Conan: I'm a zaibatsu in Tokyo

Headlights pierced the darkness as two police cars slowly came to a stop on the winding mountain road.

The car door opened, and Inspector Megure stepped out first.

When the police arrived at the villa, the situation was worse than he had anticipated.

Police immediately launched a thorough search.

Forensic investigators conducted a preliminary examination of Matsumura's body under an old pine tree at the edge of the forest.

The body was brutally dismembered, the method clean and efficient, and the murder weapon was suspected to be an extremely sharp long knife or axe.

"Report! No suspicious footprints were found in the vicinity!" an officer reported.

"The fallen leaves and soil on the ground were intact, except for our own footprints and those of Detective Mouri and his group, there was nothing else."

"What? Impossible!" Inspector Megure exclaimed angrily, "Did the murderer fly in?"

“And another,” another forensic investigator pointed to the cuts on the body.

"The time of death was approximately between 5 p.m. and 7 p.m.

"But... the deceased's clothes were neat, and there were no other signs of struggle on his body except for the fatal wound, which is very strange."

Inspector Megure nodded, his brow furrowed. "So, it was someone you knew who committed the crime?"

He turned his gaze to the people inside the villa.

At this moment, everyone was gathered in the living room, their faces filled with fear and unease.

But they all looked so innocent.

They looked at each other, their eyes filled with suspicion, yet they couldn't find any way to break through.

Meanwhile, the search inside the villa also yielded nothing.

Although the doors and windows were damaged, there were no signs of forced opening; they appeared to have been opened from the inside.

When the police were at their wits' end, Kogoro decided to show off his detective skills.

He stood up, cleared his throat, and looked smug, as if he had seen through everything.

He paced back and forth, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the crowd, and finally, with a steady and precise finger, pointed at the silent stone bridge.

"You're the murderer! Ishibashi!"

All eyes immediately focused on the stone bridge.

Ishibashi paused for a moment, then revealed a mocking smile, a smile tinged with disdain and pity: "Why me?"

"Based on your indifference!" Kogoro analyzed confidently, as if he had already obtained irrefutable evidence.

“After Matsumura died, you were the only one who remained completely unmoved, even saying, ‘It’s just that someone died.’”

"This abnormal calmness is something only a real killer possesses! Moreover, you have enough physical strength to move a body; you must be that bandaged freak!"

The more Kogoro talked, the more he felt his logic was perfect.

However, an eerie silence fell over the scene.

"Uncle..." Conan rubbed his forehead, looking utterly dejected.

He felt that he must have owed Kogoro a lot of money in his past life to suffer like this in this life.

This kind of illogical reasoning, based purely on subjective conjecture, wouldn't fool even a three-year-old.

Ishibashi snorted coldly, stood up, and appeared unusually calm in the face of Kogoro's accusations:
“Detective Mori, I was sitting with you when that bandaged guy took Matsumura away.”

"So, we shouldn't be suspects at all. It was an outsider who killed Matsumura."

"Uh... Brother Mori." Inspector Megure coughed awkwardly, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere.

"While Mr. Ishibashi's attitude was indeed somewhat problematic, there is no evidence to suggest that he was involved in the case."

"Furthermore, the crime scene was outdoors, and he was with you all last night, so he has an alibi."

As expected, Kogoro Mouri, who never sleeps, is not a reliable detective.

"This..." Kogoro stammered, unable to speak.

Conan was completely speechless.

Uncle Mori is just being completely unreasonable.

Just then, Conan suddenly felt the urge to urinate.

He clutched his stomach, his face contorted in pain, and said to Xiaolan:
"Sister Xiaolan, I think I have an upset stomach, I need to go to the restroom."

"Go quickly, go quickly." Ran patted Conan's head.

Conan secretly stuck a small speaker on Kogoro's clothes, then clutched his stomach and ran upstairs in a flash.

Instead of going to the restroom, he took advantage of the moment when no one was paying attention to him, quickly pulled out a tranquilizer dart, and aimed it at Kogoro's neck.

With a soft "snap," the anesthetic needle pierced Kogoro's neck accurately.

Kogoro didn't utter a sound, his body went limp, and he swayed and collapsed onto the sofa.

"It seems it's time to reveal the truth."

The group looked at each other, wondering if it was about to happen.
Is the legendary "Sleeping Kogoro" finally about to begin his deduction?
"You are the murderer, Mr. Takeda," Conan said in Kogoro's voice.

Takeda's body stiffened abruptly, then he forced himself to remain calm and retorted, "You... what nonsense are you talking about? How could I possibly kill someone?"

"Stop pretending." Conan yawned and began to deduce.

"The reason you created the illusion of the bandaged monster last night was to confuse the public."

"You created a dummy wrapped in bandages and used fishing line and pulleys to move it outside the window, creating the illusion that the murderer was outdoors."

"And the two almost invisible steel wire marks left on the balcony are the best evidence that you set up the trap."

Takeda's expression changed slightly, but he still tried to argue, "You...you're just making baseless guesses!"

"Furthermore, I have evidence that you moved Matsumura's body." Conan cleared his throat, his tone becoming sharp.

“When the bandaged man kidnapped Matsumura, he was wearing a necklace around his neck.”

"He said that it was a token of love given to him by his wife, and he would never take it off no matter what."

"However, I found the necklace again near the villa's entrance. What does that mean?"

"This means you carried his body out the front door, and the necklace fell off during the process."

Hearing this, Takeda, who had been standing in the corner, involuntarily took a step back, his face as pale as paper.

He said in a trembling voice, "You must be kidding... How could you possibly see that necklace at such a fast speed!"

"Ms. Sakurai was fiddling with her camera the whole time, and she accidentally filmed the bandaged monster as it floated by," Conan said.
"The truth will come out once we review the video."

Takeda looked at the camera on the table in despair, his face ashen.

But he still tried to grasp at the last straw:
"At that time, everyone knew I went out empty-handed. If I were carrying a body, how could no one have noticed?"

"A corpse is definitely not an option, but a head will do." Conan lost.

"Your so-called obesity is the biggest disguise."

“You stuffed your clothes with cotton and stuffing to make yourself look fat.”

"That way, when you hide Matsumura's head inside your clothes, people will only think it's your fat and won't suspect anything."

Takeda's face turned deathly pale instantly, and he instinctively clutched his stomach.

"You...you're talking nonsense!" Takeda roared hysterically, "I didn't kill Matsumura!"

"Would you dare to take off your clothes and show your true body?"

Conan questioned.

Everyone stared at Takeda, especially at his belly. What was originally considered a symbol of prosperity now appeared incredibly strange to everyone.

Takeda clutched his stomach, too afraid to speak; cold sweat had soaked his back.

"Your motive for killing him," Conan's eyes sharpened.

"It's because you referenced content from his book, right?"

“You had been writing books all along, but you weren’t famous until you borrowed content from Matsumura’s novels and became a bestselling author.”

“You have always felt ashamed because of this, and Matsumura has always used this incident to tease you, causing you great suffering.”

“You only planned this murder after you completely got rid of his shadow.”

“How could you know…” Takeda’s pupils contracted sharply.

He never expected that this secret hidden deep in his heart would be so easily seen through.

“And another thing.” Conan pointed to Takeda’s feet, but realizing he was hiding behind the sofa, he silently withdrew his finger.

“You crawled on the ground last night to create a false impression. So even though your trouser legs are clean, there are still pine needles and dirt hidden in the gaps of your shoes.”

"And these substances can only be absorbed by people who have been in close contact with the corpse."

“That’s impossible! I clearly…” Takeda instinctively wanted to refute, but found himself speechless.

He did accidentally get mud on his face last night, and thought he had wiped it clean, but it was still discovered.

As Conan's deduction came to an end, Takeda's psychological defenses completely collapsed.

He slumped to the ground, his eyes vacant, muttering to himself, "I... I just didn't want to live in his shadow anymore... I just wanted to prove that I'm better than him..."

"That guy's writing is so poor, it doesn't do justice to that kind of story."

Inspector Megure immediately signaled for officers to come forward and subdue Takeda.

"Well done, Mori!" Inspector Megure patted Kogoro on the shoulder excitedly.

"I never expected your mind to be so clear when you're asleep!"

Kogoro didn't react, but Inspector Megure was already used to it.

It would be strange if he even reacted.

"You can call it a day now." Inspector Megure waved his hand, and officers led Takeda away.

Inspector Megure stood in front of the villa's heavy oak door, watching his men shove Takeda into the back seat of the police car.

Just as he was about to get into the car, something suddenly popped into his head.

This group of people, some write mystery novels and some write character stories, are completely unrelated. How did they end up in this remote, desolate mountain forest?
Is this trending in the literary world now?
“By the way,” Inspector Megure stopped and turned around, his suspicious gaze sweeping over everyone’s faces.

"You all seem to be writers, so why are you all living here? Is it fashionable for writers to share apartments and hold some kind of 'literary salon' these days?"

Takahashi took a half step forward: "We were invited here by Mr. Shoichi."

"Zhengyi!?"

Upon hearing those two words, Inspector Megure's hair stood on end.

His hand, which had been resting on the holster, suddenly gripped the gun handle like an iron clamp, his knuckles turning white.

His eyes flashed with a sharp light at that moment.

Upon hearing this name, Inspector Megure was alarmed.

"It's him again!?" Inspector Megure's voice changed.

He took a deep breath of the cold air, forcing himself to calm down, but his hand still gripped the gun.

For him, the name Zhengyi was synonymous with trouble; anything associated with it was bound to be bad.

If he is involved, then there may be more to this case than meets the eye.

“That’s right.” Takahashi nodded, seemingly unsurprised by the police’s reaction.

It seems perfectly normal for the police to react this way when they hear Zheng Yi's name.

"It is indeed that Mr. Zhengyi."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the writers with their varied expressions, and slowly stated his reasoning:
"Mr. Zhengyi invited us here... to have us write his autobiography."

"Autobiography?" Inspector Megure repeated, his brows furrowing deeply.

He wanted to listen carefully.

Zheng Yi is definitely not doing anything good.

……

The next morning, Zheng Yi woke up in bed and stretched.

He just received the news.

The murderer who killed Matsumura has been found; it's Takeda.

The two had a conflict due to disagreements over their work, which led to this murder.

The police have taken the perpetrator away.

Masaru shared this good news with Ai.

"Ai, you've lost another competitor." Masakazu sincerely congratulated Ai.

Ai glanced at Masakazu.

She should have thought of this when Shoichi invited the Mori family over.

Masahiro said to Ai:

"Tell me, if all these writers died, could I make money by compiling their unfinished works into a collection and selling it?"

"Can't you act like a human being?" Xiao Ai felt a chill run down her spine.

You're always thinking about making money off the dead.

"How many people do you plan to kill?" Ai asked.

"How would I know? Let's leave it to fate," Zhengyi said.

"I plan to invite Conan a few more times. How many people will survive depends on how strong their fate is."

Come a few more times.

Ai probably won't have many people left.

"Are you trying to destroy the Japanese literary world?" Ai asked.

“Ai, your vision is still too narrow.” Shoichi slowly said, “Everything I have done, in essence, is to promote the development of the Japanese literary world.”

He paused, then emphasized, "Have you ever thought about why so many writers flock to accept my invitation? Is it because of the scenery here? Or because of my personal charm?"

Before Ai could answer, he gave his own answer: "It's because of money, and it's also because of opportunity."

“I provided them with an absolutely safe and luxurious creative environment, and I also prepared enough materials to inspire them. I am building a stage for them, and I am fertilizing the future of Japanese literature.”

Whether or not the money can be spent in the end is beyond Zheng Yi's control.

Anyway, Zhengyi is great.

Xiao Ai held her manuscript, feeling a sense of shared sorrow.

"You won't kill me in the end just because you don't want to pay, will you?"

"Hard to say." (End of Chapter)