By midnight, no definitive trace of Kaito Kid had been found.
Despite relentless efforts, the Osaka police had come up empty-handed in their search of the nearby waters. Whether the phantom thief was dead or alive remained unknown. In light of the theft and attempted recovery, the Suzuki Foundation canceled the public exhibition of the Egg of Memory and made arrangements to return it to Tokyo by cruise ship.
Among the passengers on this ship were:
Hayashi Yoshiki and his group.
The Russian ambassador and art dealer Sergei Ovchinnikov.
And a new face—Kosaka Natsumi, a woman determined to speak to President Suzuki personally.
She explained:
"My great-grandfather's name was Kiichi. He worked at Fabergé's workshop and married a Russian woman. After the revolution, they returned to Japan. My grandmother was born not long after… and she was their only child."
Recently, while sorting through old belongings, she had discovered something unusual—a blueprint drawn by her great-grandfather. Torn in half, the document was still mostly legible. She held it out with care.
The image on the paper mirrored the Egg of Memory that had just been recovered—but with one glaring difference: this version was inlaid with gemstones.
"This is the Egg of Memory, no doubt," Shiro Suzuki murmured, inspecting it.
"Maybe the gems just fell off?" Kogorō Mōri offered.
"No," said Hayashi Yoshiki, who carefully examined the blueprint. "Look at the alignment. This drawing isn't just torn—it's incomplete."
He gestured to the mismatched lines and disjointed text.
"I suspect we're looking at a design for two separate eggs."
Gasps filled the room.
Even Conan, quietly observing, picked up the Egg of Memory and began inspecting it more closely. Noticing a loose glass section at the bottom, he cleverly used his watch flashlight to project a hidden pattern onto the wall.
"That's… my family's castle in Yokosuka!" Natsumi gasped.
Apparently, the Kosaka family castle had appeared in numerous advertisements and brought in a considerable fortune. As the implication sunk in, a new theory emerged: there was a second egg, possibly hidden inside the Kosaka estate.
"If this one's encrusted with gemstones, it might be worth over 1.5 billion yen," Qian Jiangyi muttered, eyes gleaming.
Natsumi looked at Yoshiki.
"Mr. Lin, would you accompany me to the castle after we arrive in Tokyo?"
"It sounds very interesting," Yoshiki replied with a charming smile.
From the side, Sonoko Suzuki elbowed Ran and whispered:
"Hey, what's with her staring at Yoshiki-kun like that? Don't tell me she's planning to make a move while treasure hunting?"
"You're overthinking it, Sonoko…"
"Nope. I've got a sixth sense about these things."
Kosaka Natsumi, perhaps remembering the famous "Sleeping Kogorō" in the room, then turned to ask him as well. Kogorō, clearly flattered, puffed his chest and agreed with a hearty:
"I'd be honored!"
Soon, the rest of the group—Pu Siqinglan, Hanchuan Ryū, and the Russian ambassador—all asked to tag along as well. Natsumi, generous by nature, gladly extended the invitation.
A castle full of strangers and secrets, Hayashi Yoshiki thought. Sounds like jackals circling prey…
Later that night, everyone returned to their cabins. Yoshiki checked his phone.
Still no reply from Kuroba Kaito.
He had texted after 9:00 p.m. the previous evening—nothing. And Hattori Heiji had gone quiet as well; after a motorcycle chase ended in a fall, he'd been hospitalized with a sprained ankle.
While unbuttoning his shirt to change clothes, Yoshiki mulled over the cryptic fortune he'd drawn the day before.
"Even the red eyes that bring death remain tightly closed…"
No doubt it referred to the Eye of Death. Yet his Death Note had no accompanying Shinigami, meaning he couldn't make the eye trade—even if he were willing to sacrifice half his remaining lifespan.
Just as he reached for another shirt—
Knock knock knock.
He opened the door.
"Swoosh~"
Hanchuan Ryū, the cocky photographer, whistled as he held a handheld camera.
"The bestselling author, shirtless? That clip would drive your fans crazy."
"Mr. Hanchuan," Yoshiki said, unfazed, "this behavior borders on voyeurism."
"C'mon, don't be so serious."
"Delete it."
"Tsk…"
Yoshiki handed him a business card—Kisaki Eri, the undefeated queen of the courtroom.
The color drained from Hanchuan's face.
"...Oh. Her?"
Without hesitation, he deleted the footage and slinked away.
Just then, Ran, Sonoko, and Natsumi Kosaka approached from the hallway.
"Is everything okay?" Ran asked.
"Just a minor annoyance," Yoshiki replied calmly.
But as they caught sight of his bare torso, still half-dressed, the three girls blushed furiously.
Yoshiki's physique—slender but muscular, perfectly balanced—seemed straight out of a photo shoot. Combined with his gentle features, it was a vision of masculine beauty that overwhelmed the senses.
"Excuse me. I'll change."
He smiled and stepped inside.
Outside, Sonoko clutched her face.
"X-Rated level eye-candy… This trip really did deliver a miracle."
"You're nosebleeding, Sonoko!"
"Quick, a handkerchief!" Natsumi pulled one from her pocket—but in her haste, she dropped it on the floor.