Being in Detective Conan, being officially part of the organization is just too awesome!

July 4, 1996

Island nation, Tokyo, Beika Town

On the narrow road, a black Porsche 356A was parked against the wall of a villa. This old Porsche model is extremely rare on the streets of Tokyo.

In the passenger seat of the Porsche, a cold-faced man in a long black trench coat and a top hat skillfully used his right hand to light a "JILOISES" cigarette from his fingertips on the car's built-in lighter, then took a deep drag.

As he smoked, his long, light-gold hair, which was covered by a tall black top hat, was gently blown by the breeze coming in through the car window. This scene should have been quite pleasant, but the murderous intent and cold light that occasionally flashed in the man's eyes beneath his long hair, as well as his left hand that he never took out, made it seem as if he was surrounded by a layer of sub-zero cold wind, leaving only a chill.

With such an appearance and attire, coupled with his iconic Porsche 356A as his car, his identity is self-evident; he is none other than our organization's model worker—Gin.

"Brother,"

A muffled voice came from the side.

Accompanying the sound was Gin's henchman, Vodka, dressed in black and wearing sunglasses.

Vodka skillfully opened the door of the Porsche 356A, then sat in the driver's seat, carrying a plastic bag containing several bento boxes.

Gin watched as Vodka got into the car without saying a word, and immediately finished his cigarette in one big drag.

He glanced at Vodka, then his gaze naturally shifted from Vodka's broad frame to the plastic bag in his hand.

"By the way, big brother,"

Vodka, after being glanced at by Gin, remembered his business and quickly took out two bento boxes from the plastic bag.

"Your bento box."

Gin took the two bento boxes from Vodka's hands with his right hand; they were curry omelet rice and a box of fried dumplings.

He opened the lunchbox with one hand, placed it on his lap, and began to eat with a touch of elegance, still holding chopsticks in his right hand.

Although he had curry rice yesterday, he is not a picky eater. Moreover, Vodka may have noticed this today, so he specially bought a box of fried dumplings to go with it.

Seeing that Gin had started eating first, Vodka also took out two large boxes of fried chicken bento boxes that he had chosen for himself and ate them in big bites.

"Brother,"

Vodka mumbled incoherently as he chewed on fried chicken and rice.

"That guy's acting way too high-handed, making you wait for ages. If he hadn't arrived so late, we wouldn't be eating lunch here..."

"Vodka."

Gin stopped chewing and said the name of vodka in a cold voice.

"W-what's wrong, brother?"

Vodka blinked and looked at Gin.

Gin gave him a cold glance.

"Shut up."

"Oh......"

Vodka felt a little wronged, but he would never dare to disobey his older brother's orders.

Gin withdrew his gaze from Vodka, then focused his eyes on the front of the car, staring for a second or two before opening the door.

"People are coming."

"what?"

Vodka was completely bewildered. Seeing that Gin had already gotten out of the car, he didn't dare to delay. He quickly put down the half-eaten box of fried chicken rice in his hand and opened the driver's side door.

At this moment, Gin, who was standing in front of the car, had already straightened his long black trench coat and top hat. He walked with casual yet even steps, exuding a chilling aura that didn't need to be deliberately provoked, toward the person in front of him.

Vodka, who had just gotten off the bus, naturally adjusted his sunglasses and followed closely behind Gin.

With Gin as his older brother in the front row, Vodka was able to carefully observe the person in front of him and Gin who they needed to wait for.

The other party's attire was very much in line with the organization's style; a black trench coat that could calm anyone down at a glance.

He was quite tall. Vodka estimated that he was about the same height as his boss, Gin, but he wasn't as slender as Gin, nor as burly as Tequila. He was more of a well-proportioned man.

What surprised Vodka even more was that, in the blazing summer sun, the visitor was carrying a black umbrella.

From this distance, Vodka felt that the other person gave him only one impression—precision.

The other person's left hand, holding the black umbrella, seemed like a motionless machine; the umbrella remained perfectly steady without the slightest tremor. The other hand was firmly placed in the pocket, seemingly with no intention of taking it out. The same was true of their steps; each step seemed to be professionally controlled, almost perfectly synchronized, yet looking at their gait, it was not deliberate.

"This is a person whose every part has been polished."

Vodka silently drew a conclusion about the visitor in his mind.

As the two groups drew closer, they finally met in front of a villa.

At this face-to-face distance, vodka was able to observe the man more closely.

He had short, black hair and black pupils; he was good-looking, but he didn't give off any particular feeling.

His expression was indifferent, or rather, he had no expression at all.

Unlike Gin's cold, expressionless face, no one could discern any emotion, or rather... indifference, from this person's expressionless face.

At this point, Vodka finally realized one thing—

This guy is taller than his older brother, though not by much.

"You're too late."

Gin's cold voice echoed in the surrounding air, accompanied by a hint of killing intent.

Hearing Gin's words, Vodka, standing behind him, felt a strange tightness in his chest.

However, the visitor clearly did not experience such emotional fluctuations.

"Is it late?"

He spoke in a calm voice, his tone as emotionless as his expression.

He slightly turned his wrist, which was holding the black umbrella, glanced at the watch that was visible on it, and then looked at Gin with his dark eyes.

"It's still nine seconds until one o'clock, you've arrived too early."

His umbrella remained still, and his right hand, which was in his pocket, remained inside.

Hearing his words, Gin's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his dark green eyes, hidden under his top hat, narrowed as he stared intently at the speaker.

As for Vodka, his already uneasy mood became even more tense.

"This guy is no pushover."

"Won't he start a fight with his older brother the moment they meet?"

These were the only two thoughts in Vodka's mind at that moment.