“I know now who the killer is,” he declared, his voice firm and carrying an unmistakable confidence. “And I know exactly how Mister Najima was killed.”

Kavei climbed the stairs briskly, his steps quick and determined. Senzaki followed closely, his heavier breaths betraying his effort to keep up, while Itsuhara and Henkai moved at a steady pace behind them. The muffled hum of conversation from the gathered crowd on the corridor grew louder as they approached.

Reaching the floor, Kavei paused for a brief moment, surveying the onlookers who had formed a semi-circle near Najima’s apartment door. Their murmurs filled the air with speculation, curiosity, and unease. A faint grin spread across Kavei’s lips, though it was fleeting and subtle, unnoticed by those around him. Without hesitation, he strode toward the crowd.

“Najima Ojisan had a heart condition, correct?” Kavei suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the noise. He turned slightly to glance back at Senzaki for confirmation.

Panting lightly, Senzaki nodded. “Yes, that’s correct,” he managed, still catching his breath from their hurried climb.

Satisfied, Kavei turned back to the gathered residents, his gaze sharp and focused. The low hum of their murmurs quieted, replaced by an anticipatory silence.

“Rigor mortis hasn’t occurred yet,” Kavei began, his voice steady and deliberate. “This means it hasn’t been too long since Najima Ojisan was killed. Typically, rigor mortis begins within three to four hours after death and fully sets in around twelve hours, peaking by twenty-four. However, in this case, the lack of rigor mortis suggests that Najima Ojisan died well within this window—before the body had a chance to stiffen.”

He paused, allowing his words to sink in. Itsuhara moved forward, passing Senzaki to stand at the forefront of the crowd, her expression calm but attentive. Henkai followed her lead, his brows furrowed in thought.

Kavei continued, addressing the crowd directly now. “How would you interpret the crime scene at first glance?” His tone was rhetorical, but he gave the question a moment to hang in the air. “Someone entered his house and killed him by shooting him, right? Doesn’t that seem to be the most logical explanation?”

From her position near the front, Itsuhara nodded, her gaze unwavering as she met his eyes. “Yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “That would make sense.”

Her voice was steady, but there was a note of curiosity as she added, “But I assume that’s not it, is it?”

Kavei turned to her, his expression calm but with a flicker of satisfaction as if she had anticipated the twist he was about to reveal. The tension in the corridor was palpable as the crowd waited for his response.

"It isn't," Kavei confirmed with a firm nod toward Itsuhara. Without further elaboration, he strode into Najima's unit, the air around him thick with determination. Itsuhara, Henkai, and Senzaki followed closely behind, their curiosity piqued. The onlookers outside, sensing the unfolding revelation, craned their necks to see or shuffled into the room if space allowed, though many were forced to linger in the hallway due to the sheer size of the crowd.

Inside the unit, the scene remained undisturbed, frozen in time like an eerie tableau. Kavei approached the couch and crouched down on one knee, slipping on a pair of pristine white gloves. The plastic stretched audibly as he adjusted them, his movements deliberate and precise. His gloved hand tapped on the chalk outline drawn on the couch, his voice calm yet commanding as he began his analysis.

"Najima Ojisan was found dead here, on this couch," Kavei stated, his finger tracing the outline. "A bullet wound to the heart was identified, and the glass here—" he gestured to the shards scattered across the floor next to the table, "—was shattered during the event. And yet, there's one detail that stood out to me immediately: the air conditioning was set to a dangerously low temperature."

“The air conditioning?” Itsuhara asked, her brow furrowing. She stepped closer, her curiosity palpable.

Still crouched, Kavei glanced up at her. “Yes. Najima Ojisan’s lips were completely purple when we found him, and his body was unnaturally cold to the touch, even accounting for the time since his death.”

Itsuhara tilted her head slightly, the gears in her mind turning. “I see,” she murmured, though her tone suggested she was awaiting further clarification. “And all this? What do these details mean?”

Kavei rose to his feet and walked toward the wall opposite the couch. Without a word, he dragged a chair from the corner, the wooden legs scraping softly against the floor. Climbing onto it, he reached up to the AC vent, feeling around the slats until his hand found something lodged inside. Gripping it carefully, he retrieved a small object and jumped down, holding it up for the others to see.

“It’s simple, Miss Itsuhara,” Kavei said, placing the object in his pocket as he approached her with measured steps. “Hypothermia.”

“H-hypothermia?” Itsuhara stammered, her eyes widening slightly.

Kavei didn’t miss a beat. He picked up a medicine bottle that lay sprawled on the table, its lid lying discarded on the floor. He waved the bottle in front of Itsuhara, who instantly made the connection. Her expression shifted to one of realization.

“Najima Ojisan’s medicine wasn’t here when he needed it,” Kavei explained. “He likely searched for it during the onset of pain, but it was nowhere to be found. This lapse in treatment worsened his condition. Then the culprit stepped in, turned the air conditioning to an extreme low, and left him to succumb to the cold. His weakened heart couldn’t withstand the rapid drop in temperature.”

Itsuhara nodded slowly, piecing together the chain of events as Kavei spoke. “So… it wasn’t the gunshot wound that killed him?”

“Exactly,” Kavei replied. “The wound was staged to mislead us. It was inflicted post-mortem to mask the true cause of death. Hypothermia was the real weapon here, engineered with chilling precision.”

“But if that’s the case…” Itsuhara began, her voice trailing off as the weight of the situation settled in. “Then the bullet wound and Najima Ojisan’s death are the result of two different people?”

“Correct,” Kavei said with a sharp nod, his confidence unwavering.

Turning on his heel, Kavei strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the now-silent corridor. The onlookers parted instinctively, creating a clear path for him as he made his way toward Yumme, Yumiya, and Choto. The tension in the air was electric, every eye following his movements, waiting for the next revelation that would unravel the tangled web of deception.

“But you know who shot Najima Ojisan? This woman,” Kavei declared, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He extended his arm, pointing directly at Yuume. The crowd collectively turned their gaze toward her, murmurs rippling through the gathered onlookers like a restless tide.

Yuume’s face twisted into a sharp scowl as she crossed her arms defensively. “What nonsense, boy,” she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain. “I can’t believe we’re wasting time listening to some child’s baseless theories. I only tolerated this because the police are present, but this is too much!” Her forced smile wavered, betraying her agitation.

Kavei’s expression remained impassive. “That being said,” he continued, his voice calm and steady, “she wasn’t the one who killed him.”

The crowd froze, their breaths collectively held. Kavei shifted his arm, pointing at Yumiya this time. “It was her.”

Gasps rippled through the onlookers as all eyes shifted to Yumiya, who took a step back in visible shock. “What?” she exclaimed, her voice rising in indignation. “Little boy, that is enough! How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I witnessed the horrifying scene of my neighbor’s death with my own eyes!”

Kavei’s gaze lowered to her tightly clenched left hand, gripping the fabric of her dress near the pocket. His sharp eyes flicked back up to meet hers. “Hm. Sure,” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “But I suppose your hand says otherwise.”

“What do you mean?” Yumiya asked, her voice unsteady now, though she tried to maintain her composure.

Kavei took a step closer, his voice firm and deliberate as he explained. “You’re hiding the key to Najima Ojisan’s house, aren’t you?” He let the accusation hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “There are only a few ways the culprit could’ve entered his house without raising suspicion. Number one, they could use a spare key. Number two, they could climb in through an open window. Number three, they could distract the guard and pose as a guest. Or number four, they could break in by tampering with a lock or a window.”

Itsuhara, standing nearby, nodded thoughtfully as she absorbed Kavei’s reasoning.

“And what did you do, Yumiya-san?” Kavei pressed, his eyes narrowing. “You used a spare key. Why? Because you had one. How did you get it? Because Najima Ojisan trusted you. And why did he trust you? Because you gained his confidence, didn’t you, Yumiya-san?”

Yumiya’s voice wavered as she protested. “Shut up, boy! Najima-san trusted me because I helped him when he needed it. That doesn’t mean he gave me a spare key.”

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, and Yumiya’s grip on her dress tightened further. Kavei remained undeterred, his gaze fixed on her like a predator cornering its prey.

“Yeah, sure,” Kavei replied, his tone casual, almost taunting. “I’m sure plenty of people here can testify to your kindness. But then, tell me—what is that in your pocket?” He gestured subtly to her clenched hand, drawing everyone’s attention to it.

Yumiya’s face paled, and her hand instinctively gripped her pocket tighter. Kavei didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he reached into his own pocket and pulled out a carefully folded tissue. With deliberate precision, he unfolded it, revealing a small, chipped piece of a red-painted nail.

“Do you recognize this?” he asked, holding up the evidence for all to see. “It has the same shade of red nail polish you’re wearing right now. I found it lodged in the AC vent. What were you trying to do, Yumiya-san? See if the air conditioning could go any lower than it already had? You tampered with it, didn’t you? It was a clever crime, I’ll admit. No fingerprints, no obvious clues left behind. But this tiny fragment—this little piece of your nail—caught you.”

Yumiya’s lips quivered, but she remained silent, her eyes darting between Kavei and the chipped nail. Kavei stepped closer, his voice low but commanding. “If I hadn’t found this, I might not have noticed you trying to muffle the jingle of the keys in your pocket.”

He turned away from her and began pacing the corridor, his hands clasped behind his back as he addressed the crowd. “But Yumiya-san,” he continued, “you weren’t the one who shot Najima Ojisan. That was someone else entirely—someone who had the opportunity to roam the apartment unnoticed.”

The room fell silent as Kavei turned his sharp gaze toward Yuume once more. “Isn’t that right, Yuume-san?” he said, his voice ringing with quiet certainty.

All eyes returned to Yuume, the weight of Kavei’s words pressing down on her like a storm.

Kavei took a deep breath, his hands clasped behind his back, as he continued to lay out his theory. The tension in the room grew heavier with every word.

“It all began with a distraction,” he said, his voice measured, calculated. “Someone wanted to create the illusion that Najima Ojisan had left the building. They disguised themselves to look like him—using a cotton-filled coat to replicate his silhouette. With the addition of his company’s suitcase, adorned with its distinctive crest, the ruse was complete. Considering how much this building’s residents respect and are indebted to Najima Ojisan’s kindness, no one would dare question where he was going. The resemblance was just enough to avoid suspicion.”

Kavei paused, letting the weight of his statement sink in before continuing. “But even the best plans have their flaws.” He reached into his pocket and carefully pulled out a tiny piece of cloth tangled with a bit of solid cotton, holding it up for all to see.

“This,” Kavei said, his voice firm, “I found near the gate of the apartment when I first arrived. It was stuck to the edges of the hinges—a small but telling detail. The fakester must have gotten caught for a moment as they tried to exit or enter. The cameras can confirm this, I’m sure.”

He stepped forward and handed the evidence to Inspector Senzaki, who received it with a serious nod. Kavei’s sharp gaze swept across the room as he continued. “That’s how the criminal made sure everyone believed Najima Ojisan wasn’t in his house. Meanwhile, their accomplice took advantage of this opportunity, slipped inside, and shot him.”

A small, self-satisfied grin tugged at Kavei’s lips. He stopped pacing and turned toward the crowd. “And the mastermind behind this elaborate plan?” He paused dramatically before stating, “A small hint in front of the couch gave her away. Yuume-nee.”

The room collectively turned toward Yuume, who tilted her head with a curious smile, her expression calm, almost amused. “Good story you’ve got there, boy,” she said, her tone light yet sharp. “But what does any of this have to do with me?”

Kavei’s eyes locked onto hers, his gaze unwavering. “The heel. The car tires. And the fresh smell of gunpowder residue,” he stated plainly, each word deliberate.

Yuume’s smile faltered for just a moment before she regained her composure.

Kavei stepped closer. “The mark of a heel,” he began, his voice gaining an edge, “was left right in front of the couch. It happened because you stepped in a drop of blood—something you probably didn’t even notice. Your car tires, Yuume-nee, are coated in charcoal, which is odd. The road around your office is covered in charcoal, but if you left the building when you said you did, the residue should have faded or dried by now. For some reason, you were circling the building before coming here. Why?”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to an almost chilling level. “And the most damning evidence of all—the residue of gunpowder under your fingernails. Do you want to explain how that got there?”

Yuume’s smile froze, and for the first time, her confident demeanor wavered.

Kavei broke eye contact with her, his gaze shifting to Choto as he spoke with finality. “You’ll have to tell me, Yuume-nee. What was the point of going around your building? And why did you kill Najima Ojisan?”

The room fell into an oppressive silence, all eyes fixed on Yuume as the weight of Kavei’s deductions bore down on her like a crushing wave.

Yuume clutched her dress tightly, her hands trembling as her gaze darted away from Kavei. The weight of his deductions bore down on her like an unrelenting storm, stripping away the facade she had so carefully constructed. She staggered backward before sinking to her knees, her composure shattered.

"I thought I'd kill him for good," she admitted, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes. "But when I entered his room this morning...he was already dead."

The room fell silent, her confession hanging in the air like a sharp blade. Inspector Senzaki's brows furrowed as the realization hit him. "Which means...the glass shattering Yumiya heard was..." his voice trailed off as the pieces of puzzle clicked into place.

Yuume nodded, her head bowed in defeat. "I broke the glass," she said softly. "To make it look like there had been a struggle...to make it seem like he tried to fight for his life."

Her trembling hands clenched the fabric of her dress even tighter, her shoulders shaking. "I wanted to frame Choto," she continued, her voice filled with bitterness. She glanced at Choto, who glared back at her, his expression a mix of anger and disbelief. "It was easy to do. Everyone knows he hated Najima. He despised his success. I thought I could pin it on him and be done with it."

Senzaki's sharp eyes narrowed as he processed her words, but Kavei remained calm, studying her with quiet intensity.

Yuume's voice cracked as the floodgates of her emotions burst open. "Najima..." she whispered, her face contorted with grief and anger. "That man...he killed my family!"

The room collectively stiffened as Yuume's anguished cry filled the space. "He fired my father from his job because of someone else's mistake! My father...he was devastated. On his way home, in that state of despair, he...he lost control. He hit someone with his car. And then..." Her voice broke completely, tears streaming down her face. "He hit his own head on the steering wheel. When he got out to see who he'd hit...he found my mother, lying there, half-dead in the street."

Her body trembled violently as the weight of her memories crushed her. "Both of them...gone...because of him. Najima destroyed my family, and no one helped. No one cared!"

Kavei exhaled deeply, the faintest hint of sorrow flickering across his face. He had always believed that criminals weren't born-they were shaped by their circumstances. Yuume's rage and grief had consumed her, driving her to commit the unthinkable. Yet, as tragic as her story was, it didn't justify her actions.

The silence was heavy, punctuated only by Yuume's muffled sobs. Then, Kavei turned his attention to Yumiya, whose pale face betrayed her inner turmoil.

"Yumiya-san's reason..." Kavei said, his voice steady, "was jealousy. She wanted to rise to the top as a businesswoman, but no matter how hard she tried, Najima Ojisan was always in her way. He held the majority shares in every company she approached. She couldn't surpass him, so she chose this path instead."

Yumiya clenched her jaw, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

Inspector Senzaki stepped forward, his expression stern. "Yuume Matsuo, Yumiya Honda," he declared, his authoritative voice echoing in the now-emptying corridor. "You are both under arrest for your roles in this crime."

The officers moved in, placing handcuffs on both women. As they were escorted away, their faces etched with the weight of their actions, the room seemed to exhale a collective sigh of relief. The truth had been laid bare, and justice was on its way.

The crowd slowly began to disperse, murmuring amongst themselves about the shocking turn of events. Choto, still visibly shaken, was escorted home by one of the officers, his once-angry demeanor replaced by quiet disbelief.

Now, only a handful of people remained at the scene-Inspector Senzaki, Itsuhara, Henkai, Kavei, and a few other officers. The air was heavy with the lingering tension of the confrontation, but there was also a sense of closure.

Kavei glanced at the evidence in Senzaki's hands and gave a small nod. "It's over now," he said quietly, his voice carrying the wisdom and weariness of someone who had seen too much.

Senzaki nodded back, his respect for the young detective evident. "Good work, Kavei," he said. "You saved us all from a much darker outcome."

As the officers began their final sweep of the scene, Kavei stepped outside, his thoughts a jumble of sorrow and satisfaction. Another case solved, another truth uncovered-but at what cost?

"I am impressed, Kavei. Not bad for a little boy like you," remarked Itsuhara Yukina, her tone carrying a mix of admiration and amusement. Her sharp eyes studied the boy before her, taking in the quiet confidence that belied his years.

Kavei, ever composed, bowed politely in response. "Thank you, Miss Yukina," he said simply, his voice calm and steady despite the praise.

Itsuhara crossed her arms, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "How would you like to work as a junior detective under me?" she offered, her voice firm yet inviting. "You can start as a part-timer since you're not of age yet, and when the time comes, we can make it full-time."

Kavei straightened, his sharp eyes meeting hers. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a thoughtful expression. "That’s a golden opportunity," he acknowledged, his tone respectful but measured.

Itsuhara nodded proudly, pleased with his reaction. But before she could continue, Kavei spoke again, his voice resolute.

"But I'd have to decline your offer, Miss Yukina," he stated firmly, his gaze unwavering.

A flash of confusion crossed Itsuhara’s face, her brows furrowing slightly. "But why?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Like you said, it’s a golden opportunity!"

Kavei’s expression softened, though his determination remained. "I have no formal education and no foundational knowledge," he admitted, his tone matter-of-fact. "What I know comes from observation and the occasional book I’ve read out of interest. Giving this kind of opportunity to someone like me would be a complete waste."

Itsuhara opened her mouth to protest, but Kavei raised a hand, cutting her off with a polite but firm gesture. "Thank you for your offer, Miss Yukina," he said, bowing slightly again. "I truly appreciate it. Have a great day."

Before she could say another word, Kavei turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps fading as his figure disappeared into the distance.

Itsuhara stood rooted to the spot, her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched him go. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one pulling her deeper into curiosity about the boy who had just declined an opportunity so many would have jumped at.

Her gaze shifted to Inspector Senzaki, who was busy wrapping up the scene with his officers. "Where does that boy live?" she asked abruptly, her tone firm and leaving no room for evasion.

Senzaki turned to her, his expression caught between surprise and confusion. "Pardon?" he asked, unsure if he had heard her correctly.

"Niram Kavei," Itsuhara repeated, her voice patient yet insistent. "Where does he live?"

Senzaki hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at her with uncertainty. "Uh, across the convenience store on Black Street," he finally replied, his tone cautious.

Itsuhara’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of the notorious Black Street, known for its rough neighborhoods and dangerous reputation. "He lives there…?" she murmured, half to herself. Her sharp mind began to piece together the struggles someone like Kavei might face living in such a place.

Unwilling to let the matter rest, she turned back to Senzaki, her curiosity burning brighter. "Do you have his number?" she asked, her voice brisk.

Senzaki blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "P-pardon?" he stammered, clearly flustered by her sudden request.

Itsuhara’s gaze hardened slightly, though her demeanor remained calm. "Are you perhaps hearing impaired?" she asked with a hint of dry humor. "I am. Asking. For his number," she repeated, enunciating each word deliberately.

Faced with her unyielding determination, Senzaki sighed, resigned to her request. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts with a mixture of reluctance and mild exasperation. Finding Kavei’s number, he forwarded it to Itsuhara.

Her phone chimed softly as the message arrived, and a small smirk tugged at her lips. "Thank you, Inspector," she said, bowing politely, though her amusement at his flustered state was evident.

Senzaki returned her bow, though his confusion lingered. As he straightened, he watched her stride away with her assistant in tow, her purpose clear in every step.

Left alone, Senzaki rubbed his temples and muttered under his breath, "What’s she planning now?" The enigmatic connection between the seasoned detective and the young prodigy left him pondering the mysteries that lay ahead.