Suzuki Shiroya hadn't expected to bump into them, his smile a little strained. "Yeah, what a coincidence."
Conan stood silently in the middle, separating the two.
He used his small stature to offer silent resistance, the last stubborn defiance of the vinegar king.
Ran Mouri didn't pay attention to these details, blurting out:
"Mr. Suzuki, are you here alone?"
"Yeah, I've been just sitting around at home with nothing to do, so I thought I'd come out and have a look. You guys go ahead and explore, I'll go look over there."
"Oh, okay."
Their family's enthusiasm didn't diminish because of Suzuki Shiroya's presence.
Ran Mouri stood in front of an abstract painting, sharing her thoughts:
"Look, this painting is so beautiful. Especially this yellow, I really like it."
Conan was speechless. Everyone else came to art exhibitions to appreciate the artwork and the mood.
Who made you spend money to buy a ticket to come in just to look at yellow?
Kogoro Mouri was also quite speechless, forcibly holding back from saying anything.
If he dampened his daughter's enthusiasm now, there would be no one to cook dinner tonight.
The painting in front of them had messy lines, not really resembling anything, barely recognizable as a mango.
If this could be considered art, there would be quite a few artists in kindergarten.
The two of them, with a shared understanding, kept their distance from Ran Mouri, seemingly a bit disgusted.
An elderly gentleman quietly approached from the side.
He was a squinty-eyed man with particularly thick eyebrows and a bald head.
His beard was long, giving him a Jiang Ziya vibe:
"Ah, you like this painting? I like it too. No, I should say I like all the works here, they're like my children, so cute."
Facing the stranger's conversation, Ran Mouri politely asked:
"Hello, who are you?"
"Sorry to interrupt you, I'm the curator here, my name is Ochiai."
"So you're the curator, it's okay."
The old man chuckled, his hands clasped behind his back:
"Don't mind me, take your time and enjoy yourselves."
It's a very happy thing when a cherished artwork is praised by passersby.
It's like an old gentleman sharing his treasured collection of adult films, being praised by viewers with a "1024", the sense of joy is the same.
Suzuki Shiroya was looking at the paintings nearby, not paying too much attention to what was happening here.
When he reached the fifth painting, he suddenly heard the curator's scolding:
"Wada, what are you doing?!"
His roar attracted everyone's attention:
"When handling artworks, you must wear gloves, wear gloves! Don't you know that? I've told you several times, have you forgotten?"
The employee was startled at first, then his expression was very perfunctory:
"Sorry."
The elderly curator walked over grumblingly, instructing:
"Forget it, forget it, clumsy. You'd better not do it, let Iijima handle it."
Hearing this, Wada turned and left, his eyes full of disdain and contempt.
Suzuki Shiroya stood diagonally across, taking everything in.
Having such a rule-breaking employee is really a headache.
Shortly after, a corpulent man walked up behind the curator.
He was dressed in a suit and had a man who looked like a secretary following behind him:
"It's still the same as always, not many people."
The curator turned around and greeted him politely:
"Mr. Majima, hello."
The fat man didn't seem to appreciate it, sneering:
"It's going to be closed in ten days, so please take good care of these rusty scraps for the time being."
From the curator's reaction when the employee made a mistake, you could tell how much he cherished these artworks.
But in front of his sugar daddy, he couldn't even fart.
It's really a case of being defeated by a penny...
Majima's voice was scornful, and soon he headed to another part of the museum with the designer.
Ran Mouri was surprised and quickly ran to the curator:
"Excuse me, is this place going to be closed?"
The curator sighed softly and shook his head:
Yes, the owner, due to his company's collapse, is short of funds, so he had to sell the art museum to Mr. Majima.
Mr. Iijima, who was standing nearby, clenched his fists and spoke out in protest:
"The boss sold it to him because Mr. Majima said he would continue to operate the art museum. But that guy didn't take long after acquiring it to want to renovate it into a hotel."
It was clear from their tone that they both had some bad things to say about Mr. Majima.
Seeing Mr. Iijima tidy up the paintings, the curator patted him on the shoulder and took his leave:
"Well, take your time and enjoy yourselves."
After saying this, he left the art museum hall with his subordinates.
Shiroya finished looking at the surrounding paintings and headed towards the next thematic gallery.
Several exhibition halls were in a ring structure, starting from there made no difference.
He left the Mouri family behind and went to the Sea of Origin Hall on the far right.
The exhibits here were diverse, with many sculptures, totems, and flags from ancient Rome and the like.
Walking further, he reached the Sky Hall.
Mostly sculptures of eagles, birds, angels and the like, the ceiling murals felt good.
Suzuki Shiroya walked around and finally came to the Hell Hall.
Mr. Iijima had just come out from inside and set up a "No Entry" sign in the corridor outside the entrance.
He called out to him and blurted out:
"Excuse me, is this place off-limits?"
Mr. Iijima looked like he had just finished a strenuous workout, his forehead was covered in sweat.
He shook his head and bowed deeply to Shiroya:
"Excuse me, sir, you can't enter for the time being."
"Okay."
Suzuki Shiroya didn't dwell on it, and walked towards the next Earth Hall.
Here, there were more paintings and many pottery jars, most of them were earth-toned.
After taking a tour, his artistic sensibility didn't improve much.
Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly heard Ran Mouri's scream:
"Aaaaaahhhhh!"
The familiar scene made Suzuki Shiroya's eyelids jump.
The Grim Reaper is here to collect souls again?
He followed the sound and ran towards the Hell Hall. The no entry sign at the entrance was gone, he didn't know when.
As soon as he entered the door, Shiroya caught a glimpse of Majima, pierced through by a knight's sword.
His mouth was wide open, his face contorted, and his crimson blood dripped down the tip of the spear, making a terrifying "plop" sound.
Kogoro Mouri, worried about his daughter, Ran Mouri, stood in front of her.
He protected the scene while calling the police to report it to Officer Megure.
Shiroya stood there, his eyes closing and opening.
The colorful world around him instantly went into a familiar black and white picture.
Under the sculptures, next to the corpse, and inside the armor, there were several red lights.
【Found: A Ballpoint Pen with No Ink.】
【Description: A pen with no ink is like a man with no rooster, you can't get anything by rubbing it repeatedly.】
【Found: A Sticky Note with Writing.】
【Description: It says "Wada" on it, along with some incoherent scratches.】
【Found: Medieval Armor.】
【Description: Weighing 30 kilograms, with steel plates at the joints, giving you a unique wrapping experience.】
Conan looked at the frowning Suzuki Shiroya, the desire to win burning in his heart.
This time, I must defeat you!