For three long seconds after the money vanished, the only sound in the cannery was the hum of the computer servers. The number on the screen—$187,430,000—glowed brightly. It was an amount of money so huge it was hard to even imagine, like a number from a fairy tale. Yet, they had just made it disappear with the press of a key, sending it flying across the world to places where Ramos could never find it. Through the tiny speaker on the desk, they could still hear the muffled sounds of Ramos's meeting continuing in his penthouse high above the city. The people there had no idea that a financial earthquake had just struck.
Then, the reaction began.
But the noise didn't come from the speaker. It came from the digital world outside their hidden workshop.
Suddenly, Kaito's main computer monitor flashed a bright, warning red. At the same time, dozens of other alerts—pop-up windows and error messages—exploded across his other screens, beeping and blinking for attention.
