[TL/N: New Book -
Anime Group Chat in a Doomsday World!]
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"Human... a human head?!"
The girls in the room trembled, their faces pale with fear as they turned to Bartolomeo, their movements stiff and hesitant.
"What's wrong?"
Bartolomeo casually reached for a chicken leg from the table. Ignoring the horrified stares directed at him, he bit into it with relish, unfazed by the tense atmosphere.
Having been dragged to the villa by Sonoko early that morning and forced to go without food all day, his hunger was unbearable. As for the gruesome scene outside the window just moments ago…
With his enhanced perception granted by his Haki, Bartolomeo had seen everything clearly.
It was nothing but a puppet, wrapped in bandages and holding a severed head, swaying eerily outside the window.
At first glance, it might have seemed terrifying, but Bartolomeo wasn't so easily fooled.
"Looks like you're the culprit," he said suddenly, his tone nonchalant as he gnawed on the chicken leg, grease smearing his lips. His eyes flicked up toward the fat man standing on the second floor—Takahashi Ryoichi.
"What?! What are you saying?"
The room fell silent in shock, all eyes turning to Takahashi, who stood frozen in place. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, but he quickly masked his unease.
Feigning innocence, he scratched the back of his head and gave a sheepish laugh.
"Bartolomeo-san, I don't know what you mean! Who did I kill?!"
"Drop the act."
Bartolomeo reached for a second chicken leg and began devouring it with the same carefree attitude, completely ignoring the fact that no one else had started eating yet. Between bites, he continued:
"I saw it all. You're controlling the puppet with a string, aren't you? Don't think I wouldn't notice—you've stuffed the string into your stomach, right?"
The room fell into a tense silence as Bartolomeo pointed a chicken bone at Takahashi, smirking.
"Go on, let everyone check your stomach. Or do you have something to hide?"
The accusation sent a ripple of unease through the room. Takahashi froze, his mask of composure slipping.
"What?! That's ridiculous!" he stammered, his voice wavering.
Everyone's attention snapped to Takahashi's stomach, their gazes heavy with suspicion.
"T-Takahashi…" Ayako stepped forward hesitantly, her smile strained as she tried to diffuse the situation. "Surely Bartolomeo-san is just joking, right?"
But before she could say more, the two other men in the room exchanged a glance. Without a word, they positioned themselves to block Takahashi's escape route.
And then it happened.
With a sickening thud, Takahashi suddenly dropped to his knees.
From beneath his shirt, something round and heavy tumbled out of his stomach and came to a stop, wedged between the staircase railings.
The room filled with gasps of horror as everyone recognized the object.
It was the severed head of Chikako Ikeda.
Blood still oozed from the jagged incision, dripping steadily onto the carpet below.
"AAAAHHHHH!"
The girls screamed, recoiling in terror, while the two men went pale.
Conan, still standing nearby, clenched his fists, his face grim.
It didn't take long for Takahashi to break. Amid sobs and stammers, he confessed to the murder, his voice trembling as he recounted the details.
Two years ago, Chikako Ikeda had plagiarized the work of Takahashi's late friend, Atsuko Tokumoto. Consumed by grief and anger, Takahashi had meticulously planned his revenge, creating the macabre puppet to stage her death as the work of a deranged killer.
But before his plan could fully unfold, Bartolomeo had exposed him.
Now, stripped of his confidence, Takahashi slumped to the floor, defeated. His face was that of a man who had gambled everything and lost.
The two men cautiously approached him, a bundle of rope in hand.
"Takahashi…" one of them began, his voice awkward but firm. "We—we're sorry about what happened to Atsuko, but for everyone's safety, we need to restrain you."
Takahashi, too broken to resist, nodded weakly and allowed them to tie him up.
For a moment, silence enveloped the room, thick and oppressive.
The only sound was the rhythmic crunching and swallowing as Bartolomeo continued to eat, completely unbothered by the grim turn of events.
"..."
The inappropriate sound of chewing drew everyone's attention.
Bartolomeo glanced up, wiping his mouth casually.
"What?" he asked, his tone light and unbothered.
The room remained silent, everyone too stunned to respond.
As all eyes turned toward Bartolomeo, his hands, which were reaching for vegetables, paused for a moment. Then, with a sly smirk, he said, "Now that the murderer's been caught, can we finally start dinner? Haha..."
"..."
"..."
The room fell silent, leaving everyone speechless.
Even Takahashi Ryoichi, the murderer who had just been exposed, furrowed his brow in frustration. He couldn't help but feel indignant. Was this how it ended? His meticulously planned crime, unraveled by a guy like this?
The others alternated their gazes between the severed head of Chikako Ikeda, still lodged in the gap of the stair railings with blood dripping steadily, and Bartolomeo, who continued to eat with unbridled enthusiasm.
They wanted to ask him: How can you possibly eat at a time like this?
But...
Bartolomeo didn't care.
Seeing that no one else was responding, he simply added another generous portion of meat to his plate and quipped, "If none of you want to eat, I'll help myself!"
And he did just that.
As for the gruesome severed head?
What a joke.
For someone like Bartolomeo, who had weathered far worse sights and situations, this little display was nothing. It would take far more than that to ruin his appetite.
The others exchanged bewildered looks. In their eyes, Bartolomeo had become a figure of intrigue—marked as "weird" in the unspoken consensus of the room.
Fortunately, one person seemed entirely unfazed by Bartolomeo's peculiar behavior.
To Sonoko, beauty was in the eye of the beholder.
Watching Bartolomeo devour his food without a care in the world, she leaned toward Ran, nudging her with a smug grin.
"So, Ran," Sonoko said with a flourish, "what do you think of Bartolomeo-san? Isn't he way better than your Shinichi?"
"Wha—! What does that have to do with anything?" Ran's cheeks flushed a deep pink as she tried to stammer out a response.
But as her gaze shifted toward Bartolomeo, her thoughts betrayed her. Solving a murder case in less than a minute, and without letting his food go cold?
Ran had to admit... Bartolomeo might actually be a little better than Shinichi.
After all, whenever she and Shinichi went out to eat, he would inevitably stumble upon a case. By the time he returned after solving it, the restaurant would have long since closed.
"Hehe," Sonoko chuckled mischievously, relishing Ran's embarrassed silence. She ignored her flustered friend, sauntering confidently over to Bartolomeo.
"Bartolomeo-san, you're incredible!" Sonoko declared with admiration. "The way you solve cases is so much faster than those so-called 'famous detectives!' If you opened a detective agency, I'm sure you'd make a fortune!"
"Hmm? A detective agency?"
Bartolomeo's eyes sparkled with sudden interest as he looked at Sonoko. A thoughtful smile tugged at his lips.
"That does sound... fun," he murmured.
A detective agency...
The idea began to take shape in Bartolomeo's mind. He was bored to death in this unfamiliar world anyway. Why not make the most of it? Opening a detective agency would give him something to do, a way to earn money, and—best of all—it would allow him to move out of the Suzuki estate.
Not to mention...
There was that famous detective kid, Shinichi Kudo. Bartolomeo could use this as an opportunity to discipline the brat and show him what true detective work looked like.
Yes, this was a good idea. A very good idea!
Bartolomeo nodded, his decision made.
But just as the thought solidified in his mind—
BAM!
The villa door swung open with a loud crash.
Conan burst in, his small frame drenched in sweat. He was panting heavily, his voice urgent.
"No... this isn't good!" Conan gasped. "There's a dismembered corpse in the forest! Ran, call the police—quickly!"
"Huh?"
Conan's frantic eyes darted across the room, landing on the scene before him: Chikako Ikeda's severed head stuck in the stair railing, blood pooling beneath it, and Takahashi Ryoichi, bound and sitting dejectedly nearby.
He froze, his breath catching in his throat.
Conan stood at the door, wide-eyed and stunned into silence.
...
...
In Beika Town, a shop quietly opened its doors, bearing a modest sign: Barto Detective Agency.
At the entrance of the detective agency, Ran and Sonoko stood with flower baskets in hand, smiling warmly as they congratulated the owner.
"Congratulations, Bartolomeo-san, on the grand opening of your detective agency!"
"Ahahaha, thank you, thank you," Bartolomeo replied cheerfully.
Handling the flower baskets with an air of novelty, he ushered the two young women inside with a smile. "Although, to be honest," he remarked, "the agency may not see any clients in the short term."
"It's alright, Bartolomeo-san," Sonoko reassured him with a confident tone. "In a few days, once the police close the case on that recent dismemberment, the story will hit the newspapers."
Her enthusiasm grew as she continued, "I've already spoken to my family and some contacts at the papers. They'll mention your detective agency's address when the article is published. I'm sure plenty of people will be lining up here in no time!"
"Thank you, Sonoko," Bartolomeo replied with a chuckle as he leaned back on the sofa, coffee in hand.
Sonoko, her cheeks flushing pink, shyly lowered her gaze and fidgeted with her fingers. "What are you saying, Bartolomeo-san?" she murmured.
It was clear to anyone watching: Sonoko was smitten. Love, as they say, can lower one's IQ—and Sonoko, who wasn't the sharpest to begin with, was utterly infatuated.
Fortunately for her, Bartolomeo wasn't the type to toy with others' feelings. In fact, he had already decided that if he stayed in this world for an extended period and their relationship deepened, he would apply to Sir Leo to take ownership of this dimension.
When Leo fully comprehends the laws of this world, this will be just an E-level world of little value.
The world classified as E-level—has little value to the Transdimensional Chamber of Commerce, Sir Leo, or even Bartolomeo himself, a dimensional investigator, it means nothing.
For now, though, Sonoko was the one funding Bartolomeo's endeavors. But once she succeeds in keeping him, what she can get will definitely be beyond everyone's imagination!!!
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Bartolomeo saw Ran and Sonoko off.
About half an hour later, an antique yellow Beetle pulled up in front of the detective agency.
Dr. Agasa stepped out, his gaze wary as he stared at the agency's door as though it concealed some abyssal beast.
Conan exited the passenger side, suitcase in hand, and approached the entrance slowly.
"Shinichi," Dr. Agasa called out hesitantly, "are you sure about this? Trusting that mysterious man... I can't shake the feeling that he's bad news."
Though he wasn't Conan's guardian, Agasa had watched Shinichi grow up. Seeing the boy now, willingly walking into the unknown, filled him with unease.
After all, who could possibly know so much about the Black Organization? Who else could identify Conan as Kudo Shinichi with just a glance?
Conan took a deep breath, his expression resolute. "Don't worry, Doctor. I don't think he's a bad person. At the very least, he doesn't mean me any harm."
He paused before adding, "By working with him, I can uncover more about the Black Organization—and maybe even figure out who he really is."
"Besides," Conan continued, his voice lowering, "if anything happens to me, I need you to tell the police and my dad everything that's occurred. They'll know what to do."
At that moment, a voice cut through their conversation:
"Hello? Isn't it a bit rude to discuss countermeasures against me right outside my door? Am I that easy to ignore?"
Both Conan and Dr. Agasa froze as Bartolomeo's voice rang out from a second-story window.
The green-haired man leaned out, smirking as he called down, "Get up here already, kid. You've had a week to rest, and now you want to take on the Black Organization? Time's wasting."
Conan exchanged a brief, sheepish glance with Dr. Agasa before heading into the building.
As the boy climbed the stairs, Bartolomeo greeted him with a grin. "Good to see you're here, kid."
"Thanks," Conan replied. "You promised me that once I moved in, you'd tell me how to deal with the Black Organization. So, what's the plan?"
"Not so fast," Bartolomeo said with a laugh, his eyes glinting as he studied the small figure before him.
Despite appearances, Bartolomeo wasn't harboring sinister intentions. Rather, he had noticed something remarkable about Conan: the boy possessed an item capable of gathering substantial amounts of this world's origin power—a rare trait, even in this E-level dimension.
The realization intrigued Bartolomeo, and further investigation into Conan's identity confirmed his suspicions: this was no ordinary child. As the will of the world's favored, Conan was a key figure, perhaps even the key figure, in this reality.
For Bartolomeo, a dimensional investigator with time to spare, training this exceptional boy was a tempting challenge. Who knew? Conan might even prove useful in the future.
And so, with an amused grin, Bartolomeo decided to occupy himself by shaping the destiny of this world's chosen.