The questions in Conan's mind grew wildly as he repeatedly recalled the speed at which his group had been walking, why he had fallen behind, the route taken by the suspicious passerby who had nearly been struck, when he had noticed the cushioning materials piled by the shop entrance, and the movements of the still-unknown culprit...
Variables piled on top of variables, so numerous they made his head spin. And this was only one case—if the earlier incident of someone dropping things on people was added in...
Countless clues tangled into a knot in Conan's mind. Feeling the wind sweeping over the rooftop, he slowly broke out in a cold sweat at the temples: considering everything, such manipulation did not seem entirely impossible. But every link involved enormous elements of chance. To achieve the current result so precisely would be unimaginably difficult.
In fact, compared with the possibility that "someone was manipulating things," Conan's deductions made these incidents seem more like nothing but a string of accidents piling up.
Yet those "accidents" were too coincidental to be believed, as though a hand truly lurked behind them, casually stirring events into motion.
And if this series of cases really had been orchestrated by someone...
Conan slowly drew a breath and clenched his fists. He had dealt with the Organization for so long, "running into" dangerous people who blew up cars, buildings, and bridges, and had never feared any of them. Yet now, a faint fear surfaced in his heart—this mysterious new executive gave him an elusive, untouchable, unbeatable feeling.
But fear was not the same as cowardice. Soon, Conan began to feel excited instead. ...I can't admit defeat this early!
—Even if such an executive really existed, one who could manipulate cases at will... mystery and fear both came from the