"I can, of course, see it."
At those dreamlike murmured words, Conan noticed that Kihara River's breathing, which he had been able to hear clearly, stopped for several seconds. It was as though that soft answer had struck the ground with tremendous force, making him hold his breath despite himself.
Still unclear on the situation, Conan leaned against the corridor outside the counseling room, touching the anesthetic watch on his wrist as he frowned.
He more or less sensed that Tang Ze had agreed to accept Kihara River's treatment because he knew Conan was eavesdropping nearby and was trying to use him to uncover Kihara River's true intentions.
Recalling the faint rustling sound from the bug before Tang Ze answered that question, he did not think he was being presumptuous.
That made sense. Given that they already knew there was something wrong with Kihara River's background, Conan would never have suggested that Tang Ze willingly undergo Kihara River's treatment without making any preparations.
They had not discussed it beforehand, but after being friends for so long, that unspoken understanding still existed between them.
Of course, even without all those premises, part of Tang Ze's life-and-death safety was now in Conan's hands. He had an obligation to ensure Tang Ze's safety.
Kihara River seemed emotionally unstable. Should he stop the treatment now...?
Unaware that a detective outside the door was squatting there in an intense inner struggle fueled by a sense of duty, the two people in the room had reached a critical point in their showdown of acting skill and cognitive ability.
Kihara River held his breath and carefully observed the path of Tang Ze's wandering gaze, missing none of his reactions. He had already torn a blank sheet from his notebook and begun sketching.
Hearing the excited, hurried scratching