Detective Conan: Death Note

It is a space completely opposite of what one might call daily life.

Flashing lights. Throbbing music.

Without any mental preparation, the explosive sound effects in the room can make your heart beat uncomfortably fast.

Wearing a hat and a mask, Hayashi Yoshiki led Vermouth to an inconspicuous booth.

"How are you feeling?"

Because the music was deafening, Hayashi Yoshiki had to lean in and shout.

"It seems pretty good~"

Vermouth also raised her voice.

She took off her sunglasses, sat down, and leisurely watched the crowd of young people cheering and dancing on the distant dance floor.

I can't appreciate it.

Even if it's hard to enjoy, one can't help but feel relaxed in such noisy surroundings.

"Let's order something—what would you like to drink?"

"Whisky."

"How about bourbon... and a bottle of rum?"

"OK."

Hayashi Yoshiki waved to the waiter.

Soon, the drinks they ordered arrived—served with an ice bucket.

He took off his mask and hat.

"I wonder what your fans would think if they saw you hanging out with me in a place like this?"

Looking at his slightly blurry face under the dazzling light, Vermouth smiled—a little revealingly.

"So, you do realize I'm taking a risk by following you here?"

"Thank you very much."

Vermouth picked up the half glass of whiskey Hayashi had poured her.

Bourbon whiskey fermented mainly from corn grains, not only smells good—it carries a noticeable sweetness when sipped.

After swirling the ice ball in her glass, Vermouth took a small, restrained sip.

Though she smoked and drank, it was undeniable—she was a remarkably captivating woman.

In that chaotic, noisy nightclub, she sat silently in the booth, lazily swirling her drink. Her thick, light golden hair curled slightly at the ends, illuminated by the constantly flickering lights. She radiated a dazzling beauty, hazy but striking.

Combined with a face as alluring as poison, it was hard for anyone who saw her to remain unmoved.

Hayashi Yoshiki smiled faintly and took a small sip of his own drink.

"Any reason you ordered Rum specifically?"

"No... I'm just a little interested in it."

"Pirate's wine. Or maybe boys are just naturally drawn to plunder?"

Their voices were louder now—forced by the music and atmosphere.

The atmosphere is a strange thing.

In loud settings, most people become inexplicably braver... a little more "free."

When moods rise and the alcohol flows, restraint fades.

Rum was, after all, the drink of pirates.

Centuries ago, when piracy thrived, ships often stocked it.

Freshwater would go stale and breed plankton after just a month at sea, but Rum—brewed from sugarcane—could last a year.

A must-have on the open seas.

"What do you mean?"

"…"

Vermouth smiled without replying.

After a brief lull, Hayashi Yoshiki looked at her and smiled:

"Just drinking is boring. How about a game?"

"What kind of game?"

"There just happen to be a few dice cups here."

"The loser drinks, right?"

"No. I don't like forcing women to drink. That's tasteless."

Vermouth raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

She waited for him to continue.

"How about... truth or dare?"

"What's that?"

He explained the rules.

To his surprise, Vermouth looked genuinely interested.

"If you don't want to answer or do something, you drink."

"OK."

Vermouth picked up a dice cup with great interest.

They shook. They revealed.

Her number was higher.

"I forgot to explain," Hayashi Yoshiki said with a smile, "the one with the lower number wins. Though I really wanted to say otherwise."

"So... what do you choose?" Vermouth asked with interest.

"Let's start with a question."

"Alright then, Cointreau—what kind of women do you like?"

"Then my answer will sound shallow: Beautiful ones."

"At least you're honest. But is that all?"

"Ah, people are visual creatures. We form impressions of someone's personality and story based on their first appearance.

Just like you—or my fans—nobody really knows who we are behind closed doors...

In the end, love is often superficial."

"You're dodging the question."

"Not really. But if you asked what kind of girl I could fall in love with... that's a different story."

"Fine."

She wasn't annoyed—because it was fun.

They shook the dice again.

This time, Hayashi Yoshiki's number was higher.

Vermouth once more chose "question."

But she had one condition.

"Don't take this chance to ask dangerous things."

"Of course. ...Then, what was the purpose of the Halloween party invitation you passed through Gin a while ago?"

"Nothing special—just wanted you to be on that ship."

"Sounds suspicious."

"Are you worried about something?"

She smiled calmly.

"Gin and Vodka were invited, too."

"I see."

The game continued.

Round three—Hayashi Yoshiki won again.

Vermouth chose to be questioned.

"Who messaged you in the car on your way here just now?"

"Why are you asking?"

"You looked so casual. I figured you were probably some kind of... dog licker?"

"Dog licker?"

She hadn't heard the term before—but somehow, it fit perfectly.

She laughed and took a sip of her drink.

Just when Hayashi Yoshiki thought she was avoiding the question, she said:

"It was Calvados. He's exactly what you described."

Next round.

It was Hayashi Yoshiki's turn to be questioned.

But before she asked, Vermouth stared at his delicate face and smiled ambiguously.

"I've seen the medical report you submitted at the health center a while ago—don't look at me like that, Gin asked me to retrieve it."

"…"

"It says you're... powerful in certain areas. I'm a little curious—how strong, exactly?"