Conan: I Am Not a Snake Spirit

A group of reporters saw the appearance of Ginzo Nakamori, the "Phantom Thief Catch Pioneer", and pestered Ginzo Nakamori for an interview.

"Officer Nakamori, are the defenses here already foolproof?"

"Why did Kidd, who only aimed at gems, suddenly start stealing paintings?"

"There are rumors that the notice letter is fake, do you think..."

Just when Ginzo Nakamori burst out with the word "well" on his forehead and was about to roar out, a young man's voice came from behind the crowd with a cold tone.

"Sorry, everyone, can we go there first?"

The reporters turned their heads for a moment, stepped back, and fell silent.

"I don't really like being surrounded to take pictures," Chi Feichi led Hui Yuanai and Mao Lilan into the crowd, and said calmly, "Please don't take pictures, too."

Since the development of the THK company, it has almost dominated the Japanese entertainment industry. It deals with various newspapers and TV stations. Even if you haven't seen him, you should have heard of him.

If it is on the red carpet at the entrance of a large-scale event, since there are many celebrities, it is not convenient for him to engage in privileges. He can either avoid it by himself, or say hello to the newspaper or TV station after the event, but they are the only people here. Just say it when you come over.

Today is not the scene of THK's event, but in the event related to Kaitou Kidd, he is like an idler watching the fun. These reporters are not interested in taking pictures of him, so they will not lose face.

Reporters along the road stepped aside one after another, but did not take any pictures.

"Feichi, you're here too?" Nakamori Yinsan stared at Chi Feichi as he approached, and roared again, "Why are you here to join in the fun? I don't know that Kaitou Kidd might disguise himself as a related person Come in? There are so many people here, how can we police investigate?!"

"Sorry to trouble you, I'll visit your house some other day when I'm free."

After Chi Feichi finished talking to Nakamori Ginzo calmly, seeing the reporter in front of him also stepped aside, and continued to walk towards the door.

Standard - 'You are irritable and you are irritable, I am calm and I will lose if I wink'.

Conan stepped aside when he saw the reporter, and took the opportunity to run late with Chi Fei, "Brother Chi, wait for me!"

Ginzo Nakamori choked for a long time, approached Kogoro Mori, and complained in a low voice, "Mouri, how do you usually tolerate your apprentice's personality?"

Mori Kogoro was also a little speechless, muttering in a low voice, "How do I know..."

Nakamori Ginzo and Mori Kogoro couldn't run away like children, and they dealt with the reporter's question for a while before slipping in and shutting the reporter out.

"Excuse me, Mr. Oikawa..."

Kogoro Mori just turned his head to ask about Ginzo Nakamori when footsteps came from upstairs.

A middle-aged man with a square face and a mustache went downstairs, walked forward quickly, and warmly extended his hands to shake hands with Mori Kogoro, "Mr. Mori, I have been waiting for you for a long time. I am Oikawa Takerai!"

"Ah, hello!" Mori Kogoro smiled, and turned to look at Chi Feichi, Mao Lilan, Conan, and Haibara Ai who came from the door, "Is it really all right? Bring my daughter and apprentices over..."

Mao Lilan hurriedly said, "If it will hinder you, I will take the children to the car and wait."

"It's okay, I trust Detective Maori very much, and this little brother is destined to be with that strange thief." Oikawa Wulai squatted down, smiled and reached out to touch the top of Conan's head, then stood up and walked to the stairs, "Okay Alright, let me take you to the studio where "Qing Lan" is displayed, come, this way please..."

In front of the stairs, an elderly man approached him, and when he reached Oikawa Takerai, he said seriously, "Takerai, I have something to tell you..."

"Excuse me, can we wait for a while? Father." Oikawa Wulai turned his head and said, without stopping.

The old man froze for a moment, "Ah, well..."

Mori Kogoro followed Oikawa Takerai, and asked in a low voice, "Is that your father?"

"That's right, it's my wife's father," said Oikawa Takerai, "and my teacher Kamihara Haruhito..."

"Mr. Haruhito, a master of landscape painting," Chi Feichi said softly, looking back at Kamihara Haruhito, "The representative works include such large-scale landscape paintings as "Evening Cherry Blossoms" and "Blue Fields", but they suddenly stopped painting ten years ago."

Behind him, Kanhara Haruhito also looked at Chi Feichi with a little daze in his eyes.

those eyes...

It's not wrong, even though the stature has grown taller with age, and the contours of the facial features have become deeper and clearer, but that kind of pupil color like rich purple ink is rare.

But those eyes were indifferent and gave him a very strange feeling. Could it be the boy from back then?

More than ten years ago, one of his paintings was destroyed, just after the auction.

And the one who burned the painting was a seven or eight-year-old boy with a pair of purple eyes.

In retrospect, the air seems to be filled with the weird smell of burnt paint and paper, and he seems to have returned to that day again.

Fifteen years ago, his daughter encountered a tornado while traveling overseas. Although she survived, she was seriously injured and became a comatose vegetative state, requiring a large amount of medical expenses. At that time, Oikawa was only a little famous, During those few years, he successively sent some paintings that he was not willing to buy to auction one after another.

That should be the third year since the auction started, he remembered it clearly.

What he sent for auction was a painting with a wooden house, a jungle, and a garden. The title of the painting is "Home".

Because although the painting is not a pure landscape painting, it is the favorite of him and his daughter. When he sent it to the auction, he sold this beautiful memory with heartache, and at the same time comforted himself that the painting should always be appreciated by others. It is not so uncomfortable to exchange his daughter's medical expenses or let her lie down. Even if it is just to relieve her daughter's pain, his deceased wife must be willing to support his choice. At the same time, he is faintly worried about his "landscape painting master" Head, so that other people can't value that impure painting high, and can't sell it for a high price.

With that contradictory and painful mood, he couldn't stay in the auction venue until he was in the lounge at the back when he heard the staff come to tell him that the painting was sold for a price that exceeded his psychological expectations. , he was relieved, and before the auction was completely over, he went to settle the money he deserved with the auction host early, planning to leave through the back door and go home early.

Knowing that the painting was sold, he was not as relaxed as he imagined. He was always worried that he would regret and be unwilling to see the painting again...

It wasn't long before the sky darkened, and the back door of the auction venue was very quiet. When he opened the door, he saw a small figure reflected by the fire on the side of the road. He walked over curiously and felt as if his brain had been thrown away and detonated. The bomb exploded with a bang, blanking for an instant.

In the wooden box on the ground, flames are like tongues, greedily licking the painting from his hands, and have already burned his wife to the point where his daughter was a small figure at the time, and the black smoke will cover the wooden house and garden It was scorched black, the bright sunlight seemed to be covered with a layer of dust, and the black spots on the blue sky were like a huge ecstasy.

In the painting, he is standing aside laughing in the firelight, his face is covered with shadows and distorted, as if he was burning with anger at that time.

'What are you doing? Why are you doing this! '

He didn't know if his expression at that time was as distorted with anger as he was in the painting, he just remembered that his mind went blank, and when he recovered, he had already thrown himself in front of the boy, pressing his hands on the boy's shoulders.

What came into view was the boy's tightly pursed mouth and complicated eyes that had not been replaced by surprise.

Those purple eyes reflected the firelight, as if there was a dark red hidden deep inside.

Different from the indifference when he turned his head and looked over just now, at that time, in the purple eyes he saw, strong sadness and resentment were entangled, and the pain was like a ghost crawling out of hell. After he questioned, those emotions It was still fixed in the eyes, and was slowly replaced by shock...

It’s just that he didn’t want to think about it at the time, and there were roars in his mind. For a while, he thought of his wife who died young, and his daughter who was once full of energy but was now lying on the hospital bed, and then remembered that the last memory was in the hospital. Destroyed in the flames, the words spoken did not go through the brain.

'Why destroy it? You nasty brat... no, you're an evil ghost! Evil spirit! '

He watched with his own eyes that the shock in the boy's eyes gradually receded. While pretending to be calm, he seemed to be a little uneasy and hurt, but he answered him in a relaxed tone.

'Because of jealousy...'

When he was thinking dully about what "because of jealousy" meant, the boy looked at him with a strange look.

'You seem to be in pain? '

...

"That's right, he started to have pain in his hands ten years ago, and he can no longer paint..."

As Oikawa Takerai explained, the figures of a group of people also disappeared in the stairwell.

"Sir, do you know my father?"

"Many years ago, I had the honor to meet Mr. Qingren at the auction."

Haruhito Kanbara came back to his senses, looked at the empty wooden stairs, sighed deeply, and pressed his left hand on his right wrist which had started to tremble again.

In fact, from that day on, his hands began to tremble.

Every time he dreamed back at midnight, the initial painful emotions in the boy's eyes became more vivid, and he saw him clearly reflected in those eyes, only then did he look like a ferocious and distorted evil spirit, speaking without choice Saying words that stab another tormented soul.

A little boy could see his pain, but he couldn't think much about the emotion in those eyes at that time, or the meaning of the phrase 'because of jealousy'.

What happened after that?

He couldn't remember clearly, or even how he was separated from the boy, but he only remembered that he stumbled home, mud stains and grass blades, a mess.

He didn't dare to think about what he said or did later, but it was blank when he thought about it. He wasn't sure if he was too angry at the time, his brain didn't remember it, or he selectively forgot it afterward, but he always felt deeply. Feeling remorse and fear, fearing that he might have done something bad to that child on impulse, he wanted to go to the police station to ask, but he couldn't let go of his drowsy daughter.

After that day, he could still use his right hand to eat and hold things, but he could no longer use his right hand to paint. Whenever he stared at the canvas and picked up a paintbrush, he would involuntarily think of what happened that night, a pair of purple eyes full of pain, Thinking of that immature face, thinking that he might become the evil spirit in a child's heart, his right hand could no longer be stabilized.

After two years of painting like that, he failed to draw a decent work. After arriving, his right hand was so trembling that he couldn't even pick up the pen, so he simply gave up painting.

That boy had grown up and appeared in front of him again today. He was swept by the other party's indifferent gaze just now. He couldn't tell whether he felt more guilty or more fearful, but he seemed a little relieved.

If that child retaliated for those stupid things he said back then, he would probably feel better...