Mondstadt Division Head — Venti
After lunch, Amuro Tooru showed no sign of leaving.
Knowing that Mouri Kogoro had an appointment with a client that afternoon, and with no work of his own to do, he cheerfully offered to tag along and "observe and learn."
And so the group headed off together to the new address the client had sent in a follow-up text message, where they settled in to wait.
They waited, and waited. The client never showed.
Left with no other choice, they trudged back to the Mouri Detective Agency.
Once there, by piecing together a trail of subtle clues, both Amuro Tooru and Edogawa Conan realized that an outsider was hiding somewhere inside the office.
Then a gunshot rang out. In the bathroom they found a man slumped on the toilet, apparently dead from a self-inflicted shot — and a woman bound with tape.
When Inspector Megure arrived, they learned the woman's name was Kenzuka Kei, and she claimed to be Mouri Kogoro's client for this case, having hired him to trace the origins of a certain coin locker key. The dead man, meanwhile, was connected to the bank robbery four days earlier.
By the time they'd finished sorting through the situation, the hour had grown late, and Amuro offered to drive Miss Kenzuka home.
Somehow or other, the three Mouris ended up piling into Amuro's Mazda along with her.
Meanwhile, Venti — who had only just arrived in this world not long ago — stepped out of his hotel and looked around at his surroundings with eager, sparkling eyes.
He was positively giddy about this new world, and no wonder: did it not mean there were countless wines and spirits he had never tasted before?
So, after securing some "operating funds" generously sponsored by the young master Diluc, Venti had bolted out of the hotel at the first opportunity, determined to pick a bar at random and start spending.
He wandered about until he spotted a bar that looked promising, stopped, and strolled inside.
"Excuse me — one of your best cocktails, please!" Venti bounded up to the counter and addressed the bartender cheerfully.
The bartender glanced at the youthful boy perched at the bar, gazing at him with such hopeful anticipation, then turned back to polishing his glass. "Sorry, we don't serve alcohol to minors."
"But I'm not a minor! Don't let the baby face fool you — I came of age eight hundred years ago."
"Uh-huh. I've heard that exact line a few hundred times. Every underage kid who walks in here says it." The bartender remained unmoved.
"Honestly, you people..."
Defeated, Venti spun on his stool and looked around the room, hunting for someone — anyone — he could charm into buying him a drink. Surely even that stubborn bartender couldn't refuse then.
As luck would have it, a figure just slipping through the bar's entrance caught his attention.
It was Glenlivet — the Wanderer — who had just finished a job and come out with Gin, Vodka, and Kir, their watched captive, for a little relaxation. He was stepping through the door when Venti spotted him.
"Vodka, you take forever to park. I've been standing out here waiting for ages," Glenlivet (the Wanderer) said.
Vodka held it in for a moment, but couldn't help snapping back. "There's a crowd around this bar, and it didn't even take me that long."
"He's right, you know. Besides, Glenlivet — you couldn't order a drink in here without us. Maybe watch your tone," Kir added, unable to hold back her support for Vodka.
Under the terms of Glenlivet's (the Wanderer's) threats, theirs was technically a cooperative arrangement — Kir really shouldn't have been crossing him.
But she simply couldn't stomach that mouth of his anymore. The venom in his words was one thing; worse was how he never cared whether she lived or died. When Gin grew suspicious of her, not only did he fail to help — he'd thrown oil on the fire.
If it weren't for Mizunashi Rena's safety, there were moments when Kir felt genuinely tempted to throw the whole partnership in his face.
When it came to the actual arrangement, she could do nothing against Glenlivet (the Wanderer). But little squabbles like this? These she could indulge in — she wasn't about to let him have an easy time of it.
Glenlivet (the Wanderer) glanced sideways at Kir, who seemed to be growing more irritable by the day, and was just about to tell her to watch her mouth when he felt it — an intensely eager gaze fixed on him. Warily, he turned his head.
And there he saw a young man beaming at him and waving as though he'd just glimpsed a savior descending from heaven. Glenlivet nearly turned right around and walked out.
Gin, who had been straining to tune out the bickering of the members around him, went abruptly, sharply alert.
His hawk-like eyes caught it in an instant — a faint, almost imperceptible irregularity in Glenlivet's (the Wanderer's) bearing. The Wanderer's brow had drawn down slightly, his gaze locked on some fixed point, as if something there had seized his attention.
Seeing this, Gin instinctively lowered his own eyes and followed that line of sight — to a boy with a warm, friendly smile, waving at their group.
Gin's brow furrowed. "Glenlivet. You know him?"
Vodka and Kir both sensed something was off, and the bickering stopped cold.
Glenlivet (the Wanderer) looked away and let out a cold snort. "Heh. Know him? How could I not. He once got kicked across the room by my former colleague — a lady, at that."
Then, as if remembering something, he added, "Oh, right — and he's also Venti, head of the Mondstadt division, one of the seven great divisions of that famous Teyvat Syndicate."