Conan's Corpse Picker

Double Chapter

After weighing all the factors, Jiangxia finally decided to handle it personally—donning sunglasses and a mask before stepping into action.

There were no surveillance cameras in the area, and he'd been careful when swapping places with his ghost-disguised parents. Even if Kitagawa Tsuyoshi did go flying off a cliff later, the cops wouldn't be able to figure out why. Just like how the plant-pulp-scented client had given them zero clues—thus, the police had never found him.

And in the worst case—say, someone did spot Jiangxia—he'd still be in the clear:

He was just an innocent tool person, driving around in a car of the same model as Kitagawa's. Why? Because he'd received a client request and was investigating Kitagawa's usual haunts. He had no idea Kitagawa would suddenly show up and challenge him to a race! If Kitagawa then slipped, crashed into a cliff wall or veered off the mountain road… well, that was simply a tragic accident.

And if no one was around? Even better. Jiangxia could just ghost the scene. No need to personally update the client—if the crash made the news, great. If not, he'd just casually drop a newspaper in front of her door later.

While casually planning out this elaborate excuse tree, Jiangxia drove up and down the road like a confused tourist.

Finally, in the early evening, he spotted a red sports car approaching.

Kitagawa Tsuyoshi had returned.

Jiangxia was just wondering how to bait him into a spontaneous, life-threatening race.

But apparently, that wasn't necessary.

Kitagawa's car honked loudly behind him, then aggressively overtook and wiggled its rear like a taunting cat. Jiangxia stared blankly. "…So eager."

Well, maybe that was to be expected. After all, he'd rented a car of the same model—a detail that most people would ignore… unless they were the kind who got a little too emotionally invested in their vehicle. Kitagawa, evidently, was one of those people.

Jiangxia pulled down his cap, adjusted his sunglasses, and mentally reviewed the nearby curves.

Then he nodded slightly in Amuro Tooru's direction—the god of racing—and rested his hand on the paddle shifter.

Just as he was about to hit the gas and enter a scenic-yet-deadly high-speed duel—

A black car suddenly appeared behind them.

Startled, Jiangxia turned to glance through the rearview mirror.

Three cars now, all heading the same way. The speeds weren't wild yet, so it was easy to make out the details.

That was… a black Porsche.

Inside: two familiar fedoras. One long-haired, silver figure was absorbed in checking emails.

Jiangxia locked eyes with Gin for half a second.

"…"

…So you're racing too?

Jiangxia offered a stiff, polite smile. Then remembered he was in full disguise, and the windows were tinted. Gin probably couldn't see him.

He relaxed.

Maybe they were just passing by. Saw two idiot sports cars acting up and decided to get ahead of the traffic jam.

Sure enough, the Porsche didn't linger. It continued along the curve, edging toward the front.

Kitagawa, feeling the presence of a third wheel, squinted at his rearview mirror.

That third-party car trying to pass by taking advantage of them? No way.

He clicked his tongue, then smirked viciously. Just before the Porsche could pull ahead, he hit the gas and swerved aggressively in its direction.

Screeeech—

His tires screamed as his car cut across the lane, boxing the Porsche in. Kitagawa stared smugly at the mirror, waiting for the black car to panic and veer off in shame.

…Except it didn't.

The Porsche didn't swerve. It didn't brake. It didn't even flinch.

Instead, it calmly adjusted its line and kept pace.

Half a second later—crack—the front of the Porsche and the rear of the red sports car kissed each other with the sound of snapping plastic.

Behind the chaos, Jiangxia had already started to decelerate. He smoothly backed off, repositioning his car at a safe distance, casually observing the developing situation.

He'd expected Vodka to panic, maybe overcorrect and do a wild Amuro-style anti-gravity drift up the mountainside. But no. It was just a minor bump.

Still… Jiangxia pushed up his sunglasses thoughtfully. Judging by the noise, Gin's Porsche might need some bodywork soon.

Meanwhile, up front—

Kitagawa Tsuyoshi let out a loud curse, swerving to the shoulder to check on his precious car, now wounded. He finally stopped messing around with his little rear-end dance.

The lane cleared.

The black Porsche smoothly slid into it, catching up with Kitagawa's car.

The passenger window lowered slightly.

A cold muzzle rose into view.

Bang—

…

Ten minutes later, on a suburban highway.

Jiangxia parked his rented red sports car on the roadside and turned to glance behind.

The winding mountain road twisted out of sight. But in his mind, he still saw the broken guardrail, the car flipping through the air, and the thin plume of black smoke rising from the trees below.

He hadn't seen a body.

But there was no question—Kitagawa Tsuyoshi was dead.

He had watched the bullet, laced with Gin's distinctive killing intent, punch through the sports car window and into Kitagawa's skull.

Then the car swerved, burst through the guardrail, and plummeted off the cliff.

Jiangxia had briefly debated whether to floor it and pretend he saw nothing, or slow down and observe the aftermath.

In the end, he chose the latter. Removed his mask and sunglasses. Slowed to a normal pace.

Not because he was feeling charitable or wanted to help Gin.

But because, in the Porsche's side mirror, he'd seen something terrifying.

After firing the shot, Gin had calmly reached into the glove box and pulled out a bomb—one big enough to collapse part of the road.

And judging from his expression, he wasn't planning to leave behind any innocent witnesses.

Jiangxia, ever the buddhist ghost-herder, suddenly felt a strong desire to avoid becoming roadkill.

...Although Jiangxia had multiple ways to dodge that bomb, the simplest one was still convincing Gin not to blow him up.

That thought flickered by. Jiangxia quickly took off his sunglasses and mask, and reached for his phone to call Gin—just to prevent this innocent organization cadre from being tragically friendly-fired by his own executive.

Luckily, before he could hit dial, Gin seemed to recognize him.

The bomb-in-hand paused. Gin stowed it back into his coat and instead gave Jiangxia a curt "follow me" gesture.

So, Jiangxia followed the black Porsche for over ten kilometers.

Eventually, Gin's car slowed to a stop far from the crash site, and Jiangxia also pulled over on the roadside.

…

Up ahead, both men in black stepped out of the car.

Vodka gave Jiangxia a brief side glance, muttered something inaudible under his breath, then immediately averted his eyes and headed toward the front of the car to assess the damage.

Gin leaned on the door, typing grimly on his phone to arrange for a tow truck.

As for cleanup? Remote location, no cameras, body fell and burned—honestly, not worth the effort. The police could investigate all they wanted, but they wouldn't get far. No need to waste organizational resources.

And identity-wise, there was no issue either.

Gin had identified Kitagawa Tsuyoshi even before he pulled the trigger—son of a local businessman who once had shallow dealings with the organization last year. That partnership had long ended. No strings. Killing someone that publicly known was actually the safest choice—fewer surprises.

And if Gin hadn't done it, Kitagawa probably would've died tomorrow anyway.

While he was mulling this over, Gin glanced at Uzo… who had somehow made his way up front and was now muttering into Vodka's ear.

"Nice dent," Jiangxia said helpfully. "I thought you could've hugged the cliff wall and dodged it. Guess the car's the issue, huh? Or… you?"

Vodka's hand paused mid-examination, trembling slightly. His usually flat expression sharpened into a deep scowl, as if he desperately wanted to yell, 'If you're so good, you try driving with Gin in the passenger seat!' But he held it in.

…At least they weren't physically fighting. Compared to certain people who default to violence at the slightest provocation, this was practically a harmonious workplace. Gin nodded silently, then checked his watch and came over to inspect the front of the car himself.

The left headlight was smashed.

While the performance hadn't dropped too much, driving around with a broken headlight—especially back in Tokyo—would attract unnecessary attention. Police stops. Questions. Paperwork. All very time consuming.

Gin considered briefly, then turned to Jiangxia. "We'll ride in your car."

As he said this, his gaze flicked to the red sports car… and then back to Jiangxia, whose driving earlier had been suspiciously slow. Too slow, in fact.

Given the context, Gin suspected Uzo had been playing the long game—baiting Kitagawa into a fatal crash.

Still, to save time, he gestured to Vodka instead: "You drive."

Vodka, snapping out of his sulking, perked up immediately.

He straightened his spine, puffed his chest, snatched the keys from Jiangxia's hand, and climbed into the driver's seat with all the enthusiasm of a king reclaiming his throne.

Jiangxia: "…Tch."

He didn't particularly dislike Vodka. But the ghosts had mentioned Vodka's quiet grumblings about him before. So, just for the fun of it, Jiangxia had planned to temporarily "steal" his driving job, savor Vodka's expression, and maybe even extract a bit of killing intent from him.

Clearly, the plot had deviated.

He hesitated, then said with natural sincerity, "Actually, I'm a pretty decent driver."

Gin glanced over. "You have a license?"

"I got one a while ago," Jiangxia replied casually, flashing it from his wallet.

Technically, you could get it at 18. No need to wait for full adulthood.

Gin nodded. At least that removed the risk of headlines about underage driving. Though Ouzo's approach today had been, uh, bold, the basics were still sound.

He gestured toward the sports car. "Get in."

No talk of changing drivers.

Jiangxia: "…"

…

Soon, the red four-seater sped toward Tokyo.

Possibly fueled by suppressed anger, Vodka drove both fast and smooth—his attempt to showcase his skills. Probably hoping for some praise.

Unfortunately, no one seemed to notice.

Gin, sipping from a bottle of convenience-store coffee that clashed with his image, scrolled through a few documents. During a pause, he casually asked Jiangxia, "Why were you targeting him?"

He meant Kitagawa Tsuyoshi.

Uzo's murder sprees weren't exactly news, but this time, he'd gone to the trouble of preparing a car identical to the target's. Plus, Kitagawa's family had a brief connection to the organization… and that made Gin mildly curious.

Jiangxia thought about it, then replied vaguely, "Had too much free time. Just messing around."

Gin raised an eyebrow and mentally reviewed Ouzo's recent activities.

Now that he thought about it, Ouzo had been keeping a lower profile than usual. At the Gomera Studio incident, Bourbon had been the primary detective. Maybe Bourbon had caused some sort of chain reaction that left Ouzo with nothing to do—so bored that he started instigating roadside death races for entertainment.

That… wasn't great.

Personally driving a car to bait someone off a cliff was not sustainable behavior.

More importantly, Ouzo used to lurk near murders like a ghostly shikigami, barely touching the actual victims. But this time, if his plan had succeeded, he would've been the direct cause of death.

That was not the kind of development Gin wanted to see.

There were already enough trigger-happy people in the organization.

The future assassination ace was going off-script again.

Training talent in this outfit really was a long-term investment.

Still, Ouzo's potential returns were high. The problems he caused—though frequent—were within acceptable limits. Managing him was like a never-ending game of mental whack-a-mole… but worth it.

Gin considered giving him a proper lecture now: "Don't get involved in crimes," "Don't show your face at murder scenes," "Do you want to end up on a hit list?"

But then he remembered—he'd already said those things. Several times. Ouzo definitely understood the logic behind them.

He just couldn't help himself.

It wasn't a lack of brains or skills—it was a problem of mindset.

*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.

Progress: 59/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS

Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.

Progress:3/10*