Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

"Let's go." Old Hei's voice came through the iron gate again, this time with a rare, almost imperceptible, gentle urging in his tone.

That wasn't a soldier's order, but rather like a brother's final, caring words of advice to a loved one before danger strikes.

Outside the door, Baijiu's back pressed tightly against the cold iron door, as if trying to draw its last strength or retain its last warmth from that touch.

He bit his lower lip hard until he tasted blood, barely managing to suppress the surging, bitter, and hot tears that threatened to burst from his eyes.

Beneath the mask of calm she tried so hard to maintain, lay a deep, cracking sadness.

He can't cry, at least not here, in this way.

Old Black wouldn't want to see this.

"Find Rum." Old Black's voice calmed down, each word clear and distinct, like a dying wish engraved on a stone tablet, piercing through the heavy metal, striking Bai Jiu's eardrums, and striking his heart.

"Old Hei..." Baijiu's throat felt like it had been rubbed by hot sandpaper, only managing to squeeze out these two broken syllables, followed by boundless, unspeakable reluctance and agonizing pain.

His knuckles were clenched so tightly around the iron bars that they turned white, as if he wanted to knead the cold metal into his very bones.

"Stop him." Old Hei interrupted Baijiu's attempt to utter any more sorrowful words with unusual firmness.

There's no time left, and we shouldn't waste it on pointless emotional venting.

These three words represent the goal, the driving force, and the rope that will pull baijiu out of its current quagmire.

Stop him.

Stop Rum.

Stop that madman who stole the virus flash memory, set up this deadly trap, and put Old Black in a desperate situation!

A surge of rage, a hatred of his own powerlessness, and a deep-seated resentment toward Rum, like volcanic lava, instantly shattered the composure that Baijiu had forcibly maintained.

He abruptly released his grip on the railing, took a step back, and stared intently at the black iron fence and massive lock in front of him, a symbol of despair and separation.

"what--!!!"

A suppressed roar, like that of a wounded beast, burst forth from his chest!

He poured all his anger, resentment, pain, and helplessness into his clenched fists and shoulders, and like a madman, he slammed his body against the door again!

It's not about seeking release, it's just about venting!

He used physical impact and pain to fight against the despair that was tearing him apart!

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The dull thuds echoed through the tunnel, each one accompanied by the muffled thud of his bones colliding with metal and a suppressed groan of pain.

Blood splattered from the ruptured wound, staining the door lock and the adjacent wall red.

But this futile act is more like a tragic, self-destructive ritual.

Inside the door, Old Hei listened to the muffled thuds that seemed to strike his heart, and his hands paused slightly.

But he neither stopped them nor offered any comfort.

He listened quietly until the crashing subsided, leaving only the heavy, broken breathing outside the door. Then, in a voice that had regained its calmness yet seemed to pierce through all the noise and reach the depths of the soul, he slowly began the last and most important conversation of his life:

"For...someone I've never met."

These words, though spoken softly, struck like a thunderbolt, shattering the anger and sorrow that had filled Baijiu's mind.

For someone you've never met?

What about the millions of people who are currently asleep in London, completely unaware of the crisis beneath their feet?

What about those people in distant lands who might be dragged into even greater disasters by Rum and the Intellectual in the future?

Those people they had never met, yet who shared the identity of "human," who experienced ordinary joys and sorrows, and who looked forward to the sunrise of tomorrow?

The clinking of the liquor bottles stopped.

He leaned against the door, slowly sliding down to the ground. His bloodshot eyes stared into the void, and the tears he had been forcibly holding back could no longer be contained by those words. They flowed silently, mixing with the blood on his face, leaving behind a cold yet burning mark.

He got it.

Lao Hei's choice was not just to save Baijiu, nor was it just to fulfill a certain mission.

It is for those innocent people who have never met them, yet deserve the right to live.

It is for a kind of "morality" that transcends personal grievances and friendships, something grander and more simple.

This is perhaps the last glimmer of light in the hearts of people like them, who have walked through half their lives in blood and darkness, and whose hearts have never been completely extinguished.

Baijiu lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly.

He murmured softly, over and over again, as if chanting a spell, his voice hoarse yet resolute: "For...someone I've never met..."

He repeated it, and with each repetition, the madness and despair in his eyes faded a little, replaced by a calm, cold, resolute determination that transformed personal grief into some kind of eternal driving force.

He slowly raised his head. Although Lao Hei couldn't see, he knew that Lao Hei could sense it.

He took one last, deep look at the door, his gaze seemingly piercing through steel, meeting the calm yet resolute eyes within.

There were no words, just a simple, heavy nod.

it is more than words.

A promise. A legacy. A farewell.

Then, he released his grip on the protrusion on the door frame.

Those hands, which had fought alongside Old Black and been entrusted with his trust, were now about to personally sever that final connection.

He forced himself to turn around, leaving the door and the person behind it behind him.

Every step felt like walking on a knife's edge, his heart gripped and ground by an invisible giant hand. But he didn't stop, he didn't look back.

He started backing away, one step, two steps... then, he suddenly turned around and, with all his might, ran wildly toward the other end of the passage, toward the ground, toward the future full of unknowns and missions that the old black man had given his life for!

The footsteps were hurried and resolute, quickly swallowed by the darkness of the passage.

inside the door.

Until the sound of the liquor's footsteps completely disappeared, and not a single echo could be heard.

It wasn't until it was confirmed that the stubborn, affectionate brother who had to live on was truly gone.

Old Hei's back, which had been ramrod straight, hunched slightly, almost imperceptibly.

The mask of absolute, almost inhuman calm that had remained on his face the entire time finally cracked.

He took a slow, deep breath and then exhaled slowly and silently.

Those hands, steady as a rock, operating precise tools, trembled almost imperceptibly for a moment at the fingertips.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, deep within those usually deep and calm eyes, an overwhelming sadness, regret, and instinctive fear of death, which had been suppressed for too long, finally surged forth uncontrollably.

He is human too.

He also had things he couldn't let go of, unfulfilled wishes, and a subtle attachment to this world.

He was also afraid of death, afraid of darkness, afraid of eternal silence.

But just now, in front of the liquor, he couldn't show it.

Not even the slightest bit. He knew that if he showed even the slightest weakness, fear, or reluctance, given Baijiu's personality, he would stay with him even if it meant death, or do something even more irrational.

He had to appear absolutely calm, absolutely resigned, and even somewhat detached in order to force Baijiu out and allow Baijiu to live on and move forward, carrying his entrustment.