Conan silently watched Ai Haibara before him, his suspicions confirmed.
He believed Haibara definitely knew Vermouth.
Otherwise, Vermouth would not have used such a tactic to lure Haibara in.
Nor would Haibara have taken the bait so easily.
Still, there was nothing he could do about it.
Haibara was a secretive sort.
She was always jumpy, constantly said strange things, and rarely mentioned anything related to the Organization.
Take Vermouth this time, for example.
If he had not deduced it, ordinary people would have found it hard to imagine that connection.
As he pondered this, Conan sighed helplessly and asked Ai Haibara again, "So no matter what, you're going to do things your way?"
"I..."
Ai Haibara thought for a moment, just about to say something.
But before she could speak, a silvery object pierced her neck.
She froze.
When she came back to her senses, she realized Conan had fired an anesthetic needle at her!
Ai Haibara's eyes went blank as she stared stupidly at Conan.
Seriously, man, did you have no casting wind-up at all?
I wasn't even done talking yet!
As a wave of dizziness washed over her mind, Ai Haibara's thoughts gradually stiffened.
Then, with a thump, she collapsed face-first onto the sofa.
And fell into a sweet slumber.
After firing countless anesthetic needles, Conan had developed superb marksmanship. With preparation in advance, he could even eliminate the wind-up of opening his watch cover—zero-frame start, straight for the neck.
This was a special technique unique to veteran marksmen.
Click!
Conan looked at Haibara lying on the sofa, closed the cover of his watch, and said solemnly, "Sorry, Haibara. I can't just stand by and watch you run off to your death... Besides, how could something like facing the Organization head-on be left to you?"
"Hey,