Conan: I'm really not the mastermind behind the scenes

"You are only ten years old, why would you join such an organization?"

"My father was a member of the organization. He sent people to kill my mother and kidnap me and my brother."

"...Do you want to run away, kid? I think I can help you."

There was silence.

"I can't escape."

"Even if I can leave, the other one is still inside. I can't leave him, we are one."

----

Twelve years ago.

Aaron Lucas was still a little dizzy when he walked out of the underground interrogation room. He shook his head vigorously, told the guard to "clean up," and quickly left the room.

He walked straight forward, and other patrolling guards on the road greeted him, and one of them, a blonde girl, winked at him.

Aaron didn't like such a girl who was too unrestrained. He quickly stepped into the elevator thinking about what he just heard.

The brand new elevator started slowly, bringing people back to the ground from the seventh underground floor. He immediately ran to the reception room on the third floor of this Italian-style mansion and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

In the reception room, a man sitting in an armchair looked up.

His actual age is in his early thirties, his skin is smooth and delicate, without any spots or wrinkles, and he looks younger than his actual age. The facial features are not as deep and tough as those of European origin, but are delicate and soft.

——He is half-Asian.

Aaron is a typical white supremacist racist, but at this time, he lowered his usually arrogant head in front of this obviously mixed-race man.

"Sir, I've asked you all."

……

Aaron Lucas, 24 years old, a member of the black organization, codenamed Snake Beer.

He was a confidant of Goldwasser, the third in command.

With such an identity, he would frequently have armed fights with the American police and the FBI, or plant bombs in other black forces' territories and engage in large-scale gun battles, and then roll around in the US dollars he earned.

He had always lived this life.

——Until four years ago, his respected and feared boss Mr. Goldwasser gave him a task.

After Aaron finished his report, he automatically exited the room. As usual, he did not ask more about what the strange green stone in the room was.

He looked at the housekeeper at the door. Before he could speak, the other party already understood his problem.

"Both young masters are in the study," the old butler said, "Gin is also there."

Aaron nodded, showing little respect for this old man who had no strength and only had the merit of having served his duty for many years. He turned around and walked towards the study.

The view from the basement or the reception room was dim, but now it was sunny when walking in the corridor leading to the study, and the snake-shaped ornaments everywhere around were plated with a dazzling gold.

This villa is built in Staten Island, New York. The wind blows into the room through the windows, bringing a bit of the salty smell of sea water.

Aaron walked around the corner, where the wind had obviously become lighter. He saw the door of the study room open from a distance, and there were faint voices coming from inside.

……

"There is no such thing as a detective like Sherlock Holmes."

In the corner of the study, Gin put a German version of Sherlock Holmes back on the bookshelf and said to the two people behind him. This is a typical study room of a wealthy family. It is very large, with expensive carpets on the floor and a bunch of fancy things. Bookcases of the same model line the entire wall. Various books are neatly arranged according to type and initials. Not a single bit of extra space is left.

The person he was talking to was sitting on both sides of a round table by the window. There was a poor-quality Go board on the table, and two identical faces faced each other.

One of them was calm and composed, while the other had an empty expression.

"Sherlock is a fictional character."

Anatoly heard Gin's words and answered, then he held a black chess piece in his right hand, put it down gently somewhere on the chessboard, and then reminded the person opposite: "Artemis, it's your turn."

Artemis looked at the chessboard steadily.

He was silent for a full ten seconds, and then said: "I lost."

His voice was not loud and disappeared into the air as soon as it came out. Anatole raised his hand to touch his lowered head. Only Gin gave a rude snort.

"Have you ever won, even once?"

The mocking tone made Anatoly frown on the spot, but Artemis really lowered his head and thought about it, and then answered seriously: "Indeed not even once."

After saying that, he started to organize the chess board. They had agreed in the early years that this was the task that the loser would be responsible for each time, so he did it from the first game on.

Gin was used to hitting cotton with his fist like this. Artemis was never good at communicating with others, let alone arguing with others, so he turned his attention back to the bookshelf.

"I didn't expect you also read Sherlock Holmes." Anatole recalled the question he just asked and was curious afterward. "Which character is your favorite? Moriarty?"

"No one likes him." Gin said coldly, "Even Moriarty is just a loser who was finally thrown off the waterfall by Sherlock Holmes."

The nineteen-year-old silver-haired killer is at the stage where he looks down on the world and everyone.

But soon he paused, as if recalling something, and added: "The murderer in "Five Orange Pips" is pretty good, one of the few who can catch Holmes off guard."

"You are simply a hater." Anatoly said helplessly.

"What about you?" Artemis threw a white stone into her chess box, "I like Poirot. I haven't read much of the Sherlock Holmes series yet. Which character do you like best?"

"In my opinion...I still prefer Moriarty." Anatoly replied.

Artemis collected the chess pieces and asked curiously: "Why?"

"Because he is a behind-the-scenes villain. He is responsible for providing plans and manpower, and rarely does it himself."

Anatoly sat up straight and looked at the back of his hand with a wry smile. There was a wound on it where he had just received a diaphragm injection, and his face showed a hint of paleness.

"My body is in such a state that I can't take care of it no matter what. It's impossible to go out and carry out missions directly like you. I can only stay behind the scenes... so 'Moriarty' is my goal."

This time it was Artemis who shook her brother's hand in comfort. Gin was watching from the side, unhappy with the fact that no one could get in between them, so he said something coldly.

"Moriarty died early, but his greatest opponent lived well until the end."

The air suddenly became cold.

Aaron almost knelt down when he heard this, but he didn't dare to really kneel down. Instead, he broke into the room immediately to stop the internal strife that almost happened inside.

"You two stop it!"

He yelled loudly, and at the same time quickly stretched out his hands, with his left and right hands exactly one on each side, and firmly held down the two teenagers who had drawn guns and pointed them at each other:
“There’s a mission!!!”

----

The protagonist became much more introverted after becoming an undercover agent and his brother died, and he was closer to his nature as a teenager. (End of chapter)