Chapter 34: My Librarian is the Grim Reaper

Page (1/3)

The Hell Gallery.

In the dim light, time dragged by one second at a time.

Curator Ochiai stood among the other mannequin statues, dressed in armor and resting both hands on a longsword. Every moment felt like a year; everything moved unbearably slowly.

He had rehearsed today’s murder plan again and again. He was determined to inflict a demonic punishment upon Manaka.

“Whew!”

The appointed time soon arrived. Ochiai was drenched in sweat, yet Manaka was nowhere to be seen.

There was not even the slightest sound of footsteps outside the gallery.

“What’s going on? Has the time not come yet?”

Ochiai’s arm trembled slightly. His eyes widened, and as he turned his head, he suddenly noticed the display table beside him within his narrow field of vision.

A label lay face down beneath an employee’s pen, as though something had been written on it.

It was the prop he had originally planned to use to frame Kubota.

How could this be…

…

The museum lobby.

It was nearly half past four in the afternoon.

Gao Mo intercepted Manaka, who was on his way to their appointment with his hands clasped behind his back.

“What do you want?” Manaka demanded with a frown. “If this is about a wage dispute, take it up with your curator.”

“You arranged to meet our curator, didn’t you?” Gao Mo said calmly. “He suddenly had an urgent matter and had to leave. He asked me to tell you that you should discuss it another day.”

“What?” Manaka flew into a rage. “That old bastard is playing me? Does he have any idea how valuable my time is?”

Gao Mo watched Manaka storm away, cursing under his breath. At the end, he glanced back once at the Hell Gallery, then returned to the staff room and changed into his own trench coat.

“Kido, that irritating Manaka has finally left.” Kogoro Mouri came back from outside after smoking a cigarette. When he saw Gao Mo’s change of clothes, he was once again stunned. “It isn’t closing time yet, is it? What are you…”

“I’m leaving.” Gao Mo patted the mustached man on the shoulder. “Pretend you never saw me. Don’t even know I was here. And don’t let your mouth run wild like last time… People could die.”

“Huh?”

The mustached man stood at the museum entrance like a stunned chicken, unable to make head or tail of it. By the time he came to his senses, Gao Mo had already climbed into a taxi by the roadside.

“What was that supposed to mean? Was this guy really here just to work?”

It had been the same at the Hatamoto household.

He was only taking a temporary job, yet he had gone so far as to disguise himself and use an alias.

What on earth was he afraid of?

“Whew!”

Halfway there, Gao Mo got out of the taxi, tore off his false beard, and casually tossed it, along with his gloves, into a recycling bin in the park.

For the moment, he had sensed no death. He had no idea how things would develop from here.

This was all he could do.

After interfering in a case, he had to leave the scene as quickly as possible and sever himself from his assumed identity to the greatest extent possible—assuming his analysis of the rules was entirely correct.

Page (1/3)

Page (2/3)

“Beep!”

Cars streamed past outside the park while pedestrians hurried along the roadside.

Crying, laughter, shouts, curses…

The countless scenes of street life mingled with the wind and the noise of passing vehicles, as though another ending theme from Detective Conan had begun to play.

The difference was that, compared with the apartment incident last time, this one felt much more carefree.

“Whoosh!”

Gao Mo’s trench-coated figure seemed to dissolve into the crowd like a drop of water. Compared with everyone else, he carried a few more traces of composure.

He was in no hurry to go anywhere. With both hands in his pockets, he simply followed the crowd at an unhurried pace, his Eagle-Eye Vision passively observing everything around him.

Judging by the nature of the death rules, the more crowded a place was, the safer it became—at least for someone like him, who possessed Eagle-Eye Vision and Death Sense.

He had no need to worry about some absurd accident occurring.

…

The museum, Hell Gallery.

Manaka still had not appeared. Ochiai’s entire body trembled faintly as cold sweat poured down his face. Moving in his armor, he carefully picked up the label from the display stand.

“Curator Ochiai, if divine retribution truly exists in this world, then a knight need not stain himself with a demon’s blood.

Please think of another way to preserve the museum. Your devoted heart must not be defiled.”

“Whoosh!”

The instant Ochiai finished reading, the label flew up without any wind. As a mysterious book emblem flared with light and then drew inward, the paper spontaneously caught fire, turning into flakes of ash that dissolved before the enormous painting Divine Retribution.

“What is this?”

The old man’s beard trembled.

After living so many years, this was the first time he had ever encountered something like it.

The moment the label flew away, some kind of force seemed to act upon him—a death threat beyond comprehension.

It was as though a mortal had tried to gaze directly into the abyss, to stand face-to-face with a god…

“Does divine retribution truly exist?” The old man’s mouth and tongue had gone dry. He removed his helmet, then suddenly thought of something and turned back toward the employee’s pen left on the display stand.

“Curator!”

Iijima hurried into the Hell Gallery. Too agitated to pay attention to Ochiai’s armor, he called out angrily, “That fellow Kurosaki has vanished without a trace! I’ve searched everywhere and can’t find him! I knew Kubota’s man couldn’t be trusted!”

“Kurosaki?”

The knight’s sword slipped from Ochiai’s hand and struck the floor with a crisp clang. After a long silence, two streams of hot tears ran down his face as he looked up once more at the enormous painting Divine Retribution.

“Curator?”

“It’s nothing. Leave me alone for a while.”

…

Night fell.

Kubota emerged from a pachinko parlor with a thoroughly miserable expression and savagely kicked a stray cat by the roadside.

Manaka had been pressing him hard, so he had gone there to try his luck. Instead, he had lost every last bit of his money.

At this rate, he would never gather enough to pay the compensation…

Kubota’s eyes shifted as he thought, and a trace of danger flickered across his withered face.

Page (2/3)

Page (3/3)

Although he had sent an invitation, he actually had no idea who Gao Mo was—his understanding was limited to the fact that the man had accepted a bribe.

He assumed Gao Mo had set his sights on the valuable items in the museum, just as he had.

“Why else would he come work at the museum at a time like this?” The more Kubota thought about it, the more convinced he became. “If I pin all the crimes on Kurosaki… I need to drag Gao Mo into it too…”

“Screech!”

A sharp shriek of tires against asphalt interrupted Kubota’s thoughts.

He turned his head.

The vehicle’s headlights illuminated his entire figure.

…

The high-rise apartment building.

Gao Mo returned from the park. He remained on guard the entire way, yet Death Sense never triggered.

“Has the Grim Reaper not appeared, or…”

Unsure whether he had succeeded, Gao Mo still did not dare relax. He stood outside the elevator for a while, then hesitantly shifted his gaze toward the stairs.

The sixteenth floor…

The dreadful memory of climbing the stairs last time surged back into his mind. He had seriously underestimated how terrifying sixteen floors could be.

He had nearly lost half his life.

He truly did not want to go through that again.

But taking the elevator now was somewhat…

Thinking of Yoko’s former boyfriend, who had died horribly because of an elevator, Gao Mo instinctively took a step back.

“Mr. Kido?”

Rei Furuya returned from the convenience store carrying a pile of sweets and pastries. He looked curiously at Gao Mo, who was pacing outside the elevator.

“Aren’t you going up?”

“Amuro…”

Gao Mo came back to himself from the life-or-death dilemma of taking the elevator or climbing the stairs. He had been considering finding a hotel outside for the night, but the moment he saw Rei Furuya, his eyes lit up.

No need to waste money staying elsewhere.

This man was a bodyguard on a godlike level.

Regardless of how many faces he had, what lay hidden beneath his gentle exterior, or what he thought of Gao Mo, he was a guarantee of safety for now.

“Would you like to come sit at my place for a while?” Rei Furuya invited him with a smile. “I’ve been studying cooking lately.”

“Then I’ll be imposing on you.”

Gao Mo secretly let out a sigh of relief and followed Rei Furuya into the elevator.

Suddenly, a string of glowing words appeared in his vision at precisely the right moment.

“Mission Drawn — Curator Ochiai: Save the Museum”

Page (3/3)