"What a shame! If that punch had gone over 250 points, you'd have triggered the special effects!"
At the boxing machine booth of the Game Salon Press Conference, a staff member spoke with mild regret to the crowd.
Standing in front of the machine was a brawny man. He had just thrown a punch, and the screen displayed a score of 246.
"That's not easy, you know. I was using my full strength."
He removed the boxing gloves as he spoke.
A small crowd had gathered to watch—including Hayashi Yoshiki and Ran Mouri.
"Would you like to try, Ran?" Hayashi asked gently.
"Hmm... it does look fun…"
Ran nodded hesitantly.
However, the number of onlookers made her slightly self-conscious. Noticing this, Hayashi stepped forward and said to the staff:
"I'll give it a shot."
The staff member handed him the gloves.
Before putting them on, Hayashi removed his coat.
Seeing this simple gesture, Ran Mouri was suddenly reminded of the time Hayashi had taken off his shirt while capturing Kaito Kid.
Her face turned a soft shade of red.
"Could you hold this for me, Ran?"
Hayashi put on the boxing gloves.
It had been a while since he last trained—ever since Snake destroyed the winery's training facility.
Still, the form came back easily. The rhythm felt right.
Without much hesitation, Hayashi squared up and threw a clean, powerful punch at the center target.
A deep, solid thud echoed through the hall.
The machine erupted in flashing lights and thundering sounds. The screen's numbers jumped rapidly before landing on:
"Only three points from a perfect score!?" the staff exclaimed, wide-eyed.
The crowd buzzed with astonishment. No one had expected that this elegant, soft-spoken young man could throw a punch like that.
"That was awesome, Yoshiki-nii! Did you train somewhere?"
"Just some self-defense training. Mostly to stay in shape."
He took off the gloves and turned to Ran with a smile:
"Want to try? It's actually kind of therapeutic."
As she slipped the gloves on, her mind drifted. Thoughts of her reckless father, her missing childhood friend, and other frustrations welled up in her chest.
Without knowing it, her fists tightened.
The onlookers didn't expect much from a high school girl...
The impact made the booth vibrate.
Visible ripples of pressure burst from the point of contact. Even loose papers nearby fluttered in the aftermath.
Ran removed the gloves, pleased.
She didn't realize 400 was the maximum score—not a reflection of her own upper limit.
Watching from the side, this was Hayashi Yoshiki's first time witnessing Ran's punch in action.
...That was genuinely terrifying.
Ran turned around, suddenly worried she might seem "too aggressive" as a girl.
"That was incredible, Ran."
"...I-it's not a big deal."
She relaxed slightly seeing Hayashi's smile.
"Conan, want to give it a shot?" she asked cheerfully.
"N-no thanks. I, uh, need the bathroom."
And just like that, Conan bolted.
"Did I scare him...?" Ran muttered.
"Probably not. But your punch was pretty impressive."
"Ehhh... stop teasing me."
"I need the bathroom too."
Thinking that Conan was about to encounter Tequila, Hayashi followed him.
Tequila had just exited the restroom.
His massive frame accidentally knocked down Conan, who hadn't been watching where he was going.
His dark attire and threatening presence stood out, catching Conan's attention.
He thought nothing of it—at first.
But as he exited the restroom, he spotted Tequila picking up a briefcase from the Manten Corporation front desk—a case clearly belonging to the company.
He's not an employee…
Conan's instincts kicked in. He began tailing him quietly.
"Hello? Yeah, it's us."
"The deal's done. Don't worry, Vodka. Pass it along to Gin."
Tequila stood in a quiet corner, speaking on the phone.
Nearby, Conan was pretending to buy a drink at the vending machine, hand trembling as he heard the words: "Vodka" and "Gin."
His wallet and change clattered to the floor.
T-the Black Organization…?!
The sound drew Tequila's gaze.
He shot Conan a sharp glare—but seeing only a child, he dismissed him.
Just then, Hayashi Yoshiki arrived.
"There you are, Conan."
He knelt down, gently ruffling Conan's hair and picking up the dropped coins.
Seeing an adult approaching, Tequila hung up and walked away.
He'd wanted to plant a tracker on Tequila during the distraction.
"Hayashi, I'll catch up later—"
He tried to chase after the man.
But Hayashi caught him.
"Don't run around in crowds . And pick up your own things next time."
Conan, flustered, couldn't argue.
Reluctantly, he stooped to collect the last of his change, while Hayashi quietly sent a text to Gin.
Tequila returned to the restroom.
He locked himself in a stall and placed the briefcase on his lap, ready to open it.
The contents were critical: a list of elite programmers—information the Organization had paid a hefty price for.
He didn't want a single error.
Just as he flipped the latches—
"Don't open the case. Tequila!"
"Cointreau said there's a bomb in that case. Open it and you're dead."
Tequila's face drained of color.
He looked down at the briefcase on his lap, cold sweat dripping down his temples.
He didn't know who this "Cointreau" was—but he knew Gin didn't issue warnings lightly.
If it really was a bomb… in this tiny restroom stall… he'd be vaporized.
"Is this legit or not…?"
"Bring the case back to base. Don't touch it again."