The Anomalies of The Hound
Conan Edogawa was a creature of absolute logic. The encounter with Gin—the lightning-fast, silent counter-attack, the appearance of the ruthless professional (Wick), and the controlled, vanishing explosion—had deeply unnerved him. It wasn't the Black Organization's style; it was too clean, too precise, and too focused on saving him.
Days later, the anxiety still pricked at his detective mind. He started looking for the anomalies around the Mouri Detective Agency—the things that defied chaos.
He noticed the old, rusted ventilation unit on the roof of the building across the street. It was functionally useless, but every day, its faint, rhythmic hum would cycle for precisely three minutes at 3:00 PM.
"Professor Agasa's inventions are subtle, but this isn't his," Conan muttered to himself, using his custom bowtie to boost the acoustics.
He used his kick-powered shoes to launch himself onto a lower awning and then scaled a nearby drainpipe, determined to investigate the source of the persistent, perfect rhythm.
Agent 47 and The Perfect Disguise
The source of the hum was indeed the ventilation unit, but it wasn't the unit itself. Concealed inside the unit was a micro-surveillance and communications relay. Manning the relay was a figure completely invisible to the casual eye.
Agent 47, the Ghost, was the Captain of The Hound's Infiltration Division. He was currently disguised as a weary, middle-aged electrical repairman, complete with the appropriate dirty jumpsuit and a laminated ID badge. He was running a detailed 360-degree sweep of the entire Mouri Agency.
Conan reached the roof and crept toward the ventilation unit, his small frame allowing him to navigate the shadows. He used his detective badge to shine a narrow beam of light into a seam of the unit.
He didn't see wires. He saw a panel of specialized, high-grade military hardware and, reflected briefly in the polished metal, a pair of cold, focused blue eyes looking directly at him.
The "repairman" moved with a speed that defied his casual disguise. In a single, fluid motion, 47 sealed the seam, cut the power to the external relay, and turned to face the boy.
The Direct Intersect
47's face was calm, professional, and utterly devoid of expression. He knelt to match the boy's height, his disguise flawlessly maintained.
"Lost, little one?" 47 asked, his voice rough with manufactured fatigue. "This is a restricted zone. High voltage."
Conan, however, was not deterred by the disguise. His mind had already cataloged the anomalies:
The Eyes: Too sharp, too aware. They were the eyes of a professional assassin, not an electrician.
The Movement: The seamless, instantaneous transition from maintenance to combat readiness.
The Equipment: The faint, unique smell of high-grade specialized solvent—used on military optics, not standard wiring.
The Lie: The zone was not restricted. There were no signs.
Conan did not use his child voice. He used the crisp, logical tone of Shinichi Kudo, his eyes locking onto the older man's.
"Your equipment is military-grade, designed for deep surveillance. Your eyes are profiling my escape routes, not checking the fuse box. And that badge, while perfectly forged, is two years out of date," Conan stated, his voice low and accusatory. "You aren't a repairman. You're watching this building. Who are you, and why are you interested in Kogoro Mouri?"
47 paused. The level of deduction from a child was impossible, yet there it was. His primary directive was absolute secrecy.
"I am merely ensuring the electrical safety of the General's investments in this district, child," 47 responded smoothly, using a slight tone of patronizing dismissal. He used the only name he knew would command respect in Tokyo.
"The General?" Conan's mind raced. General Tenryuu Kaito. The high-profile heir who had just intervened in the Takashima case.
Before Conan could press further, a sudden, blinding flash of light hit the roof. It was a single, high-powered flashbang deployed from a nearby building—an asset of The Phantom (Ghost's Division) providing cover.
When the light cleared, the "repairman" was gone. Only the sealed ventilation unit remained, the faint hum now completely silent.
The First Crack in the Shield
Conan stood on the roof, his pulse racing, not from fear, but from the thrill of the chase. He had been outmaneuvered by a phantom.
He hadn't found the Black Organization, but he had found something equally terrifying: a perfectly organized, highly dangerous, and fiercely intelligent shadow force operating around him. And they were connected to Kaito Tenryuu.
They call themselves The Hound. And they are protecting someone here. Or they are waiting for someone, Conan thought, his glasses glinting. But why would General Tenryuu need a ghost army to monitor a silly detective agency?
The shield Kaito had woven around Conan had just developed its first hairline crack. The detective was now actively hunting his own guardian.