haven't eaten yet, right? Want to come with us? I still owe you a proper thank you from last time..."
"Sure," Kazawa agreed immediately. Thinking of his hungry cousin, he added, "Can I bring someone? My makeup artist, Ms. May, is still in the building."
Ran remembered the eccentric woman with the avant-garde fashion, smiled awkwardly, and nodded reluctantly.
"In that case, let's go get yakiniku—"
"How about pancakes?" Kazawa interrupted loudly before Ran could say the forbidden line. "I know a place nearby with great pancakes."
No! That phrase is not allowed!
This is a two-faced monkey situation—it always ends in murder after those words.
If you want a debuff, try my pancakes instead!
"Pancakes?" Ran blinked. "Oh right, I forgot. Akechi-kun grew up in the U.S., maybe he's not used to Japanese food."
"I've gotten used to it, but this place is really nice. It's close to the station, the pancakes are great, and the bartender's famous. I don't drink—either here or in the U.S.—but I think Mr. Mouri will enjoy it."
Kogoro Mouri perked up. "Sounds like a great place..."
"Yes, I love it. Let's go—my treat." Kazawa smiled and casually declined a call from Amuro Toru.
He'd caused quite a stir today—live TV, nearly jumped off a building...
Amuro definitely saw it. Hopefully he wouldn't be too mad.
"Um..." Nagai Ayako finally spoke up. "Sorry, everyone. Akechi-kun, could I talk with you briefly? I won't delay your dinner."
Kazawa turned, surprised she hadn't chased after the bigger headlines.
Ayako had the classic Nichiuri TV reporter vibe—shrewd, calculating.
He thought she'd be focused on ratings, not approaching the "discarded" detectives.
"Sure," Kazawa nodded. "If it's quick."
Nagai Ayako hurriedly nodded and walked out with him.
Watching them leave, Rena Mizunashi took out her phone and began drafting an email.
Her blue eyes lingered on Kazawa's back.
So this is the young detective with an American background...