Following the client's cryptic clue, the three arrived at a small, abandoned hotel tucked away at the edge of Takashima Town.
Kogoro Mouri parked the van in the dusty courtyard.
"Are you sure this rundown place has anything to do with the case?" he asked, squinting at the peeling facade.
"Well, the client's hint led us here,"Hayashi Yoshiki replied, adjusting the ID wristband uncomfortably.
After years of wearing watches, switching to a device strapped awkwardly to his arm felt unnatural.
Conan, watching from the side, reminded him:
"Careful. The client said tampering with it could set off the bomb."
"I know," Yoshiki said with a small smile.
He had just received a text from Vermouth—she was on her way to Yokohama. Yoshiki glanced at the time and estimated they could meet around noon.
As the three approached the front door, Kogoro Mouri grumbled,
"You know, Yoshiki and I are more than enough to handle this. Why would the client ask for a little kid like you to come along?"
"Maybe he thinks I'm awesome?" Conan replied in a mock-cheerful voice—but inwardly, he felt uneasy.
A normal client wouldn't involve a child in a case like this… unless he knows who I really am.
Conan's gaze flicked toward Hayashi Yoshiki.
Unlike the bumbling Mouri, Yoshiki couldn't be fooled so easily.
If Hattori's hunch is right, maybe… Hayashi has known all along.
They began searching the dilapidated building.
Suddenly, a middle-aged homeless man appeared from one of the rooms and approached them.
"Excuse me, has anything strange happened around here recently?" Yoshiki asked politely.
"Strange?" the man blinked. "Well, a big white bird flew in once—right across the sun. That was on my birthday, April 4th."
He pointed to the yard. "Also, early that morning, a brand-new car was parked out there. Some real estate guy came and locked the basement. By evening, the car was gone—replaced by a busted-up wreck that got stripped overnight. Now there's nothing left but a rusted frame."
"Thank you," Yoshiki said, bowing.
After the man wandered off, Yoshiki turned to Conan.
"I'll check the basement."
"I'll come with you, Yoshiki-nii!"
"All right."
They left Mouri to inspect the upper floors while they descended into the basement—pitch black and heavy with dust and mildew.
Yoshiki led the way, flashlight in hand, footsteps echoing on the cracked floor.
Once they were far enough from Mouri, Conan spoke:
"Brother Yoshiki..."
"Hm?"
"...Don't you think this is strange?"
"Strange?"
"The client specifically asked me to stay behind."
Yoshiki stopped walking.
He turned, flashlight illuminating Conan's face—his usual childlike composure nowhere to be seen.
In that moment, Yoshiki understood.
Conan wasn't just suspicious—he was testing the waters.
It would've been insulting to play dumb.
Yoshiki exhaled slowly.
"It is a bit strange… Kudo-san."
Conan's eyes widened—then, to his own surprise, he felt relief.
He had held the secret inside for so long—afraid, cautious, always pretending. To know Yoshiki had already known, and had kept that secret safe, gave him an unexpected comfort.
"When did you find out?"
"I forgot," Yoshiki said honestly. "It was a long time ago… and I'm not great with dates."
That's right... he has time disorientation, Conan recalled.
"But you left too many clues. Not just your behavior—but the timing of your arrival, those 'jokes' by Yusaku and Yukiko, and photos of you as a kid at Ran's place—same face, same everything."
He smiled faintly.
"If you hadn't wanted to be found out, I wouldn't have said anything."
"...That many, huh..."
Conan scratched his cheek, sweating a little.
"So," Yoshiki added casually, "why not explain how you ended up like this? I've always been curious."
Conan didn't hesitate. He gave him the full story—the drug APTX4869, the Black Organization, and the circumstances of his transformation.
Yoshiki listened carefully. But when Conan finished, he fell silent.
Conan felt nervous again.
"...Did I say something wrong?"
Yoshiki stared at him in the dim light, expression unreadable.
Then he said, quietly:
"Honestly... I want to punish you right now, Kudo-san."
Conan stiffened.
"You've been staying at Mouri's house.
Have you ever thought about the danger you've brought to Uncle Mouri and Ran?"
"I..."
Conan opened his mouth—but couldn't defend himself.
He lowered his head.
"...I know."
"You think staying hidden is enough? If the Organization finds you, they'll shoot Ran or Kogoro before they even ask questions."
"...I know."
The image haunted him.
The barrel of a gun.
Ran collapsing.
Mouri lying still on the floor.
Yoshiki was right.
"Now isn't the time to argue. Right now, everyone's lives are at risk."
Yoshiki turned away, focusing the flashlight on the locked door ahead.
Conan followed silently.
But the unease in his heart lingered.
"That client... he might know my identity."
"Most likely," Yoshiki said. "Though there is one alternative."
"What is it?"
"He's blind. Can't see you—but still knows you're Kudo Shinichi."
"...That's... far-fetched."
Conan sighed. "I can't count on luck."
Yoshiki didn't argue.
Instead, he said:
"Either way… I won't let anything happen to Ran and the others."
His voice was low—but resolute.
In that dark, rotting hotel basement, surrounded by danger and secrecy, Conan Edogawa knew one thing for certain:
Hayashi Yoshiki was not just a detective. He was a protector.