Phi-Fic Chapter 287 How many two-dimensional characters have you seen?
Chapter 287 How many two-dimensional characters have you seen?
Staring at the disheveled, host-coach-like Haruya Kuromon on the other side of the screen, Vodka's crisis radar trembled, and an iceberg rising from the deep sea rushed into his mind!
"Big Brother!" He took three steps back, pointed at the center of the screen as if facing a formidable enemy, and shouted with his eyes closed, "Sure enough, Butber's previous flawless assassination missions were all accomplished through seduction!"
Sure enough, that gentleman still harbors resentment about what happened back then!
Even through the dim light and piles of books, the boss's regretful and disappointed sigh from back then remains a rusty nail pricking deep within Vodka's unwavering loyalty:
'Hmm? You're the new... Raven? Oh well, since it's their idea, I'll just make do with an internal position.'
'Just make do with it...'
'It'll have to do...'
'improvise...'
"Just make do." These three simple words dealt a heavy blow to Vodka, who was overjoyed to join the organization and was ready to roll up his sleeves and get to work!
To prove himself as a capable young talent, Vodka, who was still a small potato back then, insisted on doing 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats and standing up every day without fail, as well as a 10-kilometer run... Finally, he was admitted to the medical department due to muscle strain, which caught the boss's attention!
After overcoming numerous obstacles and successfully evolving into a Tall-nut, Vodka finally learned the reason for everything from his older brother:
The man had hoped that his hometown would send a honey trap specialist, a charming and lovable "Crow" agent, to fill the vacancy in the intelligence department, but instead a greenhorn arrived.
Now it seems that Butber's proficiency is clearly the boss making up for what happened back then!
Gin turned his head, briefly shifting his gaze to his underling's intelligent expression: "...Vodka, are the files finished?"
"Reporting, sir, mission accomplished perfectly!"
"Then go and get another batch."
With camera control off, the cold-blooded Gin turns away, leaving behind a bunch of heartwarming tasks.
Although this was a good opportunity to investigate Butbel's intelligence capabilities, for some reason, Gin instinctively didn't want to continue watching this eyesore.
...It must be because Butber is like a fly, so annoying.
"call--"
On the other end of the communication signal, seeing that no one was bothering him anymore, Ryuichi Yanase put his phone in his pocket and continued with his main topic:
"Finally, I can properly judge you. I really don't understand why there's been so much going on..."
"Maybe this is what they mean by 'the more famous you are, the more trouble you attract'," Kuromon Haruya grinned, casting a disdainful sneer.
'What a pity, we didn't get to have a little improvisational acting challenge.'
As expected, upon seeing his arrogant attitude, Yanase's anger, which had been interrupted by the incident, instantly reignited!
"You bastard! Believe me or not, I'll kill you right now!" He suddenly grabbed him, pulling him up by the collar, almost lifting him and the chair.
"I know, you just want money, right?" Then, Kuromon Haruya remained unmoved, turning her head to avoid his spittle.
"Money doesn't matter. Just name your price, and I'll transfer it to you. After all, you went through all that trouble taking those photos just for a little bit of money, didn't you?"
It's just for a little bit of money!
If Yanase might have initially agreed due to financial pressure, after hearing these words, all that remained in his heart was boundless killing intent!
This arrogant bastard must be killed! Tear his nonchalant facade apart! Make him scream in agony alive in the flames!
“No.” He interrupted Kuromon Haruya’s eloquent speech, shaking his head firmly: “What I want is not money, but your life.”
"Eh?"
As the young man's expression instantly cleared, an indescribable pleasure rose from his spine to Yanase's heart.
Kuromon Haruya's face turned deathly pale, and he asked in disbelief, "Wait, what do you mean by this?"
"It means exactly what it says." Ryuichi Yanase loosened his arm, which ached from overexertion, and poured the pungent gasoline over his head and onto his head. "What good is good photography skills if you mess with someone you can't afford to offend? Taking a lot of photos is useless!"
"Cough, cough! Wait, just a minute!"
Cold, stagnant liquid clung to her cheeks, crawling down her hair like countless centipedes, dripping and leaving a slippery, sticky sheen on her skin. Kuromon Haruya could only curl up awkwardly, trying to keep the liquid from getting into her eyes, a look of pain faintly visible beneath her disheveled hair.
Yanase was amused by his appearance, let go of his hand, and listened attentively.
"Don't you want to know why my photography skills are so good?" Kuromon Haruya shook his head, looking at the camera bag he had tossed in the corner. "Actually, the reason I can take such beautiful photos is all thanks to the features of that camera."
"camera?"
"Yes." He nodded weakly, his voice trembling with fear as he tried to explain: "It was a cursed camera that could capture the traces of death. Any inanimate object photographed with it would become a masterpiece."
"Look, there's a dead rat in the corner of the haystack. You'll see if you try it!"
Perhaps his pleading expression was too sincere, and driven by greed, Yanase actually held a lighter in one hand and awkwardly pressed the shutter button on the mouse with the other.
In the viewfinder, the originally ugly and wicked dead rat actually presents a chilling beauty.
Its rotting fur gleamed with a bluish-black sheen like blueberries, and its empty eye sockets, though lifeless, were as deep and dazzling as black pearls embedded in the bottom of an ocean trench.
Yanase's hands trembled in disbelief—
He didn't even deliberately choose the angle, lighting, or composition; he just snapped a picture casually, and it produced this effect. If this camera were actually used for news reporting...!
"See? I told you the truth, didn't I? I'll give you this camera, will you let me go?"
Another voice on the scene pulled him out of his illusion of wealth and glory. He turned around and pointed the camera at Yoruichi Kuromon: "Let me first record your last look of panic before you were burned."
Click.
The moment the shutter clicked, the rope on the opposite seat suddenly went limp and fell limply to the ground.
"Phew~ The prerequisites for the ceremony are finally met!"
A sigh of relief and celebration came from behind.
Unbeknownst to him, the young man who should have been restrained stood behind him, his cold, delicate fingers like a collar tightly binding Yanase's neck, rendering him unable to move.
A pink notebook inexplicably appeared in Kuromon Haruya's hand. He flipped through the pages with one hand, seemingly confirming some details:
"Step one: Find a sacrifice that is deeply sinful and whose characteristics match the artifact... Done!"
"You...!" The question was abruptly cut off by the force that tightened around his neck.
"Shh-"
Kuromon Haruya stuffed the wet tissue she had just used to wipe his cheeks into his mouth, casually dislocated the joints of his limbs, and squinted to confirm:
"Step two: Arrange the sacrificial site according to the sins committed by the offering; Step three: Lock the offering in place with the objects, and you're done!"
On the ground, Yanase wriggled and struggled, finally spitting out the foreign object: "Pfft, what, what are you! What do you want to do!"
Kuromon Haruya tilted his head and pondered for a moment, then lowered his head and patted the camera at his waist: "Of course, I'm going to feed you to this guy."
"While feeding it to a few random, self-destructive creatures would work, the absorption rate would be too slow. To make this little guy grow up quickly, I'll need a professional photographer as 'ritual material'!"
Pressing the shutter with murderous intent towards others—the conditions for locking onto the camera are just too troublesome. Luckily, there are super-potent pills like you who can single-handedly take the lives of dozens of people…
Unable to comprehend, Ryuichi Yanase simply couldn't understand what Haruya Kuromon was saying. How did he break free? What was so special about that camera? The sudden strangeness, beyond the realm of common sense, shattered his reason.
On the verge of collapse, the only thing he could understand was the last accusation: "You, you know I've killed so many people...why didn't you stop me?"
Kuromon Haruya's left hand, which was drawing a magic circle with blood, paused, and she cast a final glance at him—a cold, detached gaze, as if she had never interacted with this world before:
"Have you heard of the 'never interfere' principle in documentary filmmaking? In order to maintain objective recording, film crews must not interfere with the natural behavior of wild animals. Similarly, why should I care about some mindless pieces of paper and the law of the jungle?"
With that, Kuromon Haruya rewound the rope around himself, dragged the chair back to the warehouse door, lit the windproof lighter, and released his grip:
"Farewell, arsonist photographer who sacrificed his life for the art of photography."
......
Beep—beep—
The piercing wail of sirens tore through the night sky, startling birds into flight through the woods.
The speeding car, accompanied by a convoy of police cars, plunged into the depths of the forest, where the trees were bathed in the orange glow of the warehouse fire.
Slamming the car door behind them, Conan and Kogoro Mouri jumped out of the car at the same time and ran towards the abandoned warehouse engulfed in flames.
"Brother Heimen, where are you! We're here to rescue you!"
Conan raised his hand to shield himself from the heat, his eyes rapidly searching through the thick smoke and flames, finally spotting a familiar figure by the door—
Yoruichi Kuromon was bound to a chair by the door, a clear, pungent liquid dripping from his hair. His hands were tightly bound to a camera, and his empty eyes, filled with a gray haze, were staring blankly at the charred corpse in the flames.
"Kuromon! Wake up!" Kogoro Mouri's roar pierced through the heatwave.
Haruya Kuromon's eyelashes trembled, as if he had been jolted awake from a long nightmare, his chapped lips pressed into a straight line. He didn't respond to the call, but instead asked, "Did you hear me?"
In the sudden silence, Kogoro Mouri abruptly stopped.
A piano melody emerged from the depths of the fire, haunting his ears like a ghost, making his throat tighten: "Is this... Moonlight?"
Conan's glasses flashed with a cold light: "Moonlight."
The crackling sound of the flames and the familiar yet poignant melody of the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata danced together with the fire.
From an angle visible only to Conan's height, a photo splattered with gasoline was pressed against the foot of a stool.
The photograph freezes on a burning music room, with someone marking the back with gold ink:
Neither is this the beginning of your sin, nor shall it be the end. Mine eyes shall ever be upon you.
—from Elixir, the alchemist]