"Good morning, Karasawa-kun. Is that a new outfit?" Enomoto Azusa looked up from wiping down the bar, smiling as she saw Karasawa descending the stairs in a stylish British-style trench coat.
"It is. Good morning, Miss Enomoto." Feeling great in his familiar, adult-esque streetwear, Karasawa greeted her while grabbing a rag and helping her clean the tables.
While Karasawa focused intently on his task, Azusa couldn't help but giggle a little.
He was dressed like a thirty-year-old man, but with his baby face, instead of making him look more mature, the contrast only made him seem even more like a kid.
Maybe it was because he looked so cute that he dressed more grown-up on purpose?
Once again, Azusa's mental image of Karasawa tilted even further into the "adorable kid" category. Still smiling, she praised him: "Very tasteful, Karasawa-kun."
Oblivious, Karasawa cheerfully unlocked the café's front door and hung up the "Open" sign.
Naturally, he wasn't going to school today either.
Three days into transferring to Teitan High, and he already had two days off. If nothing else, Karasawa fully supported this generous school calendar unique to the Conanverse.
After packing up his gear and saying goodbye to Azusa, Karasawa headed out toward Maru Denjirou's Palace.
Maru was probably on edge thanks to last night's calling card. By now, his house was likely locked down tighter than Fort Knox.
But alas, Conan-world swords were useless against Persona-world bureaucracy.
Slipping through a narrow alleyway and turning a corner, Karasawa tapped a button on his phone.
With one step, he phased into the Cognition World—vanishing from the shadows as if he were never there.
A few seconds later, a figure trailed after him, stepping into the same alleyway.
Eyebrows lifting slightly at the empty passage, Shuichi Akai wasn't surprised.
Karasawa Akira definitely had counter-surveillance and anti-tracking skills. That much was now certain.
Click. The sharp sound of a gun being cocked.
Akai spun to the side, narrowly avoiding a bullet. He turned to see Amuro Tooru, gun raised—his polished HK P7M8 gleaming, aimed with clear intent to kill.
"Rye. What are you doing here?"
Meanwhile, oblivious to the fact that his two stalkers had just clashed in a back-alley showdown, Karasawa gleefully switched into Phantom Thief form and sprinted toward the Maru estate.
The Palace was now crawling with red-eyed Shadows, scouring the streets in an eerie crimson glow. The Shadow of Maru was nowhere to be seen flaunting himself outdoors. The estate gates were sealed tight.
But Karasawa, with all his game-hardened instincts, wasn't fazed at all—in fact, he thought it was a little dull without BGM.
Since Palace geometry didn't change based on the ruler's alertness, his original infiltration route was still viable. And if he got caught due to the increase in patrols—
Well, then he'd just kill every Shadow that spotted him!
As a seasoned gamer, Karasawa knew: if there's no one left to raise the alarm, you're still technically stealthing.
Climbing walls, jumping rooftops, silent traversal—all fluid and smooth.
Maybe it was a perk from awakening, but this untrained teenage body of his was now operating at 100% of his potential in the Cognition World—agile, precise, powerful.
Even with the doubled number of guards and red-tinted searchlights sweeping the courtyard, he made it to the inner yard without trouble.
The main manor loomed under the oppressive red fog, Shadows circling it like sentries. Maru had donned full warlord armor, katana in hand, glaring across the grounds.
Wow. Okay. Creepy as hell.
Karasawa peeked from the roof's edge, placed a hand on his mask—
Then leapt.
Midair, the mask in his hand ignited in blue flame, and the twisted form of Twenty Faces emerged behind him, blazing to life.
Stealth? What stealth?
One glance at the absolutely stacked skill list on his Persona, Karasawa flashed a toothy, taunting grin at the roaring Maru Denjirou.
Do these guys even understand the sheer power of a third playthrough save file?
Of course he hadn't just wasted last night beating up Leon. He had pulled out his full, 100% compendium of Personas, handpicked his favorite skills, and used his ¥90 million in cash to fast-fuse this monstrosity.
With a full roster of elemental, support, and passive skills, his version of Twenty Faces was a walking apocalypse.
"Come on, scum," Karasawa said, spinning a short dagger into his hand, "Let's see what kind of trash you are."
His dismissive tone sent Maru into a frenzy. The man roared, stomping forward and calling his guards to close in.
"You sneaky brat! I'll hack off your arms, your legs, and that smug little head! I'll hang you from the gate as a warning to anyone who dares cross a Daimyo!"
As soon as his monologue finished, Maru exploded into a spray of black sludge—his twisted true form revealed.
Swords and blades of all lengths burst out like ribs around a hollow suit of armor, with a giant katana plunged into the ground behind him like a spinal column.
Golden crests, war helmets, and emblems of power orbited the creature, suspended by threads of black mud—like a spider's web plastered with trophies.
"Ugh, it's a spider. Gross," Karasawa muttered, raising his dagger into a ready stance. Behind him, Twenty Faces cackled, its tendrils of black fog writhing open like a hungry beast.
"So damn long-winded. What kind of boss talks that much and still expects to be taken seriously?" Karasawa smirked. "Let's go, Twenty Faces—Persona!"
"What? The meeting's cancelled?" Kogoro Mouri looked at the calendar, puzzled. "Didn't Maru-san say today was the only day he was available?"
"We're truly sorry, Mouri-san," came the sheepish voice of Maru's secretary over the phone. "After dinner last night, Maru-sama received several threatening letters. He's extremely on edge and canceled all appointments."
"Threatening letters?" Mouri's expression instantly turned serious. "Were there threats to his personal safety?"
"Well, that's… hard to define…" the secretary hedged. "Some people think it's just a prank, others say it might be a competitor trying to stir trouble…"
"Can you share the details with me?" Mouri straightened up, sniffing the scent of a new case. "Threatening letters aren't a small matter."
The chaos those calling cards had caused certainly wasn't quiet. After thinking for a moment, the secretary relented.
"Would you be able to receive a fax? I'll send one of the letters. If you could help us identify who's behind this, we'd be extremely grateful."
Hearing the phrase "threatening letter," Conan's ears perked up. Quiet as a shadow, he shuffled over to Mouri's desk, gripping the edge to peek up and eavesdrop.
Mouri, noticing him, flicked the kid's forehead before turning his attention to the fax machine chugging out paper.
"What the heck is this? A calling card?" Mouri frowned as he looked at the page, the message cobbled together from mismatched clippings like a ransom note.
"'Phantom Thieves of Hearts…'" Conan read aloud from the bottom of the letter, squinting alongside him.
...What kind of middle school edgelord manifesto is this?
Conan's lips twitched, but he still committed the bizarre signature to memory.