As a doctor, Vermouth knew very well that a person's weight had an extraordinary impact on the dosage of anesthetic.
The same dose of anesthetic would never have the same effect on an adult and a child. What's more, when the Hypnotic Gas in the Steel Pen had exploded earlier, Conan had gasped in shock and inhaled quite a bit of it. She, on the other hand, had known in advance what the pen would release and had held her breath in time.
So although she had yet to see the result, there was no doubt that the first to pass out would be the Cool Guy across from her.
Seeing Conan's panicked expression, Vermouth could not help finding it amusing. Scaring people was so much fun—she suddenly understood Uzo in a certain sense.
...Hmm?
No!
Vermouth hurriedly shook her head hard, throwing that strange thought out of her mind. What she was doing was merely ordinary, harmless intimidation. It was nothing like Uzo's—the child's "scaring" could be fatal. Even now, she remembered the scene from the news: Bourbon driving a sports car, streaking like a meteor from the Twin Towers toward the swimming pool opposite amid the light of the explosion.
If he had been even slightly off, what they would have seen would undoubtedly have been charcoal-grilled Bourbon inseparably tangled with a heap of steel wreckage.
"This can't be called 'scaring' anymore. It should be called a death-defying obstacle course..." Thinking of what Uzo had done to him, Vermouth's sinister smile stiffened slightly. She hurriedly brushed those thoughts aside and looked at Conan across from her. Both were high school students, but compared with him, the child before her was still...
"Hmm?"
Vermouth sensed that something was wrong again.
According to her rough calculations, Conan should already have