"I..." Ran stared at the tabletop. Strangely enough, Conan's-- Shinichi's-- statement consoled her a little. It was true: there were plenty of different versions of people she knew here in the mansion. Surely there had to be at least one where Shinichi actually was Conan. That didn't mean that hers was.

Or so she tried to tell herself. That sinister, niggling doubt didn't seem to be going away at all.

Ran glanced up and, impulsively, reached out for Conan's glasses, pulling them off his face. His face, which had been so keenly familiar on more than one occasion, now looking so broken--

It was strange. She should feel worse seeing Conan with that look than seeing Shinichi with it, but it was the other way around. Perhaps it was because she knew just how tough Shinichi was -- had seen him face down terrifying and dangerous killers with calm repose and unflappable bravado. To see that courage so completely shattered...

...It shook her to the core.

"Shinichi--" and the whispered name rolled off her tongue so easily, so firmly, despite the age of the boy sitting across from her-- "what happened?"