Vodka endured the police's suspicious stares, letting out an indescribable cry in his heart.
He seriously considered the possibility of breaking out of the encirclement like Spider-Man and escaping through a window. Then, regretfully, he realized that he didn't seem to have that kind of agility.
In the end, ordinary Mr. Yamada skillfully chose to endure.
Look on the bright side. Even if this exposes my real face, they'll only get one look at it. They won't take a picture.
Vodka could only feel the mysterious image of his organization being forcibly shattered bit by bit. He tried to comfort himself: Besides, Big Brother didn't wear sunglasses either. He wasn't even afraid of leaving traces by shedding hair. What does that mean? It means real powerhouses don't need to care about such details. Showing your face doesn't mean they can catch you by the tail.
Thinking this, Vodka walked into the ward with a tragic expression and took off his sunglasses in front of the woman on the hospital bed.
"!" Conan hadn't expected to gain something like this today. He hurried forward, wanting to see the man's true face without the sunglasses... but by the time he squeezed through the narrow ward doorway and rushed to the bedside, Vodka had already swiftly pushed the sunglasses back up.
Conan: "..."
He turned to look at the woman on the bed: "..." Hurry, say you didn't see clearly and ask to see him again!
Yet all he saw was the woman's slightly shocked expression. A second later, Sakihara Megumi came back to her senses. Looking at the police, she said with certainty, "It wasn't him."
Conan: "..."
...So what does this guy even look like?! Let me see!
He wanted to shout out such a request, but worried that it would