Chapter 16: The Cursed Inheritance of the Prestigious Family
“Click!”
To prevent the crime scene from being disturbed, Kaito took several photos with his phone before temporarily locking the room of the elderly Mr. Hosokura.
Conan, standing nearby, eyed Kaito suspiciously, reexamining him.
Given the brutal death of Hosokura, Shōji’s reaction seemed reasonable.
Even Ran was frightened by the corpse, yet Kaito remained unnervingly calm—an attitude unbefitting both a butler and a former idol.
It was as if he was accustomed to death... to corpses.
There was even the unsettling possibility that he had killed before, a faint resemblance to those in black suits.
But why?
On the surface, he looked weak, fragile even.
His facial features and overall demeanor suggested a state of subhealth, chronic malnutrition, possibly depression—there were faint marks on his wrists that hinted at self-harm, though not severe, perhaps too timid to attempt real suicide.
A strange man... full of contradictions.
Conan doubted himself a little.
Because his idol Sherlock Holmes was a master at analyzing people from minute details—just a handshake could reveal a person’s occupation, a glance could expose their personality and habits.
He had trained for this for a long time and often took pride in it.
But now...
“Brother Kido, what exactly is your profession?” Conan asked, trying to be cute despite his embarrassment.
“A freelancer.”
Kaito answered casually, thinking about how to complete his mission.
Any profession was possible. Freelancer was a safe answer.
...
In the dining room.
Except for the snoring Kogoro, everyone else wore expressions alive with tension.
Eldest daughter Mariko glared mercilessly at Takeshi, who was nervously wiping sweat, her tone sharp and accusatory: “How long do you intend to keep up this act, Takeshi? Just admit it—was it you?”
“Admit what?” Takeshi swallowed nervously under everyone’s gaze.
“Still holding out?” Mariko sneered venomously like a malicious aunt.
“I heard it all—the argument between you and Dad, didn’t I? Your real identity is the son of Isao Zaijō!”
“Takeshi’s the son of Isao Zaijō?”
Natsue, just returning in a daze, stared incredulously at her fiancé Takeshi, who was breathing heavily.
“Is this true? Takeshi, you are...”
“Of course it’s true,” Mariko said confidently, “Ten years ago, Isao Zaijō killed himself after Dad took over the company. A year later, his wife died from illness, and their only son was sent to an orphanage...
“Takeshi, you must have gotten close to Natsue just to take revenge, sneaking into the Hosokura family to settle scores, right? Now that your identity’s exposed, you killed Dad without hesitation...”
“I didn’t!” Takeshi hurriedly defended himself. “I am indeed Takeshi Zaijō, son of Isao Zaijō, but I swear I didn’t kill anyone! Please believe me, Natsue!”
“I’m sorry.”
Shōji Hosokura, having recovered from the shock of his father’s death, wiped his sweat with a handkerchief and firmly grabbed Takeshi’s arm.
“Dad was definitely murdered, and there was a boutonnière you dropped at the door. I was wrong about you, Takeshi.”
“Dad really died?”
Mariko’s face couldn’t hide her ecstatic delight, as if she already saw the glittering inheritance.
Behind them, the Akiyama couple wore equally joyous expressions.
No one expected such a twist—that Natsue’s new husband had this secret identity and just happened to kill the old master at this moment.
“Murderer! Lock up this guy, Takeshi!”
“Let me go! I didn’t kill anyone! Believe me, Natsue...”
After a brief commotion, the Hosokura family forcibly locked Takeshi in the ship’s storage room.
The old master’s death seemed to have broken their restraint; their previous fear of Kaito had vanished.
“That’s wonderful, Auntie?” Akiyama licked his lips with glee. “Now that Grandpa’s dead by Takeshi’s hand, no one can interfere with the inheritance.”
“Exactly,” Mariko assumed the role of mistress prematurely. “With this, the Hosokura Group belongs to my husband... Of course, you’ll get a share too.”
“Sis!”
Shōji couldn’t bear it any longer.
“Dad just passed away, how can you—”
“Cut the act, don’t pretend,” Mariko sneered over her shoulder. “Shōji, don’t think I don’t know you’re desperate for money too. Dad’s death is good for you as well.”
“...”
Shōji’s face darkened; after a moment, he rubbed his forehead and burst into laughter.
“I do need money, no doubt. But, sister, are you mistaken?”
“What?”
“Did you think Dad didn’t take precautions?” Shōji shrugged and glanced at the beaten-down Natsue. “I already asked Butler Suzuki. Dad had a will set up long ago. Only if he’s killed will no one get a penny!”
That was why he hadn’t thought about inheritance, only about getting money from the old man.
Yet this happened.
“How could it be?” Mariko’s face paled, her voice trembling. “You must be joking, Dad would never...”
“You can ask Butler Kindaichi,” Shōji directed everyone’s attention to Kaito. “Butler Kindaichi knew from the start, right?”
“Butler Suzuki did say that.”
Kaito met the furious and fearful eyes of the Hosokura family, silently sweating.
He hadn’t expected Shōji to know this and openly expose it here.
In an instant, the atmosphere shifted again.
The strange, oppressive aura that had quieted now spread once more.
In the ship’s corridor, the air suddenly felt damp and musty.
Unnoticed by anyone, one of the ceiling lights flickered out.
Whoosh.
Kaito looked left and right; his gaze landed on the reflection in Conan’s glasses.
Within the glare, a shadow faintly appeared.
“What are you staring at?” Conan felt uneasy under the gaze.
He had obediently followed Ran without doing anything.
“By the way, Brother Kido,” Conan suddenly remembered, “When you went to see Mr. Hosokura, did you see the murder weapon?”
“No,” Kaito shook his head after a deep breath. “I only ensured the scene stayed intact. After that, the only person who entered the room was you.”
The ominous feeling of death gradually faded.
Yet his pressure did not lessen in the slightest.
The task of protecting Natsue’s safe arrival in Tokyo had just escalated several levels.
The old master’s murder meant the will would come into effect upon docking in Tokyo.
Those Hosokura family members might have all sorts of sinister plans.
Checking the time—it was just past nine, fifteen hours remained.
...
The luxury liner cut through the sea under the night sky.
Moonlight bathed the deck, casting a cold yet peaceful scene.
Natsue, slender and fragile, leaned against the railing, gazing quietly at the sea.
Tears still occasionally shimmered at her eyes and fell.
“Sorry,” Ran emerged from the dining hall, seeing this, and approached gently. “Miss Natsue, you’re out here alone... Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, just thinking about some things.”
Natsue hurriedly wiped her eyes.
“You must have been scared today, right? None of us expected this to happen...”
“Are you thinking about Mr. Takeshi?” Ran sensed Natsue’s reluctance and walked alongside her in the sea breeze. “Actually, I don’t think Takeshi is the culprit... The man you chose to marry can’t be a bad person.”
“Ran...”
“Phew!”
Behind them, Kaito and Conan stood at the dining hall entrance, watching the two girls talk under the moonlight, each with their own thoughts.
Having seen neighbors and female coworkers, Kaito deeply appreciated this kind of pure beauty.
In a world filled with murderous intent, it was truly precious.
“To be honest, I wish I had a girlfriend like Ran.”
“Huh?!”
Conan, who had been silent and serious, furrowed his brows wildly and looked up warily at Kaito. “Brother Kido, you’re not married yet? You’re 25, that’s not young anymore.”
Mind your own business.
Kaito glanced at Conan but didn’t bother arguing.
If this were the broken character from the later anime episodes, he would have given him a good scolding, but this kid wasn’t so annoying yet.
Maybe later.
When he first followed the series, he had accumulated a lot of frustration, powerless against the old author, but here he could vent a little.
Stare!
Suddenly, a chill crept down Kaito’s spine.
He turned his head and saw a dark figure hastily retreating on the upper deck.
Only a ruthless murderous intent remained.
Kaito’s gaze sharpened.
At this moment, only the unreliable Kogoro was still asleep in the dining room; the Hosokura family members had all returned to their rooms.
Everyone had already decided Takeshi was the killer, or simply didn’t care about the real culprit.
“Yo, Yōko, I’m coming...”
The mustached man mumbled in his sleep, clutching a bottle of wine, a lecherous smile on his face, making Kaito frown deeply.
To protect Natsue Hosokura, Kaito knew he had to rely on Ran.
And he had to make sure Ran didn’t get scared—because a frightened Ran was no fighter.
It would be best if Natsue and Ran stayed awake all night, holding on until the ship reached Tokyo.
Kaito pondered and turned to the little figure with his hands in his pockets—Conan.