Jiang Xia glanced in the direction Takasugi Shinsei had left, then withdrew his gaze and pushed open the doors to the Mask Hall before him.
Beyond the doors was a brightly lit hall. Directly opposite, on the far wall, stood an identical set of doors.
At almost the same moment, those doors were pushed open as well—the Photographer, the baseball player, and the Fortune Teller entered.
The two groups met face-to-face and immediately understood: this room was probably located in the very center, linking the eastern and western sides.
The Mask Hall covered a vast area and resembled a small Museum. Display cases on both sides contained all manner of masks, while many more hung on the walls like Murals, ranging from ancient to modern and dazzling in variety.
As Conan wandered around, he suddenly noticed a remote control beside one of the cases.
He paused, then casually pressed the switch.
The next instant, curtains on the walls slid apart to either side, revealing thin cabinets behind them. The cabinets had several shelves, each lined with a row of ghastly white masks.
—Compared to the other meticulously designed masks in all sorts of styles, these hidden masks were terrifyingly monotonous. They seemed to be carved from thin wood and painted a uniform white. Eyeholes and mouthholes had been cut into them; their eyes curved downward, while their mouths hooked sharply upward. Like Ghost faces plastered across the walls, they stared sinisterly at everyone in the hall.
Even one such mask would have made people uncomfortable, but now these masks filled both walls in overwhelming numbers.
Feeling as though she were being watched by hundreds of monsters, Mouri Ran staggered back two steps. She barely stopped herself from kicking one in fright. "What are these?!"
A kind, benevolent laugh came from