Beihu City Hotel – Room 2407
Toru Amuro drove swiftly through the city. When he, Hayashi Yoshiki, and Shinname Kaori arrived on the 24th floor of the Beihu City Hotel and pushed open the door to Room 2407, they were immediately met with a surprising scene:
Shinname Kaori's mother was there.
And her father—Rentaro Shinmei, the once-renowned mystery novelist—was lying frailly on the bed, while a private doctor stood at his side, urgently checking his vitals.
"Dad! What's wrong with him!?"
Kaori rushed forward in a panic, her heart sinking.
Only then did her mother step in to explain.
The Truth of His Disappearance
Rentaro Shinmei was in the terminal stages of cancer—he had been bedridden for over two weeks.
Though he had basked in forty years of praise as a writer, there was one joy he had never experienced: the fulfillment of seeing readers solve his mysteries before he revealed the answers.
To die seeing that pride, that light in their eyes… that had become his final wish.
So, with the help of his wife and his doctor, he moved into this hotel, continuing to dictate the manuscript as he could—one page at a time, chasing closure.
As for why he hadn't told Kaori?
"Just an old man's stubbornness," her mother said gently. "He didn't want the emotions to get in the way of the realism."
Amuro's Whispered Question
Amuro Tooru leaned close to Hayashi Yoshiki and whispered:
"Boss… you knew, didn't you?"
"I mean, the coded message Mr. Rentaro left at the start of the serialization—it said something like 'Please save me'. But you never alerted the police. You didn't even seem worried about it."
Hayashi Yoshiki chuckled lightly.
"Well, if he were being coerced, wouldn't it be strange that he couldn't even sign his own name?"
He sipped his tea calmly.
"From issue seven onward, the signatures stopped being handwritten—they were just copied. That means someone else was typing for him. If a criminal were forcing him to write, wouldn't they at least fake the signature to avoid suspicion? Doesn't add up, does it?"
Amuro's eyes lit up with understanding. This level of deduction, this blend of logic and empathy—it was exactly why Hayashi Yoshiki was always praised in the police force, and why the media never tired of writing about him.
Maybe I really should try to recruit him into public security... Amuro thought, picturing a future where he wasn't surrounded by clueless subordinates.
The View from the 24th Floor
Hayashi Yoshiki walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. From the 24th floor, the night view of the city twinkled like scattered diamonds.
Behind him, Kaori was still sobbing. The doctor had just told her—Rentaro Shinmei might not make it through the night.
Yoshiki reached into his coat pocket.
He pulled out his notebook—a torn page from the Death Note.
Cause of death: dies peacefully in sleep Body begins to recover subtle vitality, pain fades into memory, and he passes gently in his sleep at 1:07 AM on November 6th, without suffering.
The Death Note cannot kill someone whose remaining lifespan is less than 12 minutes.
But Rentaro Shinmei likely had at least an hour or two left—so this action should take effect.
Sometimes, the Death Note can extend life—if the cause of death is written cleverly enough.
Of course, there's a limit. If Yoshiki tried to extend a terminal patient's life by, say, 23 days, the contradiction between his physical state and the delayed death would trigger a heart attack on the spot.
But here was the fun part: according to the Death Note's rules, November 6th would arrive in about an hour and a half in normal time. However, due to Death Note's time manipulation mechanics, that date could be "interpreted" as a full month away.
Hayashi Yoshiki wanted to test: Would the body conform to the written command, defying its medical limitations?
Suddenly, from behind—
"Mr. Rentaro, how do you feel!?"
To everyone's shock, Rentaro Shinmei, bedridden for weeks, sat up with strength in his body.
The doctor paled, muttering about a "Terminal Ludicity."
His wife and Kaori burst into tears.
Even the physician wore a grave expression, thinking this was the final burst before death.
But Rentaro—he was smiling.
His gaze turned to Hayashi Yoshiki.
"So it was you who solved the mystery?"
"An honor to meet you, Mr.Rentaro Shinmei."
"Ah, I'm sorry we meet , hahaha! But I've admired your novels for so long. I never imagined you'd be the one to solve my final riddle. What an honor!"
"No, the honor is mine. I'm glad I could help fulfill your wish."
The two exchanged polite words like true literary gentlemen, their mutual respect shining through.
From the side, Amuro Tooru watched them, smiling quietly.
Rentaro Shinmei then turned his attention fully to his wife and daughter—his final moments, he believed, were best spent with his loved ones.
Hayashi Yoshiki and Amuro Tooru silently slipped out of the suite, leaving the family to their reunion.
As they drove off into the cool night, Amuro asked:
"So, Boss—how much will you charge for this case?"
"I don't take missing persons commissions. Remember?"
Amuro blinked, then grinned. The man really lived by his own rules. Admirable and… a little hard to predict.
I really do want him in public security…
"By the way, Boss, how was the tea earlier?" Amuro asked.
"Haha, it's a blend I ordered specially from a friend. If you like it, I'll bring more."
"Thanks. That'd be great."
A new text message arrived.
This time, instead of another sultry full-body shot, she sent a close-up of her fingers—painted red nails glistening with some ambiguous, sticky fluid strung between them.
Yoshiki glanced at it… and promptly ignored it.
Midnight Snacks and Casual Talk
"Want to grab something to eat?"
"Sure, Boss. What are you in the mood for?"
"How about… McDonald's?"
Amuro blinked, half-expecting a hidden bar, a cozy izakaya, or some secret ramen spot.
But this? It was so… normal.
He chuckled, then nodded.
Even geniuses have cravings for fries, I guess.