Detective Conan Ending Novels & Stories

That needs extra caution, if I make a mistake when deducting, I'm done. The sun is setting on the horizon. Since I finally found out who is the culprit of the assassination and the culprit of cloning incident, I don't need him anymore. It's just so sad that I have to end things this way. Just like how the sun sets, it is finished. My phone rang and I instantly answered it within two rings, I've been waiting for a piece of good news. "Target lock, we'll await your orders," Shaun informed. "Stand by," I ordered, I am about to end the call but then he uttered a familiar name.

With that money, my mother repaid all her debts, and she bought a flower shop near my grandmother’s place. In truth, my mother was the one who sent my father the photos. My grandmother had an old phone in the drawer by her favorite seat. In it was just a phone number. When my mother called that number, she found that it belonged to a private detective. Even after my grandmother left my mother’s side, she kept an eye on her, and she had prepared those photos for my mother a long time ago. My mother stared at the photos for a while before turning to the box containing my grandmother’s ashes. Her face was full of sorrow.

Time to end this one way or another. ***

The silver scar on his chest disappeared. The End appeared at the entrance. It looked at Cassian. You have chosen. Cassian stepped forward. I choose life. The End smiled. Then live. The darkness disappeared. Cassian fell into my arms. I held him tightly. Our daughter ran toward us. Papa! He lifted her. I'm staying. She hugged him. Good. I laughed through my tears. The Beginning watched us. Then it turned toward the horizon. But there is still one final problem.

It’s your favorite too, but don’t ask how I know that. Anyway, don’t miss me too much yeah.♡ — S He even drew a little heart at the end. I rolled my eyes hard, biting my lip to stop the smile that formed on my face. “Prick,” I muttered under my breath. “What the note say?” Quinton asked nosily. I ignored him and read the note again for absolutely no reason at all. The stupid little heart at the bottom was what got me the most. Shit. “What does it say?” Quinton asked again.

It could make you blind. Me: Delete this whole thread, Dean. Now. I space out my words, trying to bury the image so he won’t see it when he opens the text. Me: Don’t Me: Even Me: Look Me: Just Me: Delete Archer: What are you doing? Me: Burying the image. OMG OMG Archer: So you don’t want me to screenshot it and send again? Me: NO I set my phone down, laughing to keep from crying. Sucking it up, I call Dean. His phone rings. And rings. And rings.

all over again. The End.

“I have no idea if you know this, but… A detective who uses his deductive powers to corner a suspect, and then does nothing to stop them from committing suicide—” “—is no better than the murderer himself,” Albert completed. “It’s quite funny, now that I realize its meaning.” “Jimmy Kudo probably has a lot more to say if he is a real person and is present here,” I added and finally stepped out of the clubroom. Just as I stepped into the light, my phone rang with a call from an unknown number. “Hibara, speaking.” A voice altered with a changer laughed on the other line. “Hmm… I heard that your team closed another case again, Hibara.”

With the little sounds I could hear, there was a battle of bullet exchange not too far from us. I couldn’t stand for long on my two feet and Hunter noticed as he gripped me against his chest and began yelling. “ HELP! SHIT… HELP!!!” Slowly I was losing consciousness as I fought to stay awake. Before everything became black the last thing I heard was. “ Iris please don’t leave me” Or …. I’m not so sure. So I guess that’s how it ends?

Jessica felt the blood drain from her face. Henri remained completely still. Moreau read on. "I thought removing Henri would give me control." The detective's voice echoed through the damaged hall. "I thought destroying the gallery would matter." Another pause. Another sentence. "He was right." No one moved. No one spoke. The detective turned the page. There was only one final line. Written larger than all the others. Written with enough force to almost tear through the paper. If I cannot own the story, I will end it. The silence that followed felt endless.