A real, live, slippery one.
Wearing heat-resistant kitchen gloves, Hayashi Yoshiki fished a lively carp from the sink and strolled into the villa's living room.
There, Katsuki Doito—a round, cheerful-looking young man—was chatting animatedly with other party guests.
"Mr. Doito, could you hold this for me?"
Before he could finish, Yoshiki dropped the fish right into his arms.
With a wet flop, it slipped into the crook of his elbow.
Then the fish twitched.
The moment Kuroba Kaito—hidden beneath the disguise of Doito—registered the slimy weight, his eyes widened in abject horror.
He shrieked like a startled ballerina and flailed his arms, launching the fish across the room.
Guests turned, confused.
"What's wrong?""Are you okay, Doito?"
Kaito, gasping, locked eyes with Yoshiki's calmly amused expression. He immediately realized: he'd figured me out.
Panic danced behind his fake glasses.
"Excuse me, are you from... Ekoda —"
Kaito lunged and slapped his hand over Yoshiki's mouth.
But Yoshiki—ever the planner—had already stepped back, leaving the statement unfinished.
Sonoko tilted her head.
"Ahaha! Yes, we're old friends!"Kaito cut in quickly, forcing a laugh.
He gently pushed Yoshiki out into the hallway.
Ran and Sonoko watched with puzzled eyes. Haibara Ai, on the other hand, narrowed hers slightly.
In the hallway, once out of sight, Kaito whipped off his mask, revealing his true face.
"How'd you figure it out?!"
"You did it to yourself."
"Katsuki Doito—written in kana, that's どいとうかっき. Rearranged, it becomes かいとうきっど—Kaitou Kid."
Yoshiki smiled lightly.
"You're all the same... romanticizing the game, leaving clues."
"You're a mystery novelist, huh."
"That's why I saw through it. Your username in the chatroom is Red Herring—a classic misdirection trope."
Kaito paused, then smiled in defeat.
"You're not like other detectives. You don't think logically. You sniff things out like an animal."
"So? What are you doing here?"
Kaito launched into his explanation.
The chatroom was filled with amateur magic fans—but one member, Harui Fuden, was a retired professional magician.
He'd been ridiculed in the chat for being "washed up."
In an effort to prove himself, Harui had planned one last dramatic escape performance. Afterward, he intended to reveal his true identity to the chat.
"And now his account—'Little Rogue'—is mysteriously active again."
"Creepy, right? I wanted to see what was going on."
Yoshiki's brows furrowed slightly.
"Sounds like the start of a murder case."
"Yeah. Whether it is or not, I'll keep an eye out."
Kaito nodded, donned his fat-man disguise again, and strolled back into the living room, grinning.
Yoshiki returned a moment later and sat quietly on the couch.
Just Friends… For Now
Ran and Sonoko were still curious.
"Yes, we're friends. In fact, you've met him before."
"But… I don't remember?"
Yoshiki left it at that, his cryptic tone prompting another long silence. Haibara Ai, however, quietly examined Doi again.
A moment later, Sonoko approached.
"Wanna play in the snow, Brother Yoshiki?"
"Eh?! You agreed so easily!"
She blinked in surprise.
Every guy I've liked before was so aloof… but you're just… kind.
And so the trio—Ran, Sonoko, Yoshiki—and a very small Haibara stepped into the snowy yard.
While the others admired the view and built snowballs, Haibara glanced over.
Yoshiki wasn't using his usual phone. He was texting from another.
She narrowed her eyes.
Inside that message thread, Yoshiki selected the photo he'd taken earlier—a blurry side-angle of Sonoko with her new hairstyle, uncannily similar to Miyano Shiho.
Meanwhile, at the Safehouse
Vodka was lounging in front of an old videotape concert recording of an idol when his phone buzzed.
He opened the image—and froze.
His eyes widened. He instinctively looked toward Gin's room.
Ordinarily, he would've gone straight to his brother.
A few hours earlier, Gin had stormed out, furious that Yoshiki had "found Shirley," only to return and sleep in silence.
Unsure, Vodka sent a message.
Vodka: "Should I tell Big Brother?"
Cointreau: "You're asking me?"
This guy… is scarier than Gin.
Then, realizing some mistakes couldn't be undone, he knocked on Gin's door.
Gin's eyes snapped open at the sound of footsteps.
"Brother… look at this."
Vodka handed over the phone.
The image glowed on the screen.
Gin's gaze darkened the moment he saw the sender.
He stared for a second.