Conan's Corpse Picker

Unfortunately we didn't meet the call this time so bonus chapters this week. Please vote if you enjoy!

Double Chapter

The mention of "Ouzo's mindset" inevitably reminded Gin of Vermouth—someone he had once pinned high hopes on.

Unfortunately, judging from Vermouth's behavior after she arrived in Japan, her attitude toward Ouzo was... less than friendly. In fact, it bordered on outright hostility. And given her track record of cleaning up organization members with alarming speed, Gin couldn't help but suspect her so-called "psychological counseling" might involve gently steering Ouzo straight into the grave. Quietly. Thoroughly. And without warning.

Though lately, Vermouth's attitude toward Ouzo had softened significantly.

But that exactly was what set off Gin's internal alarm bells. The change was too abrupt, too blatant. With Vermouth, a sudden shift like that could only mean one thing—she was up to something. After all, not much time had passed since she first met Ouzo. To do such a complete 180 that fast? Suspicious as hell.

Gin's wariness only deepened when he remembered their encounter at the abandoned factory. Vermouth had looked calm when Ouzo came up, but beneath that cool exterior, there was a weird flicker of obsession. That woman was definitely brewing something in her pot.

Yet, despite everything, both she and Ouzo were valuable assets. Gin didn't want to lose either.

In the end, he decided to temporarily separate them until he could figure out what the hell was going on in Vermouth's head. Just in case.

Still, Ouzo's current state—this bloodthirsty eagerness to chase down "prey"—couldn't be ignored either…

Gin took another sip of his canned coffee, thinking it over. A theory was slowly taking shape.

From the pattern of things, he suspected Ouzo had simply not killed enough people recently. Too few murders in his "scripts." Not enough blood to scratch his internal itch. So naturally, the guy started behaving weirdly.

And if that was the problem?

Well—then it wasn't a problem at all.

The organization's assassination list was longer than a bear child's Christmas wish list. Traitors, leaks, and disposable operatives popped up like whack-a-moles. If throwing a few of those names to Ouzo could satisfy his craving and reduce manpower needed for clean-up?

That was a win-win.

In fact, the current cycle of assassins turning into liabilities and needing more assassins to silence them had gotten almost comically inefficient. A guy goes to silence a traitor, gets spotted, now he's on the list too… rinse, repeat.

Compared to that mess, Ouzo—who almost never got caught—was a rare high-level asset. Letting him take on low-profile clean-up ops would save the org both time and energy. A criminal genius with a built-in invisibility buff? Yes please.

Just then, Gin caught Ouzo's gaze in the rearview mirror. The younger man was eyeing the stack of mission documents with keen interest.

Then Ouzo casually asked, "You going on a mission? Need backup?"

Which, to Gin's ears, translated to: You killing anyone? Gimme one.

"…"

Gin skimmed the mission list. None of the names were too high-profile. Most were in remote areas. If anything went sideways, it'd be easy to contain. Plus, this could double as a chance to evaluate Ouzo's current mental state.

He tapped out a message and forwarded the info to Ouzo. "These are the current targets. Review and remember them."

Ouzo paused, opened the message, and began scrolling.

A few names jumped out immediately—familiar, eye-catching, ghost-potential types. Which meant he had a good chance of getting ghosts or killing intent out of them.

…He'd just asked casually, but actually landed several proper missions in one go? Gin's inbox really was full of surprises.

Eyes gleaming, Ouzo glanced longingly at Gin's phone before refocusing on the document.

The targets were scattered, but they roughly formed a line across the map. There was also a clear pattern—they were all involved in drugs.

"…" Since when did the organization start cracking down on drug trafficking?

Was this a side hustle? Was the org competing with the Japanese police now? Ouzo frowned, thinking hard.

But after reading a bit more, it clicked.

It wasn't about law enforcement. These were just routine silencing missions.

The organization had recently run into issues with some of its fundraising "partners." With such a massive network, it was inevitable that some fringe contacts got bold. And thanks to the org's extreme secrecy, some of those idiots had no idea who they were really dealing with. They saw the organization as a sugar daddy or shield—something they could exploit to turn a bigger profit.

Usually, if they stayed quiet and didn't interfere with the core business, the organization turned a blind eye.

But if they started attracting too much attention or stepped over the line?

Well. Onto the hit list they went.

Just like now.

This particular "line" of targets had a common trait: one of them, during some petty business turf war, had secretly used drugs to control various contacts. And among those unlucky contacts… was a high-ranking organization member on a low-profile visit.

The poor cadre accepted a tampered cigarette, had a severe allergic reaction, and got rushed into the ICU. Naturally, that got the organization's attention.

After digging deeper, they found the guy had been pulling these stunts for a while. Even a few peripheral members had been sucked in.

With that, the organization decided the whole chain wasn't worth salvaging. They marked everyone important for elimination and set a full purge in motion.

They were efficient like that.

"Depart next week," Gin said briskly. "First stop is Tottori Prefecture. Then take a boat to Moonlight Island. If you're in, clear about a week."

"No problem," Ouzo answered without hesitation.

It was a long trip, and juggling any Tokyo murders during that time would be a hassle—but three or four days with so many targets? Totally worth it. No reason to pass up the opportunity.

…Wait.

If Conan wasn't there, would he still be able to pick up ghosts?

This thought gave Ouzo pause.

Maybe when he got home, he could quietly dig into Conan's schedule. Hitch a ride on the God of Death's aura—without being noticed.

Still, honestly, even if Conan wasn't going, Ouzo would absolutely take this mission.

After all, this world didn't always match the spoilers in his head. There were discrepancies. Twists.

So trusting memory alone? Not an option.

Now that Gin had accepted the silencing mission, all the targets would be eliminated—whether or not Conan's aura had touched them. Next week, as Gin passed through, one by one, they'd simply... stop existing.

So, of course, be had to go along. Worst-case scenario, he could pick up Gin's leftover killing intent like a spiritual side dish.

As for maintaining Ouzo's mysterious image… the targets themselves were all scumbags widely hated. Stir the pot a little, and even without Conan, someone might do the deed anyway.

And if that failed—well, there was always Xiaobai.

Thanks to the energy cores provided by Kid, Xiaobai's "forced confession" skill had gotten an upgrade.

If no passing murderer showed up to do the job, Jiangxia planned to unleash Xiaobai on the targets and get them to pour out their sins in front of Gin.

Given Gin's temperament, watching someone on the kill list beg for forgiveness with full sincerity would probably earn them a bullet to the head. Once they were dead, Ouzo could just bow out quietly—no need to appear in person.

…

After they returned to the city and Gin and Vodka had left, Jiangxia had his alter ego return the car.

Then, still in a great mood, he reviewed the day's assassination list and headed home.

The next morning, he dropped by the detective agency to greet several long-waiting ladies and return a few cats.

Then, casually, he checked the mailbox.

He wasn't expecting much, but today, tucked in with the usual pile of colorful flyers, something substantial fell out—a thick, weighty envelope.

After seeing off the guests, Jiangxia opened it. Inside was a smaller, slightly fat envelope, and a folded letter. The back of the paper had faint wrinkles and water stains, as if it had been glued to something before.

He unfolded it.

The message was assembled from cut-out characters, each one pasted like an old-school ransom note:

[Next full moon night, the shadows on Moonlight Island will begin to vanish. Please come to investigate.]

The signature: "Keiji Aso," also pasted letter by letter.

Moonlight Island…

Jiangxia ran his fingers over the envelope, amused.

He remembered Moonlight Island vividly—lots of people had died there, before and after the original case. Intergenerational grudges, lingering resentment... a rare and auspicious hotspot.

Just yesterday, Gin's hit list included multiple residents from that same island. Judging by the timing, the full moon would line up exactly with their arrival.

Clearly, this island was fated for him.

And naturally, so were its ghosts and killing intent.

But more than that, this letter gave Jiangxia something even more valuable: an excuse.

Moonlight Island wasn't a tourist destination, nor was it anywhere convenient. Showing up suddenly, without reason, would be suspicious. He'd planned to sneak in with sunglasses and a mask.

Now? The perfect invitation had landed right in his hands.

He could go openly. And passing through the Spider Mansion in Tottori Prefecture along the way? That made perfect sense too.

…Another day of clearing suspicion in advance. Everything was falling into place.

Jiangxia tucked the precious letter away carefully, then paused—he suddenly remembered something.

In the original timeline, when Kogoro Mouri got the Moonlight Island request, there hadn't been any cash in the envelope. The money was transferred later.

But now…

Curious, Jiangxia opened the thick envelope again.

Inside was a neat stack of ¥10,000 bills—about fifty of them at a glance.

Cold, hard cash.

Could it be that this client had heard of Heiji Hattori's past deeds and was very familiar with the economic vulnerabilities of high school detectives? No sender name, no contact number—just a cash-stuffed letter.

Because once the money was received, the detective couldn't just ignore it. Whether out of guilt or obligation, they'd have to go investigate.

Other detectives might find that frustrating. Some might even curse the client.

But Jiangxia? He felt even more justified in going.

...Truly a thoughtful client.

He put the money back and swept the rest of the flyers into the trash.

…

While waiting for his last client of the day, Jiangxia stood outside the agency, scrolling through his phone while breathing in the not-so-fresh Tokyo air.

A news report caught his eye.

It had been published earlier that morning.

Someone had found a broken guardrail on a suburban mountain road. And not long after, a charred red sports car was discovered at the bottom—complete with a charred corpse inside.

By the time the article went live, both car and body had already been recovered.

In this world's crime journalism, there were no taboos about graphic photos. Naturally, the article included a full close-up of the vehicle... and the crispy corpse within.

Jiangxia zoomed in on the half-melted license plate and then on the body.

Even scorched, Kyoshi Kitagawa's sharp cheekbones and aggressively triangular chin were unmistakable. Honestly, the client's ugly sketch hadn't been that far off—it had captured the essence.

If she was still following the news, she'd definitely recognize this guy.

The article noted there were gunshot wounds—clearly the direct cause of death. The crash had been incidental. Police currently suspected organized crime or personal revenge.

Jiangxia read it all, nodded, and calmly deleted his browsing history.

Then he walked back into the detective agency.

—The body had been shot before the fall.

Which had absolutely nothing to do with him, a perfectly legal detective who didn't even carry a gun.

…

That evening, after closing the agency, Jiangxia locked the door and headed to the address listed on Noriko Okaya's client form—the vegetable-flavored lady.

She'd been very clear about her address, probably worried that if the detective found her enemy first, he wouldn't bother finding her.

He reached the building quickly.

But instead of going in, Jiangxia sent a ghost to investigate.

The Tengu crept to the windowsill and peered inside.

Noriko Okaya sat hunched over a table, clutching a photo frame, sobbing quietly.

Judging by the pile of used tissues nearby, she'd been at it for a while.

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

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

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

Progress:3/10*