"This..."
The hotel staff looked toward Room 2004, somewhat hesitant—though they were relatives coming to visit, opening a guest's room door without permission didn't seem right.
But then he remembered that the "do not disturb" sign had been hanging on that door for quite some time. What if the guest inside really did have some underlying medical condition...
After hesitating for a moment, the hotel staff ultimately took out the Master Key and opened the door for them.
Once the group entered the room, the staff member immediately shut the door and withdrew. This was what that kid had asked for. If the guest was dissatisfied... then please feel free to spank his bottom. It had nothing to do with the hotel.
The door clicked shut.
The Clients who had entered wore satisfied smiles.
The Stylish Young Man patted Conan's head and praised, "You're really clever, little brother."
The Mediterranean man swept his gaze across the room, and his eyes soon stopped at one spot. "There! That bastard—we've been looking for him until our hair was practically falling out, and he still has the nerve to lie there sleeping at the desk."
As he spoke, the three Clients strode over aggressively. "Mr. Itakura, wake up. It's time to work."
Itakura Suguru lay sprawled over the desk, completely motionless.
Looking at the guy pretending to sleep, the Clients' temples twitched. They reached out and gave him a shove.
With that hard push, the person slumped over the desk stiffly tilted to one side. He finally lost his balance and thudded onto the floor.
As he fell, his face was suddenly exposed—a painfully twisted face. Itakura Suguru's eyes were wide open, foam spilling from his mouth, both hands layered over his chest. He actually appeared to have been dead already.
"..."
"?!!!"