After asking around the island, Hayashi Yoshiki quickly discovered that Moon Shadow Island had recently become rather chaotic.
The reason? The island was in the midst of a village chief election.
There were three candidates in the running: the representative of the local fishermen, the incumbent village chief, and the wealthiest man on the island—a classic three-way showdown.
Each side was aggressively trying to gain favor, spreading propaganda and hurling accusations. The once-peaceful island had turned noisy and politically charged.
While Conan convinced Kogoro Mouri to head to the community center to speak with the current village chief about the tragedy involving Aso Keiji, they learned the key figures of the island were all currently attending a religious ceremony. That meant waiting.
At that point, Hayashi Yoshiki chose to separate from the group.
"I want to explore the island scenery for a bit."
(Can you focus more on the commission...?)
Conan, watching Yoshiki walk off at a leisurely pace, couldn't help but silently complain.
But in truth, Yoshiki had gone straight to the Moon Shadow Island police station.
He remembered well: the fire that consumed Aso Keiji's home twelve years ago had destroyed almost everything—but the sheet music in the fireproof safe had survived.
At the station, he found only a single, elderly officer on duty. When Hayashi Yoshiki explained his reason for coming, the old man nodded without much suspicion.
"You don't look like a bad person...""And honestly, there's nothing much left from that case besides Aso Keiji's sheet music. If you're interested, take a look."
The officer spoke kindly and searched the storage room. After a while, he found the key to a small cabinet and retrieved the score.
It looked ordinary on the surface.
But as Yoshiki flipped through the pages, he smiled faintly.
That night, Moon Shadow Island was calm, quiet… and eerie.
There were no neon signs lighting the streets, no traffic, no people. Only dim, flickering lamps along old concrete roads gave any sign of civilization.
Asai Narumi—or rather, Miura Masami, his real identity—walked briskly down the street, heading toward the community center.
His face was unreadable.
Inside his coat, he carried the tools for murder.
He wasn't going to the ceremony for faith.
He was going to kill.
A soft voice echoed behind him, halting him in his tracks.
He turned quickly—and saw a figure waiting in the shadows beneath the lamplight.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"I'm the detective who came in response to your letter."
Narumi fell completely silent.
"Do you know everything?"
"Yes. The truth was in this sheet music."
Hayashi raised the old score in his hand, smiling calmly.
"It told me everything. The fire twelve years ago. Your identity as Dr. Narumi. And the reason you sent the commission letter."
Twelve years ago, Aso Keiji had been a brilliant pianist with international acclaim.
But his childhood friends—now the very men competing to become the island's next village chief—dragged him into a drug smuggling ring. They used his overseas performances as cover for narcotics trafficking.
Eventually, unable to bear the weight of guilt, Keiji Aso refused to continue.
So, to silence him forever, they locked his family inside their home and burned it down.
But before the flames consumed him, Aso Keiji, alone in the inferno, wrote one final composition.
He encoded the truth into the music—hoping it would one day reach his son, hospitalized far away in Tokyo.
"You wanted revenge, but you couldn't carry it out. That's why you hired someone like me—to stop you."
Hayashi's words were gentle.
But they pierced deeply.
Narumi—Masami—stood frozen in place. His face was wet with tears.
He had already resolved to kill.
But deep inside, he hadn't been able to silence the voice of doubt.
He had hoped—desperately—that the detective would fail. But also, that he would succeed.
He needed someone to either justify his anger… or stop him.
"...If this is fate, then... maybe I should stop."
His voice was hoarse.
He lowered his head, his entire body seeming to shrink.
"I'll transfer the rest of the payment to your agency. And I'll report everything about the village chief and the others to the police."
In Japan, even the worst criminals rarely faced the death penalty. Especially if they had connections. There was no guarantee the truth would bring justice.
He had hated that. That was why he'd resolved to do it himself.
"You're not the kind of person meant to stain their hands with blood, Dr. Narumi."
The words stopped him.
"Even with all that hatred inside you, you still left the door open for someone to stop you."
"Is that compassion?"
"Either way, it's not something shameful."
Hayashi Yoshiki took a step forward.
"It's natural to hesitate before crossing a moral line. And it's natural to rely on others when you're uncertain."
"That's how humans survive. We lean on the strong. We look for guidance."
"So… do you want me to help you?"
Narumi stared at him, stunned.
The moon shone down from above, full and glowing.
It illuminated Hayashi Yoshiki—his features impossibly perfect, as if carved from porcelain. Pale and delicate… and yet, terrifyingly unreadable.
He looked like a being not quite of this world.
There was both nobility and corruption in him.
A holy calm… and something deeply, darkly dangerous.
He opened his arms, as if welcoming a soul to confession.
"I'm actually quite good at it."