The more Shirakawa thought about it, the angrier he became, yet he maintained a standard smile, like a workplace elite, on his face.
However, within that smile, there was a hint of an unfathomable chill.
“Conan-kun,”
He spoke softly, his voice not loud, yet it carried an invisible pressure, “What were you saying just now?”
“I seem to have heard some…
rather unpleasant words.”
Conan’s heart skipped a beat, and he thought to himself that things were looking bad.
He immediately realized he had made a slip of the tongue.
Although the man in front of him looked gentle and harmless, the occasional sharp glint in those eyes gave him an inexplicable sense of trepidation.
He absolutely could not let this man catch him in a lie!
Conan’s brain worked at high speed, and he immediately switched to primary schooler mode.
With an innocent smile on his face, he pointed at the air and shouted:
“It’s kamen rider!
I just remembered the kamen rider I watched last night; he defeated a monster called ‘Idiot’!”
After saying that, he jumped straight off the sofa and started dancing in the open space, throwing a series of punches and kicks at the air.
“Huo-huo-ha-ha!
Watch my Rider Kick!
Die, you big monster!”
Shirakawa watched expressionlessly as the brat performed his awkward acting.
He knew very well that his identity could not withstand any scrutiny.
In this world, he was an ‘illegal resident’ who didn’t exist in any records.
And Shinichi Kudo had deep-rooted connections with the police; as long as he wanted to investigate, he would soon discover the abnormality of Shirakawa’s identity.
At that time, being treated as an illegal immigrant or some suspicious person and being kicked out of Japan would be a small matter; if the secret of being a transmigrator were exposed, the consequences would be unimaginable.
Therefore, he had to take the initiative.
He had to make this brat wary of him so that he wouldn’t dare act rashly.
Thinking of this, Shirakawa’s gaze became even more profound and inscrutable.
He didn’t say a word, just stood there quietly, staring at Conan’s every move with a gaze that seemed capable of seeing through a person’s heart.
His acting was actually quite terrible; the so-called ‘profoundness’ was mostly just something he imagined himself to be projecting.
But he had a natural advantage—he truly knew Conan’s background.
The composure and calm brought by this insider knowledge unconsciously exuded an aura that made Conan tremble with fear.
That gaze…
it was like a scalpel, wanting to dissect him cleanly from the inside out.
He even had an illusion that his greatest secret had been completely exposed before this man.
This feeling made his hair stand on end.
To hide his inner panic, Conan could only work harder at playing kamen rider, fighting the air monster more vigorously while making various meaningless onomatopoeic sounds.
“Bang!
Pow!
Ya—!”
This extremely awkward one-man show continued until Kogoro Mouri finished washing up and came downstairs.
“Hey!
What are you two doing?
Let’s go, time to head out for a big feast!”
Hearing Kogoro Mouri’s voice, Conan felt as if he had been granted a grand pardon.
He instantly stopped his performance and breathed a long sigh of relief.
He didn’t dare look at Shirakawa again and quickly Ran behind Kogoro Mouri like a frightened rabbit.
Kogoro Mouri first took the two of them to a nearby bank to exchange that two-million-yen check for cash.
With a thick stack of bills stuffed in his coat, he walked with a spring in his step.
Afterward, the three of them headed straight for a high-end restaurant that looked quite expensive.
Abalone, lobster, Kobe beef…
Kogoro Mouri ordered almost every most expensive dish on the menu, fully demonstrating the ‘face of a nouveau riche.’
After eating and drinking their fill, Kogoro excitedly led Shirakawa and Conan in a grand procession toward the nearby commercial street.
“Let’s go!
I’ll buy some daily necessities for you guys!”
Kogoro Mouri acted like a wealthy landlord taking his two sons out to paint the town red.
From toothbrushes and towels to pajamas and slippers, Kogoro Mouri enjoyed the shopping spree immensely.
He even dragged Shirakawa into a men’s clothing store.
“Shirakawa, you’re looking for a job now, so you need to have a few decent pieces of clothing.”
Like an old father, Kogoro Mouri solemnly helped Shirakawa pick out suits and shirts, occasionally measuring them against his body while muttering things like, “This one’s not bad,” or “That one looks quite sharp.”
Conan followed behind, and seeing this scene, his eyes almost popped out of his head.
Was this still the same Uncle Mouri he knew, who was indifferent and even somewhat disgusted with him?
When they passed a mobile phone store, Kogoro Mouri replaced his own phone with the latest flip-phone model and then said to Shirakawa as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “Shirakawa, come, let’s exchange phone numbers to make it easier to stay in touch.”
Upon learning that Shirakawa had lost his phone along with his stolen luggage, Kogoro Mouri grandly patted his chest.
“That’s nothing!
Pick any one!
Pick the one you like!
Uncle will pay for it!”
This sudden series of friendly gestures made even Shirakawa feel a bit overwhelmed.
He looked at Kogoro Mouri’s enthusiastic face, but his mind uncontrollably recalled the terrifying moment from last night.
That big face that almost pressed against his, that slurred “so soft,” and that powerful “Man-Locking-Man” embrace…
Shirakawa couldn’t help but shudder, and an absurd thought popped into his head.
Could it be…
that Uncle Mouri’s orientation really has some issues, which is why Attorney Kisaki couldn’t take it anymore and chose to live separately from him?
As soon as this thought appeared, he immediately snuffed it out.
No, no, that’s not right.
When he was cleaning the storage room yesterday, he had seen with his own eyes several restricted-level beauty photo magazines with spicy covers hidden under the old newspapers.
Judging from the type of collectibles, his orientation should be fine…
should be…
Shirakawa repeatedly muttered the word “should” in his heart, but the look he gave Kogoro Mouri still carried a faint trace of wariness.
Despite his misgivings, he had to accept the new phone.
The smartphone he had brought with him during his transmigration was practically black technology from another era in this late 90s world where even connecting to the internet was a struggle.
If he accidentally took it out in front of people, his identity as a ‘transmigrator’ would be exposed on the spot.
Ultimately, under Kogoro Mouri’s enthusiastic offensive, Shirakawa reluctantly chose the cheapest bar phone.
Throughout the journey, Conan saw all of Kogoro Mouri’s almost doting attitude toward Shirakawa, and the doubts and confusion in his heart had piled up to the peak.
He completely could not understand.
What kind of magic potion did this man named Shirakawa give Uncle Mouri?
They had known each other for less than a day, so how could they be as close as a biological father and son?
Conan recalled that when he was still Shinichi Kudo, every time he came to the Detective Agency, Kogoro Mouri would either complain that he was stealing his thunder or accuse him of leading Ran astray; he was always looking for faults.
Although Shinichi Kudo also felt that it was because Uncle Mouri’s own reasoning ability was poor and it was pure incompetent rage, the world of difference in attitude still made him feel a strong sense of imbalance.
This Shirakawa definitely has a problem