Chapter 2: Murder

“Officer, I just got home. Can I go inside and change my clothes?” A young man of mixed heritage was also being questioned by the police. His skin was dark, and his hair was a pale gold. He seemed eager to leave as well.

Standing behind him was a chubby man with glasses, who gave off an unremarkable, unassuming air. Yet when Gao Mo glanced at him, a sudden tension gripped his heart, his pupils widening slightly.

That same sense of impending death.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Kido?” Megure’s voice pulled Gao Mo back to reality.

“Sorry, Officer Megure, but I really don’t have time. After that woman left last night, I went straight to bed.”

Gao Mo had no time to dwell on his feelings. His stomach had been empty for a whole night—if he hurried to the supermarket, maybe he could even snag a meal. Though this murder had left him somewhat shaken, keeping his job was more important at the moment.

The only real regret was that such a cute girl had died so suddenly. This was truly the world of Conan.

“I’m already this unlucky. Surely I don’t have any enemies?” Gao Mo warned himself as he dashed away. He didn’t want to become another throwaway victim in the world of Conan after being reborn here.

He couldn’t recall any unsavory incidents from his past—otherwise, he wouldn’t have ended up suicidal.

...

International Supermarket.

Under the snickering gazes of his coworkers, Gao Mo braced himself and punched in for work. Luckily, the manager was out, so he didn’t get the scolding he’d expected.

“Are you alright, Mr. Kido?”

A gentle-voiced female colleague peeked into the break room, handing Gao Mo, now dressed in his uniform, a freshly heated convenience meal.

“Here, I saved this just for you. The others were all snatched up… Don’t tell the manager.”

“Thank you.”

Gao Mo had a good impression of this colleague; rumor had it she’d once been his fan, though he wasn’t sure if that was true. His former self had believed it, but he was less naïve. Still, a face fit for an idol had its uses.

“Hurry up.” She winked her right eye, playfully turning back to the register like a kitten, drawing jealous glares from several young male employees nearby.

There was a hint of hostility, but nothing serious.

Gao Mo quietly watched her voluptuous figure, and then glanced at her and the other staff’s heads.

He saw no faint glow, nor any strange writing.

Could it be related to the crime scene?

He wondered whether the case had been solved—if he had the chance tonight or tomorrow, he’d have to check again.

Lost in thought, he tore open the meal’s packaging.

Perhaps because he was so hungry, the convenience meal had never tasted so good.

A small happiness.

An unspoken perk of working at the supermarket was free meals, three a day, saving quite a bit on living expenses.

Work started at 9 a.m. and went until 10 p.m., but it was every other day, and the diligent ones usually found a side job as well, pulling in a decent income.

As for putting up with bad treatment... who doesn’t face that in the workplace? Even a business owner has to watch others’ moods sometimes.

This job was fine as a stopgap. He had plenty of free time to plan his future.

Even though this was the world of Conan, where detectives thrived, there were plenty of other ways to make money besides being a detective.

If anything, famous detectives were the ones who really made a good living.

Ordinary detectives, especially newcomers at an agency, barely scraped by—sometimes earning less than a supermarket cashier.

Given his current circumstances, returning to the entertainment industry would actually be his best option, but that note saying “hide yourself” weighed on his mind.

Until he figured things out, it was best to keep a low profile.

Maybe work behind the scenes?

He still had a few friends in show business, including Yoko Okino—the illustrious idol adored by Kogoro Mouri, and technically his junior.

His old self had been too proud to ask for help, but he didn’t care about that. If he reached out to Yoko Okino, he could probably transition to working behind the scenes without much trouble.

With enough time, he could surely carve out a new career.

Being a supermarket cashier was never meant to last.

...

Gao Mo finished his meal quickly. Upon returning to the register, he found a long line of customers had already formed.

Compared to regular supermarkets, International Supermarket’s goods were expensive and not particularly good value, yet somehow, it was very popular in this area.

Foreigners frequented it, but there was no shortage of local Japanese customers, or even fellow Chinese, international students, and groups of older women.

They chatted in their native dialects as if no outsiders were present.

Gao Mo kept his head down, operating the register.

He spoke a little English, and his Chinese was fluent, so communication went smoothly enough, though he was still clumsy with the register.

Ringing up regular purchases was simple, but the various shopping cards were a headache—the system at this time wasn’t exactly user-friendly.

The worst part was issuing invoices; he messed up several.

Who knew if there’d be complaints later?

The shift was busy from morning until afternoon, with only a simple lunch break. Gao Mo grew numb, not just from the monotony but from standing until his legs ached.

Standing for ten-plus hours, even with every-other-day shifts, was exhausting.

Couldn’t they at least do morning and afternoon shifts?

He was starting to dislike the job.

“What’s wrong?” his female colleague asked, concerned. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine.”

He patted his aching calf.

Having only just returned from the brink of death the night before, a bit of discomfort was to be expected.

He’d adjust in time.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was finally dinner, his chance to sit and rest for a while. But with more customers in the evening, another battle loomed.

No wonder an ex-idol like him couldn’t handle it.

The contrast was just too stark.

“If you need anything, just let me know,” she said with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about the manager, either. I’ll handle it.”

“Thank you, Miss...” What was her name again?

Gao Mo couldn’t remember, so he could only rub his leg awkwardly.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, lowering her head shyly and whispering, “I’ve always felt you and I are alike, Mr. Kido. As long as you don’t give up, I’m sure you’ll be a superstar again someday.”

“Maybe.” Gao Mo had no desire to return to stardom.

...

10 p.m. that night.

Break room.

Gao Mo was exhausted, unable to think about the future—or even the gruesome murder next door, which now seemed distant.

He’d finally survived the day.

He didn’t know how his colleague managed to look so energetic and unfazed.

She seemed full of life.

“It’s strange—the manager usually comes back before closing just to nitpick and yell at people.”

“Who knows? It’s probably better if he doesn’t.”

Amid the chatter, Gao Mo changed clothes, checked his fully charged phone, and grabbed another unsold meal.

The good news was, wages could be paid out daily.

By the time he left the supermarket, he had over 10,000 yen in hand.

With a wage of 1,200 yen per hour, that was on the higher side—working 15 days a month, he could clear over 200,000 yen.

Detective Takagi’s salary, excluding benefits and bonuses, was about 300,000 to 500,000 yen.

Entry-level police officers earned about 200,000 to 300,000.

Shame that if the bald manager had been there, he would have docked pay left and right, and Gao Mo would never have taken home the full amount.

A few complaints, and he might even end up owing money.

Today had been an exception.

...

Gao Mo felt a bit relieved.

Over 10,000 yen.

The convenience store downstairs was open 24 hours, so he could pay his utility bills and avoid having his water and electricity cut off.

Building management fees and taxes were paid annually, so that could wait.

If he was frugal, he could last a few days.

It wasn't easy.

Carrying his meal box in the chilly night breeze, Gao Mo felt a touch of melancholy.

He didn’t even know what phase of the Japanese economy this was. In the world of Conan, with its endless crimes, things couldn’t be great...

Thinking of the odious bald manager, Gao Mo felt a twinge of worry.

He needed to find a way out soon—getting fired unexpectedly would be trouble.

...

Room 1604.

Gao Mo pulled out his key, and as he placed his hand on the doorknob, a jolt of terror—like drowning—flashed through him.

Again?

He heard faint breathing inside. Eyes wide, he slowly let go of the handle.

How many times had it been since he resurrected yesterday?

He hadn’t wronged anyone; couldn’t he just live in peace?

“Damn, I think I left something outside...” he said loudly, carefully backing away.

He couldn’t count on anyone coming to help.

It was so late—any help would likely be too late.

Whoever was inside, the best choice was to leave and call the police.

Click!

The intruder inside must have heard something. Their breathing quickened, and suddenly the door was yanked open. A baseball bat swung out—a dark blur—barely missing Gao Mo.

In the dim light, both of their minds went blank.

Run!

Gao Mo’s feet slipped, and when he saw the panic and viciousness in the man’s eyes, he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the wall and bolted down the corridor like a rabbit.

It was the same chubby man with glasses from earlier.

Was he crazy? All Gao Mo had done was glance at him—how had he provoked this guy?

Was he... the killer?

Some murderers did like to return to the scene of the crime—especially in the world of Conan, where most culprits were found at the scene.

Gao Mo cursed silently.

He’d avoided getting involved, but the case had come to him anyway.

Was the fat man insane?

He’d only taken a look...

Huff, huff!

Unable to catch the nimble Gao Mo, the fat man grew more desperate. After swinging his bat and missing, he hurled himself forward like a rolling ball, and the two of them tumbled to the emergency exit.

“Murder!” Gao Mo cried.

“Ah!”

His head struck the railing, making him dizzy, and before he could recover, the fat man’s hands clamped around his throat.

Perhaps fearing Gao Mo would keep screaming for help, the man’s face twisted into a mask of savagery, exerting an inhuman strength.

The suffocating pressure dragged Gao Mo back to the edge of death.

It was as if a cold, unseen gaze watched from the shadows, a scythe of death raised high.

Damn fat man...