The Dendro Archon Buer
"So, Xia Yu-onee-san, have you ever heard the name Barbatos, the Anemo Archon?"
Conan looked up at Xia Yu's expression as he asked the question that had been sitting in his chest all this time. Did these Visions have some connection to faith, to worship?
Contrary to Conan's expectations — he'd figured she would either claim she didn't know or keep something back — Xia Yu answered in a thoroughly offhand tone. "Oh, sure I have. That's the name of the god Klee and Kaeya believe in, right? But it's not really anything important. Foreigners do tend to worship all sorts of strange gods, don't they?"
"Besides, I've never seen Kaeya and the others act especially reverent toward the god they're always talking about."
It was true — back when Paimon was calling Venti "the tone-deaf bard" to his face, Diluc and the others had never really objected. And judging from how Venti usually behaved in the tavern, it was hard to muster much reverence for him anyway.
Conan blinked blankly. How could that be?
He'd heard Klee say her Vision was a gift from the Anemo Archon, and since they all carried those Visions on their person, he'd assumed the things were precious to them — sure, Lisa and Xiangling had handed hers over to Ran without a second thought, but he'd chalked that up to a one-off, or to how much they trusted Ran. And now it turned out they didn't even care about the god who had supposedly granted them those Visions?
But if they didn't care, why carry them around at all? Were they just symbols? And handing them out to anyone who asked — weren't they afraid of losing one by accident?
Conan's thoughts were starting to tangle into knots.
Watching the blank look spread across Conan's face, Xia Yu was suddenly seized by the urge to tease him.
A mischievous smile crept over her lips, and with a hint of devilry she leaned in, playing at mystery. "Conan, let me tell you another little secret—"
Under his expectant, curious gaze, she murmured, "Nahida is actually a god too, you know. She's really Buer, the Dendro Archon..."
"Xia Yu-onee-san!!!"
Conan's first instinct was that Buer ranked tenth among the Seventy-Two Demon Gods of Solomon — and then the meaning of her words landed, and he shouted her name in mortified outrage.
Seriously, was it necessary to mess with me like that?
He'd admit Nahida wasn't exactly ordinary — she didn't quite act like a normal little kid — but calling her a god was going too far. Did Xia Yu really take him for a gullible child who'd swallow anything?
If Nahida were really some Dendro Archon, then he himself might as well be some kind of god too!
Had Xia Yu known what Conan was thinking at that moment, she would surely have answered him with cheerful certainty: "You are indeed a god — the God of Death, that is! Haha!"
Meanwhile, inside Dr. Araide's clinic.
"Dr. Araide" was busy with the work at hand when the phone at his side suddenly rang. He picked up, saw the familiar number on the screen, and a meaningful smile crossed his face.
"Dr. Araide" answered the call.
"Hello, Cointreau. What's got you calling me out of the blue? I went to all that trouble disguising you so you could go meet your princess at the Boss's old villa, and you never even told me how it went. And now, suddenly, you remember I exist?"
Cointreau ignored Vermouth's probing about his movements around Twilight Mansion and cut straight to his question. "I heard you've had Calvados come to Beika. What exactly are you planning?"
Vermouth gave a mock-surprised little laugh. "My, my, Cointreau — that doesn't sound like your usual style. Weren't you always the one too lazy to bother with this kind of thing? I suppose having someone you actually care about changes a man."
"Vermouth. Answer my question!"
"Fine, fine. It's nothing you can't know." Vermouth leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting to the photo pinned to the dartboard beside her, its face riddled with darts. "That woman the Boss asked me to find has finally turned up a lead, so I'm having Calvados come lend me a hand. Relax — I won't let anything touch your princess. When the time comes, I'll figure out a way to get her out of the area."
Yes — get her out, along with Angel and Cool Guy.
Vermouth glanced at the photo of Conan she kept beside the one of Mouri Ran and thought: To think Sherry's research could produce an effect like that. But that's exactly why Gin and the others can't be allowed anywhere near this. Once I've dealt with Sherry and destroyed every trace, Gin and his crew won't have much to say about it. As long as no one else learns APTX4869 has that function, Cool Guy will be that much safer.
"Is that so?" said Cointreau. "Then why not call on Gin and the others for help?"
"Gin isn't exactly guaranteed to follow my arrangements. Besides, I have my own reasons, and this is no longer any of your business. Don't worry — I'll have everything in place."
She couldn't let Cointreau get his hands too deep into this either. The two of them each held a knife at the other's throat now, but the fewer people who knew about Cool Guy, the better.
Even now, Vermouth couldn't be certain whether the reason Cointreau's face had barely aged a day was the same as her own secret.
"I see. Then good luck with your operation." With that, he hung up the phone.
Frankly, he didn't believe for a second that Vermouth's little operation would go the way she'd planned.
After the trip to Twilight Mansion — once he'd caught wind of the connection between Conan and Kudou Shinichi — he had made a point of looking into that child.
The results had genuinely opened his eyes. It felt as though, in the span of these past few months, the kid had lived through more than Cointreau himself had in his forty years. You could almost say the boy was never anywhere except at a crime scene, or on his way to one.
So that explains how Xia Yu kept stumbling onto cases so easily, piling all that extra work onto my plate. I never dreamed this was the reason.
And judging from what he'd observed at Twilight Mansion, that child was hardly the type to meekly follow anyone else's arrangements. And his little sister...
At the thought, Cointreau pressed a hand to his forehead, a headache blooming behind his eyes.
She wasn't exactly the settled, obedient type either!
Throw in certain friends of hers with formidable talents, and there was no telling what she might do.
It looked like he'd have to find a way to let her know about his ties to the Black Organization before Vermouth made her move. Surely then she'd have at least some hesitation when she acted.
Surely she would...
Really. I never wanted to tell her this so soon.