A group of reporters saw the appearance of Ginzo Nakamori, the 'pioneer in catching monster thieves', and pestered Ginzo Nakamori for an interview.
"Officer Nakamori, are the defenses here perfect?"
"Why did Kidd, who only aimed at gems, suddenly start stealing paintings?"
"There are rumors that the notice letter is fake. What do you think..."
When Ginzo Nakamori had the word "well" on his forehead and was about to roar, a young man's cold voice came from behind the crowd.
"Sorry, everyone, can you let us go first?"
The reporters turned their heads, looked back, and became quiet.
"I don't like being surrounded by people taking pictures," Chi Feichi walked into the crowd with Hui Yuan Ai and Mao Lilan and said calmly, "Please don't take pictures."
Since the development of THK Company, it is almost a dominant presence in the Japanese entertainment industry. It has dealings with various newspapers and TV stations. Even if you have never met him, you should have heard of him.
If it's a red carpet at the entrance of a large-scale event, since there are many celebrities there, it's not convenient for him to get privileges. He would either avoid it by himself, or say hello to the newspaper or TV station afterwards. But they are the only ones here, and he
Just say it when you come over.
Today is not the event site of THK Company, and in the incident related to Kaitou Kidd, he is like an idle spectator watching the excitement. These reporters are not interested in photographing him and will not deny him face.
Reporters along the road moved out of the way one after another, and indeed no photos were taken.
"Feichi, are you here too?" Nakamori Gin stared at Chi Feichi approaching with his three-and-a-half-moon eyes, and roared angrily again, "Why are you coming to join in the fun? I wonder if Kaitou Kidd might disguise himself as a related person?"
Come in? With so many people coming, how can we, the police, investigate?!"
"I'm sorry to have caused you any trouble. I'll visit your home another day when I'm free."
After Chi Feichi calmly spoke to Nakamori Ginzo, seeing the reporters in front of him, he also moved out of the way and continued to walk towards the door.
Standard - 'You get angry, I'll keep mine calm, and if you blink, I'll lose'.
When Conan saw the reporter, he got out of the way, and took the opportunity to run after Chi Feichi, "Brother Chi, wait for me!"
Nakamori Ginzo choked for a long time, then approached Mouri Kogoro and lowered his voice and complained, "Mouri, how do you usually tolerate your apprentice's character?"
Mouri Kogoro was also a little speechless, muttering in a low voice, "How do I know..."
Nakamori Ginzo and Mouri Kogoro couldn't just run away like children. They dealt with the reporters' questions for a while before slipping in and shutting the reporters out. They all responded in unison and breathed a sigh of relief.
"May I ask Mr. Oikawa..."
Just as Mouri Kogoro turned around and asked about Nakamori Ginzo, footsteps came from upstairs.
A middle-aged man with a square face and a mustache came downstairs, walked up quickly, and enthusiastically stretched out his hands to shake hands with Kogoro Mori, "Mr. Mori, I have been waiting for you for a long time. I am Oikawa Burai!"
"Ah, hello!" Maori Kogoro smiled and turned to look at Chi Feichi, Mao Lilan, Conan, and Haibara Ai who were coming from the door. "Is it really okay? Bring my daughter and apprentice over here..."
Mao Lilan said hurriedly, "If it will hinder you, I will just take the children to the car and wait."
"It's okay. I trust Detective Mori very much. Also, this little brother is very close to the Phantom Thief." Oikawa Burai knelt down, smiled and reached out to touch the top of Conan's head, then stood up and walked towards the stairs, "Okay
Come on, let me take you to the studio where "Qing Lan" is displayed. Come on, please..."
In front of the stairs, an elderly man came towards Oikawa Wurai. When he arrived in front of Oikawa Wurai, he said seriously, "Wurai, I have something to tell you..."
"I'm sorry, can you wait a moment? Father." Oikawa Takerai turned around and said without stopping.
The old man was stunned for a moment, "Ah, good..."
Mouri Kogoro followed Oikawa Burai and asked in a low voice, "Is that your father?"
"Yes, he is my wife's father," Oikawa Takerai said, "He is also my teacher Kanbaru Haruhito..."
"Mr. Haruhito, the master of landscape painting," Chi Feichi looked back at Kanbara Haruhito and said softly, "his representative works include large-scale landscape paintings such as "Evening Cherry Blossoms" and "Green Fields", but he suddenly stopped painting ten years ago."
Behind him, Kanbaru Haruhito also looked at Chi Feichi with a bit of confusion in his eyes.
Those eyes...
That's right, even though he has grown taller with age and his facial features have become deeper and clearer, eyes that look like rich purple ink are rare.
But those eyes were indifferent and gave him a very strange feeling. Could he be the boy from back then?
More than ten years ago, one of his paintings was destroyed right after the auction.
The person who burned the painting was a seven or eight-year-old boy with purple eyes.
Looking back now, the air seems to be filled with the strange smell of burnt paint and paper, and he seems to have returned to that day.
Fifteen years ago, his daughter encountered a tornado while traveling overseas. Although she survived, she was seriously injured and became a comatose vegetative state, requiring a large amount of medical expenses. At that time, Oikawa had just become famous.
During those few years, he successively put up for auction some paintings that he had not been willing to buy before.
That must have been the third year after the auction started, and he remembered it clearly.
What he sent for auction was a painting of a wooden house, a jungle, and a garden. The scenery was beautiful, and the tones were soft and bright. In the painting, his long-dead wife was holding her daughter and spinning around in the garden. He, who was still young, stood aside and laughed.
The title of the painting is "Home".
Because although the painting was not a pure landscape painting, it was his and his daughter's favorite. When it was sent for auction, he was heartbroken to sell this beautiful memory, but at the same time comforted himself that paintings must be appreciated by others.
It would not be so uncomfortable to exchange for his daughter's medical expenses or to let his daughter lie down. Even if it just helps his daughter relieve a little pain, his deceased wife must be willing to support his choice. At the same time, he is vaguely worried about his reputation as a "landscape painting master"
Because of this, other people will not value the impure painting high and it will not be sold at a high price.
With that contradictory and painful feeling, he couldn't stay in the auction venue until he heard the staff in the back lounge telling him that the painting had been sold for a price that exceeded his psychological expectations.
, he breathed a sigh of relief, and before the auction was completely over, he went to settle the money he deserved with the auction host early, planning to leave through the back door and go home early.
When he learned that the painting had been sold, he was not as relaxed as he imagined. He was always worried that he would regret it when he saw the painting again, and he was unwilling to accept it...
It had just darkened at that time, and it was very quiet at the back door of the auction venue. When he opened the door, he saw a small figure reflected in the light of fire on the roadside. When he walked over curiously, he felt as if his brain had been exploded.
The bomb exploded with a bang, and everything went blank for an instant.
In the wooden box on the ground, flames were like tongues, greedily licking the painting in his hand. It had already burned his wife to the point where his daughter was still a small figure at that time, and the black smoke covered the wooden house and garden on the painting.
It was scorched black, the bright sunshine seemed to be covered with a layer of dust, and the black stain on the blue sky was like a huge seducer.
In the painting, he is standing aside and smiling in the firelight, his face covered in darkness and distorted, as if he was in a furious mood at that time.
'What are you doing? Why are you doing this!'
He didn't know if his expression at that time was as twisted with anger as the one in the painting. He only remembered that his mind went blank. When he came to his senses, he had already rushed in front of the boy and held his shoulders with both hands.
What came into view was the boy's tight lips and complex eyes that had not yet been replaced by surprise.
Those purple eyes reflected the firelight, as if there was a hint of dark red hidden deep inside.
Different from the indifference when he turned around just now, the purple eyes he saw at that time were entangled with strong sadness and resentment, and they were as painful as evil ghosts crawling out of hell. After he asked the question, those emotions
Still focused in the eyes, it was slowly replaced by shock...
It was just that he didn't have the intention to think too much at that time, and there was a roar in his mind. For a while, he thought of his wife who died young, and for a while he thought of his daughter who was once full of vitality and was now lying on the hospital bed gasping for air.
He was destroyed in the fire, and the words he spoke did not pass through his mind.
'Why did you destroy it? You annoying little devil... No, you are the devil! The devil!'
He saw with his own eyes that the shock in the boy's eyes slowly dissipated. While pretending to be calm, he seemed to be a little uneasy and hurt, but he answered him in a relaxed tone.
'Because of jealousy...'
When his brain was slow to think about what 'because of jealousy' meant, the boy looked at him with a strange look.
'You seem to be in pain?'
…
"That's right. He started suffering from hand pain ten years ago and can no longer draw..."
As Oikawa Murai explained, a group of people also disappeared into the stairwell.
"Sir, do you know my father?"
"Many years ago, I was lucky enough to meet Mr. Qingren at an auction."
Kanbara Haruhito came back to his senses, looked at the empty wooden stairs, sighed deeply, and used his left hand to press the right wrist of his right hand that started to tremble again.
In fact, from that day on, his hands began to tremble.
Every time he came back from his dream at midnight, the initial painful emotion in the boy's eyes would become more vivid. When he saw clearly what was reflected in those eyes, he looked like an evil ghost with a hideous and twisted face, speaking indiscriminately.
Saying words that hurt another's painful soul.
A little boy could see his pain, but he couldn't think more about the emotion in those eyes or the meaning of the sentence 'because of jealousy'.
What happened next?
He couldn't remember clearly, or even how he was separated from the boy. He only remembered that he stumbled home, his body mixed with mud stains and grass blades, and it was a mess.
He didn't dare to think about what he said or did later, and he came up blank even after thinking about it. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was too angry at the time, and his brain didn't remember it, or whether he selectively forgot it afterward, but he still felt deep in his heart.
She was filled with regret and fear, fearing that she might have done something bad to the child under impulse. She wanted to go to the police station to ask, but she couldn't let go of her unconscious daughter.
After that day, he could still eat and take things with his right hand, but he could no longer paint with his right hand. Whenever he stared at the canvas and picked up the brush, he would involuntarily think of what happened that night and a pair of purple eyes filled with pain.
Thinking of that childish face and thinking that he might have become the evil spirit in a child's heart, he could no longer hold his right hand steady.
After two years of painting, he failed to draw a decent work. After that, his right hand was so trembling that he couldn't even pick up the pen, so he simply gave up painting.
The boy had grown up and appeared in front of him again today. He had been glanced at with an indifferent gaze just now. He couldn't tell whether he felt more guilty and uncomfortable or more afraid, but he seemed to be a little relieved.
If that kid retaliates for those bastard words he said back then, he would probably feel better...