An accident occurred inside the prison: one of the detained inmates had escaped.
Kudo Yusaku, who was planning to stay in his hometown until the New Year, received a call from a friend at the National Police Agency. The voice on the other end sounded both weary and incredulous.
"Yusaku, old friend—remember that assassin from last time? He's gotten away. None of us expected him to be an ability user."
Kudo Yusaku was taken aback. "An ability user? What kind?"
At home, the man who had been quietly plotting out a new novel grew serious. His wife, Kudo Yukiko—who had long since retired from the entertainment industry—brought over a cup of coffee and set it down on his desk. She did not leave, instead leaning against the edge of the table, listening as her husband spoke with the police officials. After the call ended, she sighed with feeling.
"Japan's police force really isn't what it used to be, year by year."
"That's not entirely fair," Kudo Yusaku said, rubbing at his temples. "No one could have predicted the impact the war would have. These past few years have been the most difficult period for the Japanese government. We settled in the United States to avoid the chaos of war, but even so, we've never forgotten our homeland."
Curious, Kudo Yukiko asked, "So just how big is the gap between Japan and the United States?"
Kudo Yusaku gave a wry smile. "It's hard to put into words. I'm not part of either government's inner circle, but one thing is certain—America is a country developing at tremendous speed, with enormous potential."
Kudo Yukiko nodded. Comparing the cities on both sides, America's current level of prosperity was indeed breathtaking.
"Yusaku," she asked, "are you going to help the National Police Agency catch the fugitive?"
"That won't be necessary."
Kudo Yusaku pulled up Ranpo-kun's phone number, edited the details of the incident into a text message, and sent it off. He had never been someone who liked running around in the spotlight, and with calm confidence he said, "If Ranpo-kun was able to catch that assassin once, then he'll be able to catch him a second time. As long as the roaming criminal can be dealt with, what does it matter if I lend him my connections?"
Kudo Yukiko exclaimed in amazement, "You really think highly of that boy."
Kudo Yusaku asked in return, "Don't you?"
As a mother who adored her son, Kudo Yukiko's competitive spirit flared. "Ranpo-kun has an excellent mind, talent that far surpasses Shinichi's. But in this society, knowing how to deal with people and the world matters too."
Kudo Yusaku burst into laughter, taking off his glasses. Without a beard, his face looked noticeably younger, the years seeming to fall away from him.
"I'm not worried about that," he said calmly. "Have you forgotten who Ranpo-kun's guardian is? With a parent like that—someone who can see through a person completely even from a distance—how could they not arrange Ranpo's future properly? It's the same as our expectations for Shinichi… how could anyone possibly allow a weakness to remain unaddressed instead of fixing it? Once Ranpo-kun truly grows into himself, his future will be something people can only look up to in awe."
"Dad, where is big brother Ranpo?" a child's voice suddenly chimed in. "I want to go to Hawaii with him!"
At the doorway, Kudo Shinichi had caught the sound of big brother Ranpo's name and immediately dashed inside, only to be swept up into his father's arms.
The family of three was filled with warmth and laughter.
Tokyo—this vast metropolis—was, after all, far safer than Yokohama City.
Edogawa Ranpo finished writing his composition and, with his head full of muddled thoughts, dragged himself back to his room. It felt as though countless goldfish were swimming around inside his mind, blowing foolish little bubbles and asking him over and over, "What exactly is it that you wrote?"
Already anticipating Nakahara Chuuya's reaction, Edogawa Ranpo let out a sharp scream.
"Aaaaaahhhhhhh!"
He collapsed onto the bed, limbs splayed, playing dead.
After lying there motionless for quite some time, Edogawa Ranpo suddenly lifted a hand and grabbed his phone.
The moment he unlocked it and read the message, the spark returned to his eyes, his fighting spirit reignited.
"The assassin escaped!"
So this, too, had been within Akiya's calculations? Those words Akiya had relayed earlier hadn't been meant to tell the assassin that he had lost his value—they had been an opportunity, deliberately given, to go after the employer instead!
He had underestimated just how malicious adults could be.
But, wait—hadn't the enemy already defected?
Lacking enough information to piece everything together, Edogawa Ranpo jumped up barefoot, ready to run off and question Akiya directly. After taking a few steps, he hesitated, then guiltily turned back to slip on his slippers, suddenly feeling that Mr. Randou was, in some ways, just as terrifying as a mother.
The clock in the house showed nine o'clock in the evening. Ordinarily, neither of them would be asleep yet—they would still be watching television.
Yet there was no sign of them there.
Edogawa Ranpo made his way to the soundproofed master bedroom. Like a curious cat, he poked his head forward, eager and ready, and caught faint, indistinct sounds leaking through the door. Having already read The Retired Assassin Who Became the School Belle's Personal Bodyguard, Edogawa Ranpo immediately put on an expression that clearly said, I get it.
Then, in the very next second, he abruptly took a step back—because the door had been opened from the inside.
Randou's figure appeared in the doorway, clad in a silk robe. He blocked the entrance, his expression anything but pleasant.
"Ranpo-kun?"
Edogawa Ranpo obediently raised his phone.
"Mr. Randou, I received news that the assassin escaped from prison."
Randou froze for a moment, then slowly revealed a smile that made the little cat shiver all the way down to his fur.
"Escaped?" he said lightly. "That's fine."
"Yes, yes!" Ranpo nodded enthusiastically.
"You don't need to investigate this any further," Randou continued calmly. "Leave it to me. That assassin won't appear again."
"Can't we hand it over to the police?" Edogawa Ranpo asked.
Following the examples his father had taught him, Edogawa Ranpo tilted his head. Although he had an extremely poor impression of the police uncles he had encountered—thinking they looked rather useless—if there were people like his father among them, then surely the police must have abilities he didn't know about, strengths that children simply couldn't contend with.
Randou reached out and gently patted the head of the innocent Edogawa Ranpo, speaking in a warm, even tone.
"You can't stop someone who insists on seeking their own death. As bystanders, all we can do is smile like an audience and watch them walk all the way to the end of their story."
Edogawa Ranpo rose onto his tiptoes, trying to peer past Randou's shoulder to see what scene was being deliberately blocked from view.
Randou pressed a palm down on the little short one's head, stopping him in place.
"Ranpo-kun, it's time to go to sleep," he said gently. "Don't disturb Akiya and me while we rest."
"But isn't Akiya still recovering from his injuries?"
"Yes."
"? ? ?"
"You know too much."
Having learned just how frighteningly sharp Ranpo was from his boyfriend, Randou had no intention of underestimating him. He prepared to close the door.
Edogawa Ranpo, unwilling to give up, clung to the edge of it.
"Let Akiya tell me the plan!"
There was a secret right in front of him!
His heart felt as if it were being tickled relentlessly!
Randou replied with ruthless calm, "There is no plan, no arrangement. Akiya isn't going out anywhere. I'm staying home to take care of him."
Edogawa Ranpo let out a soft, puzzled "Eh?" and looked up at Mr. Randou, who had seamlessly transformed into a guardian figure.
A few seconds passed.
"Mr. Randou," Ranpo said solemnly, "your cat tail is showing."
"..."
With a sharp bang, the door slammed shut, completely cutting off the sound of Asou Akiya's wild, uncontrollable laughter from the other side.
Edogawa Ranpo clutched his head. A solid flick had landed squarely on his crown.
"Ow—so violent."
Randou and Nakahara Chuuya didn't resemble father and son at all—at least not in appearance—but in terms of personality, both of them were undeniably of the fight-first variety.
If you could beat someone into submission, why bother reasoning with them?
Inside the bedroom, the flush that Randou had barely managed to suppress surged back onto his cheeks. He shot a fierce glare at Akiya, who was sprawled on the bed.
"Keep laughing and your wound is going to split open!"
"Hahahahaha—Randou! I told you we shouldn't do this kind of thing at home, Ranpo was bound to notice!"
"All you ever do is enjoy the spectacle, Akiya—you never help me at all."
"I'm cultivating self-discipline!" Asou Akiya declared shamelessly.
After laughing his fill, he suddenly let out a pained groan. The wound really had started to ache.
Randou stepped closer and carefully examined the injury on Akiya's abdomen. It had healed considerably; the edges were no longer inflamed or red. Because he had used the cat's tail earlier that night, a faint sheen of tears lingered at the corners of Randou's eyes, mingled with uneven breaths. He crouched beside the bed, looking up at Akiya, who was gazing back at him with gentle affection. Randou swallowed, his throat tightening, springtime warmth spilling unrestrained into the room.
Asou Akiya pulled the passionate French beauty onto his lap and stroked his back.
The cat's tail swayed softly in the air.
The French beauty let out a quiet hum, his toes curling as his arms loosely encircled Akiya's waist.
"You terrible man…"
Asou Akiya pretended not to hear him.
After all, as the saying goes, "if a man isn't a little bad, how could Arthur Rimbaud ever fall in love—right~?"
A good man wouldn't even be able to catch you.